Intentions of the Earl (32 page)

“Burned?” Andrew said hollowly. The look on
his face indicated he sorely hoped she was jesting.

“No, not burned,” Papa interrupted. “You will
find all of your things when you get back to London. I exercised
what little power I have in England and I asked my brother, the
baron and your host, to please have your things removed post
haste.”

“I see,” Andrew said, though he looked like
he didn't see at all.

“That’s immaterial. What do you have to say
to Brooke?” Papa said harshly.

Andrew came forward and dropped to one knee
right there before everyone in the room. “Brooke, will you do me
the honor of becoming my wife?”

Brooke looked into his eyes. During their
brief association, she'd come to be able to read him just by
looking in his eyes. He didn’t laugh or smile as much as she did,
but his eyes changed colors and looked brighter when he was amused
or thought something humorous. She had seen them darken on a few
occasions, indicating what she thought to be desire. She’d also
seen them look hard as steel when he was upset or determined, like
last night. How they looked currently was the only mood she
couldn’t read. They were impassive. Showing neither happiness,
sadness, desire, nor determination. She had seen this look but a
handful of times, like when they first met or when they first
arrived at the museum.

“Why?” she queried.

“I think it should be obvious. I have a need
for a wife and you have a need for a husband. Certain circumstances
have come up that make it convenient that we make a match.”

Those weren’t the words of love she so dearly
longed to hear, but what he said was true. They both required a
spouse, and after this, she would be hard pressed to find one. She
sighed. At least he had only said, “circumstance that make it
convenient” rather than coming out and saying he felt honor bound,
or it was his duty to either for causing her ruination or duty for
him to produce an heir.

“All right, I'll be your wife,” Brooke said
with a tight smile.

Andrew quickly rose to his feet and waved to
Mr. Grimes in the corner. “Paul, are you ready?”

“Indeed, my lord.” Mr. Grimes walked over to
where Brooke and Andrew stood in the drawing room.

“What’s going on?” Brooke asked Andrew.

“Our wedding,” he said, then reached in his
breast pocket and removed a wet special license from his
pocket.

“Right now?” she asked, shocked. “But why
here, why now?”

“I thought it would be best to marry quietly
and depart the house party this morning in order to put a stop to
the gossip.”

He was right of course. So much for girlhood
dreams of a big fancy wedding. “Can we ask my sisters to join us?”
she asked nervously.

“You’re quite right,” Papa said before anyone
else could speak.

Within moments Madison, Liberty, Alex and
Edward and Regina were summoned to bear witness to their
ceremony.

All too quickly it was over; she was married
and being hastily escorted out of the room by her husband.

On their way out the door, they were almost
run over by Mr. Grimes, who was walking as fast as his legs could
carry him, probably trying to get away from Liberty, Brooke thought
with a wry smile. A lot of people didn’t understand Liberty, that
was for sure, but she had never seen anyone with such a strong case
of dislike for her, it almost rivaled Liberty’s own dislike for
him. Almost, but not quite.

Outside, Andrew’s carriage was waiting to
take them away. Brooke climbed inside and waved goodbye to her
family as they rolled down the road.

“Where are we going?” Brooke asked after a
while.

“Rockhurst,” Andrew said simply.

Judging by how Andrew was sitting, Brooke
assumed he was in no mood for conversation. She wondered why that
was. They had just gotten married, and prior to that he was in a
good mood. What had changed?

She looked in his eyes, and there she saw it,
a distant, lost, almost cold look in their depths. Did he regret
marrying her only fifteen minutes after they said their vows? Did
this mean he had only gone through with it because of honor?

Right then and there, Brooke decided she was
going to make him happy and come to love her. No matter what she
had to do to change his feelings for her, she would do it.

It took an hour to get to Rockhurst. When
they rolled up, her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped a little.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s the seat of the
earldom, so of course it has to be well kept and attended
properly,” he said bitterly.

Paying him no mind, Brooke continued to ogle
the estate. It was huge. In the middle was a large house that was
three stories. It was made of a heavily textured dark brown brick.
The windows on the upper two floors were tall and slim, the ones on
the bottom floor were huge, but there were only a few. “It looks
medieval, like a castle,” she said without thinking.

“At one time it was. There have been many
renovations over the generations, but some of the original castle
still stands. That’s why the windows on the upper floors are tall
and slim. Archers would stand there and fire out.” He offered no
further information.

Brooke looked out in amazement. It must have
been a great adventure to grow up here, she thought.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt and
Brooke was nearly thrown from her seat. Andrew’s hand gripped her
shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her regain her
seat.

“Yes.”

As soon as she readjusted herself in her
seat, the carriage door swung open and a footman let the stairs
down for them.

Andrew climbed down and reached up to help
Brooke descend from the carriage. She took his arm and together
they walked toward the house where two servants were assembled to
greet them.

“This is my wife, the new countess, your new
mistress,” he said unceremoniously and gestured to Brooke. “These
are my servants,” he said with an equal amount of enthusiasm. Then
he led her to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Cleansweep, I trust you can
show her around. I’m off to bed. When you’re done, you can show her
to the countess rooms.” He shifted his gaze to Brooke. “I’ll join
you for dinner.”

On his way inside the house, a tall
manservant dressed impeccably in solid black, whispered something
to Andrew. Brooke strained to hear what he said, but the only word
she picked up was: friend. Andrew’s face grew dark during the
conversation and Brooke began to realize that whoever they were
speaking about was not just a casual friend such as Alex, but
probably his mistress.

She felt like she was going to faint. Of
course he had a mistress, she reminded herself, all men, save Papa,
had one. She tried to strengthen her resolve and gave the
housekeeper a tight smile, hoping it would not be too transparent,
while in the back of her mind she vowed she would get rid of this
mistress—immediately. She knew she couldn’t demand it of him, but
she could beguile him enough he’d dismiss her on his own.

“Mrs. Cleansweep, it is a pleasure to meet
you, and I would like very much for you to show me around. I fear
I'd get lost if I had to navigate it on my own.”

Mrs. Cleansweep quickly introduced her to the
other servants. There was Rawlings, who worked as the coachman and
did outside footman duties. Next was Stevens, he acted as the
butler and did inside footman duties. Mrs. Cleansweep explained
that she was the housekeeper and cook.

They took a tour of the house, stopping in
all the common rooms to look around. The house was amazing. When at
last they had reached the far end of the eastern wing of the second
floor Mrs. Cleansweep opened the door. “This is your room. I do
apologize it has not been aired for sometime. I was not expecting
his lordship to marry, and it has been a while since the dowager
countess used this room.”

Brooke walked in and looked around. The room
was a little stuffy, just as she had expected. She saw it had
recently been dusted, probably this morning, and the windows were
opened as far as they could go to allow the room to ventilate.

In the middle there was a large four poster
bed. Brooke ran her hand up one of the posts and sat on the feather
mattress. On one side of the bed there was a small night table that
held a lamp stand with three candles in it. There was a little
drawer in the side of table. Brooke pulled open to reveal two books
that must have belonged to the dowager countess, she coughed from
the dust and slid the drawer back into place.

In the corner was a large wardrobe made of a
beautiful dark wood that matched the bed. Next to it was a vanity
table that had a water basin and pitcher. The vanity was large
enough to display her brushes and combs and toward the back of it
was a small round mirror. To the side of the vanity table was a
full sized standing mirror that had a hairline crack going down the
length of the glass.

She glanced to the other side of bed and
noticed a small writing desk positioned beneath one of the windows.
She walked away from the mirror and went to the door she saw in the
middle of the wall.

When she put her hand on the doorknob, Mrs.
Cleansweep cleared her throat. Brooke’s gazed shot to hers and Mrs.
Cleansweep said bluntly, “That’s the connecting door to the
master’s room. I imagine he’ll come through it soon enough.”

Brooke blushed before removing her hand from
the door.

“If there is nothing else, my lady, I need to
be about my duties,” Mrs. Cleansweep said.

“Just one question,” Brooke said, walking to
the desk across the room. When she reached the desk, she pulled out
a stack of yellowed paper and eyed it curiously. “How long has it
been since this room was last occupied?”

“Nearly thirty years ago, but for only one
night. Before that, maybe twenty,” Mrs. Cleansweep said in a low
tone.

It had been nearly fifty years since this
room had a regular inhabitant. Why? Wasn’t Andrew’s mother still
living? “One night?” she asked the housekeeper who had not left
yet.

“Yes. The late earl brought his bride here
after their wedding, and the next afternoon he sent her away to
Essex. She lived until a few months ago.”

Brooke nodded. Andrew had told her that much
the day of their picnic. He told her something had caused his
parents to live separate lives, but even he didn’t know what it
was. “What happened a few months ago?” Brooke asked, knowing she
had told the housekeeper she was only going to ask one
question.

“The estate in Essex had to be sold. For lack
of anywhere else to live, she now lives here. Not to worry, she
stays on the third floor. I can’t imagine this place has any happy
memories for either her or Lord Townson.”

“I see. Thank you, you may go now.” Brooke
took a seat on the chair by the desk and started to think about
what the housekeeper told her. Was that why he had such a distant
look on his face on the way over? Did it have nothing to do with
her, but rather where they were going? If that was the reason, that
could easily be fixed.

Brooke walked around the room again. This
time she looked out one of the windows to see the view and saw a
large pond. Looking out the other window, she could see a horse
stable. Maybe they could go on a ride tomorrow, she thought with a
wistful smile as she remember their ride and picnic earlier in the
week.

Walking back to the bed, she laid down in
hopes of taking a quick nap. She’d had a long night last night and
a very eventful day so far.

Some time later there was a swift rap on her
door.

Rolling over and standing up, she mumbled,
“No rest for the weary,” before glancing at the clock on the shelf
in the corner. Was it possible she had been asleep for more than
four hours?

Resisting the urge to stop and look in the
mirror to see what a mess her hair was, Brooke went over to the
door and cautiously opened it.

Stevens greeted her with a low bow. “Dinner
will be served in quarter of an hour, my lady. I was asked to
invite you to the drawing room until dinner is announced.”

Brooke nodded and followed him down the hall.
All thoughts of the state of her hair and gown neglected. Her
thoughts were now occupied with Andrew. What would he wear? Would
he be glad to see her at the table? Obviously he wanted her
presence or he wouldn’t have sent for her. What would they talk
about at dinner? What would they do after dinner? Would he visit
her room tonight? A shiver ran through her just thinking about
it.

She was not disappointed when she reached the
drawing room. Andrew was waiting for her by the fireplace. He was
dressed up in some of the finest clothes she'd seen him wear. He
wore solid black except a white shirt and an emerald pin in white
his cravat. With his dark hair slicked back, he looked
magnificent.

“Join me,” he invited, gesturing toward a
settee next to where he stood.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking around the
room. “Is your mother going to join us tonight?”

Andrew’s head snapped in her direction at the
mention of her mother. Was she not supposed to know his mother
lived there? Brooke thought she saw his eyes flicker with some
emotion she didn’t recognize. Then he shook his head. “No, she
takes her meals in her room. Have you met her?”

“No. I thought it would be best if you to
introduce us.”

Andrew nodded. “I'll introduce you tomorrow.
Tonight, you're all mine.” His eyes held a wicked gleam.

Brooke blushed and wondered if that meant he
would indeed be visiting her room tonight. She remembered his
kisses and caresses from the night before and hoped he would do
that again tonight; this time she wouldn’t stop him.

Andrew must have read her thoughts because he
chuckled. “Like the idea of that, do you?”