Intentions of the Earl (23 page)

Brooke started to feel uneasy. The man she’d
come to care deeply about, and even would consider marrying, had
such a terrible past. Not that any of it was his fault, but still
it was clear that nearly everyone in the room was listening very
intently to the gossip about his family.

Brooke sat with her hands in her lap and idly
chewed on her bottom lip. She just heard snatches of what was being
said around her “…Townson’s a bastard, then?” “…no other children…”
“…seen her in London once…” her head was swimming with all the
accusations and questions. How could people be so cruel about
someone who wasn’t even there to defend himself?

Brooke’s head started to throb and she looked
around to see if she could find strength in her family’s
presence.

Liberty surprised Brooke when she reached
over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze just as Madison leaned
over and whispered, “Don’t take all of this to heart. People will
gossip about anything, you know that.”

Brooke tried to respond, but her brain
couldn’t think of what to say, so she just squeezed Liberty’s hand
back in a way to let her know she appreciated her support.

After a few minutes, and several more
unsavory comments, Brooke decided it was time to leave. She slipped
away virtually unnoticed, everyone was too absorbed in the
skeletons in Andrew’s closet to care that she was leaving. She
could have sworn on the way out the door she head some reference to
his having an unusual attachment to his mother even when he was a
boy at school.

She had almost made her way down the hall to
the staircase when Alex called after her, “Brooke, wait.”

Brooke didn’t stop or turn to face him, but
she did slow her steps.

“Brooke, Andrew and I have been chums for a
long time. He’s really a good fellow. You cannot let his past shade
what you think about him now,” Alex said

Brooke knew he believed he was helping the
situation, but he wasn’t. “But don’t our pasts make us who we
become?” she asked flatly.

“Well, yes, but you cannot hold his mother’s
past against him,” Alex said in defense of his closest friend.

“I’m not.”

“Then what part are you holding against him?
The part where he had was termed a mama’s boy at school? That’s of
no consequence now. It was fifteen years ago, nobody cares about it
anymore,” Alex said, his voice full of conviction.

“No, I am not holding against him that he
loved his mother when he went to school. It’s only natural that a
child loves his mother. But to say that nobody cares about it is
false. I can show you a whole room full of people who still care
about it. They’re in there right now laughing at his expense over
it.” Brooke saw Alex’s eyes change, for some reason there was a
light shining in them now; it caused Brooke to pause for a second.
“That’s not important, nor is it the reason I left. The reason I
left doesn't have to do with him entirely. I just didn’t wish to
listen to malicious gossip any longer that’s all.”

Alex gazed at her skeptically. He looked like
he was going to say something more, but didn’t. Instead he just
smiled, turned and whistled while he walked back to the drawing
room.

Brooke walked into her room and closed the
door. Numbly, she went to the bed and laid face-down across it,
burying her face in the pillows. Then before she knew it, she
started to sob.

Brooke was rarely one to sob, but today was
an exception. She couldn’t understand why people would say such
cutting remarks about another. She remembered the speculation that
Andrew was born on the wrong side of the blanket. Or the
accusations that Andrew’s mother was nothing more than a common
whore who had been lucky enough not to have any more children.

She pounded her pillow, asking herself over
and over again how people could be so unfeeling.

***

Andrew left the meeting with Willis, his
estate manager, with high hopes.

Since he’d come into the title and land eight
years ago, he’d failed to earn any kind of profit from any of his
estates. All the money that was made went to the upkeep of the
earldom and to pay down the debts left by his father. Now all the
other estates were long gone, sold to pay off debt, and all that he
could hope to make money with was Rockhurst, which was
entailed.

Willis delivered some excellent news in
regards to the account books. “Last month we paid off the entire
balances due to Stimple, Crate, and Greer. If the tenants continue
to pay their rents, you watch your spending, and the harvest is
abundant, then in two years from now you shall be completely
without debt.”

That
was
good news. It wasn’t a windfall
of money, but the idea of being debt free made him feel like a
millionaire. “That is most excellent news,” Andrew said
approvingly.

“But,” Willis said as Andrew got up from the
table, “if we were to make some modifications to Rockhurst, you
could be turning a profit within three months.”

Andrew dropped back in his seat so fast he
wouldn’t be surprised if he found a bruise on his backside later.
“What modifications? How much profit?” he asked with keen
interest.

“Before I tell you the modifications, I’ll
tell you that you will be one of the richest in the land within a
year.” Willis saw Andrew’s arched brow and started to spill his
information. “It will cost you one thousand pounds to set up, but
in one month you'll be able to pay that back. In less than three,
all your father’s creditors will be paid. Your yearly income will
be approximately fifty thousand pounds.”

Andrew let out a low whistle. That was more
money than he’d ever dreamed of. He knew some men made excellent
incomes of twenty or thirty thousand pounds from a combination of
their estates, but he had never heard of fifty thousand from just
one before. But he still didn’t know what modifications this would
require. Most importantly, he didn’t have a thousand pounds to
start with. Not giving that too much thought, he asked Willis,
“What modifications?”

“Nothing really,” Willis said, brushing
imaginary crumbs from the table.

Andrew felt his excitement deflate. “What are
they?” he asked in a low tone.

“Mines,” Willis said with a gulp. “There is a
record that indicates a silver is located on your property. If you
were to allow mines to dig up the metal, you will be very
rich.”

“No,” Andrew said flatly, getting up from the
table.

Willis had been in Andrew’s employ too long
to know not to argue; so with a nod of understanding, he packed up
his papers.

After his meeting with Willis, Andrew met
with a few of the tenants to hear their problems and look at
anything that wasn’t in working order on their homes. Even if he
disagreed with the mines, he still felt it had been a productive
day and was satisfied with the results.

On his ride back to the Watson estate he
thought more about the mines. He’d told Willis no, but that didn’t
mean he couldn’t reconsider later if need be, the silver wasn’t
going anywhere. He didn’t like the idea of the noise and danger the
mines would provide though. The land itself he didn’t care about,
but he didn’t want anyone getting hurt.

Nor did he have the funds to build the mine,
he reminded himself. That was the bigger issue. He would have to
borrow the money to start with. Not to mention, if they drilled in
the wrong place, then he’d have to pay to have it moved. It could
become a rather costly experiment. And that was not something he
was willing to take a risk on just now.

Entering the drive, he checked his watch and
frowned. It was past dinner time. With any luck, Cook would still
have something to eat. If not, he was hungrier than bear that just
woke up from hibernation and would gladly ride the hour back to
Rockhurst to eat if need be.

All thoughts of eating were gone as soon as
he opened the door. “I’ve been waiting for you,” came Gateway’s
deep voice from the shadows.

“And you will continue to wait. I am off to
scrounge for some food,” Andrew said without a care for making
Gateway wait.

Gateway stood from the chair he had been
occupying and strolled to the stairs. Once he was on the first one,
he turned his head over his shoulder. “I think this is something
you'd want to hear, but if you think it’s more important to eat
than to know what happened with Miss Banks tonight, that’s for you
to decide.” He gave a shrug and walked up two more stairs.

“Tell me,” Andrew breathed agitatedly. Did he
really need to hear this now? He knew he probably did because it
undoubtedly involved Gateway, which could only spell trouble.

“It would seem she heard a bit more about
your past than is good for your relationship,” Gateway said with a
smirk.

“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, wishing
that Gateway would just say it and stop playing games.

“It seems that you and your family became the
main topic of conversation after dinner tonight. Naturally, Miss
Banks was there and heard all about your mother’s exile, shame, and
your unusually strong affection toward her,” Gateway said with a
cackle.

Andrew was too stunned to respond. Did any of
that really matter? He wasn’t intending to marry her so why should
she care about his mother? Then it hit him, she had to believe he
cared about her enough to marry her, which meant that his and his
mother’s pasts would matter.

His appetite was no longer such a pressing
matter. “Why was I made the topic of the evening?” he asked through
clenched teeth.

“Because you weren’t there,” Gateway said
with a shrug if nonchalance. “Perhaps you should have thought of
this before you went running off to your mummy.”

Andrew speared him with a look.

Gateway just stared back at him. “It’s not my
fault Mr. Thomas and Lady Algen decided to pour out your family’s
dirt.”

“No,” Andrew agreed softly. “But you were
there and you could have said something to stop it. Do you not
realize this hurts you, too?”

“How so?” Gateway asked indifferently.

“Because if she will no longer have anything
to do with me, which is likely the case, then you won’t get what
you want, either.”

“Not necessarily,” Gateway told him. “I can
always find someone else who is willing. You were just easy to cast
into the role, but I can find another, more capable man.”

“Not now,” Andrew hissed. “Either I do this,
or you let the whole thing go.” It was bad enough Brooke was going
to get hurt in the end. But any other man would hurt her far more
than necessary, and likely do so in a way that would take away any
chance for dignity or self-respect she could ever attempt to gain
in the future. Quite simply, anyone else would damage her beyond
repair. The thought alone made Andrew's blood ran cold.

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.