by Rose Gordon
“How was your visit to the country today, my dear?” Carolina asked her husband.
John answered his wife back by telling her all about his visit and about how the two of them had exchanged sermon ideas.
The conversation turned to the errands that they would run on the morrow. Andrew just nodded occasionally and said yes or no here and there. He was more interested in thinking of how fetching Brooke looked in that gown than in what they were talking about.
He was lost in his own thoughts when all the sudden he heard the name Madison. At first he paid no mind to what was being said about this Madison person, then the name was repeated. That got Andrew’s full attention. He was quite certain that the butler’s name was Turner. No footmen were in the room at the time, so he was sure they weren’t speaking to one of them. What importance was the name Madison, he wondered. Andrew tried to rack his brain; then he decided if he were paying closer attention, he would know who this Madison person was. Thus, he decided he should probably start paying better attention to the conversation.
“Why do we all need to go to the modiste at the same time?” Liberty asked, the annoyance in her voice matching the expression on her face. “They only allow us one seamstress; it becomes dreadfully boring waiting for my turn.”
“You could bring something to work on while waiting,” Mr. Banks suggested.
“Perhaps a book,” Spacey said helpfully, a teasing gleam in her eye.
Liberty ignored her suggestion, and looked only at her father. “What do we need new gowns for anyway, are we not planning to go back home soon?”
“What else would you have to do with your day if not spending it with us down on Bond Street?” Brooke asked with a hint of aggravation in her voice.
“Girls,” their father broke in, “there is no need to quarrel. Liberty, you will join your mother, Brooke and Madison tomorrow to have new gowns made up. You will need them for balls, soirees and such. I should think we will be here at least another six months.”
The females at the table went silent. Andrew assumed they were thinking of what Mr. Banks had said about staying for at least six more months and all the events they would likely attend in that time.
Andrew, on the other hand, was silent because in one sentence alone two of his most burning questions had been answered: he knew who Madison was, and he found out what Brooke’s sister’s name was; strangely enough, they were one in the same. Though he would never reveal it to anyone else, he was relieved he had never had to ask.
Coming back to the present, Andrew turned slightly to Brooke who was currently more interested in her dinner than the conversation, he quietly asked, “I see you wore red tonight. Was there any special reason?”
Brooke blushed slightly before she smiled at him. “It’s just a coincidence, nothing more.”
“Hmm. A coincidence, you say?” he said, his eyebrow raising and his face full of amusement. “I don’t think so. I think you wore that gown knowing I favor the color red and you wanted to get my attention. I must say, well done, you certainly got my full attention.”
“I know,” Brooke replied smugly.
Andrew chuckled. She probably did know the affect she had on men, specifically when she wore that gown. He leaned over and looked at the hem more closely, then said loud enough for the whole table to hear, “Your gown is very lovely, Miss Banks. I particularly like the roses along the hem.” When she glared daggers at him, he smiled. “Miss Banks, I am a bit of a numbskull when it comes to such things as flowers and their significance, would you please inform me what the significance is of the different color roses?”
The whole table once again looked to Brooke’s gown. All looking at the various places that rosettes were visible from where she was sitting: wrists and bodice. Brooke’s face turned pink again, but Andrew didn’t think it wasn’t because everyone was looking at her, he was sure it was because he was touching her ankle with his foot.
Andrew enjoyed that she had become flustered and not be able to speak. He enjoyed it even more a moment later when she jumped a little after he slipped his foot out of his shoe and ran it along her lower calf. Though he kept his foot outside her gown, he could see it was still causing the desired effect on her. It was making her uncomfortable. Which meant soon she’d be rambling nonsense. His male pride soared.
She turned to look at him with an innocent face and sweetly asked, “What makes you think I would know anything about roses and their meanings, my lord?”
Andrew may not be able to get to her with his words, but he was definitely unsettling her with his foot. “I just thought this was something that would be of interest to you, since you are from New York,” he paused in mock contemplation, “which, if I remember correctly, would mean you have seen quite a few. Or was I misinformed?”
“Very true,” agreed Mrs. Banks, oblivious of the tension between Brooke and Andrew. “Roses are very abundant in the state of New York. In fact, I daresay that if there were ever to be such a thing as a State Flower, the rose would be it!”
The men in the room shook their heads at Mrs. Banks suggestion that a state would have a particular flower to be known for and use it as a symbol. Good thing men ran the government. Such ideas were ridiculous! Leave it to a woman to think a state needed a “State Flower”. What next, a State Fruit? Andrew snorted at the very idea. Glancing over to Mr. Banks, he rather thought the man agreed with him but didn’t wish to hurt his wife’s feelings by saying anything.
“Mrs. Banks,” Andrew said, never taking his eyes off Brooke’s pink face while he spoke to her mother. “One would assume that if roses were so common place where you hail from, that a person might find them of interest and know what they signify. Right?”
“That is very true. All three of my daughters enjoy roses. Brooke even planted some very beautiful rose bushes for our balcony garden back in the city,” Mrs. Banks said, pride filling her voice and face.
“Ah, so my original assumption that you would know about roses and their meanings was not amiss,” Andrew observed aloud while his eyes observed Brooke’s face color even more, and his foot continued to observe her ankle—under her skirt.
“Umm…uh…..” Brooke stammered. “I know a little of roses and growing them. However, I cannot begin to know why you would have a sudden interest in their meanings.”
“Well, that’s simple enough. You see, I was admiring your gown, as I’m sure everyone else in the room has done at some point this evening, when I noticed that you have white, pink, and red roses along the edges. Being a sort that is always thirsting for knowledge, I wondered what, if anything, the different colors meant.”
Brooke acted like she barely understood what exactly he had said. Her face took on a far away look. Her wide eyes were staring across the room; her breathing became shallow and her mouth hung slightly open. Andrew assumed the reason for her ignorance was because he kept running his stocking-clad foot up and down her shapely calf.
When Andrew gave a delicate cough, she started. “As it happens, I do know a little about growing roses. I’m not certain I would be the most knowledgeable about their meanings, however.” Her voice was low and held a hint of agitation.
“Pish posh,” Madison said with a wave of her hand, not recognizing her sister’s uncomfortable state. “Brooke knows more about roses than the rest of us combined. She adores them. Not only does she grow them, she also has a book about their meanings, and when certain roses are acceptable to give and receive. On more than one occasion I have been bored to tears hearing all about it.”
Andrew froze in astonishment. Not only did he just learn how much stock Brooke put into roses, but that was more than he had heard Madison say in all of his visits combined. Maybe she wasn’t as featherbrained as he originally thought.
Breaking his thoughts, he heard Liberty say, “Tell him the meanings. He asked.”
“Yes, I did ask. Please, dazzle me with your brilliance,” Andrew encouraged.
Brooke looked straight into
his eyes, which he knew were alight with amusement. His foot, however, was no longer on her leg. “Their meanings are easy really. White ones stand for purity. Pink are for adoration or appreciation. And the red ones, they stand for love.”
While she’d been speaking, Andrew had shifted slightly in his chair. He moved just enough that he could be closer to her without drawing anyone’s attention. Once he was satisfied nobody detected anything, he boldly pressed his thigh against hers. “Are you trying to say you represent all three of these things at once by wearing them all at the same time?” Andrew asked. His voice took on a more silky tone, while his thigh pressed even harder against hers.
“No,” Brooke answered with a slight hitch in her voice. “The gown is in no way a statement about me. It is just that, a gown. I was telling you what the roses would mean if being given in real life.”
“I think the roses on your gown could be considered a statement,” Andrew said matter-of-factly. When nobody else in the room said anything. Andrew decided it was time to put on the charm and woo the whole family at once. “I’d assume that the white ones, meaning purity, would reflect you, seeing as though you are very innocent. The pink ones could symbolize that there is much to adore and admire about you. Several of which, I have learned of in the past few minutes. Furthermore, the red ones, symbolizing love, could be a personal statement of how easy it would be for someone to have that emotion for you.”
When everyone was silent after his speech, except Mrs. Banks, who because of her romantic nature, let out a wistful gasp, Andrew realized he had just made a huge fool of himself. Instead of saying something clever, witty and relatively romantic, he had basically just declared his love and adoration for this woman. A woman he had no business having any kind of feelings for, especially love.
The silence stretched out for a few minutes before Mrs. Banks gave a delicate cough to remind her daughters of their manners. Quite plainly, she was trying to remind them to close their mouths that were gaping with awe, and for Brooke to acknowledge the compliment. Neither of which happened right away.
It was Mr. Banks who ended the torturing silence. “Well, now that we all have a thorough understanding of how roses relate to Brooke’s personality, I should like to inform you all we are to go see my brother in a week. He and his wife are hosting a house party and we have been invited. Naturally, I told him we would be delighted to attend.”
This was certainly good news for Andrew. The baron’s oldest son Alex was one of the few people of the ton Andrew considered a true friend; which meant he would be able to secure an invitation to the house party. This could work out very well for him and his plans.
“Are we to go to Bath, then?” Liberty inquired of no one in particular.
“We can go to Bath if you desire; but their estate is actually about ten miles outside of Bath,” John informed his daughter matter-of-factly.
“I should like to visit a bathhouse,” Liberty said excitedly. “Lady Olivia makes trips regularly. She says the baths keep you in good health.”
“Lady Olivia needs all the help she can get in that department,” Brooke quipped.
“How so?” Mrs. Banks asked. She cocked her head and her brow knit a little in confusion as she looked to her daughters to supply an answer.
“Lady Olivia is always unwell,” Madison answered. “Why just last week when I was to go accompany her to go buy more ribbons, at her request might I add, her butler informed me she had taken to her room for the day with a headache, backache, fever and a leg cramp.”
“If you ask me, the girl likes to be sick,” Brooke added.
“Exactly so,” Andrew agreed. “I’ve known her older brother since we were boys together at Eton. He confided in us all that she was the most sickly creature he had ever met, and that she loves to take to the sickroom. He even said he believed half of her ‘conditions’ were made up just for attention.”
“I bet her family despairs she shall never marry,” Liberty said, shaking her head.
“Indeed, who would want such a sickly wife? Especially if the man in question needed an heir,” Mrs. Banks said with true sympathy ringing in her voice.
Andrew knew the answer to that: any man who needed enough money. Her family was one of the richest in England. “Her dowry will help her make a match when it’s time,” Andrew said smoothly, silently praying that her money wouldn’t be needed to secure him as said match.
“Shall we retire to the drawing room? Perhaps we could play a game,” Mrs. Banks suggested when silence filled the room once again.
Though her words came out sounding like a suggestion, Andrew knew her meaning was not. There was no mistaking her tone; they were going to play a parlor game.
On the way to the drawing room, Andrew leaned down close to Brooke’s ear and whispered, “I do believe you look good in red.” He said the words so low that he was sure nobody else could have heard them, but just to make sure, he deliberately slowed down his steps so they could put some distance between them and the rest of her family.
“Yes, I agree. Mama says it’s my color.”
“It’s your color, indeed. I do believe anything you don that’s red will look good on you. Especially something red and perhaps transparent,” Andrew said in a silky tone.
Brooke gave him a sharp look and gestured to where the rest of her family was just steps ahead of them, possibly in earshot.
“It’s clear you do not wish to talk about your trousseau any longer. Instead we shall discuss your visit to Bath,” he mused.
“It shall be quite refreshing to get out of the city and see some of the country,” Brooke responded flatly.
Andrew stopped in the hall and turned to fully face Brooke. “Yes, the countryside shall be refreshing. It shall put some color in your cheeks I am quite sure.” Then Andrew’s voice took on a deep husky tone and he added, “The baths your sister spoke of will add some color, too.”
At his comment, her face right there in the hallway of her uncle’s London townhouse took on some color. Even though she was an innocent, she had understood his innuendo and it made her blush, just as he had hoped.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be talking to me about such things as personal as bathing,” Brooke said in an unsteady tone.
“Not appropriate?” Andrew asked quietly, his voice dripping with mock horror while his hands flew to his chest and his eyes went wide. “I wouldn’t want to offend your sensibilities, I assure you. However, when did you begin to care about what was appropriate and inappropriate? Have you been reading Liberty’s etiquette manuals?”
“No, I have not,” Brooke snapped. “The point is, you have been overly friendly all evening and I would like it if you would stop.”
Andrew raised a brow at her. “Overly friendly, is that what you call it? I remember you saying some things that could be considered overly friendly.”
“Like what?” is what Andrew expected her to say. But instead, “Stop looking at me that way,” was her response.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to kiss me,” Brooke answered breathlessly.
Andrew inched his face a little closer to hers. “Maybe I do.” As he said it, he realized it was true, he did want to kiss her. But that was not advantageous, so he said, “Maybe I don’t.”
“Maybe you don’t?” Brooke asked disbelievingly. “Every man who has looked at me the way you are right now has tried to kiss me.”
“Every man? How many have there been?” he asked, without a hint of shock in his voice. She was a beautiful young woman; he’d be more surprised if there hadn’t been any.
Brooke gave a forced shrug. “Not so many.”
Andrew decided to let that pass. Who was he to care how many men had tried to kiss her? Just because he wanted to kiss her didn’t give him a right to demand the names of all the other cads who already had. “Well then, my dear, you have a lot to learn about men. I, for one, do not intend to kiss you.” Then silently, he added,
“Yet”.
Brooke flushed with what he thought to be embarrassment. She cleared her throat. “I think we should join the others.”
Andrew nodded his affirmation and they continued down the hall in silence.
They were immediately accosted by Mrs. Banks when they stepped into the drawing room. “We have just decided on teams for charades. You two shall be a team. Liberty and Madison will be another team, and Mr. Banks and I will make up the third team. Why don’t you go sit down on the red settee and wait while Madison and Liberty are out practicing their scene,” she said as happily as a child who had just been given a new toy.
“All right, Mama,” Brooke said, walking to the settee.
When they were seated, Andrew turned to Brooke. “Are we really playing charades? I haven’t played this game since I was in short pants.” He tried to keep the annoyance and disbelief from his tone.
“It’s Mama’s favorite. There’s no use in fighting it. It’s better to just indulge her by playing.”
Just then Liberty and Madison came in, ready to do their scene. Their faces gave away that they were both quite proud of what they had thought up and were trying extremely hard not to giggle about it. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Madison and Liberty walked to the middle of the drawing room where Madison bowed to Liberty and Liberty curtsied to Madison. Madison extended her hand and Liberty took it then they started to dance.
At first their dancing was very graceful, both Madison and Liberty smiling brightly at each other. He couldn’t tell if their smiles were part of the act or because they were on the verge of laughter.
After a minute, Andrew began to wonder what in the world they were acting out. Was he supposed to be guessing? All he could tell was that two people were dancing, that could be anything. That’s when it all changed.
Liberty suddenly made a big production of some imaginary object at her feet. She was dancing out of step and swishing her skirts around violently with her hips. Then in a split second, she lost her balance and toppled to the ground, pulling Madison right along with her.