by Rose Gordon
It felt like only minutes in the carriage before they were pulling up to her uncle’s house. The coachman came to open the door to let her down and when she saw his eyes go wide, she remembered she was only wearing a flimsy dressing robe, which would cause a scandal if she were to be seen wearing it. She had a quick thought to what Liberty’s expression would be if she saw her wearing the dressing robe, and only the dressing robe. The image brought a smile to her face, but did not solve her problem.
“Could you do me another favor?” she asked the coachman. “I promise it will be worth your while.”
“Aye, miss,” the scraggly coachman replied as he ran his fingers through his wind whipped hair.
She asked him to move the coach to where the other coaches were parked then go in and request that Mama meet her in the family coach.
After the man moved the coach and was on his way, Brooke peeked out and saw that nobody was about, then she quickly climbed out of the duke’s coach and into the Banks’ coach. Once she got settled, she made a mental note that stairs were the preferred way to get in and out of a coach and vowed to always use them in the future.
She waited mere minutes before Mama showed up with Madison in tow. She felt a pang of relief that Liberty wasn’t with them, but it was all forgotten when Mama wrapped her arms around her and the floodgates surrounding Brooke’s eyes opened once again.
Brooke looked up and met Mama’s eyes. “Take me away, please.”
Under normal circumstances, Mama would have probably told her to pull it together and insisted she would have to just brazen out her troubles; but she must have read more into Brooke’s words because she turned to Madison, and said, “Go get our coachman, and please bring her a new gown.”
Madison dashed away and returned so quickly Brooke thought she must be dreaming, but she wasn’t. She heard Mama tell Madison more directions but had no idea what they were.
Brooke barely had her new gown on before the carriage was hitched and lurched forward to start their journey to London.
Long before they reached their townhouse in London the whole story had come out. Everything about how he'd set everything up to shame her and had made an agreement that involved her losing her virtue and him gaining something, but she didn’t know what. She told Mama how she snuck out when he was busy and bribed the coachman, who, she realized, she didn’t even pay, to bring her back.
Brooke didn’t mention she secretly feared, and if she were being honest hoped, Andrew would follow them back to London. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he showed up nor did she trust herself to find out. As mad as she was with him about what he had done, she still knew he could be persuasive and a handful of sweet words and skillful kisses could send her back into his trap.
She walked up the stairs and through the front door of their London residence. She had no idea she would ever be happy to see the wretched inside of that townhouse, but she was.
She went upstairs, took a bath and crawled into bed without bothering to eat dinner. She was almost asleep when she heard a gentle knock, followed by Mama’s skirts swishing as she came in.
Mama didn’t speak. She just sat down on the bed next to her and ran her fingers through Brooke’s hair, the way she had done when the girls were young and needed to be soothed.
Brooke fell asleep and didn’t wake up until a little before noon the next day. It wasn’t normal for Brooke to sleep so late, but given the circumstances, it didn’t come as a great surprise.
She dressed quickly before sitting down to do her hair. While brushing her hair, she decided she was going to face the day with renewed vigor. Her anger with Andrew was firmly in place.
Yesterday, Brooke had told him that she was going to go back to New York as soon as she could. When she told Mama about the conversation, Mama hadn’t acted very accepting of the prospect. Not to say that she dismissed it, but she acted reluctant about going back to New York, which she knew she would be.
Brooke walked down the stairs and headed to the parlor, where they had taken to eating their meals in. She walked with her head down, watching her slippers peek out from under her gown with each step she took. She was so lost in her own thoughts she did not notice someone walking toward her until she collided with a male figure. Looking up she gasped. “Papa.”
Papa wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. “We came as soon as we could pack to leave.”
“You didn’t have to,” Brooke protested.
“Yes, I did,” he told her firmly, giving her another reassuring squeeze. “You are my daughter, even if you are married. I will take care of you. Always.”
“Oh, Papa,” she cried and leaned into him.
He reached up and wiped a tear off her cheek she wasn’t aware had slipped out. “Mama told me everything. We’ll work something out.”
She knew there was nothing Papa, or anyone, could do to make this better, but she smiled at him just the same.
He offered her his arm and together they walked to the parlor to enjoy a late breakfast together. They filled their plates and sat down in comfortable silence. Halfway through the meal Mama came in and asked to speak to Papa in the hall for a moment. A minute later Mama came back and joined Brooke, saying that Papa had to take care of something right quick.
Mama just watched her from across the table. Her face was full of concern, but she wisely held her tongue. Papa returned shortly looking a little distracted, but he smiled at her when he entered, then resumed his meal.
Brooke made her way through the meal and the rest of the afternoon without saying anything that didn’t need to be said. She kind of enjoyed just being able to be quiet with her thoughts without anyone pressing her to respond, or getting agitated when she didn’t.
The following two days were much the same. She got up, dressed, ate, embroidered, ate, sat in the drawing room, ate dinner then went to bed. She just moved about as if she were in a trance.
With each passing day her anger toward Andrew intensified. He had not one time come to see her and that made her heart ache. In the end, he had used her the way he had set out to from the start.
She didn’t know why that hurt her so much, but it did. She'd told him to leave her alone and that she was leaving England, but she didn’t really mean it. She’d been upset at the time and it seemed like the easiest choice at the time. Apparently, he believed her and it had been easier for him to forget her and move on with his life than it was for her.
That night at dinner she announced she’d like to go back to New York on the passenger ship that left the next day. At first everyone was quiet, then Mama put her fork down and asked, “Are you sure?”
Brooke nodded. There was no use waiting around the house and hope Andrew came to see her. If he hadn’t already, then he probably wasn’t going to. That was the kind of man he was. Just look how he conducted his courtship with her. They barely even knew each other a fortnight and he had snared, ruined, married, and rejected her already. If he had wanted her back, he would have done something by now. It wasn’t a great mystery to figure out where she was, she had as much as told him her plans.
“Do you not want to wait another week?” Mama suggested.
Brooke shook her head. Her decision was already, and she was going to stick by it. “I know you’re disappointed your daughter will not be the great countess you’d hoped, but I cannot go on this way.”
Mama started. “Brooke, I don’t care more for your status as countess than I do for your happiness. If you'd wanted to marry a chimney sweep I would have allowed it.” Taking note of the dubious gaze that Brooke had leveled on her, she changed tactics. “All right, I admit I reveled in the idea. But the title means nothing if you're not happy. If he had a brain in his skull of his I think you two could have been happy together, but since he clearly does not, I don’t blame you. I just don’t want you to make a hasty decision.”
Brooke understood what Mama meant, but she also understood things would never be the same. To her mind the sooner
she returned to New York, the sooner she could start forgetting this whole mess.
“Tomorrow is too soon to go back,” Papa stated. “We cannot all be packed and ready to board tomorrow afternoon. It just cannot be done.”
He had a point. “I can go alone,” she said quietly.
“Absolutely not,” Papa said sternly. “I will not have my daughter sailing across the Atlantic Ocean by herself.”
“I wouldn’t be alone,” Brooke pointed out cheekily, smiling her first genuine smile in days. “There will be plenty of other passengers on board.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. You would require a lady’s companion just to cross. Then, when you go there you could not live in that house alone, it’s not done.”
“The Whitakers will still be there. As for a companion, we could hire one tomorrow. I’ve heard there are women around the docks who would be willing for such work,” Brooke said hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” Mama chimed in archly. “I know you are a married woman and know about certain things, but those women are not fit company.”
Brooke sat back in her chair and looked around the room. Then an idea occurred to her. “I could take Liberty with me.” Everyone’s eyes, including Liberty’s, impaled her and she added hastily, “Didn’t you tell Liberty if she couldn’t behave herself she’d be boarded on the next vessel? Well, if she goes with me, she won’t have to worry about behaving herself around Mr. Grimes.” Brooke thought it was an excellent solution.
Liberty’s face made it clear she did not agree, which was fortunate for her because neither did Mama and Papa. “No,” Papa said, wiping his mouth and resting his napkin on the table. “It’s true I told her that, but she's behaved herself so far. I see no reason to send her back. Unless you want to go,” he said, looking to Liberty for an answer. When she shook her head, he sighed. “Brooke, if you want to go back, you may. I shall book your passage in the morning.”
“What of a companion or chaperone?” Mama asked, tension creeping into her voice.
Papa’s face turned a little red and he cleared his throat. “As you pointed out earlier, Carolina, she is a married woman; therefore, she requires neither. I would prefer if she had one, but given the choice between going alone or sharing the room with a woman from the docks, I would prefer she go alone.”
Brooke went upstairs after dinner to pack. She was taking out her trunks when Madison came in. “Do you truly mean to go?” she asked bluntly.
“Yes,” Brooke replied, taking her last ball gown and matching slippers from her wardrobe. “I cannot stay here. He has no interest in me, and you know it is only a matter of time before the scandal gets out. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t already.”
Madison walked over to Brooke’s vanity and began to help put her things into her trunk.
“You do realize once news of this gets out that you’ll probably be returning home as well,” Brooke continued as she picked out the traveling costume she’d wear on the ship tomorrow. “I predict you’ll be only a week behind me.”
“That may be so,” Madison allowed. “But you don’t have to go, you know?”
Brooke went to her sister and wrapped her arms around her. “Yes, I do. You know I cannot stay here; I am living separate from my husband of one day. I will be publicly humiliated and ridiculed when the story breaks. Tomorrow everyone will be coming home from that house party; a day, maybe two, later everyone will be coming here trying to learn why we’re living separately. I cannot bear it.”
“Why don’t you go after him?” Madison asked quietly, trying, and failing miserably, to hide the tears in her eyes.
Brooke let go of her sister, sat on the bed, and stared at the wall. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
Letting out a resigned sigh, she told her sister everything. Mama had assured her she hadn’t told anyone except Papa about her disaster, so she knew that Madison didn’t truly understand just how bad it was.
When she was finished, Madison slipped her arm around and pulled her into a comforting hug. “What I still don’t understand is why you cannot go to him. I mean, he did marry you, didn’t he?”
Brooke nodded, she couldn’t deny that.
“It sounds to me he tried rather hard to get you to listen to whatever foolish explanation he had, but you were too stubborn and upset to listen. Why not go tell him you’re ready to hear it now?”
Brooke’s eyes snapped up to her sister. “Go? Go where? To Rockhurst? His townhouse in London? I have no idea where he is.”
“That’s a feeble excuse, Brooke,” Madison said firmly, but not unkindly.
Brooke took a deep breath, but no amount of breathing could help her get through her next words. “I’m afraid,” she said quietly.
“Of what?” Madison asked, giving Brooke’s hand an encouraging squeeze.
“I’m afraid of rejection. He’s already rejected me once. I don’t think I can bear him doing it again.”
“Why do you think he will reject you?” Madison asked softly.
“Why wouldn’t he? He’s never professed any type of true feeling for me. He’s never said he loves me,” she said with a sniff. “If he doesn’t feel that way for me, why would he do anything but reject me? He wants whatever the duke has, not me. And I will not seek him out only to be rejected again. It hurts too much.”
“I know,” Madison cooed to her sister, trying to soothe her.
Madison did understand rejection, better than most it would seem. She had fancied herself in love with Robbie Swift, a local banker’s son, since she was thirteen. When Madison came of age she did everything she could to get his attention then one day he started courting her. They courted for an unusually long time—five years. The promise of a proposal always seemed to hang in the air, but nothing more than a promise. However, seemed to be enough for Madison not to look elsewhere. In the end, he decided Madison wasn’t up to his high standards of wife material, and cast her aside for Laura Small and married her after only courting her for a matter of days. Brooke knew this hurt Madison deeply and she felt rejected, but it actually was for the best and Madison knew it. However, Brooke wasn’t going to be mean and point it out.
“I have an idea,” Madison burst out excitedly. “Your ship doesn’t board until three tomorrow afternoon. That means we still have some time in London together. Why don’t we go do something fun together in the morning?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know,” Madison admitted. “What’s something you wanted to do while we were here that we never did?”
Brooke had to think about that. They’d gone to balls, musicales, soirees, breakfasts, operas, plays and even the British Museum. It seemed they'd done everything already. Then an idea struck her and she couldn’t suppress the burble of laughter that passed through lips. “You cannot laugh,” she told her sister, who looked at her like she wanted to point out that Brooke was the already laughing, but she didn’t say a word. “I should like to go to Covent Garden and see the street performers.”
Madison tried to keep a straight face. Brooke could see she was trying to restrain herself from laughing, but in the end she couldn’t hold it and she let out a tiny giggle. “Very well then, if you want vendors to hassle you to buy their vegetables while you’re trying to strain your neck to watch a man on stilts juggle six knives during your last day in London, then I shall be right there with you.”
Chapter 29
Andrew’s past few days had not been any better than Brooke’s. He’d left Rockhurst and rode his horse as fast as he could to the Watson estate.
He looked around the estate and saw no sign of Gateway’s carriage and his heart sank. He wondered if she went straight to London instead of coming here first, but he needed to be sure of that before he left.
He gave his horse over to a groom and headed for the house. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be well received when he arrived. But he had no choice. He had to find out if she was in there and e
xplain everything to her.
Before he even reached the house he encountered Alex. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon, old chap,” Alex said, clapping him on the back.
“I didn’t expect to be back here so soon to tell the truth,” Andrew replied solemnly. Judging by Alex’s tone and manner, he guessed his friend knew nothing and didn’t even suspect anything was amiss. Did that mean she hadn’t come here? Or did it mean that in typical Alex fashion, he was out to sea on the whole situation?
Quickly concluding that he'd have to seek out another source to question about Brooke’s whereabouts, he made his excuses and went in search of someone who would know where Brooke was.
He walked about the house and went to find the chamber Brooke had occupied during her stay. When he got there, he knocked on the door and waited for an answer. None came. Looking both ways first, he opened the door. He stepped in and quickly looked around, only to find for the second time today an empty room.
He left her room and decided his best course of action would be to hunt down her father. When he found John, he was in the baron’s study speaking with his brother. Andrew knew it was rude to interrupt, but he did it anyway.
John turned a stiff smile to him and invited him to sit down. Andrew took a seat and inquired about Brooke’s whereabouts. “Lost your wife, have you?” Watson asked jovially.
Andrew nodded and waited for John to tell him something useful.
John didn’t speak right away. He just sat there looking at Andrew as if he were enjoying the sight of his distress.
“To be honest, I have no idea what’s going on, nor do I know her whereabouts,” John said at last. “But, if you would like to wait here with my brother,” he shot a glance to Watson, who nodded in return, “I would be happy to go speak to her sisters and see what I can find out.”