Intentions of the Earl (24 page)

A week or so after the term started, she sent
him a package, and he promptly sent it back to her with a letter
asking her to refrain from communicating with him any further. She
never sent him another note or even invited him to see her until
after his father died.

He admitted to himself it would be nice to
have the money the estate could produce, but on some level, he
wanted to use the house as a grand gesture to mend the rift he'd
selfishly created. Not that she had ever refused to see him when he
had gone to visit her, nor had she ever acted coldly toward him.
She'd even said she had no hard feelings, but he could see the hurt
rooted deeply in her eyes. He’d do anything to take that hurt away.
Which meant he had to get that estate back. And the only way to do
that was to hurt an innocent bystander.

The guilt that he was going to mend one
broken relationship at the cost of another was almost enough to
make him call it all off. Almost.

Food was the furthest thing from his mind as
Andrew trudged up the stairs. Tomorrow he’d take Brooke on a
picnic, honestly answer any questions she asked about his past, and
see how far she'd let him go. If she responded to his advances,
he’d set up her ruination for the following night.

Andrew lay awake in his bed almost all night
staring at the canopy overhead trying to convince himself that the
reason he couldn’t sleep was due to the gossip about his family,
and had nothing to do with his growing feelings for Brooke.

Chapter 19

Breakfast was a very short affair for Brooke.
She barely had time to eat five bites before her mother pulled her
into a private drawing room.

“Brooke, are you all right?” Mama asked,
looking around.

“Yes, Mama, I’m fine,” Brooke lied.

“I know you heard some unsavory information
about your suitor last night. But I wanted you to know that most of
it isn’t true. I spoke to Regina last evening, and Papa talked to
your uncle,” Mama said softly.

“It’s not about what was said exactly,”
Brooke protested. Why was it everyone thought she would throw him
over because of a little gossip? Was it so difficult to understand
she was more upset because the act of gossip, not the content?
Sure, most would end their courtship with a man many claimed was a
product of an affair. But it really wasn't so important to her.
Legally, he wasn't a bastard. He was born in wedlock. If he wasn't,
then he wouldn't be an earl. That was all that mattered. As for the
rest, the speculation about being too close to his mother for his
own good as a child, well, that was just plain petty in her
opinion.

Noticing Mama was staring at her with worried
eyes, she forced a bright smile on her lips.

“If you’re certain this will not cause you to
lose interest in the man, then I'll say no more. I think he’s quite
a catch, and I believe you agree with me,” she said with a knowing
smile. “I should just hate for you to give up on him because of
some old gossip that probably isn’t true.”

“No, Mama, I have not given up on him,”
Brooke assured her.

“Good,” Mama said, getting up to leave the
room. “Papa has promised to teach me this game called pall mall. I
am positively thrilled at the idea of hitting a ball with a mallet!
He is waiting for me, I must be off.”

No sooner did Brooke get up to leave, Mr.
Grimes entered the room.

She sighed. Did he want to talk to her to?
She waited quietly by the door.

Mr. Grimes didn’t speak though. He just
walked in the room, smiled at her and took a seat on a chair near
the corner.

Brooke just looked at him from where she was
standing; he was definitely an odd one.

“I’ll just be going now,” she said more to
herself than to him, since he wasn’t paying her any attention
anyway.

Brooke was walking back to the breakfast room
to see if there was anything left to eat when Alex reached out and
pulled her into the library.

“Brooke, I’ve given this a lot of thought,”
he said in a serious tone. “I’m not sure you should mention to
Andrew what you heard last night. He doesn’t take kindly to being
talked about. I think it’s best you don’t mention it.”

Brooke just stared at him dumbfounded. She
had no plans to mention what she heard or to ask him questions
about it. If they were engaged or married she might ask him a
question, but now wasn’t the time to dig into his past.

“I’ll tell you what I know, if you’d like.
That should be enough to satisfy your curiosity for now,” Alex said
uneasily.

“That will not be necessary,” she said,
waving her hand. “I have no desire to hear anymore stories. I will
ask him about it if it becomes necessary, but as for now, I have no
interest.”

The tension fled from Alex’s face, then he
bobbed his head up and down ecstatically. “Very well. I shall see
you later.”

Brooke took that as her dismissal and exited
the library. This was turning into the most bizarre morning.

She made her way outside with only the quick
wave and a chipper, “Good morning” to Papa.

Relaxing in the shade given by a tall leafy
tree, Brooke was lost in a daydream. She dreamt of Andrew and his
kisses. So far, he’d been the perfect gentleman. When he’d kissed
her, he’d kept his hands in appropriate places. They might have
rubbed her back a bit and tangled in her hair, but he hadn’t tried
to maul her chest or bottom like the others had.

The last gentleman she’d kissed prior to
Andrew had been the Duke of Gateway. His kisses had been
satisfactory, but paled in comparison to Andrew’s. He hadn’t tried
to caress her before she ended their time together. However, that
was the reason she'd ended things. She felt his hand straying from
her shoulder, dropping lower. Just the idea of his hand on her
breast made her cringe.

“Is that the face you always wear when
thinking of Townson?” asked the object of her thoughts, coming to
lean against her shade tree.

“No, not at all,” she replied primly. “It’s
the one I wear when I think of you.”

Gateway smiled a bit. “I’m flattered that I’m
the subject of your thoughts. I do feel bad for Townson though. I
believe he may be heartbroken to know the woman he’s courting is
entertaining thoughts of me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace,” Brooke
shot back. “As you so kindly pointed out when you approached, they
were not pleasant thoughts.”

“Indeed,” Gateway allowed. “But thoughts the
same. Would you care to share those thoughts with me?”

“No.”

“But if I’m part of them, then I think common
courtesy would say you should share them with me.” Gateway gave her
an encouraging smile.

“Fine, I’ll tell you, although they don’t do
you any favors. I was thinking of what an awful kisser you are.
Happy now?” she asked, taking a small measure of delight in seeing
his smile vanish and his eyes widen. Either his face changed
because he was shocked she was so blunt or he was shocked she
thought he was a bad kisser, she wasn’t sure which, and didn’t care
enough to ask.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way. Would you
like to give it another go?” Gateway asked, his smile fully
recovered.

“Not on your life. I have suffered that
tragedy once already. I have no wish for a repeat performance.”

“You’re loss. I’ve been told that I’m very
skilled in that department.” Gateway said easily.

Brooke snorted. “You’re
not
that
skilled.”

“You would know,” he quipped with a sly
smile.

That stunned Brooke. Their conversation was
already scandalous, not enough to ruin her reputation, but his last
comment was. She looked around to make sure nobody heard what he’d
said.

After she was satisfied that no one had, she
looked back to Gateway. “What do you want anyway?” she asked
tersely.

“To talk to you,” he responded smoothly,
taking a seat on the grass next to where she was sitting.

She groaned. “Why?” she asked, grinding her
teeth. “You never have anything nice to say to me, so why seek me
out?”

“I’ve come to talk to you about Townson.”

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear another word
about him. I don’t care about the gossip. I don’t care about his
relationship with his mother, as a boy or now. And I don’t wish to
discuss my relationship with him, especially with you.”

Gateway smiled at her. It was a rare smile
that Brooke was sure she’d never seen before; she would even
consider it to be a grin. Brooke was actually quite taken aback
when she saw it. He had a very pretty smile when it was genuine.
And there was no mistake, this smile was genuine. She smiled in
return.

“I think our discussion is complete,” he
said, regaining his feet.

“Good riddance,” Brooke mumbled to his
retreating back.

Gateway strolled across the lawn and had to
pass Andrew as he was walking toward Brooke. “Townson,” he mumbled
in passing.

“Gateway,” Andrew replied testily. “What were
you and Brooke speaking about?”

“Her kissing half the
gentlemen in the
ton
,” Gateway said, stopping to watch Andrew’s
response.

Andrew stiffened.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t
trying to kiss her. Been there, done that. She was just telling me
who she thought does and doesn’t have talent for kissing. She does
have quite a bit of experience if I do say so myself,” Gateway said
with a snicker. He idly rubbed his chin with his fingers and cocked
his head to the side. “Hmm, I don’t remember her mentioning
your
name.” As soon as
he said his last word, he walked off, chuckling to
himself.

Andrew stood stock still with his jaw clamped
shut, staring at where Brooke was sitting over in the grass by the
tree. “I’ll show her,” he muttered, walking toward Brooke. “By the
time I’m done with her this afternoon, she won’t even remember
she’s ever kissed another man.”

Brooke was watching the pall mall players on
the lawn when Andrew took a seat on the ground right next to her.
“Our horses are waiting when you’re ready,” he whispered in her
ear.

Brooke couldn't stop the smile that took over
her lips. “I’m ready now,” she told him excitedly. She had been
anxiously waiting to leave because she hadn't secured permission to
do so. Instead, she'd given a note to the butler to deliver to her
mother right before luncheon telling her she had left to go on a
picnic and would return shortly. The note had been vague about
where she was going and when exactly she would be back, but Brooke
didn’t care.

Andrew helped her to her feet and led her to
where the horses were saddled and waiting for them. “Miss
Bluebell,” Andrew said as they approached her mount.

“She’s just as magnificent up close as she
was across the field,” Brooke whispered, stroking Bluebell’s
mane.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed. “She is quite the
beast.”

Andrew helped her up onto her horse, then
mounted his own.

Brooke watched in quiet awe as Andrew swung
his leg over the back of his massive stallion. He sat up on his
horse and adjusted himself in the saddle. Brooke was fascinated by
the picture he made. It was like his massive body was part of the
horse’s. It just looked so natural that he would be on the back of
a horse. She couldn’t help it, she just sat there and stared at
him.

It wasn’t until she met his curious blue eyes
looking back at her that she jerked her eyes away. “I was
just…ah…just making sure you mounted all right,” she stammered.

Andrew’s face formed an expression of pure
amusement, but he didn’t laugh. “I am quite capable of mounting my
horse, among other things.”

Brooke felt her face starting to burn. “That
will be enough of that type of talk, my lord,” she managed.

This time Andrew did laugh. “One day you
might enjoy such conversation.”

“I assure you, I will never enjoy such a
conversation,” Brooke told him; her voice had gained a sharp edge
to it.

They rode their horses down a little tree
lined trail that led away from the house. “All right,” Andrew
allowed. “We shall talk of something else. How are you finding this
party?”

Brooke was thankful for his change of
conversation subjects. “It has been lovely so far. I have enjoyed
meeting many new people, eating new dishes, and of course, having a
break from London.”

“A break from London?”

“Yes, a break. You know, time away from
balls, pressure, and gossip,” Brooke replied, trying desperately to
forget about what gossip she'd witnessed yesterday. She was still
determined to not ask him about it, but she also didn’t want him to
know she knew anything about it.

“Gossip,” Andrew mused. “Are you telling me
that you have heard not one jot of gossip since coming to this
party?”

Brooke tried to keep her expression bland,
but could feel her face heating up nonetheless. “Well, I have heard
some gossip I confess,” she stated. She couldn’t lie and say she’d
heard none, he wouldn’t believe that for a second.

“Anything you find ‘juicy’, as they say?” he
asked. His eyes were looking over at her instead of the path in
front of them.

Brooke felt those eyes on her. She felt as if
they were boring holes into the side of her face. She dared not
turn her head and meet them, or she might undeniably give herself
away. “None that I have heard do I believe to be true,” she said,
her voice a little higher than usual.

“You’ve heard some, then?” Andrew asked
quietly, still looking at her.

“Yes, I’ve already said that,” she said
irritably

“And how do you know that what you heard
wasn’t true?” he asked softly.

“I just do not believe that the person who I
heard such gossip about has the type of character to prove the
words correct,” she said as smoothly as she could. Brooke was
starting to realize he wanted to talk about this. What she couldn’t
figure out was why. Why would a man wish to talk about gossip? He
obviously knew she knew, and he was trying to get her to
acknowledge it.