by Rose Gordon
Earlier in the morning Brooke had breakfasted with her family then decided to go outside on her balcony and read the newest gothic novel she’d picked up in the local bookshop.
She settled into a lounge chair and started flipping through her book. She remembered she was almost to the end and thumbed her way to the back. Aha, here she was, the hero was about to admit he was wrong and beg the heroine to take him back. This was normally her favorite part of novels, even if right after he says his speech a large boulder comes rolling off the side of a cliff and kills him, leaving the heroine to sulk in the sadness of never getting to be with her true love.
Thirty minutes later, Brooke finished her book and shut it with an echoing thud. Not having anything else to do, she was about to go back inside to see what her sisters were doing when a carriage with an unfamiliar crest emblazoned on the side rolled up.
She leaned forward, pressing her face between the bars of the balcony to get a better look at the massive stranger that was emerging from the carriage. He looked like a gentlemen and he even carried himself like one as he walked up the steps to her front door. She heard him give three swift bangs with their brass knocker. If she were in New York, she would have rushed to the door to open it herself and greet the guest, but that was not the way of things here and even she was not brave enough to break that particular rule.
She waited in silence for three long minutes before Turner, their usually unkempt and always unprofessional butler, opened the door to greet the stranger.
Unable to bear it any longer, she slipped down the stairs and hid herself behind a potted plant in the foyer just in time to see Turner lead this stranger down the hall to the drawing room.
Deciding it would be best for Liberty to explain to Turner the proper procedure for admitting a guest, Brooke quietly ignored his misstep and tiptoed down the hall behind the pair.
Turner opened the door and showed their guest into the drawing empty room. Brooke stood quietly in the hall and waited for Turner to leave. When he walked toward her, she pressed her fingers to her lips to motion for his silence.
Standing in the hallway, she peeked around the corner of the open door and watched the stranger as he glanced around the ugliest drawing room to ever grace England.
She was sure she saw him blink his eyes several times to get accustomed to the awful images that were assaulting him. Then without a word, he moved his head side to side, soaking in the painful view of their drawing room. The walls were gold, not a pale yellow, but bright shining gold. One settee was bright red, the other was pale pink. She saw him look over to the far wall where the most hideous paintings she’d ever laid eyes on were proudly hung in glittering silver frames.
The paintings looked like children had taken mud and smeared it around on three canvasses; and not in a somewhat interesting way, either. They were a mix of brown, black, and dark spinach green swirled together. In short, they were eyesores.
He violently jerked his head away and dropped his gaze to the floor and was greeted by lime green carpet. “I hope this drawing room is not a prelude to what the inhabitants are like,” he mumbled with a shudder.
“I am hurt, sir, truly hurt,” Brooke said shrilly as she entered the room. Her words must have caught him off guard because he looked completely frozen in place. Before he could say so much as one word in his defense, she said, “How can you say such awful things about this beautifully decorated room? I worked so hard on it. It is my masterpiece! I spent hours picking the perfect gold wallpaper. Then, I pondered for weeks about those purple drapes. When I went to pick a settee, I was split between the red and pink settee. So to cure my indecision, I opted to get both.”
He was still standing with his back to her, perhaps he was too nervous to turn around, Brooke thought. But slowly he did turn around and when he was fully looking at her, his mouth dropped open a bit before he shut it with an audible snap. He just swallowed loudly then stared at her, not even trying to speak.
Brooke had often been considered attractive with her heart shaped face and petite facial features. Her hair was a dark mahogany brown and she typically piled it atop her head with curls cascading down in the back and on either side of her face. Her eyes were so dark they almost looked black. Often, that was her feature about which gentlemen wrote silly poetry.
Seeing just another speechless man stare at her was not going to deter her from her fun. She put a look of true pain on her face, one that would suggest he had just kicked a puppy in her presence. She pointed to the back wall where those hideous mud-smear paintings were hung. “Would you like to tell me your delightful opinion about those portraits hanging on the far wall, sir? I am waiting on edge to hear your thoughts.”
“Miss Banks,” the stranger hedged. “I’m sorry. I seem to have spoken without much thought. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. Please forgive me.”
“Well, you’re not forgiven,” she exclaimed. “To just come into someone’s house and start to criticize their decorations; and then to liken them to the inhabitants of the house is inappropriate.” Brooke was enjoying the look on his face. He looked absolutely remorseful, almost like a little boy being scolded for stealing sweets out of the kitchen. Best yet, he had no idea she was leading him on. That drawing room was horrific, nobody could argue with that, and if her family had been allowed to change it, that room would have been changed before the front door shut. But her aunt and uncle would not allow them to make modifications to the house; therefore, all ten of her family’s eyes were forced to suffer inhumanely.
Although the drawing room was ugly, it was not the ugliest room in the house. She and her sisters couldn’t decide which room took that particular prize, but the drawing room was not it.
Brooke stood stock still, trying to look like she was still deeply wounded by his opinion; but really she just wanted to see him squirm a minute longer before either of her sisters or Mama came in. She decided to press the topic of the paintings. “Furthermore, sir, you did not do as your hostess asked. You still have yet to render your opinion on those portraits.”
Their guest flushed with uncertainty.
Brooke knew those paintings were an ugly mess that no artist would want to claim—unless said artist was three years of age. She also knew that if he were to be honest about those paintings he’d say they looked like a monkey painted them. Her whole family knew she thought so. But she could tell he was too much of a gentleman to say that. He was probably afraid of hurting her feelings or upsetting her and being tossed out on his ear.
“They are, well, they are very unique,” he said tactfully.
“Do you truly think so?” she cried, suppressing a laugh at his bold face lie. “I worked so hard on them. My family doesn’t seem to appreciate them, but I think they’re just blind to true beauty. I’m so glad you see them as unique! What do you like best about them?” Brooke loved this game. She played it all the time when gentlemen came to visit. Her mother and sisters did not approve, but she couldn’t help herself, it was too much fun. She tried to keep a straight face and not laugh at his discomfort. She especially loved that the poor man had no idea that even if he’d kept his mouth shut about the ghastly room, he’d still be having this conversation.
He kept staring at the paintings. Brooke supposed he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “I like all if it. It’s hard to pick out what I like best,” he finally said with as much excitement as one would have when going to the tooth drawer.
“Do you truly mean it?” Brooke cooed. “I am so happy to hear you say that, it was very sweet.” She took a couple steps toward him and smiled broadly before admitting, “At first, I didn’t think I was going to like you very much. You insulted my decorating style and me at the same time, and all before we had even met. But now that I know how much you love my artwork, well, I think I have revised my opinion.”
Taking a low bow, he said, “I am Andrew Black, Earl of Townson. I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you before.�
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“No, I don’t think we’ve met before,” Brooke replied. Surely if they’d met she would remember him.
For the first time since she walked in the room she saw him. Sure she saw him before, but now she really saw him. She noticed his jet black hair with a few gray hairs scattered here and there, mostly around his temples. He was tall, taller than most, and had a broad form. In this room he looked positively domineering, but he wasn’t using his size to try to intimidate her like some would have at this point.
Gazing at his face, she liked that it was different than a lot of the other gentlemen she’d met in London. His nose wasn’t perfectly straight; it looked almost like it had been broken before. He had a strong chin and full lips. The color of his skin was not pale like most of the English, but rather honey colored, as if he had seen a lot of sun. By some standards he would be considered handsome; but not to all women, just certain ones, the ones that were more into the exotic look.
One of his dark eyebrows rose and she registered he knew that she was mentally cataloging him. But instead of averting her eyes in embarrassment, she met his. When she did so, she was startled. He had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were not the light blue that was common, rather they were a deeper, darker blue; looking into their depths reminded her of the deep blue ocean she’d crossed just weeks before. After seeing those eyes, she realized instantly she was indeed one of those women who found him handsome.
“Have I passed your inspection?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
His question broke into Brooke’s thoughts and startled her. She was generally not one to be embarrassed when caught doing something considered impolite, so she gave a lopsided shrug and said, “You’ll do I suppose.”
The earl shook his head and shot her a half smile. That’s when she noticed his smile. He had a beautiful smile. His white teeth were a startling contrast against his tanned skin. She liked his smile and decided she was going to do her best to see it again before he left today.
With that decided, Brooke’s mind went back to wondering why this handsome stranger was here. Who had he come to see? She had never met him before, nor had she heard either of her sisters talk of him. But he had to be here to see one of them; surely he wasn’t here to see Mama or Papa.
Which sister could it be? Madison was the most beautiful of the three by far. Madison was tall and slender, with bright blonde hair and clear blue eyes, like their father. Her skin wasn’t pale, but it wasn’t as tanned as Brooke’s. She had always had a way with wooing a roomful of men just by walking in, and if that wasn’t enough to make all the other women jealous, she had this ability to make any outfit look fit for a queen, no matter the color or condition of the fabric. Her personality only made her more beautiful. She was always genuine in her friendships and was ready with a kind word when someone she loved needed support. But even though she was the most beautiful of the three, she was also the most withdrawn. She hated to dance, and would hardly say two words to any gentleman that approached her. In fact, she did her best to make it known she had no desire for an introduction. Certainly the earl did not find that encouraging enough to call.
Liberty, on the other hand, was no raving beauty. She was the type that most considered to be plain. Not ugly, not pretty, just plain. Her hair was not considered an exceptional color; it was just ordinary, light brown, which matched her ordinary, hazel eyes. Her nose was too big, her teeth weren’t perfect, or even straight if the truth be known, and she could afford to gain at least a stone. Unfortunately, her personality didn’t really make up for her physical shortcomings. Normally, when someone wasn’t considered attractive they would have a great personality to recommend them, but not Liberty. Not that she was a shrew, but she was too blunt by far, and usually not in a good way. Brooke knew she was too blunt too, but most people did not take offense to what she said since it was usually done in good fun. Liberty’s comments, though not always intentional, had a way to irritate a person beyond belief. Only her family members got to know the real Liberty, the one full of love and compassion, surely the earl hadn’t discovered that side of Liberty yet.
Still trying to puzzle out which of these demeanors would bring the earl to call, her mother and sisters walked in, startling them both and effectively ruining the moment.
***
“You know you’re not supposed to be alone with a gentleman, Brooke” broke into the silence from an unexpected source. Andrew would have believed that Mrs. Banks would have said that; but instead, that statement of reproof was made by a young girl who looked barely out of the schoolroom.
“Indeed? I’m not? I had no idea!” Brooke cried with so much bravado, that Andrew almost believed her. But her next statement revealed to Andrew that sarcasm was just part of her personality. “Really, Liberty, you are too obsessed with the rules. We were doing nothing wrong and it was only for a couple of minutes anyway,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. Glancing around to read the look on her mother’s face, she added, “And we left the door open. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Do you, Mama?”
“You’re not supposed to be alone with a gentleman, you know that. And exactly, who is this gentleman?” Mrs. Banks asked coolly.
Before Brooke could answer, Andrew gave a low bow. “Andrew Black, Earl of Townson. I have come to call upon your daughters, madam.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Banks cried excitedly, “how wonderful, an earl has come to call on my daughters!” Then, so caught up in the excitement she abandoned the rules of society, polite or otherwise, and asked, “Which one of my lovely girls have you set your striking eyes upon?”
Andrew’s lips twitched at Mrs. Banks outrageously bold question. Her daughters, however, groaned in unison.
Andrew wasn’t sure how much they actually knew about polite society and that usually gentlemen did not call on ladies they had never met before. Judging by Mrs. Banks’ question, he thought they probably didn’t know. Yet, the youngest Miss Banks was looking at him with genuine curiosity while she waited for him to answer. Deciding it best to give an infallible answer, he evenly said, “I have come to call on all of them. They all seem like lovely ladies. How could I leave one out?”
Mrs. Banks started to titter and coo like the young debutante all women of her age yearned to be. With every eye on her, no one remarked on Brooke’s quick exit.
Miss Liberty was not swayed. “How do you know we are all lovely ladies, my lord? I do not believe that we have ever been introduced before.”
She was right of course, but to admit that he had never met any of them would only be greeted by more questions. Questions he had no desire to answer, or dodge. He had to think of something fast. But he wasn’t given a chance before Mrs. Banks smoothly broke in and rescued him. “Now, Liberty, give the man a little break. He was just trying to save himself from the sticky situation I inadvertently set him up for. You know, back home we call it ‘pleading the fifth’. Here in England there is no such thing; so a man, or woman, has to try to use their words and wit to keep from saying too much and telling on themselves.” Then Mrs. Banks did the most unusual thing, she winked at him!
Andrew had a vague idea of what they were talking about. He’d heard something about Americans being able to not incriminate themselves in courts, but never in everyday conversations. He could ponder that and the reason for the wink later. Right now he was trying not to say too much and give himself away. He had a feeling that if little Miss Liberty Banks knew that he had never been introduced to, or even seen, any of them before, she was going to have a fit of epic proportions. Best keep that little nugget of information to himself.
The middle Banks sister, who he’d barely noticed up until this time, stepped forward. She gave him the biggest, prettiest smile he had ever seen; then set him up for complete disaster. “Oh how wonderful, he has an interest in Brooke,” she exclaimed with an expression of pure joy on her face.
Mrs. Banks sent him a knowing smile.
&n
bsp; Liberty gaped at her sister. “What do you mean by that? He could be interested in you, you know?” Liberty asked her smiling sister.
“That’s impossible. I’ve never even seen him before. If he’s not here for you, then that only leaves Brooke.”
Andrew wished they would quit talking about him as if he weren’t in the room, but decided it was best to keep his mouth shut. Opening his mouth is what got him into this mess in the first place. They could all just believe he was here for Brooke, the dark haired beauty who decorated this atrocious room. Aside from her decorating skills, she seemed like a good choice, so far. He’d have to evaluate the others before making a final decision, but for now it wouldn’t hurt for them to think he was here for Brooke.
As if on cue, the object of his thoughts, and the ladies conversation, walked back in the room, followed by a footman, how odd.
“Oh, Brooke, I’m so happy for you. To have caught the attention of the earl,” Mrs. Banks cooed, once again speaking of him as if he were invisible.
The moment didn’t last long enough for Andrew’s taste. When Brooke looked around and saw the smiling faces of her mother and sisters, her brows knit in confusion. “What on earth are you talking about?” she asked, shaking her head as she spoke, causing her loose curls to bounce. “I do not have any earl’s attentions.”
“Don’t play games, Brooke, Lord Townson has come to call for you.” Mrs. Banks said with uncontrollable pride.
“I believe you must be mistaken,” Brooke said, shaking her head again. “The earl is not here to call on me; we had only just met right before you all barged in.”
Ugh oh.
Chapter 4
“This is not proper,” Liberty squealed. “A gentleman should not call upon a lady he has not been introduced to before.”
So much for hoping these American heathens didn’t know that rule. “Well, you see, I have not yet been formally introduced to any of you three beautiful ladies. But I happened to see you a time or two across the ballroom and I thought perhaps if I could call, we could make introductions,” he said smoothly. “I know it is terribly indecent of me to just show up, but I just had to meet you.” He hoped that came out sounding intelligent and convincing, but doubted it.