Intentions of the Earl (37 page)

She walked quickly to the servants entrance
and ran to the duke’s carriage. His coachman who looked older than
Methuselah was standing close by and she bribed him to take her to
her uncle’s house party.

When she climbed in the carriage, she
couldn’t help but snicker at the lack of loyalty he must have for
his employer if he were willing to take a bribe to use his
employer’s carriage. That’s when she remembered whose carriage it
was, and her humor dissolved.

She was angry with both of them, but her
anger for Andrew far surpassed her anger toward Gateway. She knew
Gateway was a snake. She'd heard the rumors about him and knew from
just the handful of conversations they’d had that he was capable of
just about anything. But she would have never believed Andrew
capable of this. How could she have been so blind?

She leaned her head down and clutched her
garments to her as best she could and the tears just flowed. Not
just a one or two, but a steady stream. Her life really was over
now. Had she left without marrying Andrew she still could have
married, but not now. Now, she was damaged beyond redemption. The
worst part was in her mind it was worth it. It was worth facing the
future she would have as a spinster for the few exchanges of
passion she had experienced with Andrew. He'd been so sweet and
tender, nothing could take that away. Even if he ended up being a
cad in real life, she could cling to the memories when he was her
Prince Charming.

It felt like only minutes in the carriage
before they were pulling up to her uncle’s house. The coachman came
to open the door to let her down and when she saw his eyes go wide,
she remembered she was only wearing a flimsy dressing robe, which
would cause a scandal if she were to be seen wearing it. She had a
quick thought to what Liberty’s expression would be if she saw her
wearing the dressing robe, and only the dressing robe. The image
brought a smile to her face, but did not solve her problem.

“Could you do me another favor?” she asked
the coachman. “I promise it will be worth your while.”

“Aye, miss,” the scraggly coachman replied as
he ran his fingers through his wind whipped hair.

She asked him to move the coach to where the
other coaches were parked then go in and request that Mama meet her
in the family coach.

After the man moved the coach and was on his
way, Brooke peeked out and saw that nobody was about, then she
quickly climbed out of the duke’s coach and into the Banks’ coach.
Once she got settled, she made a mental note that stairs were the
preferred way to get in and out of a coach and vowed to always use
them in the future.

She waited mere minutes before Mama showed up
with Madison in tow. She felt a pang of relief that Liberty wasn’t
with them, but it was all forgotten when Mama wrapped her arms
around her and the floodgates surrounding Brooke’s eyes opened once
again.

Brooke looked up and met Mama’s eyes. “Take
me away, please.”

Under normal circumstances, Mama would have
probably told her to pull it together and insisted she would have
to just brazen out her troubles; but she must have read more into
Brooke’s words because she turned to Madison, and said, “Go get our
coachman, and please bring her a new gown.”

Madison dashed away and returned so quickly
Brooke thought she must be dreaming, but she wasn’t. She heard Mama
tell Madison more directions but had no idea what they were.

Brooke barely had her new gown on before the
carriage was hitched and lurched forward to start their journey to
London.

Long before they reached their townhouse in
London the whole story had come out. Everything about how he'd set
everything up to shame her and had made an agreement that involved
her losing her virtue and him gaining something, but she didn’t
know what. She told Mama how she snuck out when he was busy and
bribed the coachman, who, she realized, she didn’t even pay, to
bring her back.

Brooke didn’t mention she secretly feared,
and if she were being honest hoped, Andrew would follow them back
to London. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he showed up nor did
she trust herself to find out. As mad as she was with him about
what he had done, she still knew he could be persuasive and a
handful of sweet words and skillful kisses could send her back into
his trap.

She walked up the stairs and through the
front door of their London residence. She had no idea she would
ever be happy to see the wretched inside of that townhouse, but she
was.

She went upstairs, took a bath and crawled
into bed without bothering to eat dinner. She was almost asleep
when she heard a gentle knock, followed by Mama’s skirts swishing
as she came in.

Mama didn’t speak. She just sat down on the
bed next to her and ran her fingers through Brooke’s hair, the way
she had done when the girls were young and needed to be
soothed.

Brooke fell asleep and didn’t wake up until a
little before noon the next day. It wasn’t normal for Brooke to
sleep so late, but given the circumstances, it didn’t come as a
great surprise.

She dressed quickly before sitting down to do
her hair. While brushing her hair, she decided she was going to
face the day with renewed vigor. Her anger with Andrew was firmly
in place.

Yesterday, Brooke had told him that she was
going to go back to New York as soon as she could. When she told
Mama about the conversation, Mama hadn’t acted very accepting of
the prospect. Not to say that she dismissed it, but she acted
reluctant about going back to New York, which she knew she would
be.

Brooke walked down the stairs and headed to
the parlor, where they had taken to eating their meals in. She
walked with her head down, watching her slippers peek out from
under her gown with each step she took. She was so lost in her own
thoughts she did not notice someone walking toward her until she
collided with a male figure. Looking up she gasped. “Papa.”

Papa wrapped his arms around her in a tight
embrace. “We came as soon as we could pack to leave.”

“You didn’t have to,” Brooke protested.

“Yes, I did,” he told her firmly, giving her
another reassuring squeeze. “You are my daughter, even if you are
married. I will take care of you. Always.”

“Oh, Papa,” she cried and leaned into
him.

He reached up and wiped a tear off her cheek
she wasn’t aware had slipped out. “Mama told me everything. We’ll
work something out.”

She knew there was nothing Papa, or anyone,
could do to make this better, but she smiled at him just the
same.

He offered her his arm and together they
walked to the parlor to enjoy a late breakfast together. They
filled their plates and sat down in comfortable silence. Halfway
through the meal Mama came in and asked to speak to Papa in the
hall for a moment. A minute later Mama came back and joined Brooke,
saying that Papa had to take care of something right quick.

Mama just watched her from across the table.
Her face was full of concern, but she wisely held her tongue. Papa
returned shortly looking a little distracted, but he smiled at her
when he entered, then resumed his meal.

Brooke made her way through the meal and the
rest of the afternoon without saying anything that didn’t need to
be said. She kind of enjoyed just being able to be quiet with her
thoughts without anyone pressing her to respond, or getting
agitated when she didn’t.

The following two days were much the same.
She got up, dressed, ate, embroidered, ate, sat in the drawing
room, ate dinner then went to bed. She just moved about as if she
were in a trance.

With each passing day her anger toward Andrew
intensified. He had not one time come to see her and that made her
heart ache. In the end, he had used her the way he had set out to
from the start.

She didn’t know why that hurt her so much,
but it did. She'd told him to leave her alone and that she was
leaving England, but she didn’t really mean it. She’d been upset at
the time and it seemed like the easiest choice at the time.
Apparently, he believed her and it had been easier for him to
forget her and move on with his life than it was for her.

That night at dinner she announced she’d like
to go back to New York on the passenger ship that left the next
day. At first everyone was quiet, then Mama put her fork down and
asked, “Are you sure?”

Brooke nodded. There was no use waiting
around the house and hope Andrew came to see her. If he hadn’t
already, then he probably wasn’t going to. That was the kind of man
he was. Just look how he conducted his courtship with her. They
barely even knew each other a fortnight and he had snared, ruined,
married, and rejected her already. If he had wanted her back, he
would have done something by now. It wasn’t a great mystery to
figure out where she was, she had as much as told him her
plans.

“Do you not want to wait another week?” Mama
suggested.

Brooke shook her head. Her decision was
already, and she was going to stick by it. “I know you’re
disappointed your daughter will not be the great countess you’d
hoped, but I cannot go on this way.”

Mama started. “Brooke, I don’t care more for
your status as countess than I do for your happiness. If you'd
wanted to marry a chimney sweep I would have allowed it.” Taking
note of the dubious gaze that Brooke had leveled on her, she
changed tactics. “All right, I admit I reveled in the idea. But the
title means nothing if you're not happy. If he had a brain in his
skull of his I think you two could have been happy together, but
since he clearly does not, I don’t blame you. I just don’t want you
to make a hasty decision.”

Brooke understood what Mama meant, but she
also understood things would never be the same. To her mind the
sooner she returned to New York, the sooner she could start
forgetting this whole mess.

“Tomorrow is too soon to go back,” Papa
stated. “We cannot all be packed and ready to board tomorrow
afternoon. It just cannot be done.”

He had a point. “I can go alone,” she said
quietly.

“Absolutely not,” Papa said sternly. “I will
not have my daughter sailing across the Atlantic Ocean by
herself.”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” Brooke pointed out
cheekily, smiling her first genuine smile in days. “There will be
plenty of other passengers on board.”

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. You
would require a lady’s companion just to cross. Then, when you go
there you could not live in that house alone, it’s not done.”

“The Whitakers will still be there. As for a
companion, we could hire one tomorrow. I’ve heard there are women
around the docks who would be willing for such work,” Brooke said
hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Mama chimed in archly. “I
know you are a married woman and know about certain things, but
those women are not fit company.”

Brooke sat back in her chair and looked
around the room. Then an idea occurred to her. “I could take
Liberty with me.” Everyone’s eyes, including Liberty’s, impaled her
and she added hastily, “Didn’t you tell Liberty if she couldn’t
behave herself she’d be boarded on the next vessel? Well, if she
goes with me, she won’t have to worry about behaving herself around
Mr. Grimes.” Brooke thought it was an excellent solution.

Liberty’s face made it clear she did not
agree, which was fortunate for her because neither did Mama and
Papa. “No,” Papa said, wiping his mouth and resting his napkin on
the table. “It’s true I told her that, but she's behaved herself so
far. I see no reason to send her back. Unless you want to go,” he
said, looking to Liberty for an answer. When she shook her head, he
sighed. “Brooke, if you want to go back, you may. I shall book your
passage in the morning.”

“What of a companion or chaperone?” Mama
asked, tension creeping into her voice.

Papa’s face turned a little red and he
cleared his throat. “As you pointed out earlier, Carolina, she is a
married woman; therefore, she requires neither. I would prefer if
she had one, but given the choice between going alone or sharing
the room with a woman from the docks, I would prefer she go
alone.”

Brooke went upstairs after dinner to pack.
She was taking out her trunks when Madison came in. “Do you truly
mean to go?” she asked bluntly.

“Yes,” Brooke replied, taking her last ball
gown and matching slippers from her wardrobe. “I cannot stay here.
He has no interest in me, and you know it is only a matter of time
before the scandal gets out. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t
already.”

Madison walked over to Brooke’s vanity and
began to help put her things into her trunk.

“You do realize once news of this gets out
that you’ll probably be returning home as well,” Brooke continued
as she picked out the traveling costume she’d wear on the ship
tomorrow. “I predict you’ll be only a week behind me.”

“That may be so,” Madison allowed. “But you
don’t have to go, you know?”

Brooke went to her sister and wrapped her
arms around her. “Yes, I do. You know I cannot stay here; I am
living separate from my husband of one day. I will be publicly
humiliated and ridiculed when the story breaks. Tomorrow everyone
will be coming home from that house party; a day, maybe two, later
everyone will be coming here trying to learn why we’re living
separately. I cannot bear it.”

“Why don’t you go after him?” Madison asked
quietly, trying, and failing miserably, to hide the tears in her
eyes.

Brooke let go of her sister, sat on the bed,
and stared at the wall. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Letting out a resigned sigh, she told her
sister everything. Mama had assured her she hadn’t told anyone
except Papa about her disaster, so she knew that Madison didn’t
truly understand just how bad it was.

When she was finished, Madison slipped her
arm around and pulled her into a comforting hug. “What I still
don’t understand is why you cannot go to him. I mean, he did marry
you, didn’t he?”