Love's Promise

by Cheryl Holt

  “Last night,” he continued, “I was horrid to you.”

  She shrugged, but didn’t respond.

  “The act of making love can be wonderful,” he asserted.

  “I’m sure you’re correct, but although I’m now a fallen women”—he winced at the description—“I’m not a loose one, and I won’t pretend to be.”

  “You’re not fallen,” he tried to claim, “and you’re not loose.”

  “My father was a vicar, and I loved him very much. If he could see me now, he would be so ashamed.”

  She glanced away, a surge of tears flooding her eyes. The humiliation, terror, and heartbreak of the past few years bubbled up until she felt as if she was choking on all that had been lost. Her parents. Her nephew. Her sister. Her home. Her reputation.

  Sometimes, she pondered what reason there was to keep on. If she suddenly dropped dead, who would miss her?

  “I never met your father,” he said, “but he could never be ashamed of you. Don’t talk like that.”

  He reached for her hand, and he held it in his own, rubbing it, chafing it to warm her cold skin. She was chilled to the bone and would like naught more than to take a hot bath, to crawl into a comfortable nightgown and sleep for a week.

  She was curious as to what would happen next. He probably assumed he’d wear her down, that he’d lure her to his bed, but she would never relent. She knew what she wanted—and what she didn’t want.

  She peered up at him. His eyes were ringed with dark shadows, and it occurred to her that he had been genuinely alarmed when she fled. He ought to have said good riddance, but instead, he’d chased her down and brought her back so that he’d know she was safe.

  His actions made no sense, unless he was sincerely fond of her. Could it be? Could his affection be real?

  When he’d taken Thomas, she’d discounted his motives in initially befriending her, but in light of his recent conduct, she was no longer sure of anything.

  “When we first arrived,” she told him, “you said I was your guest.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “But I can’t earn my bed and board the way you were hoping, so now what?”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I have to proceed to London,” she declared. “At the earliest opportunity.”

  He growled with frustration. “Why?”

  “I have to locate my sister.”

  “Your sister!” He threw up his hands. “Forget about her, Fanny. She’s despicable.”

  “My parents asked me to watch over her, and I swore that I would. I’m anxious about her situation. I have to know that she’s all right.”

  “She is.”

  “I need to be certain.”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “I have her address. Would you be content with writing her a letter?”

  “Yes, if you promise you’ll mail it.”

  “I promise.”

  She scoffed. “As if I’d believe you.”

  “I’ll have it delivered!”

  At hearing her skepticism, he appeared abashed, so maybe he really would follow through, but she couldn’t guess how he’d behave.

  ”And I won’t stop trying to find Thomas—no matter how determined you are to keep him from me. It’s cruel.”

  He glared at her, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  “I want to see him, and I won’t apologize for it.”

  “That’s why you sneaked off, isn’t it? You were going to London to look for him.”

  “Yes, and I’ll go again as soon as I can get there without you suspecting.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the arm. His mind was whirring, and she could sense that he was weighing various remarks. Was he devising a new way to coerce her? To confuse her? To placate her?

  “Would you like it if Thomas came here?” he ultimately said. “If I brought him to you, would you stay put?”

  At the prospect, her pulse raced. “For how long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, I would like it if he came. I would like it if I could be with him.”

  “I’ll consider it, but on one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  “You will remain here with him. You won’t leave yourself, and you won’t leave with him. Swear it to me, or I won’t do it.”

  “Yes, I swear. I’ll remain here, and I won’t abscond with him.”

  It was an easy pledge to make. Whether she’d keep it was another story. Once in her life, she’d been an honest person, but she was learning Henley’s bad habits. If Thomas had been ill-used, she would break her vow and be gone with him in an instant.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll send for him immediately.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It will take several days.”

  She studied him, struggling to discern if he was telling the truth, but she couldn’t decide. Thomas would either arrive shortly or he wouldn’t. At least now, with her having more experience in dealing with Henley, she wouldn’t let him raise her expectations.

  She would be cautious; she would wait and see, and if Thomas failed to appear, she wouldn’t be crushed.

  “Why would you do this?” she asked. “Why would you be kind to me?”

  “I want you to be happy.” He shrugged, seeming perplexed by the admission.

  “Why would you care one way or the other?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  She chuckled, but wearily. “You’re mad.”

  “Very likely,” he concurred. He smiled, giving her a glimpse of the charm he’d once wielded against her so successfully. “You don’t need to be so tough.”

  “I can’t help it. I’ve been alone a long time.”

  “But you don’t need to handle everything by yourself. You could lean on me a bit. It wouldn’t kill you.”

  She wished she could depend on him, but too much had happened and none of it good.

  Still, he’d offered her a temporary refuge, and she would graciously accept it. For the moment, she was out of options and too worn down to keep fighting. She would wait for Thomas, and his condition would determine what her next step would be.

  “You look exhausted,” he mentioned.

  “I am.”

  He stood. “I’m ordering you a bath.”

  She’d endured months of deprivation and distress, and she wasn’t fully recovered from her ordeals. The smallest amount of taxing activity fatigued her. A bath sounded heavenly.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Then I want you to get yourself to bed and sleep until noon.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll be back in the afternoon to check on you.” He placed his hand on the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said in response.

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  He bent down and—as if he had every right—he kissed her, then he left.

  Fanny sat in the quiet, her fingers pressed to her lips, tasting him on her mouth, and wondering why she hadn’t stopped him or turned away.

  “Where are they?”

  Fanny went to the window to stare down the road.

  “They’re traveling as fast as they can,” Michael replied.

  “Why can’t that blasted coach sprout wings and fly?”

  At her impatience, he chuckled, marveling at the change two weeks had wrought. She was recuperated, fed, and comfortable.

  And now, as Michael had promised, Thomas was about to join her.

  He’d meant to do as the Duke and the doctors had decreed and never permit Fanny to see Thomas again, but somewhere along the way, their suggestions had gotten all jumbled until he wasn’t certain what was best.

  He wanted to make Fanny happy. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

  It seemed a minor concession to the let the boy live with her. In the hours Michael had passed with Thomas, when he’d firs
t moved to London, he had never inquired after his mother, but he’d talked of Fanny incessantly. When Thomas missed her so desperately, Michael didn’t understand how the so-called experts could be correct in their advice to keep them separated.

  “I think I hear the carriage,” Fanny said, craning to see. “I think they’re coming.”

  She squealed with delight and ran out to the yard. He followed and noted the coach lumbering toward them, a second vehicle behind it. Thomas had his own entourage: a nurse, a nanny, a tutor, and several others who’d been specifically selected to serve him.

  Michael had had Thomas ensconced at Wainwright Manor, the estate John had bequeathed to him, but even though Thomas was flanked by grown-ups who were doing a good job of tending him, he’d been very lonely.

  He was too courteous to complain, but his blatant despondency over Fanny forced Michael to realize that he didn’t know very much about children.

  He had no clue as to what they needed to thrive, and he’d tried to formulate a life for Thomas based on his own childhood—which he had to admit had been fairly miserable. He’d been surrounded by adults, too, but not his parents who’d been either too busy or too detached to care for him themselves.

  Michael had simply wanted Thomas to be cheerful and content with his new environment and status. He’d instituted plans with those purposes in mind, but it was clear that he’d made many wrong decisions, and he was actually relieved that Fanny had spurred him to initiate changes.

  He tucked her arm into his, the two of them standing together, waiting for the little lord of the manor to arrive. Slowly, Michael was rebuilding her trust and restoring the friendship he’d squandered, and in the process, something exquisite and fine was being established between them.

  “Do you see him?” She was up on tiptoe, peeking in the carriage window.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Michael said, laughing.

  The lead coach rattled to a halt, and it took the footmen forever to lower the step, to fuss with the door. Finally—finally!—it was opened and Thomas appeared.

  “Aunt Fanny! Aunt Fanny!”

  He whooped with joy and leapt down, and he barreled into her, almost knocking her down.

  Fanny fell to her knees, hugging him so tightly that Michael didn’t know how they could breathe. On witnessing their obvious elation at being reunited, he felt petty and mean-spirited for having kept them apart.

  “Oh, look at you! Look at you!” Fanny murmured the phrase over and over, and she was stroking her hands up and down his back, touching him everywhere as if ensuring that he was real and not an apparition.

  “I’ve been gone a very long time,” Thomas pointed out.

  “Yes you have.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Every second of every day. Where have you been?”

  “At Wainwright Manor,” he confessed. “It’s a grand house, and it’s my very own.”

  “It’s yours?”

  “Uncle Michael said so.” Thomas glanced up at Michael. “Hello, sir.”

  As opposed to Thomas’s vivacious outpouring with Fanny, toward Michael, he was very reserved.

  “Hello, Thomas. I’m so glad you could join us.”

  “Aren’t I correct?” Thomas asked Michael. “Isn’t it my very own house?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Thomas peered at Fanny again. “I want you to come and live with me. It’s very pretty there, and you wouldn’t have to work so hard as you did before. There’s plenty of food, and you can have your own bedchamber and everything.”

  “I can? My goodness.”

  “I’m rich, too, and I could buy you new dresses and whatever else you need. Will you live with me? I’ve been hoping you would.”

  “We’ll talk about it.” Fanny stood, her eyes not meeting Michael’s.

  He still hadn’t told her about Thomas’s inheritance, and he wasn’t certain why. Now, with the information coming from Thomas, rather than himself, it would seem like a deception, and Michael would have some tricky explaining to do.

  Fanny and Thomas walked away as if they’d forgotten Michael’s existence. They entered the house, Thomas chattering away.

  “Uncle Michael bought me a pony,” he was saying.

  “A pony! Aren’t you lucky!”

  “But just for a little while, because I’m almost big enough for a horse. And I have my very own riding master, and he is teaching me to...”

  As they moved inside, his merry voice faded, and Michael dawdled in the yard, observing the horde debarking from the carriages, their piles and piles of luggage being unloaded.

  The nurse was as dour as ever, but the other women were smiling, wiping away furtive tears that had been shed during the emotional reunion between Fanny and Thomas. Michael himself had quite a lump in his throat. He hadn’t been prepared for such raw sentiment, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

  He hated how Fanny and Thomas had sauntered off without him. He wanted to be included, wanted to create a trio, rather than a duo, but he couldn’t figure out how to force himself into the middle of their bond. Instead, he focused on the hectic moment, on the new arrivals and the space they would require.

  As was typical since he’d brought Fanny to the country, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. It was impossible for Thomas’s servants to be lodged with him. The servants’ quarters were small and in use by the current staff, and if Michael tried to squeeze in others, there’d be chaos and bickering.

  Plus, he couldn’t have all these people watching him with Fanny. His employees understood the disreputable purpose for which he utilized the residence, and they’d been specifically chosen because they were discreet and nonjudgmental about his affairs.

  These newcomers would look askance at his introducing Thomas to such a seedy environment. They would fume and gossip, when he didn’t want any stories getting back to London.

  He went to the lead footman and ordered him to escort the group to Henley Hall where they would spend the night, then return to Wainwright Manor.

  After much repacking, grumbling, and questions, they boarded the carriages and departed.

  As they rumbled out of sight, he breathed a sigh of relief, as if he’d dodged a bullet, and it occurred to him that it hadn’t actually been the servants’ presence that had bothered him.

  If he’d wished it, he could have made room for them, but the reality was that Michael was desperate to be alone with Fanny and Thomas. Buried deep in his heart was a smoldering need to carry on like a normal family with them.

  He’d never experienced such a thing prior, had never lived through it himself, and to his amazement, it was something he was determined to sample once in his life. The craving made no sense, but was real and potent and couldn’t be ignored.

  Grinning with anticipation, he hurried inside, knowing they were waiting for him and feeling as if he was truly coming home for the very first time.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Fanny blew out the candle and tiptoed away from Thomas’s room. He’d been asleep for over an hour, but she couldn’t force herself away from him. She’d been terrified she’d glance over and find that it had all been a dream and he wasn’t really there.

  Lord Henley was waiting for her at the end of the hall, standing in the doorway to the master suite. He’d made himself comfortable, had shed his coat and cravat, had rolled back his sleeves. He looked handsome and indolent and dangerous, and despite how she’d planned to ignore him, her pulse sped.

  He’d spent the day with them, and the transition had been so easy. It seemed as if she’d always lived with him and Thomas, and his kindness unnerved her as his temper and arrogance never could.

  She kept coming until they were toe to toe. He was in a strange mood and couldn’t take his eyes off her, and it was a heady sensation, being the focus of all that male attention. She didn’t know how to deflect it and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “Is he finally asleep?” he asked.

  “Yes. He was
so excited to be here. I didn’t think he’d ever nod off.”

  “I like watching you with him. I like seeing the two of you together.”

  “I like being with him. Thank you for bringing him to me.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, their bodies connecting as he kissed her.

  She wouldn’t pretend that she hated being kissed by him, for she didn’t hate it. Her problem was that she enjoyed it too much, but he was too experienced for her, and she couldn’t deal with the feelings he ignited.

  He continued on, and she allowed the embrace until she was breathless and her knees weak, then she glided away and skirted past him into the bedchamber. She hurried through the suite to the dressing room, but he followed, stalking after her as a hungry hawk would a mouse.

  While she wanted to order him out, she wasn’t certain he would go, or that she had the right to demand his departure. The house was his, and she was staying in it at his behest, and it would take some time to figure out exactly where the lines were drawn as to his authority and her actual place.

  His passions were running hot, and she had to cool them. Conversation was the best way to distract him, and it was the first chance she’d had to pose the question that had been eating at her all day.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about his inheritance?”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t reveal it to you, but keep it from your sister, and I wasn’t about to apprise her of his fortune. I didn’t trust her.”

  “Who is the money from?”

  “His father, my brother, John.”

  “He passed away?”

  “Yes. Nine months ago.”

  “Yet you never mentioned it.”

  He shrugged again. “I didn’t see how it could make any difference if you knew or not.”

  At the inane reply, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Were the two of you close?”

  “Yes, we were.”

  “What are the will’s provisions regarding Thomas?”

  “He’s John’s heir.”

  A prickly silence ensued. He didn’t supply any further details, his expression indicating that he wouldn’t discuss his brother or the terms of the bequest, and she yearned to shake him until his teeth rattled. Would it kill him to confide in her? Just once?