Love's Promise

by Cheryl Holt

  “John’s son, isn’t it?”

  “So I’m told, although when the mother was such a doxy, I don’t see how they could ever be positive.”

  “What was the girl’s name?” he mused. “Frances something-or-other. How did such a disreputable person sneak in? I certainly hope Clarendon fires his butler.”

  “To Hades with his butler! My party was ruined! Have you any idea how people will laugh when they hear what happened?”

  He yawned. “Who cares?”

  “I care! How could he treat me like this? When we’re married, I’ll make him so sorry.”

  “Just be sure you do it after the wedding. You wouldn’t want to give him a hint of all this temper before you’ve got him shackled. Despite what you suppose, he won’t let you lead him about by the nose.”

  She gazed out the window at the moonlit road, wishing her father would commiserate, but he never took her side. With his having found her a good match, he acted as if his job was finished, and he’d left the morass of details to her. With her mother being deceased, she didn’t have any female assistance, and the burden was her own.

  John had been charming and sweet, dashing and flirtatious, and he hadn’t been bothered by much of anything. He’d been easy to manipulate, and as his wife, she’d have been able to do as she liked without any interference from him.

  Michael was a different story entirely. He was curt and surly, boorish and aloof, and he never asked what she wanted, never considered her opinion. Actually, she doubted he ever thought about her at all.

  She felt so ill-used!

  “Why did we have to invite that awful Phillip Sinclair?” she fumed.

  Her father sighed. “He’s Michael’s best friend. You couldn’t have avoided it.”

  “He could have let the servants throw her out. He didn’t have to butt in and spoil my celebration.”

  “It was rather discourteous of him.”

  “When Michael and I are wed,” she vowed, “I won’t allow Sinclair in the house.”

  “I’m sure that will endear you to your new husband.”

  “I won’t be gracious to his lowborn companions! And I’m not about to tend John’s little bastard either. Michael can plead until he’s blue in the face, but I won’t do it.”

  “Has he suggested you take the boy in?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  Finally, she had his attention. He looked shocked and insulted—and even a tad sober—which made her feel vindicated. She’d explained to Michael that he shouldn’t shelter the boy, but he wouldn’t heed her, and she’d been afraid to insist.

  “Michael thinks we should become the child’s parents,” she stated, aghast at the prospect. “He thinks we should...should...adopt him!”

  It was the most scandalous notion she’d ever heard.

  “That’s absurd,” her father huffed.

  “I told him it was, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Well, things would change once they were married. When she was his wife, she wouldn’t permit him to drag some wretched orphan into their front parlor and expect her to welcome him. She wouldn’t be ordered about in the running of her own home.

  She sat back, her expression grim. Michael would discover—to his detriment—that she wouldn’t be commanded, wouldn’t be bullied or harassed. She didn’t care if he was her husband; she didn’t intend that he would have any genuine authority over her.

  If he assumed otherwise, he was in for a huge surprise.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Michael walked down the hall toward the room where Fanny had spent the night.

  Initially, with her showing up as she had, without warning or notice, he’d been livid at her for her audacity, but after his fury had faded, he’d been intrigued by her sudden appearance.

  From the day he’d left her in the country, he’d thought of her every second. For some reason, he couldn’t get her out of his head, and his physical attraction to her hadn’t waned in the slightest.

  He’d been preoccupied with Thomas and Rebecca, but that hadn’t kept him from obsessing over her. How was she faring? Was she living at her cottage? Or had she joined her sister in London?

  Most particularly, he was curious as to how angry she was. His behavior must have seemed very callous to her. Had she come to terms with Michael having taken Thomas? Was she beginning to grasp why it was for the best?

  He’d hoped she would have calmed and forgiven him, but from her display of temper the prior evening, it was clear that she was still reeling. He had some explanations to tender, as well as some apologies to make, but all in all, he was delighted that she’d arrived.

  When he’d flirted with her over the summer, he’d considered asking her to be his mistress, but decency and decorum had caused him to hesitate. Her life had been difficult, but relatively stable, and he’d been certain she’d refuse.

  But if he asked now, with her in a very different and more perilous situation, what would be her reply? Thomas was being cared for, and she no longer needed to worry about Camilla. Why not have an affair? What was there to prevent her? There were worse fates than allying herself with him.

  He was nearing her closed door, when it opened and Phillip emerged. On seeing his friend, his first and immediate reaction was irritation, which he tamped down. While their fathers’ most recent fight shouldn’t have affected their relationship, it had. It seemed that every time they were together, they argued.

  “I didn’t know you were here,” Michael said.

  “I had told Miss Carrington I’d stop by.”

  “Is she well?”

  “Better.”

  Phillip was being deliberately enigmatic, and Michael scowled.

  When Fanny had fainted in the dining room, he’d been disturbed by her disheveled condition. Obviously, she’d endured numerous calamites since his departure, which he couldn’t understand. Camilla had grudgingly agreed to send Fanny money. She should have been fine.

  “Is she ill?” Michael inquired. “Is that why she collapsed?”

  “Not ill,” Phillip said, “just tired and hungry.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Isn’t it?” Phillip lowered his voice. “Have you any idea what the world is like for a woman like her?”

  “Are you blaming me for her problems? Because if you are, you should be aware that she was in dire straits long before I ever met her.”

  “That may be, but her plight has definitely deteriorated since you crossed her path.”

  “How can that be my fault? I’m not her keeper. I never was.”

  “You may not be her keeper, but last I heard, you were still a gentleman. I expect that she’ll be allowed to remain here until she’s recuperated.”

  “You talk as if we’re about to toss her out on the road.”

  “Well, with how you and Anne act sometimes, I can’t predict what the two of you might do.”

  “For pity’s sake, Phillip. Give me a little credit, would you?”

  “Just let her stay until I can make some arrangements for her.”

  “What sort of arrangements?”

  “I haven’t decided, but I’ll think of something. Be kind to her for me.”

  Michael shook his head in consternation. “Of course I’ll be kind to her. She’s a marvelous woman. I’ve always liked her very much.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  Michael was perplexed by Phillip’s animosity. Michael had no duty to Fanny and wasn’t responsible for her troubles, but he was prepared to rectify the wrongs she’d suffered—if he could get her to forgive him.

  Not that he’d explain as much to Phillip.

  Phillip had a protective streak, and apparently, he viewed himself as Fanny’s champion, when Michael fully intended to be the man who took care of her from this point on.

  “Why are you so concerned about her?” Michael queried.

  “I’m wond
ering if she might be one of my sisters.”

  The first day Michael had met her, he’d wondered the same.

  “Have you asked her about her past?”

  “Not yet. At the moment, she’s very vulnerable, so how do I tell her that everything she believes about herself might be false? How do I tell her that her father wasn’t a country vicar after all, but a despicable, notorious roué?”

  He stormed off, and Michael watched him go. He couldn’t figure out if they were quarreling, and if they were, why they were.

  If Fanny was Phillip’s sister, it would rock both their worlds, but where did it leave Michael in relation to them? Phillip would be dead set against any affair, and Michael supposed he should reflect a bit on his choices, but with Fanny waiting on the other side of the door, he wasn’t about to balk or delay.

  He spun the knob and entered without knocking.

  Fanny was over on the bed, propped up on the pillows, the blankets over her legs. A nightgown and robe had been furnished, and her hair had been washed and brushed. There was a tray of food on her lap, and she was sipping on a cup of tea.

  With a bloom of color in her cheeks, she looked young and fresh-scrubbed and even prettier than he remembered. A wave of recollected fondness swept through him, and he frowned, disconcerted by its strength. Why was he so affected by her?

  She glanced over at him, and she froze, appearing very hurt. They stared, neither able to speak the first word.

  A housemaid sat in a chair in the corner, and Michael gestured to her.

  “What is your name?”

  “Peggy, milord.”

  “Leave us.”

  She peered at Fanny, then at him, and she stood, seeming very nervous. “Beggin’ your pardon, Lord Henley, but the lady is alone and in her nightclothes. I don’t believe I ought.”

  “Go!” he ordered softly but firmly.

  She hesitated, and Fanny said, “Don’t fret, Peggy. I’ve learned from bitter experience that Lord Henley can have whatever he wants. There’s no sense arguing with him.”

  With a shrug at Fanny, the maid dipped a curtsy and hurried out. The door closed behind her, and they stared again.

  “I just talked to Phillip,” Michael finally stated, feeling like a dolt. “You’ve charmed him.”

  “He’s been very kind.” She glared in a manner that indicated she didn’t consider that Michael had been kind at all.

  “He says you’re better.”

  “It’s amazing what some hot food will do for a person.”

  She hurled it like an accusation, as if he’d been deliberately starving her.

  “You’ve gotten much thinner,” he noted, when he hadn’t planned to remark on her condition.

  “My summer hasn’t been all that grand. Where is Thomas?”

  “Why would you assume his whereabouts to be any of your business?”

  “Don’t be cruel to me. I won’t stand for it.”

  “He’s not your son,” he tried to insist.

  “Not by blood, but by my heart, and you know it. Why did you lie to me?”

  “On which occasion?”

  “You didn’t tell me who you really were.”

  “If you’d known my true identity, would you have spent time with me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would I have told you? I wanted us to become friends. I’m glad we did, and I’m not sorry for it.”

  “Friends!” She muttered the word as if it were an epithet. ”Some friend you turned out to be. You hurt me, and you stole the only thing I loved.”

  “Was there any way you would have consented to his going with me? What could I possibly have said or done to garner your agreement?”

  “There was nothing. I would never have let you make off with him.”

  Silly girl! he mused. As if she could have stopped him from doing whatever he wanted!

  “Then why would I have confided in you? Would it have been better if we’d fought constantly?”

  She looked so wounded, and he hardened himself, refusing to feel guilty. He’d done what was best for Thomas, and he wouldn’t regret it. Nor would he reveal Thomas’s location, lest she trot off on another wild goose chase, trying to rescue him.

  She had no idea how to stay out of trouble.

  He changed the subject.

  “I take it you didn’t receive any money from your sister.”

  She laughed strangely. “No, she shared no money with me.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll see you situated—if you’ll let me.”

  “I don’t want anything from you. Except Thomas.”

  “Well, you can’t have him.”

  “If you give him to me, I’ll depart without any fuss. You’ll never hear from me again.”

  “Your sister relinquished him to me.”

  “He wasn’t hers to abandon.”

  “He wasn’t abandoned. I have him, and he’s fine.”

  “He will never be fine so long as he’s in your custody and control.”

  Why was he squabbling with her? “If I returned him to you, how would you care for him? You didn’t do much of a job of it before.”

  Temper blazed in her eyes. “I tried my best, and I won’t apologize for my misfortunes.”

  He liked this steely facet of her character, and it made him wonder if she’d be docile or a hellcat in bed. He recalled Camilla’s comments about Fanny’s loose conduct, and fleetingly, he speculated as to whether any of Camilla’s tale was true.

  Perhaps seducing Fanny wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as he thought.

  There was something about her that attracted him as no other woman ever had. He didn’t understand it, and didn’t particularly like it, but the sensation was potent and arousing, and he was tired of pretending their connection was irrelevant. He’d always been a man of action, so why was he dithering?

  It was obvious that fate had thrown her into his path, that something physical was destined to transpire, the trick being to get her agree with a minimal amount of protest and aggravation.

  She was an ethical person who would view a sexual liaison as sinful and wrong, so he had to pose his question in just the right way—in financial terms rather than moral ones. He had no doubt that he could convince her.

  Once she consented, his primary order of business would be to stash her in the country, away from prying eyes. While he could be a scoundrel, he wouldn’t shame Rebecca by stoking rumors that he’d taken a new paramour mere months before the wedding, and he had the ideal trysting spot in mind.

  There was a small house on the edge of his estate that he used for his salacious entanglements. The location was very isolated, and he went there with his mistresses, with the occasional week-end lover, with his male friends for bachelor parties and for other decadent amusements that were better held in private outside the city.

  It was cozy and secluded, and he could enjoy Fanny’s charms there without interference or threat of discovery.

  “What is your favorite color?” he queried.

  “Why would you care?”

  “What is it!”

  “Green.”

  “Yes, green is perfect.” He’d buy her gowns in every shade. “After I returned to London, I was hoping I’d see you again.”

  “You were not.”

  “Oh, but I was. I’m living proof that you can drive a man wild.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, and I have a proposition for you.”

  “Why am I immediately certain that I won’t like the sound of it?”

  He approached the bed, took the tray from her, set it on the dresser, then rested a hip on the mattress. He could smell the soap with which she’d bathed, could feel the heat emanating from her skin. Suddenly, he was desperate to be closer to her, but he fought the urge.

  There was no need to rush in gaining her acquiescence. He had plenty of time to win her over, but when he was accustomed to having whatever he craved, it was frustrating to delay.

  She
was so exquisite, and she peered at him so artlessly, not recognizing how titillated he was. Her lips were ruby red, her pert breasts pushing at the front of her nightgown, and he was explicitly reminded of why gentlemen didn’t visit young ladies in their bedchambers.

  “What are you plans when you leave here?” he asked.

  “I don’t have any.”

  “So you would like to retrieve Thomas and...what? Live on the streets? Starve with him?”

  “I’m a hard worker, and I’m very smart. I’ll figure something out.”

  She was so naïve about how dangerous the world could be, and he realized that he couldn’t permit her to decline his offer. What would become of her? If she went off on her own again, there was no telling what might happen. She’d be like a lamb among the wolves. He had to save her from herself.

  “I want you to consider this: With very little trouble, you can have a roof over your head, food to eat, and clothes to wear. You wouldn’t have to struggle just to get by.”

  “Really? And how would I garner all these marvelous boons?”

  “It would be simple. You agree to be my mistress.”

  The word dropped between them like a stone, and she gaped at him as if he was insane.

  “No,” she said, “and you insult me by raising the possibility.”

  “Why is it an insult? What is there about your existence that would make you think an affair with me would be a step down? From where I’m standing, it appears you’re at the bottom of the ladder with nowhere to go but up.”

  “Just because I’m poor and desperate doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her attitude, but he was irked by it. Women constantly threw themselves at him, hoping he’d suggest the very same sort of association, but he rarely acknowledged any of their overtures. He’d finally found a female who tickled his fancy, but she couldn’t care less.

  “Please enlighten me,” he said. “What would be so idiotic about it?”

  “I would ruin myself for a purse full of cash and some pretty dresses. But with how my luck’s been running, I’d probably wind up with a babe in my belly. If that occurred, where would you be? You’re John Wainwright’s brother. Why am I positive that you’d vanish the instant you were informed I was increasing?”