by Rose Gordon
Mama looked so excited and hopeful that Brooke didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to crush her mother’s feelings, so instead she just stared blankly at her.
As if sensing Brooke’s lack of excitement, Mama went on, “I think he fancies you. I think if you give him a little encouragement,” she shook the gown, indicating it was the “encouragement” she was referring to, “he could develop true feelings for you. Just think of it, you could marry the earl. You would be a countess,” she cried excitedly. “My daughter a countess! Oh, you must wear the dress tonight.”
Excitement is hard to contain, and it spreads so easily, soon Brooke found herself smiling right along with Mama. “Thank you, Mama.”
“You’re welcome,” Mama said as she shoved the gown in Brooke’s hands. “Now, go put it on, he’ll be here in less than an hour.”
Walking down the hall to her room, Brooke stared at the elegant red gown she carried. A small smile came over her lips and she murmured, “It may not steal his heart, but it will steal his undivided attention.”
***
“Turner, we’re expecting a guest for dinner. When he arrives, please show him into the drawing room. After we’re all assembled, you’ll need to show us all to dinner in the parlor. I have instructed some footmen to set up a table in there to function as the dining room tonight, and possibly until further notice. Please wipe that look off your face, we want him to get the impression we always eat in the parlor.” When the butler shook his head, Mrs. Banks’ voice took on a sharp edge. “Frankly, sir, we find that dining room frightful and unfit for company.” With a sniff of disdain, she spun around and walked away, informing him the conversation was officially over.
As soon as Mrs. Banks had walked away, a loud knock shook the door. Opening the door, Turner greeted the Earl of Townson, the dinner guest they were expecting. “Come on in, my lord. If you will follow me to the drawing room, I believe the Banks family is in there awaiting your arrival.”
Entering the drawing room, Andrew saw that Mrs. Banks, Miss Liberty and the middle Miss Banks were seated on the settees. Noting that he still did not know the name of the Miss Banks that was constantly staring out windows, he decided he would have to ask Brooke if he wasn’t able to pick it up in conversation; until then, he’d mentally refer to her as “Spacey”.
After bowing, watching their curtsies, and kissing three sets of knuckles, Andrew took a seat on the settee next to Spacey and wondered where Brooke was. Knowing it would be impolite to ask without at least acting interested in them first, he said, “I trust you have all had a chance to visit the excellent museums London has to offer?”
“Museums?” Liberty asked sheepishly, looking at him under her lashes. “Well no, I don’t believe we’ve been yet.”
“Oh, Liberty, don’t play coy with the man,” her sister broke in, ending Liberty’s awkward flirting. “We all know that you have no interest in museums, so stop hedging for an invitation. Your interest in a museum is about as great as my interest in men, and we all know that’s nonexistent.”
Andrew looked at Spacey, ignoring Mrs. Banks reprimanding her for her vulgar comment. He was too caught up on the idea that Spacey had zero interest in men. Did that mean she was interested in women? He knew that some men were only interested in other men, but he’d never met, or even heard of, a woman who had those interests. If that were true, he could use that information to send the Banks packing instead of compromising Brooke. Seizing the opportunity, he asked, “What do you mean you have no interest in men, Miss Banks? I was under the impression all young ladies wanted to marry and have children. Does that not interest you?”
Her face took on an even more distant look, if that was possible, and she shrugged before saying, “That is the dream of most, but not all.”
Andrew nodded. That wasn’t enough of a confirmation for him to start rumors to the effect that she had “different” interests. He needed hard proof, such as a verbal or physical confirmation, otherwise it was too risky to try to expose this. She could turn up at a ball the next night and dance with every man in attendance, that alone would disprove any rumors. Plus, he’d never heard of such interests before, so the believability was already fragile. Best to leave that cat securely in its bag.
Trying to take on an air of comforting older brother, Andrew said, “Well, one day you may change your mind. I am sure there are many good men out there who would love to have you as their wife.”
Mrs. Banks just tittered and cooed.
Liberty snorted.
Spacey shrugged.
Andrew cleared his throat. “I’m very flattered you invited me to join you for dinner tonight,” he said, trying to get a conversation going, he hated silence.
“We are flattered you agreed,” said Mrs. Banks.
“As if he had a choice,” Spacey muttered.
With a sharp look from her mother, Spacey took on an apologetic look then started to fidget with the sleeve of her orange gown.
Andrew didn’t much care for the color orange, but on Spacey it seemed to fit. He couldn’t explain why, maybe it was because it was a pale orange, not a bright, vibrant or burnt orange, but pale, almost like a peach. It suited her well.
Feeling as if he needed to say something, because once again the silence was becoming unbearable with everyone looking at each other and nodding, Andrew asked of no one in particular, “If men and museums are not of interest, what does hold your attention?”
“Reading,” Liberty answered quietly.
“Ah, reading,” Andrew repeated, trying to think of something to ask to get her, or anyone for that matter, to talk. “What kind of books?”
“Etiquette,” Spacey tersely answered for her sister, and watched in quiet enjoyment as Liberty blanched.
Andrew thought Spacey was probably being brutally honest with her answer, but how could he comment? He couldn’t. Instead, he just looked around the room, hoping for something to end their torture.
But no redemption came.
He sat with three of the four Banks women for a quarter of an hour, staring, nodding, and murmuring when necessary. All the while he wondered where in the world Brooke was. He hoped she would be there soon. It was not his plan to spend the evening with her sisters and mother; he had come specifically to be with her.
Finally, Andrew decided enough was enough. “Pardon, but are we to be joined by anyone else for dinner?” There, he’d asked, and not in a way sounding too eager or impatient, or so he hoped.
Mrs. Banks was too clever not to see what he really meant. “Yes, my husband will join us soon. He just returned from visiting a country vicar and he will be down shortly,” she informed him. She flashed him a knowing smile. “But I get the feeling that is not who you were asking about. Was it?” Not really making him answer her, and embarrass himself, she continued, “Brooke will be down any minute. I thought she would have been down by now, but she might have had trouble with her gown.”
“Gown trouble?” Andrew asked dubiously. “Surely her maid can take care of that quickly.” When Spacey laughed out right, Liberty gaped at him, and Mrs. Banks turned red, his brows snapped together and he ventured, “She doesn’t have a maid, does she?”
“No, my lord, she does not,” Mrs. Bank replied without any emotion. “In America people do not usually have a personal servant. Not only does society not dictate it, but the ladies there are usually a lot more independent.”
Andrew took in her statement. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but didn’t want to leave them feeling embarrassed or insulted. Finally, he said quietly, “I can tell that your girls are very independent.” He personally had only a scant number of servants, all of which did multiple jobs, but none acting as his valet—he’d always thought it was uncomfortable having someone else dress and groom him.
Again they sat in uncomfortable silence, continuing exactly where they’d left off: staring, nodding, and all waiting for an outside source to put them all out of their misery.
Fin
ally, their redemption came in the form of one Mr. John Banks.
Andrew had never seen John Banks before, but he recognized him instantly when he walked in. He looked exactly like his brother, Baron Watson. Both were slightly taller than average and had pale skin, light blue eyes and blond hair. Seeing him, Andrew realized that while Brooke resembled her mother with her petite frame and dark hair and eyes; Madison favored their father in the looks department. Glancing at Liberty, he could see she was more of a mix of the two.
As John strolled in, he looked fondly at his wife and daughters before noticing there was a guest in the room. John quickly bowed to Andrew then looked to his wife to introduce them. “John, this is Andrew Black, the Earl of Townson, and this,” she said, gesturing to her husband, “is John Banks, my husband.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Andrew said, with an easy, if somewhat dim, smile.
“It is my pleasure, my lord. I wasn’t aware we were entertaining such lofty guests. What do we owe this pleasure?” John asked with a hint of disbelief.
Before Andrew could answer the question that was clearly leveled at him, Mrs. Banks jumped in. “He was invited.”
Still being a little out at sea about that explanation, John’s gaze shot to his wife and his clear blue asked her velvet brown eyes an unspoken question: why?
“I personally invited him to dine with us. He's courting Brooke,” she said, beaming brighter than a five hundred candle chandelier. Then, because she could definitely be termed a matchmaking mama, and had the subtly of a sledgehammer, she squeaked, “I believe he has a tendre for her. Oh, isn’t it exciting!”
John, probably used to his wife’s theatrics, just nodded.
Andrew, not used to the same theatrics, could feel red creep up his neck and face. Now, everyone thought he was besotted with a girl he barely knew. What could he do? Deny it? No, because that could put a swift end to his visits with Brooke and make his mission difficult, if not impossible; plus he liked seeing her, he was not completely sure why, but he enjoyed her company all the same.
Following a mental shrug, Andrew went for it. With his best smile he looked straight at Mr. Banks and said, “I do enjoy your daughter’s company,” that was true enough, “and I believe she has the same interest in me. So naturally, if you’re agreeable, I should like to court her.”
“This is highly unusual, young man, you do realize that, right?” John asked.
Andrew knew what he was referring to. Usually when men asked to pay address to another man’s daughter, he did so in the privacy of her father’s study, without an audience of the rest of the family, and certainly not after being invited to dinner by the girl’s mother. Andrew sorely hoped the Banks family was not so high in the instep that John would deny Andrew’s request to court her.
“Yes, sir. I do know that this courtship has taken place in an unusual manner, and I do apologize for it. I give my word that I will conduct it from this point on with more attention to what is proper and the respect due you and your daughter, sir.” Stop talking Andrew, he told himself. If you keep giving your word to conduct things properly, it will be even more difficult when it comes time to ruin the chit. Can’t lose sight of the goal, he reminded himself.
“I am pleased to hear it, my lord,” John said, nodding with approval.
Resuming their seats to wait for the missing Banks daughter to make an appearance, Andrew caught a glimpse of Liberty’s pinched up face. He knew what had gotten her face all pinched up without even asking. Once again, he had breached society’s mandates by not asking her father for approval to court Brooke. There was a lot Miss Liberty was going to need to learn, not everything follows propriety. But that wouldn’t matter to her in a few months when she’d be on her way back to America. Andrew allowed himself a little smile, in a month, hopefully no more, the Banks family would be on a ship back to New York, and he’d be out of London at his country estate turning a profit. It was a good thing he’d be turning a profit because he was about to enter into self imposed exile.
Andrew was entertaining further thoughts about what his life would be like in a month or so when Brooke made her entrance. When he saw her, she rendered him breathless—literally.
Chapter 7
Brooke’s entrance into the drawing room was deliberately slow; she was making sure to attract as much attention as she could, and it worked. Andrew had thought Spacey was the most beautiful of the three. But just now, his opinion had forever been altered, and from now on, Brooke would hold that title.
She slowly looked around the room, stopping to look at the face of each person in the room. She saw the look of shock on her father’s face. The twin looks of surprise from her sisters. Her gaze met her mother’s and there Brooke saw her mama beaming with pride and love. Finally, her gaze swung to where Andrew was sitting down, and unsuccessfully she tried to stifle a giggle.
Belatedly, Andrew stood up, murmured an apology for not rising sooner, and took a deep breath. He felt embarrassed that he had made such a fool of himself by gasping, and forgetting to stand up when she walked in. Nothing could be done about it now; he would just have to make the best of the situation. He was not the only one so struck by Brooke’s beauty that manners were forgotten. Looking around, he noticed Liberty not only did not say anything about his mistake, but her face didn’t indicate she even registered it.
Andrew truly did feel remiss about not standing up when Brooke made her grand entrance. He felt as uncomfortable about it as if he were at a wedding and did not stand up when the bride walked down the aisle. He slowly shrugged off the feeling, and continued to look her up and down. She was breathtaking, and he should know.
She had on a beautiful gown made of different swaths of red material. Some were silk, some velvet; the bodice swooped moderately to give everyone in the room a modest glance at the delicate slope of the top of her breasts. He could tell the gown had originally been made for someone shorter because he could see more of her cream colored slipper than she probably intended to show. But that didn’t matter, she shined like one very well polished ruby, and caused him to strain to think of anything coherent to say.
He swallowed a lump in his throat and waited for someone else to break the silence, hopefully it would be something that would pull him out of this fog.
Brooke looked proud of the reaction she had created. “I spoke to Turner before coming in. He said dinner was ready,” she said, smiling.
The group nodded their understanding; not bothering to notice, or care, that their butler was not going to come and get them as was customary. The group formed a line and began to walk down the hall toward dinner.
Mr. and Mrs. Banks led the group, and when Mr. Banks tried to make a turn for the dining room, his wife gave him a slight squeeze on his arm and lightly pulled forward and whispered as quietly as she could, “We’re eating in the parlor tonight, it’s more agreeable for entertaining guests.”
Mr. Banks gave a nod of agreement about the new dining location. He leaned his head close to his wife’s ear. “Though the parlor is more agreeable, I do wonder if it would be easier on everyone’s digestive system to eat outside.”
Mrs. Banks gave a little smile at her husband’s remark.
At the back of the line, Brooke lightly rested her hand on to Andrew’s arm while he brought his free hand up to cover hers and give it a light squeeze. He enjoyed that she became a little less graceful in her step when he did so. Apparently she wasn’t as immune to him as she would have him to believe.
When they finally made it to the parlor, Andrew abruptly stopped and blinked. Never in his life had he seen such a small dining table. It could not have been more than six, maybe seven, feet long and it had only six chairs. Even when eating by himself, he had never eaten at such a small table. How were they all going to fit? There wasn’t a need for more chairs precisely, there were six chairs and six people, but they were so close together. There was no way it was going to be a comfortable meal with everyone practically to
uching each other, or would it, he thought with a sly smile.
Brooke stumbled slightly because of Andrew’s sudden stop. She cocked her head and looked from him to the dining table, as if she were trying to understand what had brought on his reaction. She must have realized that it was the size of the table and how closely they were to be seated because she said, “Unless you want to look at mounted squirrels, opossums, and other wild game while eating, you’ll have to get over your discomfort.”
Andrew turned to look at Brooke and arched one eyebrow in hopes that she would elaborate as to why he’d have to look at such images while eating if he did not get over his discomfort as she put it. But before Brooke could explain, her mother started talking. “Isn’t our dining room quaint?” Mrs. Banks studied his face, almost as if she were trying to read his response rather than listen to it.
“Quite,” he replied, forgetting about the animals and wondering how everyone was going to gather around this little table. For pity’s sake, the seats were so close together, it looked as though all the silverware was running together. How was one to be able to tell which pieces were theirs and which belonged to their neighbor?
Mrs. Banks gave a hesitant smile. “I know this may seem a little irregular for you. However, we are a cozy little family, and we enjoy eating close together when possible. It makes it easier to be able to all engage in the same conversation,” she said with false bravado.
Silently everybody took their seats. Mr. Banks was at one end of the table, with Mrs. Banks seated at the other end. Brooke’s sisters sat together on one side of the table, and he and Brooke occupied the other.
Once they were all seated, and had said grace of course, they began to eat one of the most delicious and filling meals Andrew had eaten in more than a year. Being impoverished had changed his eating habits considerably; but for tonight, he was going to eat as if he were one of the richest in the land.