Intentions of the Earl (38 page)

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 explain 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.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said stiffly. He would
have rather been the one to go track down Brooke’s sisters and find
out where she was. Reluctantly, he agreed to wait while John talked
to his own daughters; they were more likely to tell their father
Brooke’s whereabouts than him anyway.

Andrew and the baron didn’t have much to say
to each other. They just stared at each other for a few minutes
then looked around the room. Every so often they’d have a couple
words about who was hosting a hunt this fall or other such
nonsense. Andrew resisted the urge to look around at the clock
several times. It felt like time was crawling by, but he convinced
himself it was only his imagination.

He put his elbows on his knees and leaned his
head down, cradling it with his hands, he threaded his fingers
through his hair. All he could do was sit and wait.

Keeping the same position, he started to
study the floor. The patterns made from the lines in the wood were
not so interesting, but at least it kept his mind off the time. His
gut was in knots from anticipation when the door finally
opened.

His head shot up and disappointment washed
over him when he looked up to see it was just the butler.

“Dinner is served, my lord.” The butler told
Watson.

At those words, Andrew twisted his neck
around to see the clock that he knew hung right behind where he was
sitting. “You tricked me!” he burst out at Watson.

“I did no such thing,” Watson countered, his
lips twitching. “My brother did. He figured you’d come here before
going to London. While he and I were talking, a carriage was being
loaded. Sorry, but they left,” he looked at his watch, “more than
three hours now. I’m actually surprised you lasted so long.”

Fighting the impulse to go strangle Watson,
Andrew dashed out of the room. He was trying to be polite not
checking the time, convincing himself it was just his imagination,
and all the while he was being made a fool.

He rode as fast as he could to get to London,
but didn’t make it fast enough for it to be an acceptable hour to
make calls. He considered doing it anyway, then dismissed the idea
because he didn’t want to cause more trouble by going over there so
late, even if it was his right as a husband to collect his wayward
bride.

The next morning he left his house at noon
and arrived to the Watson townhouse in less than twenty minutes. He
knocked on the door and demanded the butler allow him to see his
wife. Turner, not the most professional butler in England, gasped
at the idea of a countess in residence. Then gathered his wits the
best he could and told Andrew the Banks were not home and extended
a hand to take Andrew’s card.

Andrew wasn’t about to be deterred. “I know
the way,” he told the butler tersely, leaving Turner in the
entryway with his mouth agape.

He’d only walked about three steps when
Carolina appeared. “Out!” she ordered, making a rigid shooing
motion toward the door.

“I have come to collect my wife,” Andrew
said, hoping it sounded nicer to her than it did to him.

Carolina eyed him skeptically and looked like
she wanted to blister his ears. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,”
she said coolly.

Andrew shot her an icy glare. “If you think
I’m going to fall for that again, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Carolina looked at him with a confused look
on her face but didn’t ask him anything. “Young man, you may be a
peer of the realm and as much as it pains me to say it, my
daughter’s husband, but you are still a guest in this house and
will act accordingly, or be removed,” she scolded.

“Fine,” he ground out. Then he stood and
watched her leave.

In no time at all he heard two pair of
footsteps come his direction and his heart almost burst out of his
chest knowing she was going to speak to him. But when the owners of
those feet rounded the corner, he saw it was not Brooke with
Carolina, but John.

The following conversation was very one sided
in which John told him in no uncertain terms, he was not allowed
back in their house or anywhere near it. He recounted his many sins
involving Brooke and told Andrew it would be over his dead body
before he allowed Andrew to speak to her again, and he was being
permanently dismissed.

The next two days had been just as fruitless.
Both days he’d knocked on the door to Brooke’s townhouse, both
times he was denied entry. After each time, he sat on a bench
across the street holding up a newspaper and waited for her to come
out so he could speak to her. Unfortunately, luck was not on his
side.

At the end of the second day he decided he
would try this method one more time. After that, he’d make sure to
get his way inside. If not the traditional way by using the front
door like they do in a normal civilized society, then he’d scale
the wall and go in through the window the next night.

The only problem was he had no idea which
window was Brooke’s and wasn’t keen on the idea of entering the
wrong room. It would not do for him to creep into John and
Carolina’s bedchamber, or even worse, Liberty’s. He would just deal
with whatever happened when the time came; he couldn’t stand to go
any longer without talking to her.

He rose from his chair and walked to his
bedroom, resigned to spend another sleepless night lying in his bed
and staring at the ceiling, thinking of how much he missed his
wife. He’d hardly slept in the past few nights, tonight would be no
different.

Just when he’d finally passed out from sheer
exhaustion that night, there was a knock on his door. Ignoring it
didn’t make it go away, like he'd hoped; instead, the knock just
got louder and more adamant.

Andrew crawled out of bed and threw on his
dressing robe to cover his naked body before yanking open the
door.

“Yes,” he barked irritably at a very tired
Addams who wore a slightly askew night cap, but otherwise resembled
his usual stiff-rumped butlering footman.

“My lord, you have a guest,” Addams told
him.

“A guest?” Andrew repeated. He wasn’t
expecting any guests. The only person who ever came to see him was
Alex. It wasn’t likely Alex would come this time of night. Why
would he? Unless he’d found out about what happened with Brooke and
was coming to rescind his offer for a loan. Andrew hoped that
wasn’t the case. He had run into Alex earlier in the evening and
explained his situation with the mines, and even though it killed
his pride to do so, he asked his friend for a loan. Alex was in an
excellent mood and readily agreed. Maybe now that he’d had time to
think about it he’d changed his mind. Andrew groaned. “Is it
Alex?”

“No, my lord,” Addams said, turning a little
pink. “Your guest is a not a man.”

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. “Is it Lady
Townson?” he asked hoarsely, not remembering that Addams had never
seen Brooke before.

“I do not believe so, my lord. Though your
guest is female, I do not believe she is a lady. She is more of the
hooded female variety,” Addams said with a slight cough.

Andrew gave a sour look. “Tell her I have a
wife and send her away. I’m not in the mood to deal with this
now.”

“I tried, my lord. But she is most
persistent, she said it is most urgent she speak to you
immediately. She is waiting in your study.”

Andrew glanced longingly at the bed but
walked to the door. He didn’t bother to dress. There was no need.
He was going to go speak to a woman of ill repute, she was used to
men in their dressing robes, and less.

His study was almost completely dark. Only
one candle in the middle of his desk was lit. “Hello,” he hollered,
hoping the woman had already left. When he heard a delicate cough
from the shadows he stopped walking. He couldn’t see anyone and his
hands flew to the sash around his robe to make sure it was tight.
There wasn’t anything he could do about the middle of his chest
showing where the robe came together, nor could he help that his
legs below the knee were exposed, but he could do his best to cover
up the rest from this mystery woman’s gaze. He was now wishing he
had bothered to dress. It felt awkward to be almost naked in front
of another woman after he’d been intimate with Brooke. Nor did he
want this woman to take his state of undress as an invitation.
“Madam, I have no need for your favors. If you would be so kind as
to remove yourself from my study so I can return to bed, I would be
most appreciative,” he said icily.