by Rose Gordon
He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He better put a cap on these lusty thoughts before his trousers got any tighter.
At a little shop in Bath he bought every piece of painting supplies he could get his hands on. With his purchases in hand—literally—he ran into his other brother-in-law—once again, literally. “Sorry, Paul,” he called.
“It’s all right,” Paul told him, ducking his head so he wouldn’t get the glass poked out of his spectacle with the corner of a very large canvas. “Can I help you?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Benjamin said, laying a few canvases across the saddle and stuffing the smaller packages into his saddle bag.
“I didn’t realize you lived so close,” Paul mused.
“I don’t,” Benjamin allowed. “I—we’re visiting Brooke and Townson.”
“Are you on your way to Rockhurst, then?” Paul asked, catching the stack of canvases before the wind blew them to the ground.
“Thank you,” Benjamin said, taking the canvases back. “Yes, I’m on my way. We’re to have lunch there.”
“I’m headed that way, too. Why don’t I help you manage those canvases on the way?”
Benjamin shot him a slight smile. “Thank you. It seems I bought more than I can hold.”
Paul nodded. “I understand better than anybody what it’s like winning the affections of one of the Banks girls,” he said with a knowing smile.
“You have no idea,” Benjamin muttered, shaking his head.
“I bet I do,” Paul stated flatly, jumping on his horse. He took the three large canvases from Benjamin, leaving him to only juggle seven smaller ones. “On more than one occasion, I’ve thought Andrew got off easy. He may have been the only one who got married due to a true scandal, but he also never had to do much work for his wife’s affections.”
“Amen, Preacher,” Benjamin cheered as he got on his horse. “That man should be kissing my feet.”
“Would you really want him to?” Paul teased, curling his lip.
“No, not really,” he allowed, leading his horse down the lane. “But if he’d encourage his sister-in-law to, I’d be obliged.”
Paul laughed. “Surely, you’d rather her not kiss your feet though,” he said waggling his bows.
“No, there are many other places I’d prefer. But I’d be happy with her kissing me anywhere at this point, feet notwithstanding,” Benjamin said lightly. He’d let her kiss is feet if that’s where she was willing to kiss him, though he seriously doubted it.
“I’ve only one piece of advice. Gaining her approval might be difficult, but you’ll be glad you did,” Paul told him with a genuine smile.
“I know,” Benjamin said before he could stop himself.
Paul turned his curious bespectacled green eyes on him, and Benjamin pretended to take a keen interest in the scenery. He didn’t have an interest in revealing that he’d spent the past six years in love with a woman he’d barely spoken to.
Not wanting Madison to see her present until after lunch, he let Paul go on inside Rockhurst while he stopped to drop off the painting materials in his cottage before joining everyone for lunch.
Benjamin felt like an outsider walking through the halls and found the dining room only by the noise floating down the hall leading him to the room. He stepped in and saw everyone was already assembled. They were milling around the far end of the room talking and waiting on him before taking their seats. Nobody was looking in his direction as he took his time walking the length of the room.
The room had to be forty feet long and about half as wide and right in the center was a little oval table that had exactly six chairs and six place settings. Benjamin had never seen such small dining accommodations. Perhaps Townson had once been more impoverished than he thought.
Approaching the group, Townson’s voice floated to his ears. “Now, ladies, you’ll each be seated with your husbands this meal. The three of you together almost proved to be fatal last time,” he said with mock reproof. “Especially you,” he added with a pointed look to Madison that made Brooke and Liberty burst into giggles and Madison do a perfect curtsy.
“See, I told you she was proud of herself,” Liberty told her husband. “He didn’t believe me when I told him.”
“No, what I didn’t believe was that Andrew complimented her after he nearly choked to death,” Paul corrected. “I fully believed she was proud she’d caused such an event.”
“Oh really,” Liberty retorted sarcastically. “I specifically remember you saying, ‘Madison said that?’” she said doing her best imitation of his voice. “Then you burst into howls of laughter.”
“That had nothing to do with me doubting she was proud she’d said it,” Paul gently countered with a secret smile for his wife. “At that time, I was just shocked she’d said it at the table. You forget, before we married, I spent a lot more time in her company than yours. Trust me, I’ve born witness to many a shocking statements that have passed her lips.”
Feeling like he was eavesdropping on a conversation he was present for, Benjamin asked, “What did she say?”
Madison visibly tensed. Liberty bit her lip. Brooke developed a curious fascination in the flatware. Andrew tried not to snicker; and Paul, well, Paul being a minister had the hardest time of all. He smiled and said, “I’d tell you, but you’d never believe it.”
“Shall we sit,” Brooke said suddenly with a bright smile.
Benjamin felt even more the outsider as he took his seat next to Madison. He knew every family had their inside jokes, but why couldn’t they share them with him? He was part of the family now, wasn’t he? Would it always feel this way, he wondered, looking at his wife. Would he always be the outsider? The one who merely had to walk into the room and all fun and conversation died on the spot.
“Am I interrupting anything?” asked a familiar voice from the hallway, eliciting six identical answer of: “No!”
“Come in, Mother,” Townson said, getting out of his chair. “Take my seat, and I’ll get Stevens to get another setting put out.”
Lizzie greeted each one present before taking the empty seat next to Brooke. “I see you’ve been doing a good job taking care of two of my boys.”
Benjamin fought to keep a scowl off his face at being referred to as one of her two boys that Brooke was taking care of, then he remembered Nathan and realized Lizzie was complimenting Brooke on being a wonderful wife and mother.
“Yes, I am,” Brooke said with a smile. “Although, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit one’s easier to keep satisfied than the other.”
“I have a feeling I know to which you refer,” Lizzie said, smiling. “I suppose I lucked out. I may have had two little boys to tend, but at least my stallion—and I don’t mean that as a compliment—had exited the stable.”
Benjamin shook his head. Leave it to Lizzie to act uncouth at the table. She’d always been blunt and somewhat brutally honest. That’s one of the things that made their relationship so strong. They both had that characteristic. Neither gave a hang how society viewed their words or actions.
“Nicely put, Mother,” Andrew said dryly, coming back into the room with an empty chair. A servant was right behind him, holding the pieces for another place setting.
“Actually, that was rather nicely put,” Lizzie argued.
“Yes, it was actually a better description than she told me,” Liberty added.
“And me,” Brooke commented.
“And me,” Madison said with a shutter, catching Benjamin’s attention. Was that at the root of her apprehension? He’d have to ask her about it later.
“For goodness’ sake, Mother,” Andrew burst out in mock agitation. “It’s a miracle Brooke and Liberty consummated their marriages after hearing your Tales of the Terrible Townson’s Bedchamber.”
“Well, to be fair, Andrew, I was a little late on meeting Brooke before the consummation,” Lizzie countered. “However, I understand the conversation would have done little good for her anyway.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Andrew demanded irritably.
“It was a compliment,” Lizzie said defensively. “You apparently did a satisfactory job the first time. Which is a good thing since she didn’t conceive on your wedding night.”
Andrew put his fork down with a sharp clip. “We’re not discussing this any further.”
“I believe the appropriate response should have been, ‘Thank you, Mother’,” she said with a smile. “However, I long ago gave up on instilling manners in you. That’s Brooke’s responsibility, now.” She turned to Brooke. “Good luck, dear. You’ll need it.” Then she flashed a smile in the direction of Benjamin and Madison. “And when will you two be giving me my next grandchild?”
“Grandchild?” Madison asked before Benjamin could comment.
“Well, I may not be his mother, or his sister for that matter, but I consider myself the closest thing he has to a mother. So yes, I’d consider his child in the same category as Andrew’s,” Lizzie explained.
Benjamin watched Madison nod her understanding. Why did she look so unsettled? Did she not want a baby? Or was it his baby she didn’t want?
Thankfully, Lizzie turned her baby talk attention to Liberty, who was already expecting, and left him and Madison to eat in silence.
Benjamin’s excitement of spending the afternoon alone with Madison abruptly crashed when Lizzie invited Madison to go visit her cottage for the afternoon. Madison sent him an uncertain glance that he couldn’t interpret. Extracting a promise that she’d spend the whole day with him tomorrow, he let her go and spent the rest of the day in solitude.
Chapter 8
Madison grabbed her sketchpad and two quills and went for a walk. With it being early morning, the August sun hadn’t made it unbearable to be outside yet. She found the well walked path that she knew led to a stream. She’d promised she’d spend the whole day with Benjamin, and she intended to, just after she had a little time to think.
She’d actually been disappointed when she hadn’t gotten a chance to spend time with him the day before. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed Elizabeth’s company, because she did. But she would have preferred Benjamin’s. Eventually they’d have to go home together. She’d have to be his wife and live in his house and the sooner she got to know him, the easier it would be.
Stripping off her slippers and stockings, she put her feet in the cool water and sat on the grassy edge. This part of the stream was an optical illusion if there ever was one. With the water so clear, it looked like the water was no more than ankle deep. However, one only made that assumption once, she’d learned. The first time she’d come to sit there, she’d scooted off the steep embankment, thinking to stand in the water. Instead, she scooted so far forward trying to touch the rocks, she’d slipped and ended up in water clear up to her neck. Groping the high sides, she had to walk a good twenty feet before finding part of the embankment that sloped enough for her to climb up.
Picking up her quill and pad, she placed them on her lap and started sketching. It had been a while since she’d sketched. Six years to be exact. And even then it had only been for a very brief time. Of course she’d drawn outlines of figures when she’d painted, but not in near as much detail as she was using today. Today she was capturing every single detail. All the lines, slopes, planes, ridges, and curves of her feet. Yes, her feet! Goodness, what had her life come to that she was sneaking off to go sit by a stream and sketch her feet?
Seeing the feet on the paper looked identical to the two that were currently in the water, she added some rocks around them then drew the current view of her skirt-covered legs. Still not satisfied she’d made the best use of her piece of paper, she drew on her skirt a big rectangle that looked like her drawing pad. On the piece of paper in the sketch, she drew a smaller version of her feet-in-water sketch before adding one hand holding the pad and the other a quill. Pausing from her fifteen minutes of hard and ridiculous work, she cocked her head to the side and studied the image. As ridiculous as it was to draw one’s own feet, she had to admit the images were actually quite good.
Fingers in ready position to rip the page off and make a ball of it, a low voice whispered in her ear, “Is there any room in that sketch for another pair?”
Her heart almost stopped. And it had nothing to do with the fact Benjamin had just snuck up on her and very nearly scared the daylights out of her. No, it was a combination of his mere presence, scent, closeness and the velvety sound of his voice. “That depends,” she teased.
“On what?” he asked, taking a seat next to her. He took off his coat and cravat before bringing his hands down to his boot laces.
“On how handsome your feet are, of course,” she said lightly, flashing him a smile.
“Well, I won’t lie,” he said, removing one boot. “Mine aren’t great. Certainly not worthy of a picture. But,” he paused to take off the other boot, “they won’t give you nightmares, either.” He yanked off his stockings and shoved them into his boots before plunking his feet into the water right next to hers.
Together they stared down at their feet. Hers were small and slender, his long and wide. His toes were long and blunt, curling down a little at the end. Hers short and petite with pink ends. Even though they were bigger, his would be much easier to draw with all the hard lines and edges. A vein that ran from his ankles to his toes was distinctly visible and his arch was a perfect curve.
“Are they worthy of your ink and paper?” Benjamin asked, making her blush. He’d just caught her staring at his feet!
“As you said, they’re not great, but I won’t be having nightmares, either,” she said simply with a shy, embarrassed smile. “Actually, they’re too big.”
“Too big?” he asked, looking down at his feet with a frown. “If they were as small as yours, I’d never stay upright.”
She laughed. “No, I mean there’s not enough room on the paper. I’d have to make them smaller than mine to get them to fit. See,” she said, showing him the paper and how little room there was on the paper for her to add his feet.
“Pity,” he said with a smile. “You’ll just have to start over, then.”
She flipped to the next page. “All right, hold still.”
“How long have you been sketching?” Benjamin asked as she went about sketching.
“Only about fifteen or twenty minutes before you walked up. I was going to spend the day with you, I promise,” she said, glancing up at him.
He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s all right. We are spending the day together. But I meant how long, as in days, weeks, months, years, have you been sketching?”
“Not long. I started about six years ago, but it was a short lived endeavor,” she said with a shrug. “Today was the first time since then.” She scratched her quill on the paper a few seconds. “You’re going to have to stop kicking your feet, Your Grace,” she said, flashing him a governess-type stare.
“Did you sketch feet back then, too?” he asked with a smile she could hear instead of see.
“No,” she said laughingly. “Actually, until today I was a virgin footsketcher, I’m afraid.”
He chuckled. “What’s that little smile about, Madison?”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, even though your head was bent and some of your hair was falling and shielding your face, I could see you smiling. And I know better than to think you’re laughing at your own joke,” he said, inching a little closer to her side.
“Your feet,” she said simply, turning back to her paper.
“My feet?” he asked dubiously. “What’s so humorous about them? They’re just feet, everyone has a set.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just your toes are odd, that’s all.”
“My toes?” he repeated, frowning down at his toes. “What’s wrong with them? There’s five of them on each foot. They’re all intact. And none of them have black toenails. What do you find funny about them?”
> “Nothing,” she said evasively. “I wasn’t laughing at them. I was just smiling.”
“Why?” he demanded, exacerbated.
“Your second toe,” she pointed down at the toe next to the big one, “is a little longer than the first one.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” she said, choking on a giggle. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it.” Who knew he’d be so fun to bait?
“Then why are you laughing about it?”
“I already told you, I wasn’t laughing,” she repeated, looking up into his deep blue eyes. “I was just smiling. There’s a difference.”
“All right,” he allowed. “And why are you smiling?”
“Well, as I said, your second toe is slightly longer than your first.”
“And?” he prompted.
She shrugged. “And nothing.”
He cocked his head and stared at her curiously.
“Oh, all right, I’ll tell you,” she said, putting her quill down and turning to look at him. “There was a half-Indian woman that lived down the street from us in Brooklyn and she used to tell us that her tribe had some legend concerning people who had a longer second toe.”
“And?” he prompted again.
“Well, she seemed convinced that length of the second toe compared to the first had a direct correlation with one’s intelligence,” she said and tried not to laugh at his flabbergasted expression.
“And?” he prompted once again.
“Oh, you want to know if the legend is in your favor or not?” she asked with a teasing smile.
He rolled his eyes playfully. “And?”
“I shall not tell you!” she exclaimed and burst into peals of laughter when his arm snaked around her waist and brought her with him as he fell backwards to soft grass to lay side by side.
Turning his face to her as they lay in the grass with their feet still together in the water, he said, “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Did this woman really believe it?”