Intentions of the Earl (3 page)

Finally, Gateway gave a nonchalant shrug. “I
just want them gone. If one of their daughters gets ruined without
a proposal, then they’ll leave. They’ll go home to America and be
out of England.” His words were spoken casually; almost as if he
thought this was nothing more than an ordinary drawing room
conversation.

Andrew knew immediately this wasn’t the whole
truth, but he accepted it just the same. He’d never get the whole
story from Gateway, no matter what he asked. But he still couldn’t
help but wonder how the Banks family’s presence could affect
Gateway in one way or another. Dismissing his thoughts, he stood
and announced, “I’m not interested.”

“Not interested?” Gateway scoffed. “How, pray
tell, can you not be interested?” he asked with a sneer. “You’re
mad to reject such an offer. There's no commitment to the chit.
You’ll never have to see her again. And don’t forget that I’m
paying you handsomely, if I do say so myself. Not only do you get
your estate in Essex back, but it will be completely without debt.
You get your fun and you get paid for it, sounds like an ideal
situation to me.”

“Believe me, I want nothing more than to have
my estate back. But there is a fine line between pulling a prank on
someone and completely ruining not just one person, but an entire
family. I won’t do it. Find someone else.” Andrew walked toward the
door of Gateway’s study. He wanted to put as much distance between
himself and Gateway as possible. This ruining an innocent girl and
her family as a way to get his estate back was the most depraved
thing he’d ever heard. It seemed extreme even for Gateway. Andrew
assumed the man still had some scruples, apparently he was wrong,
and this undoubtedly proved it.

Gateway watched Andrew’s retreating form. If
Andrew had been facing him, he could have read Gateway’s thoughts.
They were all but printed in ink on his face.

Gateway’s furious gaze suddenly evaporated
and a sly smile crept across his face. He looked like he'd just
figured out the solution to a difficult puzzle. “Coward,” he called
to Andrew. His voice was low, almost inaudible.

Andrew knew he should let it go. Just keep
moving his feet forward and walk through the door. He was almost
out of there and free. But no, those feet of his just wouldn’t
cooperate. They were stuck; planted on Gateway’s plush royal blue
carpet. His hands were clenching and unclenching into fists at his
sides as he tried to ignore Gateway’s taunt. Then he heard it.
“Funny thing about you, Townson, I really wouldn’t have thought you
a coward. You’ve done some brassy things in your life. But maybe
all the other boys at Eton knew something I didn’t. Maybe they were
right, and you are nothing more than a coward who would still go
around clutching his mother’s skirts if she’d allow it.”

All the old painfully embarrassing memories
came flooding back—every single one. All the teasing had started
because his mother, not his father, had been the one to drop him
off at school. That was enough to get garner a bit of hazing
anyway, however, it also gave credit to the rumor someone
circulated that evening about an old claim that he was a bastard.
From then on he was taunted about being a “bastard mama’s boy who
clutched to his whore of a mother’s skirts” and became the outcast
at school. Most likely he would have stayed the outcast if not for
Gateway’s surprising intervention.

Gateway walked past him and into the hallway,
casually saying over his shoulder, “I do understand your position.
How could I have thought you’d be able to pull it off? I should
have known you couldn’t do it before I approached you. Accept my
apologies for wasting your time” He shook his head. “Thank you for
the estate. I’m planning a trip there soon. I have been thinking I
might even deed it over to my mistress when I’m done with her.” He
paused and gave a shrug of nonchalance. “Usually, I just give them
a cottage or rent them a townhouse for a year. But Sarah likes the
country, she’ll be happier there.”

“Wait,” Andrew called. He didn’t know if
Gateway would really give an estate to a woman who sold her body
for money, but it wouldn’t surprise him. Gateway was known to do
things normal people considered inappropriate. And though impugning
his manhood would generally be enough encouragement to get most men
to do Gateway’s bidding, for Andrew, knowing his estate was going
to be given to Gateway’s mistress was the part that made him
reconsider.

Gateway halted in the doorway and slowly
turned around to look at Andrew. Cocking his head to one side, he
asked, “Yes?”

“What do you mean you should have known I
couldn’t do it before you approached me?” Andrew bristled while he
waited for the answer.

Gateway shrugged again. “I hadn't realized
you had such trouble in this area. No matter. I’ll just go find
someone who doesn’t.” Gateway stopped for a token pause. It was
just long enough to notice the murderous look on Andrews’s face.
With a sly smile, he lowered the gauntlet. “If you’ll excuse me, I
know just the man I need to go see about doing this, since you have
indicated for some reason you lack the ability.”

“My ability to handle this is perfectly
adequate,” Andrew snapped before he realized what he said or what
it would mean. In his defense of his pride, he'd just as good as
agreed to ruin an innocent girl, all because of his quick
tongue.

Gateway could not have looked more pleased
with himself. As usual, everything had fallen perfectly into place
for Gateway’s benefit.

Gateway’s face changed again, this time he
looked slightly skeptical and disbelieving at the same time. He
continued to stare blankly at Andrew, not giving any indication to
his thoughts.

Andrew knew what Gateway was about: he was
picking his next words carefully, so not to allow Andrew a means to
extricate himself.

Gateway slowly strolled back toward Andrew.
“Townson, I’m glad you think so. I just hope you can prove
yourself. How about if we sit down and work out the terms of this
agreement?” he said, gesturing toward his desk.

Andrew, and just about everyone else in
England, knew Gateway may not be the most well-liked person, but he
had always been sharp as a tack and he prided himself on knowing
just how to trap a person. Andrew learned this first hand his first
term at Eton. Even though they were only boys at the time, Gateway
had already developed this unpleasant trait.

“Fine,” Andrew ground out, then sent Gateway
a scowl for good measure. “Let’s state the terms. But if I’m to do
this, then I want to be fairly compensated, there will be no
reneging.” Andrew resigned himself to the unscrupulous task as he
walked across the room to Gateway’s desk. His quick tongue might
have trapped him into this, but as long as he was trapped, he was
going to take full advantage. This was obviously something
important to Gateway, so he should be willing to make this well
worth Andrew’s while. Which was a good thing because once this was
done, he probably wouldn’t be accepted into the drawing rooms of
polite society for a long, long time.

Taking seats together by Gateway’s large
mahogany desk, the two men discussed exactly what they each wanted
from the deal. Both had lofty expectations, but with a few
compromises they both were going to be satisfied in the end. It was
a win-win situation.

With a written—and signed—copy of the terms
of the agreement, Andrew felt hopeful about his future. All he had
to do was bring scandal to Miss Banks, any of them, in a way that
would shame their family enough for all of them to go back home to
America.

Though they had not determined what type of
scandal Andrew was to cause to befall on Miss Banks, they both knew
that short of a miracle, only one kind of scandal would send them
back to America: one of the daughters had to be ruined. It didn’t
have to be in truth, the appearance would be enough, he reminded
himself again to help tramp down his guilt.

It sounded simple enough when just saying it.
It seemed easy when reading the words on paper. But Andrew knew the
process would not be easy. To start with, he didn’t even know who
these girls were. He’d never been introduced to them, so how could
he get any of them to trust him enough to create a scandal?

Andrew arrived home and went straight to his
bed. He had a lot to think of. He should have just walked out of
Gateway’s study, but that seemed impossible at the time. And now he
was trapped. At least he’d get something that he wanted—no
needed—out of the deal. As guilty as he felt about robbing a young
girl of her future, he was going to secure his own.

Thanks to his late father, Andrew was
penniless and all of England knew it. His father had accumulated
more debt than he had ever imagined. He knew his father had been a
spendthrift, but it wasn’t until he had come into the title that he
realized just how frivolous his father had been. There wasn’t
anything the man hadn’t bought on credit and instead of paying it
off, he just passed it to Andrew right along with the title.

For the last eight years, Andrew had been
paying it down by selling anything of any value to keep the
creditors at bay. The estate in Essex was the last thing.

He had tried to save it because not only was
it possible that the estate could turn a much needed profit, but
also because his mother had been living there. That was another
point in his favor for going through with this scheme. He would be
able to get the estate back and gift it to his mother, who was
currently living at Rockhurst, the seat of his earldom. She
deserved at least that for what he had put her through.

He rolled over. Guilt was eating him alive.
He had guilt about what he was going to do to the Banks family and
guilt about what he’d done to his own mother in the past. Some
would say to let the guilt go about what happened between him and
his mother, but it wasn’t easy for Andrew to do. Not only had he
intentionally hurt her with his words, he essentially sentenced her
to a life of solitude.

Even if he hated the idea of what he was
going to do, it would solve his two biggest problems. That gave him
a bit of a relief, but not much.

For now, he needed to think about his next
step. Gateway had told him the Banks family was staying in Lord
Watson’s townhouse while the Baron and his family were staying in
the country. Andrew knew Lord Watson, he was the father to one of
his friends, but other than that, he had no real knowledge of the
family. That would have to be enough because he planned to start a
courtship immediately.

Chapter 3

The townhouse where Brooke’s family was
staying looked standard for this section of town. It was three
stories high, made of a smooth light gray stone and had a white
front door. Windows were placed directly above the door on the
second and third floors, each with a private balcony. Six large,
smooth stone steps and a black handrail led from the front door
down to the edge of the street. When looking from down the street,
with the exception of the numbers on the side, the house looked
identical to the ones on either side. In other words, it wasn’t
very original.

Earlier in the morning Brooke had breakfasted
with her family then decided to go outside on her balcony and read
the newest gothic novel she’d picked up in the local bookshop.

She settled into a lounge chair and started
flipping through her book. She remembered she was almost to the end
and thumbed her way to the back. Aha, here she was, the hero was
about to admit he was wrong and beg the heroine to take him back.
This was normally her favorite part of novels, even if right after
he says his speech a large boulder comes rolling off the side of a
cliff and kills him, leaving the heroine to sulk in the sadness of
never getting to be with her true love.

Thirty minutes later, Brooke finished her
book and shut it with an echoing thud. Not having anything else to
do, she was about to go back inside to see what her sisters were
doing when a carriage with an unfamiliar crest emblazoned on the
side rolled up.

She leaned forward, pressing her face between
the bars of the balcony to get a better look at the massive
stranger that was emerging from the carriage. He looked like a
gentlemen and he even carried himself like one as he walked up the
steps to her front door. She heard him give three swift bangs with
their brass knocker. If she were in New York, she would have rushed
to the door to open it herself and greet the guest, but that was
not the way of things here and even she was not brave enough to
break that particular rule.

She waited in silence for three long minutes
before Turner, their usually unkempt and always unprofessional
butler, opened the door to greet the stranger.

Unable to bear it any longer, she slipped
down the stairs and hid herself behind a potted plant in the foyer
just in time to see Turner lead this stranger down the hall to the
drawing room.

Deciding it would be best for Liberty to
explain to Turner the proper procedure for admitting a guest,
Brooke quietly ignored his misstep and tiptoed down the hall behind
the pair.

Turner opened the door and showed their guest
into the drawing empty room. Brooke stood quietly in the hall and
waited for Turner to leave. When he walked toward her, she pressed
her fingers to her lips to motion for his silence.

Standing in the hallway, she peeked around
the corner of the open door and watched the stranger as he glanced
around the ugliest drawing room to ever grace England.

She was sure she saw him blink his eyes
several times to get accustomed to the awful images that were
assaulting him. Then without a word, he moved his head side to
side, soaking in the painful view of their drawing room. The walls
were gold, not a pale yellow, but bright shining gold. One settee
was bright red, the other was pale pink. She saw him look over to
the far wall where the most hideous paintings she’d ever laid eyes
on were proudly hung in glittering silver frames.