by Rose Gordon
Andrew gave a slight nod. “I think it’s possible, but I cannot be sure at this point. I only get one chance at this and I don’t want to push her too quickly.”
“Are you concerned you'll be surrounded by several of her male relatives?” Gateway inquired.
“The thought has crossed my mind,” Andrew allowed. “I think I can persuade them not call me out when this is all over.” Or so he hoped.
“Would it be so bad to be called out?” Gateway asked with a wicked smile on his lips.
“While you may delight in seeing me cock up my toes, I am not quite ready to do so. Nor do I wish to injure anyone else,” Andrew countered stiffly.
“I see you still have not gotten past the circumstances of your father’s death eight years ago.”
Gateway always knew just how best to get under Andrew’s skin. Eight years earlier, Andrew’s father, Thomas Black, had been caught cheating at a game of cards. When his character was called into question, Thomas challenged the man, Richard Olsen, to a duel. A few hours, later two drunken men, with their equally drunken seconds, headed out to have a duel. Thomas fired the first shot and hit Olsen in his shoulder. At that point honor could have been considered satisfied, but they were all too drunk to notice or care. The shoulder wound wasn’t enough to keep Olsen from firing off his shot.
Later, Olsen’s state of inebriation was brought into question because of his dead on aim right at Thomas’s heart. Thomas died right there on an old abandoned field surrounded by three drunken men, and not a doctor in sight—because not one of the four drunken men had bothered to send for one before the duel.
Just thinking about it got Andrew’s hackles up. He hated to think of how stupid his own father could have been. He’d been a spendthrift drunkard who cheated at cards, and to top it off, he died in a pointless duel.
Andrew didn’t aspire to do such great things with his life that would bore future generations of children in history class, but if he could live and die with a little more dignity than his own father, then he’d consider his life a success.
“There will be no duel,” Andrew declared. A slow smile spread across his lips, and his eyes brightened. “On second thought, if there is to be a duel you can be my second, since you have taken such a keen interest in my welfare.”
Gateway wasn’t amused. “No, I do believe my dueling days are long gone. You’ll have to find someone else to act as a second for you.”
“You’ve never fought a duel in your life,” Andrew scoffed.
“Maybe so,” Gateway agreed.
“If that is all you came here to say, I need to meet with my butler about making arrangements for my trip,” Andrew said, getting up without waiting for a response from Gateway.
“I’ll see myself out,” Gateway muttered to himself.
“See that you do, and don’t take too long to do it, either,” Andrew commented, walking out of the room.
Chapter 12
“It is such a pleasure to have you,” Regina Banks said, hugging her brother-in-law, followed by each of the other members of his family.
“The pleasure is entirely ours,” John told his sister-in-law before giving his brother Edward a hug. “We appreciate your hospitality in having us here to your house and throwing this party. It’s quite an honor.”
“Think nothing of it,” the baron told his younger brother. “We are happy to do it; and very happy to get better acquainted with all of your daughters. They clearly get their beauty from their mother,” Edward said with a quick smile toward Carolina.
“This is Mrs. Morgan, she’s our housekeeper. She will show you all to your rooms,” Regina said, directing them toward the staircase where Mrs. Morgan stood on the bottom step waiting to lead them up.
“I have set up your rooms in the east wing, seeing as you’re family not just regular guests.” Mrs. Morgan was clearly proud of her decision and held her head high as she led them to the family wing.
The house was breathtaking. Everything from the vaulted ceiling to the marble floor was beautiful. Round support columns made of stone so thick she was sure even an adult male could not wrap his arms around them were located throughout the massive entry area of the house. The entryway to almost all the rooms consisted of an arch that had a scrolling design.
The massive furnishings looked to be in pristine condition and placed just so, making it look like a picture from a decorating plate she’d seen once. There was nothing out of place, and it all looked perfectly coordinated and inviting. One thing Brooke was certain of was this place had certainly had been decorated by a different person than the house in London. The thought made her giggle a little, which she immediately tried to smother.
“I know what you’re thinking, Brooke,” Liberty whispered with a disapproving shake of her head. “But please try to stay composed. There's nothing more impolite than to laugh at our host and hostess in their own home.”
Brooke sobered. “I’m sorry.” The old Liberty was back. Brooke sighed. As they say, all good things must come to an end, and Liberty’s failure to point out everyone’s impropriety in the past few days had met its end, too bad it didn’t last a little longer.
“Girls.” Mama’s voice was velvet covered steel, but they got the message.
They walked in silence for the rest of the tour.
Mrs. Morgan showed Brooke to her room first. “Ring if you need anything. Dinner is served promptly at seven. You may meet in the drawing room as early as half six,” Mrs. Morgan said right before she left.
Brooke checked the watch pinned on her bodice and realized that gave her little more than an hour and a half before going downstairs.
She closed the door to her room and wandered over to her bed. She sat down on the edge and felt the mattress dip under her weight. It was a nice feather mattress, an improvement from the tic mattress she had slept on in the Dog and Fox.
Pulling off her slippers, she leaned against the headboard and propped a pillow behind her back. She glanced out the window and noticed there were several men down on the lawn playing some sort of lawn game. Bowls perhaps?
Brooke had seen some of the neighbors in New York play five stones. She had even played a few times when Mama had been too busy at the church to know what she was up to. But the game being played down there looked like an entirely different game. Maybe tomorrow she could learn to play.
She squinted her eyes in the direction of the lawn in hopes of being able to figure out who the players were. Maybe they were her cousins, or perhaps they were some local gentlemen, or even some from London.
She resigned herself to the fact she was too far away to get a close enough view of any of them to figure out who they were. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillows to take a nap, secretly hoping Andrew was one of the men out on the lawn.
***
Andrew also wished he was out playing lawn games, and it wasn’t much of a secret. Not that he had a love for lawn games, but anything had to be better than being trapped in the drawing room trying to explain to Lady Olivia Sinclair why she could not move her pawn backward in chess. “It’s against the rules,” he said one more time, hoping it would be the final time.
“But why?” she whined, causing her face to twist in the most unflattering manner.
“It just is. I didn’t make the rules, I just play by them.” Andrew tried to sound polite but she was really wearing him down with her whining and pouting. There was only so much a man could take, and if he had to take much more he would insist on being nominated for sainthood.
“Do you always play by the rules?” she asked, batting her eyelashes coyly.
Andrew tried not to let his amusement be known at her lame attempt to flirt. Lady Olivia Sinclair was clearly bad at it. That wasn’t her fault, some women just were; but her attempts were not going to work on him. “As often as I can,” he managed.
“Would you like to play another game? One that is far less tedious and with much simpler rules?” she as
ked, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.
“What kind of game do you have in mind?” Did he really want to know?
“Well, it would be an easy game of course, one where we will both emerge winners no doubt.” She shifted her upper body in a way to best show off her ample bosom.
Andrew’s eyes narrowed. What game was she playing? Surely she wasn’t looking for a lover. Or was she? What woman would suggest a “game” where both parties can win if she wasn’t looking for a lover? The maneuver she kept doing that showed off more of her chest than usual seemed like confirmation to him.
“You see, my lord, we both are in need of something. You need my money and a wife to bear your heir. And I would like to get away from my tedious family. So you see, we both win,” Lady Olivia said with a sunny smile.
Andrew had been holding a pawn in his right hand, he felt it slip from his fingers and drop to the floor with a soft thump. His eyes widened in surprise and he just stared at her.
She was bold, no doubt about that. He could not remember the last time he had been so surprised or shown so much emotion on his face. Quickly, he tried to hide his surprise by arching his brow and acting as if he were really interested in her proposition; though truth be known, he would rather have all his fingernails pulled off than make her his countess.
“You cannot tell me you never thought about this before. You are in need of a fortune, everyone says so, and I have one,” she said airily, her unsightly smile not faltering a bit.
“It’s true that I lack funds at present, but I do not intend for that situation to last,” Andrew said truthfully. There was no point in being mean to her and tell her that even if there was no light at the end of his tunnel and being faced with lifelong poverty, he still wouldn’t marry her.
Lady Olivia’s smile faded a bit. “I did not realize there was another lady already playing for your hand. I shall just have to play harder in order to win.” She rose and quickly swept the room.
Andrew picked up the chess pieces and wondered exactly how Lady Olivia thought to change her course of action in order to steal him from this other heiress she had created in her imagination.
With a shake of his head, he left the drawing room in search of more stimulating entertainment.
What he found waiting for him in the hallway was more stimulating, but not necessarily entertainment.
Chapter 13
John Banks was walking down the hall, looking specifically for Andrew.
“Mr. Banks, it’s nice to see you arrived safely,” Andrew said with a bow.
“Townson, I didn’t expect to see you here.” John said with a little bit of curiosity in his voice.
“I had not yet received my invitation when we last spoke,” Andrew said smoothly.
“Indeed. I’m rather surprised Regina would not have sent yours sooner,” John said, interest showing on his face.
“Ah, that is because I was actually invited personally by Alex. He is an old friend of mine.” It was true enough. No need to tell him that he'd gone so far as to seek Alex out and ask for an invitation.
“My nephew has a friend?” John said in a half joking tone.
Alex was a very nice man, but the truth was it was hard for him to make friends. He always had his nose in a book, wore spectacles, and attended a plethora of boring meetings that ranged from plants to bugs to what was dumped into the Thames, and everything in between. His unusual interests and pristine reputation had somehow garnered him the nickname Arid Alex.
It was a common belief among the ton that he’d never marry unless the baron, Alex’s father, arranged a marriage for him. All of Alex's siblings had drastically different personalities that made them socialites; however, since Alex was the heir to the barony and would one day need to sire an heir himself, it was necessary for him to marry.
“I certainly count myself one of his friends, sir.” Andrew didn’t mind the bizarre tendencies of Alex. To Andrew, that was what made Alex interesting.
Anyway, if Alex couldn't care less about what people thought about Andrew to be his friend, then why should Andrew care about what interests Alex held? The two of them formed a friendship when neither had another friend in the world, and that friendship was nothing that Andrew would ever want to let go of.
That was part of the trouble with going through with this scheme, and at this party for sure, whatever happened he would lose his friendship with Alex. He had to swallow a lump that formed in his throat every time he thought about it. He might have let Gateway believe that mattered naught, but in reality it mattered a great deal to Andrew. He didn’t want to lose Alex’s friendship, and just now he realized exactly how soon it would happen.
John smiled at Andrew. “My lord, you are a lot deeper than I originally thought. I am quite certain that Alex values your friendship as much as you value his.”
“Thank you, sir. Alex may not be the most entertaining of men, but he is very loyal and sincere, and those are qualities I value much more than popularity and social polish.”
“I am very glad to hear that,” John confided with a sincere smile. “I always admired my older brother. He was different. He was always looking at anything scientific he could get his hands on. He always did experiments whenever he could find the funds and resources. The problem was that nobody but his family accepted this about him. Because of his unusual interests, he was considered an outcast to society. Yet, I admired him.
“I admired him because he didn’t care what people said about him. I despaired when I got letters sent by my brother that young Alex had the same interests. I think Edward sees things differently now that it’s his son being cast out of society. However, I am very glad to know that in the middle of the social sharks he has one friend. I do believe in all honestly I can say I admire you now, too.”
Andrew felt like a lead weight was being lowered unto his stomach. John Banks, the man he was about to disappoint on two fronts, through his daughter, and now his nephew, was telling him that he admired him. It gave him a sick feeling inside. “Thank you again, sir.” Andrew said flatly, hoping his thoughts were not in his eyes.
“John,” shouted a voice further down the hall, startling them both.
Both men turned to see who the voice belonged to just as Edward Banks came strolling toward them from down the hall. “I have someone here to meet you. I think you are going to like meeting him,” the baron said.
“I shall be on my way post haste. I would not like to keep my guest in your house waiting,” John said with a brief smile for his brother. “We’ll talk more later, Townson.”
As John walked away, Edward called out, “He’s in the yellow drawing room.”
John raised a hand to indicate he heard his brother and strolled down the hall to greet his guest.
***
Paul Grimes was the second son of Viscount Bonnington. Like other younger sons, without titles and very little family money, Paul wasn’t given many options: clergy or military. Having never been a very good shot, Paul chose to go into ministry instead.
That wasn’t the only reason he’d chosen ministry. All his life he had always been groomed to do it. Just as his older brother had been groomed to be the viscount, Paul had been groomed to be a minister.
Paul’s father was born a second son and had chosen a life in the clergy. He had served as a vicar until Paul was fifteen and Paul’s uncle died without an heir. After his uncle’s death, Paul’s father inherited the title. This wasn’t an unexpected even. With both Paul’s father and uncle being in their fifties before marrying, and the viscount being unable to sire an heir; it was always known that Paul’s father would inherit. Which meant, one day Paul’s brother, Sam, would inherit.
Only three years after Paul’s father inherited, he passed away and Sam inherited the title, lands and money. That’s when Paul seriously began to pursue a career as a minister.
It was all very easy when he first started. He just did what he liked best: biblical research, preach, help ot
hers, and be spoiled by the all the ladies of the parish baking him bread and bringing him jam.
At three and twenty he was pleased with how his life turned out and was convinced he had made the right choice. But then he turned four and twenty and his life turned into a living hell.
The problem was that he found himself as the target of gossip. He had a few troublemaking parishners who liked to spin the rumor mill, especially at his expense. And these rumors seemed to be growing by the day.
When he tried to solve the problem by himself, he was met with the outrage by the members of the church.
Unsuccessful with his attempts at his church, he went to the bishop. The bishop said he was too busy to help mediate small church squabbles and sent Paul back with only a little piece of advice: find yourself a mentor.
After asking a few questions and paying calls to several of the village’s most notorious gossips, which of course he knew to be his principal parishners, Paul learned that the local baron’s younger brother was a minister in the United States. And to Paul’s good fortune, he was in England visiting his brother just now.
Paul only had this knowledge for under an hour before he arrived at the front door of the baron’s house. After being shown into a drawing room and waiting for a quarter hour, Paul met the baron. Now he was waiting for the arrival of his brother, who hopefully would agree to mentor him and be the answer to all his problems.
He got up out of his chair, tossed his hat down and walked to the window where he began to wear a hole in the rug pacing back and forth. His mind was no longer trying to sort out what to do about the church, but thinking about how to ask a man he’d never met to be his mentor. He raked his hand through his sandy blonde hair, then took off his spectacles and rubbed his moss green eyes. This was a mistake, he told himself. I shouldn’t have come. He may not even agree to do this and if he does, he might change his mind when he finds out just how bad it is.
He walked over to where his hat was sitting and was reaching down to pick it up when he heard a creaking noise. His fingers dropped his hat and he looked over to the door just in time to see John Banks walk into the room.