by Rose Gordon
All four women looked one to another completely confused by his rambling, but it was Mrs. Banks who spoke first. “Oh well, that’s very nice of you, my lord. We’re not terribly formal here anyway; it’s just as well that you’ve come.”
Feeling relieved that Mrs. Banks had excused his actions and seemed eager to let him stay, Andrew started to relax.
However, the relief lasted less than a minute because Liberty spoke again. “But it’s not done!” She had a true look of horror on her face as she protested his presence.
Only vaguely listening to her list of reasons, Andrew began to survey the three women in the room. Now was a good time to determine which one would be the best choice for the job ahead of him.
Miss Liberty Banks was immediately crossed off his list. With how strongly she was protesting his presence now he had no doubt she'd be protesting even more if he were trying to get her in a compromising situation.
Andrew could still hear Mrs. Banks and Miss Liberty continue to banter back and forth about propriety. He wondered if Miss You-must-be-proper-at-all-times knew it was improper to argue. Especially in front of a guest, and a male one at that. With a shake of his head, he began to survey the middle Miss Banks. He didn’t know what her name was. Though he had told them his name, none of them returned the favor. How improper!
The Middle Miss Banks was stunningly beautiful. She could even be considered gorgeous, but she looked distant. She had scarcely said a few sentences earlier. Before that, she’d looked lost in space, and after Brooke made her great declaration that she didn’t know him, Miss Middle-Banks had shrugged and her blue eyes had gone back into their exploration of space.
Andrew came back to reality for a split second to step backward as a footman walked past him with one of those revolting paintings. Briefly, he listened in on the conversation between Mrs. Banks and Miss Liberty, they were still discussing what is and isn’t acceptable for a gentleman, even a lord.
Andrew shifted his thoughts back to his assessment of the three young ladies. This time he was thinking about Brooke. Wait, when had he started referring to her in his mind as Brooke? He was slightly surprised to think he had never thought about her as Miss Banks. From the moment he heard her name she’d become Brooke in his mind.
He gazed over to where she was. She and her middle sister had taken seats on the red settee. Brooke was looking heavenward, praying for Divine Intervention if he had to hazard a guess.
He realized how attractive Brooke was now that he could look at her without that hurt look on her face. She looked almost completely relaxed, oblivious that he was staring at her. He took her in. She was thin, but not like a fence post. Her skin was tanned, probably because she was from America. He’d heard people over there didn’t put much stock in being pale. Her hair was dark brown and arranged with plump curls spilling over the top of her head; his hands itched to touch her silky strands. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly; they were just as dark, if not darker. He had never seen such large, dark, expressive eyes. He was sure if he were able to look straight into them he’d see into the depths of her soul.
He scanned the rest of her face. His eyes landed on her small, straight nose, the complete opposite of his. Her mouth was a beautiful bow shape. Her pink lips were slightly parted and he could see her pretty white teeth lined up all in a row. In no way did she resemble a horse like a good majority of the Englishwomen he knew. She was perfect.
Brooke must have had heard enough of this ridiculous conversation because she suddenly leapt from her seat. “Enough!” she all but shouted. When Liberty and Mrs. Banks faced her, she drew herself up as tall as her dainty frame would allow and said, “You two are acting like stubborn children. Just let the poor man stay. He apparently has a desire to be here—I cannot fathom why, but he does—so just stop arguing, ring for tea and let everyone enjoy the afternoon.”
“You are correct, Brooke. I cannot believe we have acted so poorly in the company of a gentleman. Please forgive us, my lord,” Mrs. Banks said, blushing in shame.
With a waving hand gesture, Andrew indicated he had no problem viewing the family quarrel. However, he was glad it was over. That was ten minutes of his life he’d never get back.
He waited for Mrs. Banks and Miss Liberty to take their seats before he looked around the room for a vacant one. Locating an ugly orange armchair in the corner of the room, he strode across the room and moved it so he could sit by the ladies perched on their settees.
After he was seated, he gave Brooke a quick smile and a nod of approval, as if to falsely tell her he liked her choice of chair for the room.
Brooke’s lips twitched at the his affirmative nod about her selection of an orange chair and she picked up the teapot that had somehow appeared in the room. “How do you take your tea, my lord?”
“How do you take your tea?” Andrew countered. He wasn’t picky whether he had milk or sugar in his tea, today he’d drink what she preferred.
“With honey,” Brooke answered matter-of-factly with a sweet, shy smile.
“Honey?” he echoed, trying to keep his disgust from creeping into his tone. “You mean the sticky substance that comes from a beehive?” he asked to be certain they were talking about the same thing.
“No, I mean with a man that I just happen to call by that term of endearment,” she quipped.
“Brooke,” Mrs. Banks said sharply, giving her a disapproving look. “Stop that. It’s not appropriate to bait him so.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Banks. I was just dumbfounded that someone would put honey in their tea,” Andrew assured her and tried to suppress a little shudder that threatened to wrack his body. Why would anyone taint their tea with honey? “I have never thought to do that before. Must be an American thing,” he muttered.
Andrew noticed Brooke trying not to laugh. He decided it must be an inside joke that either he wasn’t privy to, or he was the butt of.
The conversation turned to the girl’s homeland of New York, and how much different everything was in England. Everyone was so absorbed no one had taken notice of how much time had passed.
Andrew reached into his pocket and removed his pocket watch. After a quick glance at the time he said, “Ladies, this has been the most excellent afternoon I’ve had in a long time, but I need to be off. I would like to call again tomorrow, if that would be all right? Mayhap I could take Miss Banks on a ride in Hyde Park?” he asked, giving a pointed look at Brooke in case there was any confusion about which Miss Banks he meant.
“That would be splendid,” agreed Mrs. Banks, speaking for Brooke. “I can see you have taken special interest in Brooke, she is lovely. It would be delightful if you would take her for ride in the park. She would adore it!”
Brooke shook her head at the obvious attempt at matchmaking going on in the room. “That would be lovely. I look forward to it,” she said with a smile.
Rising up to say farewell, Andrew noticed Brooke looked like she was about to burst. Andrew raked his gaze over her and made a mental note of how fetching she was when she was on the verge of laughter. He would have to get her to laugh again. Soon, he vowed to himself.
As Andrew climbed into his carriage, he couldn’t stop the small smile curving his lips. As much as he hated what Gateway tricked him into agreeing to do, he could take satisfaction in that Brooke was beautiful. She also appeared to have a personality that he found agreeable. Best yet, this afternoon he gathered she enjoyed flouting the rules of society, which would certainly make his goal much easier. This could actually turn out to be rather enjoyable courtship.
Andrew eased back against the threadbare squabs and stretched out his legs, looking over to the opposite seat and noticed a piece of vellum. Assuming it was from Gateway, probably asking him not to go through with this ridiculous plan, he quickly snatched it up.
Townson,
I have given much thought to your kind words. I hope they were true and sincere. I fear if they were not, that I shall perish from embarrassment. Ho
wever, I am an excellent judge of character, and I believe every word you said! Thus, I reached my decision. It may seem rash, but first instincts are usually right, so I have followed them and have decided to give you a gift. This is a gift from my very soul, so I beg of you not to take it lightly nor dismiss it. Enjoy!
Andrew tossed down the unsigned noted, his face contorting with confusion. Who would have given him such a note, and what gift?
Shaking his head, Andrew dismissed the thought.
When he arrived at home Addams, who recently because of Andrew’s financial situation had become a man of all trades, met him in the entryway with a baffled look on his face. “It’s in your study as you directed, my lord,” he said, putting on the air of a butler.
“What are you talking about? What did you put in my study?” Not waiting for an answer, he strode down the hall, opened the door to his study and for the first time he could remember since he was a boy, he let out howls of laughter. After several minutes, when he was finally composed enough to speak, he held his sides, shook his head and said, “That little minx!”
***
None of the women left the drawing room after the earl left. Mama sat at the small secretary by the window and wrote out the guest list to the wedding she was sure would soon be taking place. Liberty was ticking off everybody’s—including her own—improprieties. Brooke tried fruitlessly to concentrate on her embroidery. And Madison sat quietly looking out the window.
It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later when Madison of all people, with a look of sheer bewilderment, broke the silence. “What happened to the third painting that was on the back wall?”
No longer able to control herself, Brooke broke out in hysterics.
Chapter 5
Next day
From Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 11:00 a.m.—
Miss Brooke Banks,
I do appreciate your gift. I will treasure it always.
Townson
From Brooke Banks to the Earl of Townson, 11:25 a.m.—
Townson,
I am so happy to hear that. I fretted all last night if I had made the correct decision. I see that I did indeed make the right decision. I am glad to know that my art will be treasured by you, and may I presume all the future heirs of the Townson Earldom?
Miss Brooke Banks
From Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 12:45 p.m.—
Miss Banks,
I do not know if all the future earls will enjoy the art. But they will at least get the extraordinary opportunity to view the piece.
Townson
From Miss Brooke Banks to the Earl of Townson 1:05 p.m.—
Townson,
Does that mean you have displayed my work out in the open? The portrait gallery perhaps?
Brooke Banks
From Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 1:40 p.m.—
Dear Miss Brooke,
I would be glad to hang it in the portrait gallery. In fact, I will hang it in the family gallery if you will do but one thing for me.
Yours,
Townson
From Miss Brooke Banks to the Earl of Townson, 2:15 p.m.—
Andrew,
The family gallery? Truly? Did you enjoy my painting so much you want me to be your countess? I am anxiously awaiting your reply because my mother is already planning the wedding, and I will immediately go pick out my trousseau!
Yours Truly,
Brooke
From the Earl of Townson to Miss Brooke Banks, 2:45 p.m.—
Dearest Brooke,
I am charmed that you would accept my wedding proposal, had I made one. But the condition on which I will decide to hang it up in the family gallery has nothing to do with whether we marry or not, but rather another very important question. Who do the initials: JRS belong to?
Never fear my dear, I know they are not yours, and that you did not paint that dreadful mess, but it has not ruled out my interest in you. I will come by your townhouse at 4 this afternoon, and I would like you to accompany me for a ride around the park.
Yours,
Andrew Black, Townson
“Why would anyone want to claim that? It's a dreadful disgrace to the world of art,” Brooke muttered to herself after she reread his note for the third time.
***
At exactly four in the afternoon a knock rattled the front door; followed by none other than the Earl of Townson being let in.
Skulking about in the shadows, Brooke felt a little smile spread over her lips. She was glad he'd come.
After a few minutes of drawing room chitchat, Andrew and Brooke climbed into a curricle and were off for a ride around the park.
“My favorite color is red,” Andrew stated blandly, his eyes alight with laughter.
Confused by the proclamation, Brooke nodded and shrugged. “Mine's green.”
“That’s nice. I’ll keep that in mind. However, I had guessed that already, seeing as how your gown today is green. I believe the one you wore yesterday was, too,” he said, gesturing to her forest green gown.
“I guess I'm very obvious in what colors I like, unlike you. I have yet to see you wear red,” Brooke said pertly.
“I said my favorite color is red, not that I like to wear it,” Andrew parried.
“Why would you tell me your favorite color? And, if it’s your favorite color, why not wear it?” she asked, favoring him with a curious look.
“Just because I don’t want to wear it, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want you to wear it,” he countered, putting deliberate emphasis on the word “you”. “I’m telling you this so you know what color to choose during your visit to the modiste.”
Brooke turned her body the best she could to look him in his eyes. His cobalt blue eyes were looking straight at her as if they could see right through her. She didn’t know exactly what it was he could see, or if was a good or bad thing he saw. “Why would I be going to a modiste?”
Andrew gazed at her perturbed facial expression, complete with a slight frown and knitted brow. “For your trousseau, darling,” he drawled. When her face turned pink, he pushed further, “But if you want, you can spare the expense of building a trousseau,” he shrugged with nonchalance, “nothing is the preferable outfit for one’s wedding night.” After her blush went to crimson, he winked at her. “But since you think a trousseau is necessary, you should know my favorite color is red. Oh, and I also like things that are filmy and transparent.”
“And why would I be creating my trousseau with your favorite color?” she asked, astonished they were even speaking of such things. Both Mama and Liberty would be scandalized if they knew.
Letting go of the reigns with one hand, he grabbed both of her hands with his one big one; then grinned at her. “You seem to be bent on the idea of becoming my countess. If you are to be the Countess of Townson; that would make me your husband, such as, I thought you should be aware that I will be the one, and only, to see you modeling said trousseau. Therefore, I just thought to tell you what color you should choose for my enjoyment.”
Where was all of this coming from, Brooke wondered. Then it dawned on her, he was trying to bait her because of that note she’d written. “I’m so glad you told me. I quite forgot I have an appointment on Thursday. I shall remember to get something red and filmy just for you,” she said with a sensual smile. Then her smile faded, and she began to tap her finger against the side of her head as if she was in deep contemplation. “When I go in should I have these garments, and some much needed fashionable ball gowns, added to your account?”
Brooke thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, but it was gone before she could name it.
“I have no money, darling,” he drawled. “If you agree to marry me and be my countess, we will be known as the Penniless Earl and Countess of Townson,” he said jovially with a self-depreciating smile firmly on his lips.
Brooke couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped her lips. “Well then, I suppose I could splurge with my pin mo
ney and buy my own trousseau. Don’t worry though, after we marry and you get my dowry, which is a whole fifty pounds, we’ll be rich and live like kings!” she teased.
“Fifty pounds you say? Well, I don’t know about living like kings, but perhaps we could live like princes,” he said with a bright smile.
“Oh yes! We could have so many wonderful things. We could go to the opera every night, and host huge house parties all Season,” she exclaimed playfully with a sparkle in her eyes. Brooke truly had a dowry, but it wasn’t a measly fifty pounds. In American dollars her dowry would have been larger; however, when exchanged into pounds it came to be about five thousand pounds. Just enough to be considered a generous amount, but not enough to be pursued by every fortune hunter. But just to be sure, her papa hadn’t made known the amount of her dowry.
Andrew pulled the curricle to a halt and jumped down. After helping Brooke down, he led her to an unoccupied bench. “Here, let’s sit.”
Brooke currently had no interest in the bench and noticed some unfamiliar flowers. “Oh, look at the flowers. They are absolutely beautiful,” Brooke said, walking over to a flower bush. “Back in New York flowers are rare. Well, not rare exactly, but they don’t grow like this.”
“Flowers don’t grow in New York?” Andrew asked skeptically.
Brooke laughed. “No, they grow. But with all the snow, ice and cold, we don’t get to spend very long looking at flowers; except roses of course.”