Intentions of the Earl (15 page)

***

Andrew also wished he was out playing lawn
games, and it wasn’t much of a secret. Not that he had a love for
lawn games, but anything had to be better than being trapped in the
drawing room trying to explain to Lady Olivia Sinclair why she
could not move her pawn backward in chess. “It’s against the
rules,” he said one more time, hoping it would be the final
time.

“But why?” she whined, causing her face to
twist in the most unflattering manner.

“It just is. I didn’t make the rules, I just
play by them.” Andrew tried to sound polite but she was really
wearing him down with her whining and pouting. There was only so
much a man could take, and if he had to take much more he would
insist on being nominated for sainthood.

“Do you always play by the rules?” she asked,
batting her eyelashes coyly.

Andrew tried not to let his amusement be
known at her lame attempt to flirt. Lady Olivia Sinclair was
clearly bad at it. That wasn’t her fault, some women just were; but
her attempts were not going to work on him. “As often as I can,” he
managed.

“Would you like to play another game? One
that is far less tedious and with much simpler rules?” she asked,
peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.

“What kind of game do you have in mind?” Did
he really want to know?

“Well, it would be an easy game of course,
one where we will both emerge winners no doubt.” She shifted her
upper body in a way to best show off her ample bosom.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. What game was she
playing? Surely she wasn’t looking for a lover. Or was she? What
woman would suggest a “game” where both parties can win if she
wasn’t looking for a lover? The maneuver she kept doing that showed
off more of her chest than usual seemed like confirmation to
him.

“You see, my lord, we both are in need of
something. You need my money and a wife to bear your heir. And I
would like to get away from my tedious family. So you see, we both
win,” Lady Olivia said with a sunny smile.

Andrew had been holding a pawn in his right
hand, he felt it slip from his fingers and drop to the floor with a
soft thump. His eyes widened in surprise and he just stared at
her.

She was bold, no doubt about that. He could
not remember the last time he had been so surprised or shown so
much emotion on his face. Quickly, he tried to hide his surprise by
arching his brow and acting as if he were really interested in her
proposition; though truth be known, he would rather have all his
fingernails pulled off than make her his countess.

“You cannot tell me you never thought about
this before. You are in need of a fortune, everyone says so, and I
have one,” she said airily, her unsightly smile not faltering a
bit.

“It’s true that I lack funds at present, but
I do not intend for that situation to last,” Andrew said
truthfully. There was no point in being mean to her and tell her
that even if there was no light at the end of his tunnel and being
faced with lifelong poverty, he still wouldn’t marry her.

Lady Olivia’s smile faded a bit. “I did not
realize there was another lady already playing for your hand. I
shall just have to play harder in order to win.” She rose and
quickly swept the room.

Andrew picked up the chess pieces and
wondered exactly how Lady Olivia thought to change her course of
action in order to steal him from this other heiress she had
created in her imagination.

With a shake of his head, he left the drawing
room in search of more stimulating entertainment.

What he found waiting for him in the hallway
was more stimulating, but not necessarily entertainment.

Chapter 13

John Banks was walking down the hall, looking
specifically for Andrew.

“Mr. Banks, it’s nice to see you arrived
safely,” Andrew said with a bow.

“Townson, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
John said with a little bit of curiosity in his voice.

“I had not yet received my invitation when we
last spoke,” Andrew said smoothly.

“Indeed. I’m rather surprised Regina would
not have sent yours sooner,” John said, interest showing on his
face.

“Ah, that is because I was actually invited
personally by Alex. He is an old friend of mine.” It was true
enough. No need to tell him that he'd gone so far as to seek Alex
out and ask for an invitation.

“My nephew has a friend?” John said in a half
joking tone.

Alex was a very nice man, but the truth was
it was hard for him to make friends. He always had his nose in a
book, wore spectacles, and attended a plethora of boring meetings
that ranged from plants to bugs to what was dumped into the Thames,
and everything in between. His unusual interests and pristine
reputation had somehow garnered him the nickname Arid Alex.

It was a common belief among the
ton
that he’d never marry unless the baron, Alex’s father, arranged a
marriage for him. All of Alex's siblings had drastically different
personalities that made them socialites; however, since Alex was
the heir to the barony and would one day need to sire an heir
himself, it was necessary for him to marry.

“I certainly count myself one of his friends,
sir.” Andrew didn’t mind the bizarre tendencies of Alex. To Andrew,
that was what made Alex interesting.

Anyway, if Alex couldn't care less about what
people thought about Andrew to be his friend, then why should
Andrew care about what interests Alex held? The two of them formed
a friendship when neither had another friend in the world, and that
friendship was nothing that Andrew would ever want to let go
of.

That was part of the trouble with going
through with this scheme, and at this party for sure, whatever
happened he would lose his friendship with Alex. He had to swallow
a lump that formed in his throat every time he thought about it. He
might have let Gateway believe that mattered naught, but in reality
it mattered a great deal to Andrew. He didn’t want to lose Alex’s
friendship, and just now he realized exactly how soon it would
happen.

John smiled at Andrew. “My lord, you are a
lot deeper than I originally thought. I am quite certain that Alex
values your friendship as much as you value his.”

“Thank you, sir. Alex may not be the most
entertaining of men, but he is very loyal and sincere, and those
are qualities I value much more than popularity and social
polish.”

“I am very glad to hear that,” John confided
with a sincere smile. “I always admired my older brother. He was
different. He was always looking at anything scientific he could
get his hands on. He always did experiments whenever he could find
the funds and resources. The problem was that nobody but his family
accepted this about him. Because of his unusual interests, he was
considered an outcast to society. Yet, I admired him.

“I admired him because he didn’t care what
people said about him. I despaired when I got letters sent by my
brother that young Alex had the same interests. I think Edward sees
things differently now that it’s his son being cast out of society.
However, I am very glad to know that in the middle of the social
sharks he has one friend. I do believe in all honestly I can say I
admire you now, too.”

Andrew felt like a lead weight was being
lowered unto his stomach. John Banks, the man he was about to
disappoint on two fronts, through his daughter, and now his nephew,
was telling him that he admired him. It gave him a sick feeling
inside. “Thank you again, sir.” Andrew said flatly, hoping his
thoughts were not in his eyes.

“John,” shouted a voice further down the
hall, startling them both.

Both men turned to see who the voice belonged
to just as Edward Banks came strolling toward them from down the
hall. “I have someone here to meet you. I think you are going to
like meeting him,” the baron said.

“I shall be on my way post haste. I would not
like to keep my guest in your house waiting,” John said with a
brief smile for his brother. “We’ll talk more later, Townson.”

As John walked away, Edward called out, “He’s
in the yellow drawing room.”

John raised a hand to indicate he heard his
brother and strolled down the hall to greet his guest.

***

Paul Grimes was the second son of Viscount
Bonnington. Like other younger sons, without titles and very little
family money, Paul wasn’t given many options: clergy or military.
Having never been a very good shot, Paul chose to go into ministry
instead.

That wasn’t the only reason he’d chosen
ministry. All his life he had always been groomed to do it. Just as
his older brother had been groomed to be the viscount, Paul had
been groomed to be a minister.

Paul’s father was born a second son and had
chosen a life in the clergy. He had served as a vicar until Paul
was fifteen and Paul’s uncle died without an heir. After his
uncle’s death, Paul’s father inherited the title. This wasn’t an
unexpected even. With both Paul’s father and uncle being in their
fifties before marrying, and the viscount being unable to sire an
heir; it was always known that Paul’s father would inherit. Which
meant, one day Paul’s brother, Sam, would inherit.

Only three years after Paul’s father
inherited, he passed away and Sam inherited the title, lands and
money. That’s when Paul seriously began to pursue a career as a
minister.

It was all very easy when he first started.
He just did what he liked best: biblical research, preach, help
others, and be spoiled by the all the ladies of the parish baking
him bread and bringing him jam.

At three and twenty he was pleased with how
his life turned out and was convinced he had made the right choice.
But then he turned four and twenty and his life turned into a
living hell.

The problem was that he found himself as the
target of gossip. He had a few troublemaking parishners who liked
to spin the rumor mill, especially at his expense. And these rumors
seemed to be growing by the day.

When he tried to solve the problem by
himself, he was met with the outrage by the members of the
church.

Unsuccessful with his attempts at his church,
he went to the bishop. The bishop said he was too busy to help
mediate small church squabbles and sent Paul back with only a
little piece of advice: find yourself a mentor.

After asking a few questions and paying calls
to several of the village’s most notorious gossips, which of course
he knew to be his principal parishners, Paul learned that the local
baron’s younger brother was a minister in the United States. And to
Paul’s good fortune, he was in England visiting his brother just
now.

Paul only had this knowledge for under an
hour before he arrived at the front door of the baron’s house.
After being shown into a drawing room and waiting for a quarter
hour, Paul met the baron. Now he was waiting for the arrival of his
brother, who hopefully would agree to mentor him and be the answer
to all his problems.

He got up out of his chair, tossed his hat
down and walked to the window where he began to wear a hole in the
rug pacing back and forth. His mind was no longer trying to sort
out what to do about the church, but thinking about how to ask a
man he’d never met to be his mentor. He raked his hand through his
sandy blonde hair, then took off his spectacles and rubbed his moss
green eyes.
This was a mistake,
he told himself.
I
shouldn’t have come. He may not even agree to do this and if he
does, he might change his mind when he finds out just how bad it
is.

He walked over to where his hat was sitting
and was reaching down to pick it up when he heard a creaking noise.
His fingers dropped his hat and he looked over to the door just in
time to see John Banks walk into the room.

“Good afternoon,” John said casually as his
eyes searched Paul’s grim face.

“Good afternoon, sir. Thank you for meeting
with me,” Paul said with a slight bow.

“How can I help you today?” John asked, not
bothering to bow.

“I have a small request of you, sir,” Paul
said timidly, then at John’s motion, took a seat.

“Go on,” John encouraged him with a warm
smile.

“I understand you are a man of the cloth.”
Paul swallowed. How was he supposed to phrase this? Should he just
come out and say it or should he try to sugarcoat it somehow?

“Spit it out, boy,” John said, pulling Paul
from his thoughts. “I have been a minister long enough to know the
more someone hesitates, the worse the problem.”

Paul’s eyes widened. He let out a deep breath
before the words began to tumble out before he could stop them.
“You see, I am the local vicar here, and have I been having some
trouble at my church. I have spoken to the bishop, but he was of no
help and he suggested I find a mentor. And I was just thought that
maybe, if you could find the time, that is, could you act as a
mentor for me?” His face went red and he felt awkward and
embarrassed. It was awfully uncomfortable asking a favor of someone
upon the first meeting. To add insult to injury, he was asking John
Banks to be his mentor because of problems he could not handle in
his own vicarage, most of which were directly connected to him.

John’s eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet.
“I would be honored to do just that.” Wanting to waste no time, he
strolled to the door and swung it open. “Why don’t we go somewhere
a little less public and you can tell me about the problems going
on in your vicarage.”

Paul could feel his body relaxing as they
walked down to a private sitting room.

Beside him, John talked excitedly all about
his early experiences. Just before they entered the room, John
looked him square in the eyes and said, “I remember my first few
years as a minister. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could make me
want to go back and relive them. But I promise when you get it all
figured out and know how to handle people it all gets easier.”