by Rose Gordon
Gateway laughed his eerie villain’s laugh. “I’ll give you a few more days, Townson. If you don’t deliver by then, the deal is off. I’ll find someone else, and all hopes of your estate will be lost.”
Andrew’s heart skipped. He’d almost forgotten about his estate in Essex. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To hold that deed once again? Not only did he want the money that the estate could provide, he longed for the estate as a way to make amends. He’d like to open the doors to that house for his mother so she could go live there without a backward glance to either London or Rockhurst. He knew the estate in Essex was the only place that held any pleasant memories for her.
He remembered living there with her when he was a boy. His father was always in London or at Rockhurst. Andrew never remembered the earl coming to visit him in Essex. Neither he nor his mother seemed to mind his absence though.
They had no servants, except a cook, and all day he’d play with his mother and one of the village boys named Archer. Though he didn’t remember a lot about his early years in Essex, he did remember his first visit to his father's London residence.
He didn’t go for his first visit until he was five or six years old and was so nervous about meeting the earl, his father, for the first time, that he had stomach pains the whole trip. Once he arrived and they finally met, he was immediately handed over to a bitter old nanny who took care of him the whole time. He would only see his father for brief snatches at a time every few days. When he did see him, he’d beg to go back home to his mother. When he finally was allowed to go home, his one and only friend had gone away and his mother started being absent in the afternoon doing countess duties and had to leave him with a nanny.
Even though his mother had been gone during the afternoons, she was there in the mornings and they had remained close. He felt she was all he had in the world, and she acted as if she felt the same way.
Every few months his father would send a letter to his mother asking that she have Andrew packed and ready on the front steps when his servant arrived. She would, and they’d say their tearful goodbyes, then he’d go stay with his father for a few months before returning. Growing up this way, he didn’t realize this wasn’t the usual way of families.
When he was thirteen and it came time to go to Eton, his father sent note that he was too busy to bring him and his mother would need to do it. She agreed. Leaving the house that autumn morning was the last good memory he had of his mother from boyhood. They talked the whole way to Eton; both secretly glad Thomas had decided not to come. But upon arrival at the school, Andrew’s world, and relationship with his mother, fell apart in one fell swoop.
The boys had teased him that evening after she left; and continued on for a few days. Not only were they talking about him and claimed he had an unusually strong attachment to his mother because she'd brought him to school instead of his father like everyone else, but they talked about her. They called her a whore and him a bastard. That was when he decided it was best if severed his ties with her as best he could. Not because he actually believed the rumors, but for the simple, selfish reason that he was tired of being harassed.
A week or so after the term started, she sent him a package, and he promptly sent it back to her with a letter asking her to refrain from communicating with him any further. She never sent him another note or even invited him to see her until after his father died.
He admitted to himself it would be nice to have the money the estate could produce, but on some level, he wanted to use the house as a grand gesture to mend the rift he'd selfishly created. Not that she had ever refused to see him when he had gone to visit her, nor had she ever acted coldly toward him. She'd even said she had no hard feelings, but he could see the hurt rooted deeply in her eyes. He’d do anything to take that hurt away. Which meant he had to get that estate back. And the only way to do that was to hurt an innocent bystander.
The guilt that he was going to mend one broken relationship at the cost of another was almost enough to make him call it all off. Almost.
Food was the furthest thing from his mind as Andrew trudged up the stairs. Tomorrow he’d take Brooke on a picnic, honestly answer any questions she asked about his past, and see how far she'd let him go. If she responded to his advances, he’d set up her ruination for the following night.
Andrew lay awake in his bed almost all night staring at the canopy overhead trying to convince himself that the reason he couldn’t sleep was due to the gossip about his family, and had nothing to do with his growing feelings for Brooke.
Chapter 19
Breakfast was a very short affair for Brooke. She barely had time to eat five bites before her mother pulled her into a private drawing room.
“Brooke, are you all right?” Mama asked, looking around.
“Yes, Mama, I’m fine,” Brooke lied.
“I know you heard some unsavory information about your suitor last night. But I wanted you to know that most of it isn’t true. I spoke to Regina last evening, and Papa talked to your uncle,” Mama said softly.
“It’s not about what was said exactly,” Brooke protested. Why was it everyone thought she would throw him over because of a little gossip? Was it so difficult to understand she was more upset because the act of gossip, not the content? Sure, most would end their courtship with a man many claimed was a product of an affair. But it really wasn't so important to her. Legally, he wasn't a bastard. He was born in wedlock. If he wasn't, then he wouldn't be an earl. That was all that mattered. As for the rest, the speculation about being too close to his mother for his own good as a child, well, that was just plain petty in her opinion.
Noticing Mama was staring at her with worried eyes, she forced a bright smile on her lips.
“If you’re certain this will not cause you to lose interest in the man, then I'll say no more. I think he’s quite a catch, and I believe you agree with me,” she said with a knowing smile. “I should just hate for you to give up on him because of some old gossip that probably isn’t true.”
“No, Mama, I have not given up on him,” Brooke assured her.
“Good,” Mama said, getting up to leave the room. “Papa has promised to teach me this game called pall mall. I am positively thrilled at the idea of hitting a ball with a mallet! He is waiting for me, I must be off.”
No sooner did Brooke get up to leave, Mr. Grimes entered the room.
She sighed. Did he want to talk to her to? She waited quietly by the door.
Mr. Grimes didn’t speak though. He just walked in the room, smiled at her and took a seat on a chair near the corner.
Brooke just looked at him from where she was standing; he was definitely an odd one.
“I’ll just be going now,” she said more to herself than to him, since he wasn’t paying her any attention anyway.
Brooke was walking back to the breakfast room to see if there was anything left to eat when Alex reached out and pulled her into the library.
“Brooke, I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m not sure you should mention to Andrew what you heard last night. He doesn’t take kindly to being talked about. I think it’s best you don’t mention it.”
Brooke just stared at him dumbfounded. She had no plans to mention what she heard or to ask him questions about it. If they were engaged or married she might ask him a question, but now wasn’t the time to dig into his past.
“I’ll tell you what I know, if you’d like. That should be enough to satisfy your curiosity for now,” Alex said uneasily.
“That will not be necessary,” she said, waving her hand. “I have no desire to hear anymore stories. I will ask him about it if it becomes necessary, but as for now, I have no interest.”
The tension fled from Alex’s face, then he bobbed his head up and down ecstatically. “Very well. I shall see you later.”
Brooke took that as her dismissal and exited the library. This was turning into the most bizarre morning.
She made
her way outside with only the quick wave and a chipper, “Good morning” to Papa.
Relaxing in the shade given by a tall leafy tree, Brooke was lost in a daydream. She dreamt of Andrew and his kisses. So far, he’d been the perfect gentleman. When he’d kissed her, he’d kept his hands in appropriate places. They might have rubbed her back a bit and tangled in her hair, but he hadn’t tried to maul her chest or bottom like the others had.
The last gentleman she’d kissed prior to Andrew had been the Duke of Gateway. His kisses had been satisfactory, but paled in comparison to Andrew’s. He hadn’t tried to caress her before she ended their time together. However, that was the reason she'd ended things. She felt his hand straying from her shoulder, dropping lower. Just the idea of his hand on her breast made her cringe.
“Is that the face you always wear when thinking of Townson?” asked the object of her thoughts, coming to lean against her shade tree.
“No, not at all,” she replied primly. “It’s the one I wear when I think of you.”
Gateway smiled a bit. “I’m flattered that I’m the subject of your thoughts. I do feel bad for Townson though. I believe he may be heartbroken to know the woman he’s courting is entertaining thoughts of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace,” Brooke shot back. “As you so kindly pointed out when you approached, they were not pleasant thoughts.”
“Indeed,” Gateway allowed. “But thoughts the same. Would you care to share those thoughts with me?”
“No.”
“But if I’m part of them, then I think common courtesy would say you should share them with me.” Gateway gave her an encouraging smile.
“Fine, I’ll tell you, although they don’t do you any favors. I was thinking of what an awful kisser you are. Happy now?” she asked, taking a small measure of delight in seeing his smile vanish and his eyes widen. Either his face changed because he was shocked she was so blunt or he was shocked she thought he was a bad kisser, she wasn’t sure which, and didn’t care enough to ask.
“I’m sorry that you feel that way. Would you like to give it another go?” Gateway asked, his smile fully recovered.
“Not on your life. I have suffered that tragedy once already. I have no wish for a repeat performance.”
“You’re loss. I’ve been told that I’m very skilled in that department.” Gateway said easily.
Brooke snorted. “You’re not that skilled.”
“You would know,” he quipped with a sly smile.
That stunned Brooke. Their conversation was already scandalous, not enough to ruin her reputation, but his last comment was. She looked around to make sure nobody heard what he’d said.
After she was satisfied that no one had, she looked back to Gateway. “What do you want anyway?” she asked tersely.
“To talk to you,” he responded smoothly, taking a seat on the grass next to where she was sitting.
She groaned. “Why?” she asked, grinding her teeth. “You never have anything nice to say to me, so why seek me out?”
“I’ve come to talk to you about Townson.”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear another word about him. I don’t care about the gossip. I don’t care about his relationship with his mother, as a boy or now. And I don’t wish to discuss my relationship with him, especially with you.”
Gateway smiled at her. It was a rare smile that Brooke was sure she’d never seen before; she would even consider it to be a grin. Brooke was actually quite taken aback when she saw it. He had a very pretty smile when it was genuine. And there was no mistake, this smile was genuine. She smiled in return.
“I think our discussion is complete,” he said, regaining his feet.
“Good riddance,” Brooke mumbled to his retreating back.
Gateway strolled across the lawn and had to pass Andrew as he was walking toward Brooke. “Townson,” he mumbled in passing.
“Gateway,” Andrew replied testily. “What were you and Brooke speaking about?”
“Her kissing half the gentlemen in the ton,” Gateway said, stopping to watch Andrew’s response.
Andrew stiffened.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t trying to kiss her. Been there, done that. She was just telling me who she thought does and doesn’t have talent for kissing. She does have quite a bit of experience if I do say so myself,” Gateway said with a snicker. He idly rubbed his chin with his fingers and cocked his head to the side. “Hmm, I don’t remember her mentioning your name.” As soon as he said his last word, he walked off, chuckling to himself.
Andrew stood stock still with his jaw clamped shut, staring at where Brooke was sitting over in the grass by the tree. “I’ll show her,” he muttered, walking toward Brooke. “By the time I’m done with her this afternoon, she won’t even remember she’s ever kissed another man.”
Brooke was watching the pall mall players on the lawn when Andrew took a seat on the ground right next to her. “Our horses are waiting when you’re ready,” he whispered in her ear.
Brooke couldn't stop the smile that took over her lips. “I’m ready now,” she told him excitedly. She had been anxiously waiting to leave because she hadn't secured permission to do so. Instead, she'd given a note to the butler to deliver to her mother right before luncheon telling her she had left to go on a picnic and would return shortly. The note had been vague about where she was going and when exactly she would be back, but Brooke didn’t care.
Andrew helped her to her feet and led her to where the horses were saddled and waiting for them. “Miss Bluebell,” Andrew said as they approached her mount.
“She’s just as magnificent up close as she was across the field,” Brooke whispered, stroking Bluebell’s mane.
“Yes,” Andrew agreed. “She is quite the beast.”
Andrew helped her up onto her horse, then mounted his own.
Brooke watched in quiet awe as Andrew swung his leg over the back of his massive stallion. He sat up on his horse and adjusted himself in the saddle. Brooke was fascinated by the picture he made. It was like his massive body was part of the horse’s. It just looked so natural that he would be on the back of a horse. She couldn’t help it, she just sat there and stared at him.
It wasn’t until she met his curious blue eyes looking back at her that she jerked her eyes away. “I was just…ah…just making sure you mounted all right,” she stammered.
Andrew’s face formed an expression of pure amusement, but he didn’t laugh. “I am quite capable of mounting my horse, among other things.”
Brooke felt her face starting to burn. “That will be enough of that type of talk, my lord,” she managed.
This time Andrew did laugh. “One day you might enjoy such conversation.”
“I assure you, I will never enjoy such a conversation,” Brooke told him; her voice had gained a sharp edge to it.
They rode their horses down a little tree lined trail that led away from the house. “All right,” Andrew allowed. “We shall talk of something else. How are you finding this party?”
Brooke was thankful for his change of conversation subjects. “It has been lovely so far. I have enjoyed meeting many new people, eating new dishes, and of course, having a break from London.”
“A break from London?”
“Yes, a break. You know, time away from balls, pressure, and gossip,” Brooke replied, trying desperately to forget about what gossip she'd witnessed yesterday. She was still determined to not ask him about it, but she also didn’t want him to know she knew anything about it.
“Gossip,” Andrew mused. “Are you telling me that you have heard not one jot of gossip since coming to this party?”
Brooke tried to keep her expression bland, but could feel her face heating up nonetheless. “Well, I have heard some gossip I confess,” she stated. She couldn’t lie and say she’d heard none, he wouldn’t believe that for a second.
“Anything you find ‘juicy’, as they say?” he asked. His eyes were looking over at her instead of
the path in front of them.
Brooke felt those eyes on her. She felt as if they were boring holes into the side of her face. She dared not turn her head and meet them, or she might undeniably give herself away. “None that I have heard do I believe to be true,” she said, her voice a little higher than usual.
“You’ve heard some, then?” Andrew asked quietly, still looking at her.
“Yes, I’ve already said that,” she said irritably
“And how do you know that what you heard wasn’t true?” he asked softly.
“I just do not believe that the person who I heard such gossip about has the type of character to prove the words correct,” she said as smoothly as she could. Brooke was starting to realize he wanted to talk about this. What she couldn’t figure out was why. Why would a man wish to talk about gossip? He obviously knew she knew, and he was trying to get her to acknowledge it.
“That’s a very admirable trait about you, Brooke,” Andrew said without a hint of his thoughts being betrayed in his voice.
Brooke moved her head slowly to look at him now, when she caught his eye she saw an expression of disbelief. “Why do you look at me that way?” she inquired.
“Which way?”
“As if you do not believe what I say,” Brooke answered bluntly. That was the best sugarcoating Brooke could manage. The man looked at her as if believed she was a liar, and that rankled her.
Andrew stopped his horse, which led to Brooke having to stop hers if she wanted to hear what he had to say, and she did. “It’s not that I don’t believe what you say. In fact, I do believe it. It’s more that I don't believe you would so easily dismiss horrible gossip about my past with such little knowledge that you have of me.” His words were even and smooth, but Brooke saw in his eyes that his brain was still at war about absorbing all of this information.
Brooke reached over to him, and for the first time she was the one to touch him first and without any warning, she slowly ran her hand up and down his forearm before giving him a light reassuring squeeze. “I suppose we’re talking about the same thing. Yes, I heard gossip about you and your family last night,” she acknowledged. “I don’t believe it. I have no proof to support any of it. Therefore, like all gossip I hear, I don’t hold it against the person until I find that it’s true,” she said softly and gave him a sweet tilted smile.