by Rose Gordon
“Who cares about his rank, he’s only marrying me because he feels it’s his duty. He doesn't want to marry me,” she said dully.
“That’s not true,” Mama protested. “I’ve seen the way you two are together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those secret smiles and looks exchanged between the two of you.”
Brooke blushed. Was she so obvious? “All right, I admit it, I have feelings for him. But I don’t think he returns them.”
“They'll come,” Mama assured her. “Does it matter so much if he doesn’t feel as strongly for you as you do for him? He will, and in the meantime, think of the great life you will live. You will have one of the top positions in society and will be invited everywhere. The scandal surrounding your wedding will pass in time. I know some harsh things were said and done last night, but the truth is, returning home isn’t really an option just, you know that. ”
“I suppose you’re right,” Brooke conceded, taking out an ice blue gown from her wardrobe.
“That is truly beautiful,” Mama said, helping her put it on. Mama quickly took charge of fastening the buttons on the back. “Brooke, I don’t know how to approach this, but we may not have any other time alone.”
“Yes?”
“Last night, did you…did the earl…umm…do you need me to explain anything?” Mama stammered in an uneasy voice.
“No, I don’t think so,” Brooke replied, absolutely uncertain what on earth Mama was speaking of. Looking in her mirror, she saw a strange look on Mama’s face, but she wasn’t sure what it meant because it was gone in a second.
“In that case, I guess my job just got a little easier.” She flashed a bright smile. “Now about this mess…” she said, trying to bring a brush through Brooke’s tangled hair.
It took a quarter of an hour longer than anticipated for Brooke to be presentable. Walking down to where the men were waiting in the library, Brooke was a bundle of nerves. She wanted to marry Andrew. She’d decided several days ago that if he were to propose she would accept. But under the circumstances, she wanted to ask a few questions first. The first of which would be why he wanted to marry her. Was it duty? Honor? Had he been guilted into it? Or did he truly care for her?
Upon entering the library, Brooke noticed Andrew’s state of disarray. He was wet. Soaked to be exact. And where he was standing, a puddle had formed on the carpet. A quick glance out the window behind him told her it was storming outside. When had he gone outside, she wondered. Not only was he wet, his hair looked like a windstorm had blown it about. His clothes were dirty, and ironically the same ones he’d worn the night before. A little giggle escaped her at the thought.
In response to her giggle, Andrew raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that everyone was so horrified over my splendid ensemble earlier but no one, myself included, noticed yours,” she said, gesturing to his torn clothes, messy hair, and wet body.
“Indeed, you are correct. They were so intent to stop me from seeing you that they said naught about how I was dressed. I would have changed when you did, but I find my belongings have mysteriously disappeared from my room.”
Papa let out an uncomfortable cough and patted his chest. “Excuse me.”
“Shall I translate that for you?” Brooke asked Andrew. “That’s what Papa does when he gets uncomfortable, typically because he’s just been caught after he did something wrong. I would wager, if I were the kind of woman who wagers, that your belongings have probably been burned.”
“Burned?” Andrew said hollowly. The look on his face indicated he sorely hoped she was jesting.
“No, not burned,” Papa interrupted. “You will find all of your things when you get back to London. I exercised what little power I have in England and I asked my brother, the baron and your host, to please have your things removed post haste.”
“I see,” Andrew said, though he looked like he didn't see at all.
“That’s immaterial. What do you have to say to Brooke?” Papa said harshly.
Andrew came forward and dropped to one knee right there before everyone in the room. “Brooke, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Brooke looked into his eyes. During their brief association, she'd come to be able to read him just by looking in his eyes. He didn’t laugh or smile as much as she did, but his eyes changed colors and looked brighter when he was amused or thought something humorous. She had seen them darken on a few occasions, indicating what she thought to be desire. She’d also seen them look hard as steel when he was upset or determined, like last night. How they looked currently was the only mood she couldn’t read. They were impassive. Showing neither happiness, sadness, desire, nor determination. She had seen this look but a handful of times, like when they first met or when they first arrived at the museum.
“Why?” she queried.
“I think it should be obvious. I have a need for a wife and you have a need for a husband. Certain circumstances have come up that make it convenient that we make a match.”
Those weren’t the words of love she so dearly longed to hear, but what he said was true. They both required a spouse, and after this, she would be hard pressed to find one. She sighed. At least he had only said, “circumstance that make it convenient” rather than coming out and saying he felt honor bound, or it was his duty to either for causing her ruination or duty for him to produce an heir.
“All right, I'll be your wife,” Brooke said with a tight smile.
Andrew quickly rose to his feet and waved to Mr. Grimes in the corner. “Paul, are you ready?”
“Indeed, my lord.” Mr. Grimes walked over to where Brooke and Andrew stood in the drawing room.
“What’s going on?” Brooke asked Andrew.
“Our wedding,” he said, then reached in his breast pocket and removed a wet special license from his pocket.
“Right now?” she asked, shocked. “But why here, why now?”
“I thought it would be best to marry quietly and depart the house party this morning in order to put a stop to the gossip.”
He was right of course. So much for girlhood dreams of a big fancy wedding. “Can we ask my sisters to join us?” she asked nervously.
“You’re quite right,” Papa said before anyone else could speak.
Within moments Madison, Liberty, Alex and Edward and Regina were summoned to bear witness to their ceremony.
All too quickly it was over; she was married and being hastily escorted out of the room by her husband.
On their way out the door, they were almost run over by Mr. Grimes, who was walking as fast as his legs could carry him, probably trying to get away from Liberty, Brooke thought with a wry smile. A lot of people didn’t understand Liberty, that was for sure, but she had never seen anyone with such a strong case of dislike for her, it almost rivaled Liberty’s own dislike for him. Almost, but not quite.
Outside, Andrew’s carriage was waiting to take them away. Brooke climbed inside and waved goodbye to her family as they rolled down the road.
“Where are we going?” Brooke asked after a while.
“Rockhurst,” Andrew said simply.
Judging by how Andrew was sitting, Brooke assumed he was in no mood for conversation. She wondered why that was. They had just gotten married, and prior to that he was in a good mood. What had changed?
She looked in his eyes, and there she saw it, a distant, lost, almost cold look in their depths. Did he regret marrying her only fifteen minutes after they said their vows? Did this mean he had only gone through with it because of honor?
Right then and there, Brooke decided she was going to make him happy and come to love her. No matter what she had to do to change his feelings for her, she would do it.
It took an hour to get to Rockhurst. When they rolled up, her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped a little. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s the seat of the earldom, so of course it has to be well kept and attended properly,�
�� he said bitterly.
Paying him no mind, Brooke continued to ogle the estate. It was huge. In the middle was a large house that was three stories. It was made of a heavily textured dark brown brick. The windows on the upper two floors were tall and slim, the ones on the bottom floor were huge, but there were only a few. “It looks medieval, like a castle,” she said without thinking.
“At one time it was. There have been many renovations over the generations, but some of the original castle still stands. That’s why the windows on the upper floors are tall and slim. Archers would stand there and fire out.” He offered no further information.
Brooke looked out in amazement. It must have been a great adventure to grow up here, she thought.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt and Brooke was nearly thrown from her seat. Andrew’s hand gripped her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her regain her seat.
“Yes.”
As soon as she readjusted herself in her seat, the carriage door swung open and a footman let the stairs down for them.
Andrew climbed down and reached up to help Brooke descend from the carriage. She took his arm and together they walked toward the house where two servants were assembled to greet them.
“This is my wife, the new countess, your new mistress,” he said unceremoniously and gestured to Brooke. “These are my servants,” he said with an equal amount of enthusiasm. Then he led her to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Cleansweep, I trust you can show her around. I’m off to bed. When you’re done, you can show her to the countess rooms.” He shifted his gaze to Brooke. “I’ll join you for dinner.”
On his way inside the house, a tall manservant dressed impeccably in solid black, whispered something to Andrew. Brooke strained to hear what he said, but the only word she picked up was: friend. Andrew’s face grew dark during the conversation and Brooke began to realize that whoever they were speaking about was not just a casual friend such as Alex, but probably his mistress.
She felt like she was going to faint. Of course he had a mistress, she reminded herself, all men, save Papa, had one. She tried to strengthen her resolve and gave the housekeeper a tight smile, hoping it would not be too transparent, while in the back of her mind she vowed she would get rid of this mistress—immediately. She knew she couldn’t demand it of him, but she could beguile him enough he’d dismiss her on his own.
“Mrs. Cleansweep, it is a pleasure to meet you, and I would like very much for you to show me around. I fear I'd get lost if I had to navigate it on my own.”
Mrs. Cleansweep quickly introduced her to the other servants. There was Rawlings, who worked as the coachman and did outside footman duties. Next was Stevens, he acted as the butler and did inside footman duties. Mrs. Cleansweep explained that she was the housekeeper and cook.
They took a tour of the house, stopping in all the common rooms to look around. The house was amazing. When at last they had reached the far end of the eastern wing of the second floor Mrs. Cleansweep opened the door. “This is your room. I do apologize it has not been aired for sometime. I was not expecting his lordship to marry, and it has been a while since the dowager countess used this room.”
Brooke walked in and looked around. The room was a little stuffy, just as she had expected. She saw it had recently been dusted, probably this morning, and the windows were opened as far as they could go to allow the room to ventilate.
In the middle there was a large four poster bed. Brooke ran her hand up one of the posts and sat on the feather mattress. On one side of the bed there was a small night table that held a lamp stand with three candles in it. There was a little drawer in the side of table. Brooke pulled open to reveal two books that must have belonged to the dowager countess, she coughed from the dust and slid the drawer back into place.
In the corner was a large wardrobe made of a beautiful dark wood that matched the bed. Next to it was a vanity table that had a water basin and pitcher. The vanity was large enough to display her brushes and combs and toward the back of it was a small round mirror. To the side of the vanity table was a full sized standing mirror that had a hairline crack going down the length of the glass.
She glanced to the other side of bed and noticed a small writing desk positioned beneath one of the windows. She walked away from the mirror and went to the door she saw in the middle of the wall.
When she put her hand on the doorknob, Mrs. Cleansweep cleared her throat. Brooke’s gazed shot to hers and Mrs. Cleansweep said bluntly, “That’s the connecting door to the master’s room. I imagine he’ll come through it soon enough.”
Brooke blushed before removing her hand from the door.
“If there is nothing else, my lady, I need to be about my duties,” Mrs. Cleansweep said.
“Just one question,” Brooke said, walking to the desk across the room. When she reached the desk, she pulled out a stack of yellowed paper and eyed it curiously. “How long has it been since this room was last occupied?”
“Nearly thirty years ago, but for only one night. Before that, maybe twenty,” Mrs. Cleansweep said in a low tone.
It had been nearly fifty years since this room had a regular inhabitant. Why? Wasn’t Andrew’s mother still living? “One night?” she asked the housekeeper who had not left yet.
“Yes. The late earl brought his bride here after their wedding, and the next afternoon he sent her away to Essex. She lived until a few months ago.”
Brooke nodded. Andrew had told her that much the day of their picnic. He told her something had caused his parents to live separate lives, but even he didn’t know what it was. “What happened a few months ago?” Brooke asked, knowing she had told the housekeeper she was only going to ask one question.
“The estate in Essex had to be sold. For lack of anywhere else to live, she now lives here. Not to worry, she stays on the third floor. I can’t imagine this place has any happy memories for either her or Lord Townson.”
“I see. Thank you, you may go now.” Brooke took a seat on the chair by the desk and started to think about what the housekeeper told her. Was that why he had such a distant look on his face on the way over? Did it have nothing to do with her, but rather where they were going? If that was the reason, that could easily be fixed.
Brooke walked around the room again. This time she looked out one of the windows to see the view and saw a large pond. Looking out the other window, she could see a horse stable. Maybe they could go on a ride tomorrow, she thought with a wistful smile as she remember their ride and picnic earlier in the week.
Walking back to the bed, she laid down in hopes of taking a quick nap. She’d had a long night last night and a very eventful day so far.
Some time later there was a swift rap on her door.
Rolling over and standing up, she mumbled, “No rest for the weary,” before glancing at the clock on the shelf in the corner. Was it possible she had been asleep for more than four hours?
Resisting the urge to stop and look in the mirror to see what a mess her hair was, Brooke went over to the door and cautiously opened it.
Stevens greeted her with a low bow. “Dinner will be served in quarter of an hour, my lady. I was asked to invite you to the drawing room until dinner is announced.”
Brooke nodded and followed him down the hall. All thoughts of the state of her hair and gown neglected. Her thoughts were now occupied with Andrew. What would he wear? Would he be glad to see her at the table? Obviously he wanted her presence or he wouldn’t have sent for her. What would they talk about at dinner? What would they do after dinner? Would he visit her room tonight? A shiver ran through her just thinking about it.
She was not disappointed when she reached the drawing room. Andrew was waiting for her by the fireplace. He was dressed up in some of the finest clothes she'd seen him wear. He wore solid black except a white shirt and an emerald pin in white his cravat. With his dark hair slicked back, he looked magnificent.
“Join me,” he invited, gesturing toward a settee next to
where he stood.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking around the room. “Is your mother going to join us tonight?”
Andrew’s head snapped in her direction at the mention of her mother. Was she not supposed to know his mother lived there? Brooke thought she saw his eyes flicker with some emotion she didn’t recognize. Then he shook his head. “No, she takes her meals in her room. Have you met her?”
“No. I thought it would be best if you to introduce us.”
Andrew nodded. “I'll introduce you tomorrow. Tonight, you're all mine.” His eyes held a wicked gleam.
Brooke blushed and wondered if that meant he would indeed be visiting her room tonight. She remembered his kisses and caresses from the night before and hoped he would do that again tonight; this time she wouldn’t stop him.
Andrew must have read her thoughts because he chuckled. “Like the idea of that, do you?”
Brooke could feel her face grow warmer, and began to restlessly look around the room.
They sat for only a few minutes before Stevens walked in. “Dinner is ready, my lord.”
Andrew offered Brooke his arm and together they walked into the dining room.
“For the lovely bride and her groom, only the best food in the house,” Stevens said, gesturing to the sideboard where the food was waiting for him to serve it.
Brooke had never seen such a shabby meal. Only four bland and paltry courses were served. The first was a salad made with slightly brown lettuce and soggy tomatoes, nothing else. The second course was stewed cabbage. It smelled awful and tasted worse, but judging by the size of the portion and the way Andrew was eating, she ate every bite. The third, and largest, was a potato, just a little baked potato with a small pat of butter. Dessert was the final course; it was nothing more than just a couple spoonfuls of custard.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t afford a wife,” Brooke teased without thinking it insulting or vulgar to discuss a man’s money with him, at the dining table in his house no less.