Intentions of the Earl (2 page)

Once most of the crowd had gone back to
dancing, talking or drinking punch, Mama looked both of her girls
with that stern look that only she could pull off and announced,
“We’re going home. Liberty, go find Papa and tell him to have the
carriage sent. We’ll meet you out front. Come, Brooke, we’re going
to go find Madison.”

As they walked away, Brooke tried to explain
that it wasn’t her fault, but Mama would have none of it. Adopting
an icy tone, Mama said, “Wait until we get into the carriage; or
even better, wait until we get home. You’ve done quite enough
tonight already, young lady. I don’t want any undue attention
brought on us right now. Do you understand?”

Brooke knew that tone, it did not bode well
for a pleasant ride home, and probably not a good morning tomorrow
either. Deciding it was best to answer her mother’s question, she
simply said, “All right.” That was all the talking necessary.

The carriage ride home from the Lampson’s
ball was quiet. Too quiet, to be exact. Nobody said anything. But
then again, there was nothing to say. Instead, they all just
exchanged looks. Brooke and Liberty shot daggers at each other,
while they both received horrified looks from both Mama and Papa.
Madison was the only one not interested in the turn of events and
tried to stare out the windows the best she could through the
little opening in the curtains.

At home, the calm silence continued and
Brooke was none too gently escorted in the drawing room and told
one word: wait.

Wait she did. Not knowing how long she would
be waiting, or what would happen next, she sat on the pink settee
and tried to devise a plan to get herself out of trouble. She only
had to wait ten minutes before Papa and Mama briskly walked into
the room to join her.

“Brooklyn, do you have anything to say for
yourself?” Papa asked sternly, taking a seat in a wingback chair
near her. His eyes were blazing into hers, and his voice had taken
on the most serious tone she had heard him have in many years.

Noting Papa used her given name, Brooke knew
now was not the time to trifle with him. “This is not entirely my
fault, you know. Liberty was just as involved in the public display
as I was. Why is she not here?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“Stop worrying about your sister,” he
snapped. “Now answer my question.”

Brooke swallowed. Her usually even-tempered
father was unhappy and placing full blame on her. Suddenly a
thought popped into her head, just the one that could help her
escape this situation, if not entirely, then at least she wouldn’t
shoulder it alone. Brooke flashed him a bright smile. “Papa, I
should be worried about my sister. See, she was just as involved as
I was, and God punished both Adam and Eve for their mistake, did he
not?”

John Banks, Brooke’s father, was a Protestant
minister in New York; and when in doubt she had always been able to
try to wiggle out of her problems by using his profession to her
advantage, she hoped this time would not prove to be an
exception.

A small smile took over Papa’s lips. “Oh,
daughter, you are so correct. Both Adam and Eve were involved in
their fall, and they both were punished. I’m so glad you remember
that. Hmm, let’s just do a bit of role-playing shall we?” He paused
to see her confused expression. “In the story of Adam and Eve, who
do you think you would play? Adam, the one who was brought the
temptation and partook of it? Or would you be Eve? You know, the
one who went off alone, did something wrong, then came to her
husband and presented him with an opportunity to do wrong as well?”
John’s lips twitched at her look of defeat.

Brooke didn’t let his words break her spirit
for long, however. “Yes, it’s true I could be likened to Eve. I did
break some silly rules and create a scene; therefore, I was more at
fault,” she admitted solemnly; then, because she thought she had
this well in hand, she blithely said, “However, God did not punish
Eve more than Adam, they were both punished the same.”

“That’s true. You make a very good point,” he
conceded, then paused, letting her bask in the soon ending moment
of success. “However, my dear, you overlook one small detail. I’m
not God.”

“But—but—,” she sputtered.

Cutting her off with a hand gesture, her
father continued, “Brooke, I love you, I really do. However, you
cannot deny you were at fault tonight.” Not letting her butt in
like she was itching to do, he put on his sternest face. “I know
Liberty should have kept her comments until a more private time,
such as at home; but I understand you encouraged her, and she
obliged. That’s when you lost your temper.”

Brooke knew when she was defeated, and
usually took it in stride, so trampling down her temper and pride,
she ventured, “What shall I do about it now?” The scene had already
been made. Everyone had seen her raising her voice and stamping her
foot like a three year old throwing a tantrum.

“There’s nothing to be done except wait out
the gossip. Maybe there won’t be any.” That was a hopeful
statement; everyone in the room knew that. “You may go to bed now,
Muddles. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Hearing her father use her family’s nickname
for her gave her reassurance that he was no longer mad at her and
that all would be well tomorrow. “Goodnight, Papa. I am truly sorry
about the way it all happened tonight, and I’ll try not to
embarrass you again.” She desperately hoped that was true. Turning
to where her mother was sitting quietly in the corner of the
drawing room, her eyes looked worried and her were hands were
folded primly in her lap, she said, “Goodnight, Mama. I shall see
you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, darling, I don’t think there will
be a need to get up too early,” Mama responded with a weary
smile.

Puzzled, Brooke just had to know what she
meant. “Why?”

“Because I doubt there will be any gentlemen
callers after the lovely theatrics that were displayed tonight,”
Mama said dryly.

Papa let a loud bark of laughter. Brooke held
her giggle until she got into the hall, then she let out a great
peal of laughter that echoed down the hall. For as much as Mama
hated being embarrassed, she was typically a good sport and saw
humor where there was none.

“Do you truly believe nothing will come of
this?” Carolina Banks asked her husband after Brooke was gone.

“Tomorrow nobody of any consequence will care
about this, trust me. It’s not as if she were caught in a
scandalous situation or anything. Sure someone might remember it
forever,” he shrugged one shoulder, “but it’s not the kind of thing
that will render either of them unmarriageable, or to be cut during
social events.” He stopped talking and gazed at his wife; his face
had taken on a contemplative air. “I think the problem could be
more that she is dismissing the rules in general, not so much the
scene. Liberty, on the other hand, is determined to learn and
execute all the rules famously, which could be her downfall.”

“Oh, John, I worry so about all three of
them. I want them all to marry, but I want them to marry happily.”
Her face had taken on a dreamy wistful look. “For love, like we
did,” Carolina said quietly.

“I know, but they have their own destinies to
make,” John said with a yawn.

Carolina got up and started walking across
the room to take her leave. But just before she got to the door,
she stopped and in a small voice asked the real question of the
evening, “What did you learn about Madison tonight?”

Closing his eyes, John took a deep breath.
“Nothing. I watched her all evening. She turned every man down who
asked her to dance. She looked as if she were lost in a daydream
all the time.” Pausing, he shook his head as if it would dispel the
unpleasant thought from inside. “I just don’t know if it’s a good
dream or not.”

Carolina nodded. As she walked down the hall
toward her room, she briefly paused outside Madison’s door. But
instead of going in, she just sighed and went on to her bed.

Chapter 2

Andrew Black, Earl of Townson, checked his
watch. It was quarter after two, which meant he could safely leave
without rising complaints of snubbing the hosts. Making his way to
the door, he heard a deep, familiar voice behind him. “Hold there,
Townson. I have a new proposition for you.”

Andrew knew that voice. That voice belonged
to the man who had been the reason he’d come to this ball in the
first place. Turning around slowly, Andrew faced the cold
hard-as-steel eyes of Benjamin Collins, Duke of Gateway. These two
were not really friends nor enemies; they were just acquaintances.
Which was exactly the way Andrew preferred it.

Though Andrew could easily be considered a
libertine by the
ton
, the duke had somehow earned the
nickname as the Dangerous Duke. He wasn’t one anyone wanted to
oppose. Revenge was his specialty. Nobody knew that better than
Andrew.

Only twice had Andrew personally been on the
wrong side of Gateway; but since Eton, Andrew had seen first-hand
what happened to both men and women who managed to get on Gateway’s
bad side.

Andrew had been relentlessly teased from day
one at Eton. After two weeks of close observation, Benjamin Collins
decided to do the unthinkable: befriended the outcast. Even though
the teasing ceased, the cost was much greater. In exchange for
protection and friendship, Andrew was forced to do Benjamin’s
bidding. From schoolwork to covering for him when he snuck out at
night to being the “enforcer” of revenge, Andrew did it. He did it
well, and with little resentment, because he knew if he refused,
his life would be even worse than it had been before.

Squaring his shoulders, Andrew looked him in
the eye. “What do you mean?”

“It would appear that I need a favor,”
Gateway drawled. “Now that we’re grown up I cannot offer you my
protection from the other schoolboys, but I can give you back your
deed.” Taking the deed that had changed hands from the earl to the
duke earlier in the evening out of his pocket; he gave it a little
wave. “Just do me this favor, and I’ll give the deed back without
any debt attached to it.”

Irritated about the low blow about needing
his protection from the other schoolboys at Eton, Andrew swallowed
a retort and forced himself to think about what this would mean. He
had not done a “favor” for Gateway for more than ten years. After
he refused to do one, they had a falling-out that led to someone
else doing Gateway’s dirty work against Andrew, followed by Gateway
taking his own revenge.

After that, Andrew had stayed clear of the
duke—until recently. When once again he’d fallen victim to the
Great Gateway and had to surrender the deed to the last of his
unentailed estates.

The estate was in Essex and had accumulated
more debt than Andrew could ever pay. Stupidly he’d agreed to take
a loan from Gateway against the estate in order to improve it. The
improvements didn’t work and he’d run out of time on the loan.
Tonight was the night he had to surrender the deed to Gateway;
which was the only reason he’d come to the ball.

Unlike a normal man who would take care of
this business in his study or at a solicitor’s office, Gateway had
demanded the exchange take place somewhere public. Andrew assumed
this was just another way for the duke to gloat.

Silently weighing his options, he let out a
pent up breath and asked anxiously, “Do I get details about this
favor before I agree to do it?”

Gateway’s smile dimmed and a shadow crossed
his eyes. Andrew didn’t think that was a good sign.

After tucking the deed back in his pocket,
Gateway looked around the room. “This is something that we should
speak about in private. This isn’t the place. I suspect by the pace
of your stride and the direction you were walking that you were
about to leave.” When Andrew merely nodded, Gateway said, “Would
you care to meet me in half an hour in my study?” Gateway must have
sensed there was some hesitancy when Andrew didn’t answer and
added, “Just to talk about details, you’re not committed. Just
remember, this could get you back your estate, free and clear.”

Not missing the emphasis on his last three
words, Andrew simply said, “A half-hour, then.” Then before he
could do something stupid, like agree to Gateway’s bargain, he
walked out of the ballroom.

***

“Are you mad?” Andrew asked sharply, gaping
at Gateway with open astonishment.

“No, I’m not mad,” Gateway snapped. “I don’t
know what your problem is; you seem to have to qualms with activity
in general. What could possibly be holding you back?”

“I don’t dally with innocents.
That
is
my problem,” Andrew said fiercely. In light of what he’d just been
asked to do, Andrew considered that to be a rather large
problem.

Gateway strode over to the fireplace, grabbed
the poker and stoked the fire, creating a massive flame. When he
was satisfied with his larger-than-necessary fire, he replaced the
screen then turned to face his guest. “Come now, Townson, I’m not
asking you to marry her, quite the opposite. I just want you to
compromise her. Everyone knows you’re not the marrying type, and
she’s an American chit, she hasn’t a leg to stand on to force you
into marriage. It all works out perfectly.”

Andrew felt his face getting hotter, and he
wasn’t sure if it was because of the newly stoked fire or the fact
that he was so outraged by what he’d just been asked to do.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he went for it and asked the
question he wasn’t certain he even wanted to know the answer to,
“Why do you want this girl ruined?”

Gateway didn’t answer. His eyes wandered
aimlessly around his study. They landed on everything in the room.
Everything except Andrew, that is.

Andrew assumed he was doing this in hopes
he’d lose interest in Gateway’s reasons. Such details Gateway would
be loath to share; he’d never been forthcoming with them
before.