by Rose Gordon
“I’m certain Mrs. Cleansweep will bring us breakfast if you ring,” she said. Then her face went white, and she looked at the ground. “Oh no, what am I to wear?” she exclaimed.
“What you’re wearing now seems to fit you well,” Andrew said honestly.
She cast him her best attempt at a sharp look. “As much as you’d like it, I cannot spend the whole day naked. The only clothes I brought here are destroyed,” she said, pointing to the floor.
His eyes followed her pointing finger. Next to the bed was a pile of discarded clothes. Her gown lay at the bottom in a crushed and wrinkled mess. Her chemise was on top, with both straps broken. Andrew cast her an apologetic look. Next to that was her linen binding and pillow shams. Surely there was something down there she could put on for a while.
“Don’t you dare suggest I put on that crumpled gown. And I'm not going to try to fashion some sort of outfit out of the other clothes, so don't even suggest it.”
Andrew raised his hands in mock innocence. “I would never even think such a thought,” he said with a wry smile.
He rose from the bed and covered her with the sheet. “Wait here, I have something.” He came back a few minutes later wearing trousers and a shirt, holding a red dressing robe in hand. “You can wear this. I’ll run downstairs to order breakfast and dash a note off to Alex asking him to have your clothes sent right away. Well, maybe not right away,” he amended with a wink.
He tossed the dressing robe on her bed beside her and left the room. When he shut the door he heard a peal of giggles from her and couldn’t help a broad, proud smile.
Walking down the hall, he spotted Mrs. Cleansweep dusting a wall sconce. “Can you bring breakfast to my wife’s room right away?”
“Yes, my lord,” she answered and scurried off to do her task.
Andrew went down the staircase and in the direction of his study, not bothering to talk to Stevens who was trying to no avail to get Andrew’s attention. “Whatever it is, Stevens, I trust you can manage it. I need to do a quick errand then I am back upstairs to spend the day with my wife,” he said in a superior tone that he used to dismiss his servants when they were being bothersome.
As soon as he entered his study he wished that for once Stevens had been an insolent servant who insisted on fighting with his employer.
What awaited him in his study was not what he’d expected to see, but was probably what Steven’s meant when he kept claiming there was a “sticky situation” afoot.
On the settee by the fireplace was his mother, and not ten feet away, sitting behind his desk, was the Duke of Gateway.
“Good morning, mother,” he said stiffly, ignoring Gateway altogether.
“Good morning, Andrew. Where is your bride?” she asked crisply, hurt marring her normally gentle features.
Andrew supposed she was upset for him not introducing them sooner, or for him marrying without telling her about it. There hadn’t exactly been time the day before to introduce them; and he hadn’t send word for her to join the wedding party because he didn’t want her to undergo any unfair scrutiny.
“Yes, where is your bride?” Gateway drawled. “I’m rather surprised to see you so early, or has she already proven to be uninteresting.”
The dowager countess shot the duke a shapr look, but that was nothing compared to Andrew’s reaction.
Andrew leapt across his desk to where Gateway was sitting, grabbed him by the lapels and with more force than necessary, threw him to the floor. “Don’t you ever speak of her in such a way again,” he thundered.
Gateway’s face went red, but his hands came up and grabbed Andrew’s arms and brought him down to the floor with him. “I broke your nose once, Townson, don’t think I won’t do it again,” he roared.
“That was many years ago, and it wasn’t a fair fight, you caught me unawares, the coward’s way,” Andrew spat.
They both rolled around on the floor of Andrew’s study, punching and trying to strangle each other. One second one would have the advantage and be on top, then a second later the positions were reversed.
“Stop! Both of you, behave yourselves,” Andrew’s mother yelled. “This is ridiculous you are two grown men and you’re acting like petulant children. What’s worse is there is no reason for it. Benjamin, apologize for insulting his wife.”
“I will not apologize, I have no reason to. The remarks I made were fair, everyone knows his wife is a light skirt,” Gateway said. A satisfied look came over his face when Andrew’s face turned murderous.
“You only have a grudge against her because she rejected you,” Andrew said sourly as he punched Gateway square in the jaw.
“Is that what she told you?” Gateway scoffed as he rubbed his jaw. “I’ll have you know I wouldn’t have her if she served herself to me naked on a platter.”
Andrew rose up off the ground while Gateway tried to sooth his hurting jaw. “I want you out. Now!”
“No,” Gateway said, as he rose to his feet and held up his fists, preparing for round two. “We made a bargain and you didn't hold your end. I demand satisfaction.”
“Bargain? Satisfaction?” the dowager countess said, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What is he talking about, Andrew?”
“Nothing, Mother,” Andrew said tersely.
“It’s not nothing,” Gateway snapped. “We had a deal and if I remember correctly, the deal did not involve you marrying her. In fact, you were specifically not to marry her. Or did you forget that part of the agreement?” he asked accusingly.
“No, I didn't forget,” Andrew replied flatly. “However, there was nothing in the agreement that said you would demand satisfaction if I failed to pull it off. If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to end the agreement a few days ago when you thought she would throw me over due to some old gossip. Why is it fine for you to end the agreement but not me?” Andrew asked with a sneer.
“Because I was going to call it off and find someone who could handle it. As it turns out, that is exactly what I should have done,” Gateway shot back.
“What agreement?” the dowager demanded in a voice that was so loud it shook the wall hangings. “I want to know exactly what’s going on right this instant.”
Andrew and Gateway exchanged looks that were so sharp that if they had been daggers, they’d both be dead. Andrew thought he should be the one to tell his mother what was going on. He couldn’t trust Gateway to tell the truth, and why should he? She wasn’t his mother, or any relation for that matter.
“Now, Andrew. Tell all of us about this agreement,” said a voice behind him, cutting him off before he could speak.
He turned around very slowly, hoping his mind was playing tricks on him, but it wasn’t and his heart dipped to his toes. Behind him, standing in the doorway of his study, was his wife. She wore only his red dressing robe and stood still as a statue.
Andrew knew everyone was looking at her, but Brooke didn’t act like she knew or cared she was now the center of attention.
“Brooke,” he said, coming to her side.
She wrenched her arm away from him. “What agreement, Andrew?” Her voice so icy it could freeze a pot of boiling water on the spot.
“Tell her, Townson,” Gateway urged. “Tell her all about your plan to have her shamed right out of England and sent packing back to America on the fastest vessel.”
Andrew ignored Gateway, he’d take care of him later. Right now he needed to talk to Brooke. “Brooke,” Andrew started again.
“It all makes sense now,” she snapped, halting his words. She pulled further away from him. She was clutching his dressing robe so tightly her knuckles turned white and he thought the seams around the sleeves were going to pop. “It makes sense why you showed up at my house not knowing me or my sisters. When we caught you, you made up some lie about seeing us across the room at some ball you probably didn’t even attend.”
“That’s not true,” Andrew interrupted defensively. “I was at that ball.”
/> “What was I wearing?” she countered tartly. She shook her head at his lack of response. “I thought so. You were always trying to get me alone, and when you did, I fell right into your trap. I believed your words about having feelings for me and how much you cared for me. But now I know the real reason you were reluctant to marry me, even after Alex challenged you to a duel.”
“Indeed, a duel?” Gateway chimed in when she paused.
Brooke’s eyes left Andrew and darted to Gateway. “What I don’t understand is your part in this,” she said stiffly.
“My part was simple really, I had something your husband wanted more than you,” he said, shrugging. “Something he wanted badly enough that he planned to bring on your ruin and send you back to America on the soonest vessel.” He flashed her a cruel smile that made her go pale.
Andrew’s mother let out a gasp, but wisely closed her mouth when Andrew gave her a quelling look.
“You can give him whatever he would have gained,” Brooke said with a sob in her throat. “I shall return to my family and convince them to leave England without delay.” She turned and fled the room.
Andrew ran after her. When he reached her, he tried to pull her back to him. “Stop, Brooke, let me explain.”
“There’s no need,” she assured him, the tears rolling down her cheeks betraying her words.
Andrew moved to stand in front of her, trying to block her way. “There is a need,” he said softly.
She pushed his chest. Hard.
He didn’t budge.
She placed both hands squarely on his chest, not caring that the dressing robe she wore fell open in the front and revealed her naked form to his eyes. This time, she shoved him with all her might.
Andrew was rather shocked when his body fell backward and crashed into the banister, breaking it as it broke his direct fall to the edge of the stairs. She had some muscles. For being a girl, that is. He would have smiled about at the discovery if he wasn’t in so much pain.
She took advantage of his misfortune by grabbing her gown together and running toward the servant’s stairs. She almost made it when he grabbed her waist from behind. “Would you please just stop for a moment. I can explain everything,” he ground out.
She faced him; her eyes were still filled with fury. “For fear of having to repeat myself again, please listen well, Lord Townson. There is no need. I understand everything. I was present for most of that enlightening conversation.”
“What did you hear?” he growled.
“Enough” she snapped. Her body was beginning to tremble from sobs racking through her. “Now, would you for once in your misbegotten life be a gentleman and release me.”
Andrew relaxed his hold on her and she scurried to the top of the stairs, leaving him at the bottom. “Where are you going?” he demanded softly when she reached the top.
“I already told you,” she snapped. “Right now, I’m going back to my family then back to America.”
“No,” he said coolly.
“No?” she echoed.
“No. I forbid it,” he said in a steely tone.
“You forbid it?” she burst out, crossing her arms across her chest.
He crossed his arms in the same manner. “As your husband, I forbid you to leave this house.” His voice would have made most people cower to his demands, but not Brooke.
“You are powerless over me,” she huffed defiantly. “I will leave this house if I choose to. I will go where I want and do what I want. You don't own me.” She ran down the hall as fast as she could to seek shelter in her chamber.
Andrew took the stairs two at a time and ran down the hall after her. But because of her head start, by the time he reached her room, she was already safely inside and slammed the door right in his face.
Moving his hand to the knob he found it was locked. He made a fist and banged it on the outside of her door. “Open this door right now!” he called through the door.
He didn’t hear any response and almost kicked himself when he remembered how easily he could get inside her room. With a shake of his head, he left her door and strolled to his room. He walked over to the connecting door and turned the handle.
It wouldn’t turn.
Not so easily put off, Andrew started looking around for the key, he knew it was in there somewhere. He shuffled some papers on his writing desk, not there. He looked around his vanity, not there. Finding a cup-like object that held quills and other miscellaneous objects, he turned it over, dumping the quills and other odds and ends out, but the key was not there. The key had to be there somewhere, he just knew it. That room had not been used in so long there was no need to lock it, but surely the old earl had kept the key around here somewhere.
He finally resigned himself to the idea that the key was not close at hand and walked over to the connecting door. “Brooke, unlock this door this instant or I will break it down,” he yelled through the door. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible, but she didn’t need to know that.
He waited silently for a minute, listening for her response. He heard none. “Brooke, I’m serious. If you don’t open up, I’m coming in.”
He stood quietly again, listening once more for any noise, her moving, unlocking the door, crying, anything. But he heard nothing. “All right, I’m coming in, you better move back.”
He walked across his room, and with as much speed as he could gain, he ran straight toward the door, hitting it head on with his shoulder. He heard a cracking noise, but the door was still firmly in place. Stepping away from the door he ran his fingers over his now smarting shoulder that matched his equally sore back and face.
Andrew decided this was not the best method to enter the countess’ chambers and later today that door would be taken off its hinges and burned. Looking around, Andrew spotted his penknife lying on the vanity.
Fighting his irritation with himself for not thinking to use it sooner, he pulled out the blade and stalked over to the door.
In less than fifteen seconds he had the lock picked and pushed open the door. He was expecting Brooke to scream in surprise. He was expecting her to rage at him. He was even expecting flying objects to be hurled at his head.
He was not expecting the room to be empty.
He looked behind the wardrobe and dressing screen, he peeked under the bed, she wasn’t anywhere. There nothing out of place, and no sign of her. Turning in a circle he saw the door leading to the hallway was slightly ajar. He walked over and opened it up then looked up and down the hallway, but it was empty.
He stormed back into her room and saw something move through the window. Wanting to get a closer look, he walked to the window, just in time to see Brooke tearing across the lawn toward the duke’s carriage, clad in nothing more than his red dressing robe.
Chapter 27
Andrew ran down the stairs and to the front door as fast as his feet could carry him; all the while wondering what had possessed her to take a ride from the duke.
He knew he couldn’t catch up with the carriage on foot, he’d have to saddle his horse and run into her on the road. He was almost certain she was going back to Alex’s where she could convince her family he was an awful monster, which he knew he was, then they’d leave and he’d never get another chance to see her again. He had to catch up to her.
He reached out to open the front door and saw the duke’s shadow from where he was standing by the window. A wave of relief rushed through him knowing the duke had not been in that carriage with her. Call it whatever you want: jealousy, possession or love, it made no difference; something in him did not like the idea of Gateway alone with her, especially with her only wearing that little scrap of fabric.
“It looks like your luck just improved,” Gateway drawled from behind Andrew’s back. “She’s gone. Now that you’re free of her, I’ll give you your deed. A house is so much better than a trollop for a wife anyway. They both require a bit of money, but at least with the house, you know who inhabits it while you’re away.�
� He cackled at his insinuation.
Andrew’s blood was thundering so loudly in his ears he did not hear his mother shriek, “Benjamin Archer Leopold Charles Robert Collins!”
All thoughts of rushing after Brooke fled his mind and he took his hand off the door handle, spun around, and without hesitation, brought his fist up to connect with the center of Gateway’s face, creating a sharp cracking noise, followed by loud thud.
He took a measure of satisfaction when Gateway dropped to the floor like a lead weight and lay there in a tangled pile of limbs, groaning in pain.
Andrew’s mother ran over to where Gateway’s still form lay groaning on the floor. She bent over him to smooth his hair back when she made a cry of distress.
“Why are you crying over him?” Andrew growled, hauling her up off the floor.
She didn’t answer. She just glanced at Gateway on the floor then to Andrew, her eyes full of unshed tears. “Why can’t you two get along?” she cried, fighting Andrew’s grip on her arm.
“Why should we?” Andrew countered, tightening his grip. Then it dawned on him, his mother had said something before he punched Gateway. He could have sworn it was Gateway’s full name, but why would she say that? And how would she know it? She was a recluse after all. He released his hold on her arm and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why did you call him by his full name? How did you even know it? Since when have you two become fast friends?” He bombarded her with questions, taking a step closer to her with each one, causing her to back up until she backed straight into a wall.
When she didn’t answer him, he started to wonder what he was missing. What had she called him? Benjamin Archer Leopold Charles Robert Collins; then it clicked, Archer, that was the name of his playmate in Essex.
“Who is he to you?” Andrew bellowed, making her go pale. “Don’t deny that you know him on a personal level. I remember playing with a little boy named Archer until I was about five and he suddenly disappeared. There's no reason for you, a recluse, to know his full name unless he is the same Archer I played with. Now tell me what’s going on.”