A Reckless Promise (19 page)

Sadie didn't even attempt to memorize all the B's Vivien had been counting off. “So the curse, if there is one, had to have been directed at the first duke.”

“‘Fie on you, you damned Sinclairs. I curse you all, seed, breed and generation. No male shall reach his sixtieth birthday, this I decree by all the devils in hell and Beelzebub himself,'” Darby said with an evil smile. “Marley isn't the only one who can parrot someone else's words.”

Sadie glared at him. “We were doing quite nicely without you, my lord, thank you.”

“Yes, Darby, stifle yourself,” the duchess scolded. “I don't believe in curses, myself, but Basil does, even if he's been bravely pretending he doesn't, and Sadie here seems to have an idea. You do have an idea, don't you, my dear?”

“Yes, my dear,” Darby said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, clearly feigning intense interest. “We are all ears.”

“I suppose I do, although thinking it and actually voicing it out loud are two very different things and, upon reflection, I don't know if it would work, in any case. And for another, where would we find someone to
do
what I thought of doing?”

“Are you perhaps thinking of a séance, Sadie Grace?”

She frowned. “I don't know what that is.”

“Oh, a
séance
. I know,” the duchess said, all but bouncing in her seat. “Basil and I attended a party in Paris, oh, years ago, and the hostess put on a séance as entertainment. We all had to sit around a table, clasping hands, with only a few candles to light the room. There was this veiled woman at the table with us—a Gypsy, I suppose, but perhaps not—and she had us all think about our hostess's departed father, asking him to please speak to us from beyond the grave. Our hostess wished to know where he'd hidden her late mother's jewelry, we'd been told, because she couldn't locate it. Personally, Basil and I thought the old bugger had long ago sold it for gambling debts, but the veiled lady began to rock in her chair and moan most earnestly, and suddenly there was this
voice
coming out of her that wasn't her voice at all, oh, no, and the voice said he'd had them sealed up in the mausoleum with his dear wife.”

“Really,” Darby said, and Sadie saw he was holding back a smile.

“Yes, really, that's what the voice said. Well, that was the capper to
that
party, let me tell you, and we heard the next day that our hostess—what
was
her name?—had gone off to the country in quite a rush. I've always wondered if she'd found the jewelry tucked up with her
maman
.”

“Somehow I sincerely doubt that,” Darby told her. “But by then the veiled lady was undoubtedly gone, her purse heavier than when she'd arrived. In any event, that's a séance, Sadie. Is that what you were thinking? To hopefully make contact with the first duke, and ask him who had cursed him?”

Sadie was feeling extremely embarrassed. “No, because I've never heard of a séance, and because what could we possibly do with a name all these years later? We have to remove the curse. I...I was thinking more of a...a
ritual
.”

“Oh! You mean where we dress ourselves in paint and feathers and prance around a fire? I watched as Basil did that in a small village on Saint Domingue. Casting out demons, I believe it was. Such fun. Oh, the places we've been, children, and the glorious things we've done, while his brothers were busy being duke and we were left to do as we pleased. Basil never wanted to be duke, you know. And how much we've missed this last year and more thanks to his absurd notion that he's dying. I thought returning to Virginia without him would boost him from his deathbed, but even that didn't help. Thank goodness for Thea, who dared to challenge him into coming with us to Mayfair, although Gabe's silly threat about the birds probably boosted him, as well. Do you know something? We should be in Egypt at the moment, for we still have an entire list Basil drew up when we were first married. He said we would ride camels there, but now...”

Vivien paused to wipe at her eyes and then rather heartily blew her nose.

Sadie returned to sit beside Darby. “Clearly we have to do something. For Their Graces, and for Marley, as well. She's had enough of death, and I don't want her fearful.”

“We neither of us do,” he said. “We can't wait for Gabe's return. I already have plans for us for later this afternoon, but if the idea you and Vivien have sparked in me seems feasible to you, you and I are going to have a few interesting hours between now and then. Have your maid bring down your cloak, as it's breezy today, and request that she accompany us.”

“I don't—”

“No, of course you don't, as the idea is only half-formed in my head at this point. Vivien?” he said, getting to his feet. “Dry those tears, darling lady. This very evening Sadie and I will rid His Grace of all his worries. You only be certain that both Clarice and Rigby are here, and His Grace, as well.”

Vivien looked hopeful. “Will there be feathers?”

“Alas, I believe not.”

“That's too bad. Although probably safer. Last time, Basil danced too close to the blaze and his feathers caught fire. As there weren't many feathers to begin with, seeing him racing to be rid of them caused quite a stir among the other ladies present. Of course, we were much younger then, and Basil could still strip to effect, if you take my meaning.”

Sadie hastened into speech. “What shall I tell Clarice?”

“Nothing,” Darby answered. “I'd much rather she reacted as her unique self, and Rigby, as well. Now, if you can peel Marley away from the duke, have her cloak fetched, as well. She's an important part of my idea, a major part, for probably nothing will happen without her help. Run along, Sadie Grace, and find Max while you're at it, while I stay here and convince Vivien to keep mum, as well.”

“Run along? You really are im— I'm going! I'm going!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

D
ARBY
DID
NOT
agree that the duke could actually worry himself into dying. He had other reasons for encouraging Sadie in her idea of somehow convincing the man that there was indeed a curse,
and
a way to remove it.

He wanted her mind occupied with something other than any lingering concern that this Sam Dobson person might be able to wrest guardianship of Marley from him.

More importantly, he certainly shared her opinion that Marley had been exposed to enough unhappiness for a child of her tender years. Most especially enough of death and loss.

Yes, he certainly agreed on that.

Lastly, selfishly, he wanted Sadie to see him as the center of her universe, as he considered her to be the very core of his own.

Since that had been a fairly recent and rather shocking conclusion on his part, and he'd managed to make a rare mess of things by taking her to his bed on what could now only be termed false pretenses, he wasn't quite certain how to convince her that he loved her, and that she loved him.

Because any two people could make love to each other, but creating love
with
each other, growing that love beyond the mere physical, was an entirely different thing.

Let's be blunt, Darby, old man, you've allowed your body to rule your head, and now you have to fix that.

He could lay the blame for his prior uncertainty squarely at his own door, and he knew that, as well. His damaged eye wasn't the only thing he hid from the world, from even his closest friends. Even from himself...except when the headache claimed him.

Happy, lucky, carefree Darby, always ripe for adventure, always with a ready quip. That was how he wanted the world to see him. How he wanted to see himself.

He'd done well, at least believed himself to be doing well, but he'd never told anyone what had made him the man they thought they knew.

Sadie had bared her soul, her deepest pain, to him, while he still had his secrets.

That had to change, and it had to change soon, or else he would be risking all he now knew he needed to truly feel whole.

Yes, he had to get the apprehensive duke settled, and then Marley.

“My lord?”

Darby had been sitting on one of the benches in the park, watching as Sadie and Marley and the young maid romped on the grass with an ecstatic Max.

He looked up to see his valet standing there, hat in hand, red hair blazing. “Ah, Norton, then you received my message.”

“Yes, my lord, that I did. But truly, sir, there's no need to apologize for the bootjack. I was able to rectify the damage with my special bootblack mixture.”

Probably the same mixture he uses on his mustache and beard.

Darby was careful to keep his expression neutral. “How did you know that's the reason I called you out here?”

Norton looked puzzled. Clearly he was the center of his own universe and, most naturally, saw that universe only from his own perspective.

“But, my lord, what else could it be?”

“What else indeed. Still, truth be told, I do have something else to discuss with you. A boon. A favor. Or, if you're reluctant, an order accompanied by a substantial bribe. I'm open to whatever prompts you to offer your assistance in a matter that involves Miss Marley and her continued happiness.”

“Miss Marley, my lord?”

“Miss Marley, Norton. You two seem to have cried friends, and you've asked daily how she's enjoying her stay. You have a fondness for her.”

“Yes, my lord. We took to each other right quick, we did, and Mrs. Boxer didn't seem to mind.”

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Boxer. Quite the story behind that, Norton. Banish the name from your memory. We call her Miss Hamilton now.”

The valet wrinkled up his brow. “I don't understand, my lord.”

Darby reached into his pocket for his purse and extracted a five-pound note, handing it to the man. “On the contrary, my good man. You understand quite well.”

“Oh,
yes
, my lord,” Norton said fervently, bowing three times in quick succession. “Mum's the word on the whole of it. The bootjack, the name. Is there anything else? I can forget most anything you'd like me to forget.”

He capped off this bit of jolly man-to-man camaraderie with a wink.

“You misunderstand, Norton. Miss Hamilton and I are betrothed. You are speaking of the future Viscountess Nailbourne.”

The valet began to turn a fairly dangerous shade of puce as he stumbled into speech. “I never meant...oh, no, I couldn't have meant... My...my most heartfelt best wishes to you both, my lord.” He reached into his pocket. “You'll be wanting this back, my lord?”

“In point of fact, Norton, it's probably lonely. I'd like it to have company, and quite a bit of company at that. We return now to the boon I would ask of you.”

“
Anything
, my lord. You have my word as a gentleman's gentleman.”

“Do you see that little girl over there on the grass?”

The valet turned to look. “Miss Marley! Oh, my, sir, how happy she looks. And how pretty, all dressed up in pink and ribbons, just as she should be. And would that—oh, my—would that be Mrs., er, Miss Hamilton with her? Such a miracle for them both, my lord. Miss Hamilton will make you a splendid viscountess.”

“Oh, good. I can't tell you how I worried I might not receive your approval.”

Once again the valet looked panicked, but Marley had spied him out and came running toward him, joyfully calling out a greeting.

“Uncle Ralphie! It's me. Marley!”

Norton turned to Darby. “May I, sir?”

“Of course...Ralphie.”

Ralphie? Egads.

Marley stopped a few feet away from the valet and dropped into a curtsy, which Norton quickly told her was not at all proper, and that he should bow to her, which he then proceeded to do.

“I don't care,” Marley said with her usual spirit, and threw herself into his arms, delivering a kiss to the man's cheek. “Uncle Ralphie! You said you'd shave off that silly thing. Sadie can do it for you. She used to shave my papa when he couldn't do it for himself.”

Will the wonders of that woman never cease? Should Norton be trembling in his boots that he's about to lose his position?

Sadie had come within earshot, and quickly told her niece to say good day to Norton and return to Max, who was impatiently waiting with a stick clutched in his jaws, ready for another toss and run. She smiled at Norton, and then shot a quick glance toward Darby, mouthing the single word
no
, before taking Marley's hand and heading back to Max.

Apparently Norton's job was safe.

“I don't know why, Norton, but Miss Marley clearly adores you, a feeling obviously returned. But, sadly, her world is not entirely filled with sunshine, and as her guardian, I cannot allow that unhappiness to persist. She's extremely concerned that another of her new and dear friends—the Duke of Cranbrook, to be exact about the thing—is going to die, quite soon, if the curse he believes will be the death of him isn't lifted.”

Norton nodded his understanding. “My aunt Mildred was like that, my lord. Only it weren't no curse coming after her, but my uncle Hiram, who wanted to see her planted in the churchyard. And
he's
the one what thought he was cursed, being bracketed to Aunt Mildred.”

“Fascinating as that is, Norton, this is rather a different curse plaguing the duke. Time is of the essence, if Miss Marley is to be relieved of her worry—you do want that, I know—so we do what we do this very evening.” He signaled for Sadie to join them, leaving Marley and the maid to continue their play with Max.

An hour later, the child had become a member of their party, to have her part in the evening explained to her, before Norton was sent off to escort Marley and the maid back to Grosvenor Square.

“He seems actually eager, and chock-full of ideas,” Sadie said, watching them go, Marley's hand snugly held in the valet's. “Marley has that effect on people, doesn't she, as if she was born to wrap others around her little finger.”

“We'll be beating gentleman callers away from the door with a stick when she makes her come-out,” Darby agreed, all but puffing out his chest in doting guardian pride.

Truly, he barely recognized himself these days.

Sadie lowered her chin for a moment. “That's years and years in the future.”

“Hadn't thought that far ahead, had you, being stuck with me for all those years?” he teased, putting out his arm, indicating they could now be up and on their way. “Of course, she won't be the only one, not if our children favor you at all.”

“You say these things only to see how I'll react, don't you? And I suppose I'm now to say that if the boys resemble you, they'll be handsome devils indeed.”

“Handsome devils, is it? I rather like that.”

“I know,” she said, grinning up at him. “How often might you require flattery, my lord, so I can make a note of it?”

If they'd been anywhere but the park, always full of nosey parkers on the hunt for scandalous dinner conversation, he'd have kissed her. Instead, he merely smiled and brought the subject back to the amazing Uncle Ralphie. “Would you ever have expected that my valet was once part of a touring company of players?”

“Not until he disclosed that information, although I should have guessed. It's your luck again, Darby. The Travers luck. In truth, I stand in awe of it.”

The Travers luck
.
But not always good luck. Just one more look back, and then only forward.

“Are you going to ask where we're headed, Sadie Grace?” he inquired jovially as they cut across the plush lawns to a path leading to a gate on the opposite side of the park.

“No. I'm only assuming you have some good reason for ruining my new kid slippers. You should have told me to change to my half boots before ordering me outside.”

“I'll buy you another dozen pair.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I have only two feet.”

“And lovely feet they are, although totally outdone by the legs attached to them. Ah-ah, before you protest, I am well aware that you have no budget for flattery. In fact, compliments tend to embarrass you. Therefore, I've vowed to say only what's true, which I've just done. You, Sadie Grace, have the most magnificent legs in nature.”

“I can only imagine you've had the experience necessary to make that statement.”

“Ouch! Time to find another subject, isn't it? We are expected at that narrow house just ahead of us.”

“Am I allowed to ask why? Does this have anything to do with the supposed Cranbrook curse? Perhaps you're also thinking of hiring a few jugglers to entertain once Norton completes his hour upon the stage?”

Darby laughed as they left the park behind and crossed the street to the tall, narrow house. “Just follow my lead, Sadie. With luck, you'll need do nothing but sit quietly beside me, marveling at my resourcefulness.”

“You can be smug, you know. And that is not a compliment.”

“Yes, but I'm quite talented in other areas that seem to please you.”

Sadie opened her mouth, probably to say something he'd regret, but a footman responded to the knocker and whatever she was going to say remained unsaid. At least
for the nonce
.

“Viscount Nailbourne and Miss Hamilton to see Mr. Hooper,” he said, ushering Sadie inside the minuscule hallway. “We're expected.”

“Yes, my lord,” the fairly aged footman said, bowing. “Mr. Hooper is waiting just up those stairs.”

Darby handed the servant his hat and gloves before helping Sadie with her cloak. “Miss Hamilton's maid is awaiting us in the park,” he added as he slipped the man a coin. “We'll find our way, thank you. Miss Hamilton, if you'd care to precede me?”

If he were to count up the
telling
looks she had thrown at him in the past two hours, he'd have to employ both hands. But perhaps she'd forgive him once she realized the identity of Mr. Hooper.

Or perhaps not. He'd have to count on the Travers luck again, wouldn't he?

Darby had always been fascinated by this particular row of houses. The rooms all ran front to back, with only narrow hallways and staircases following one after the other to the very top. Being able to both own a sterling view of Hyde Park and an impressive address apparently had many overlooking the notion that one was residing within a well-furnished, multistoried coffin.

“Your Lordship!” the man who could only be Mr. Jasper Hooper all but bellowed, his right hand extended as he advanced toward them when they reached the landing, since it would be silly in any event for him to pretend he couldn't see them from what had to be the drawing room.

No bowing or ceremony for Mr. Hooper, once a young lad picking up coal that fell from the carts for a halfpenny a week, and risen from breaker boy to a wealthy mine owner by dint of his hard work, according to Basil. He'd made his climb, considered himself any man's equal, and Darby took to him immediately.

“Mr. Hooper,” he said, extending his own hand for what was bound to be a bone-crossing squeeze, for the man was as tall as he and twice as broad—a man who had hands the size of shovels that would never be clean no matter how he scrubbed them, and was proud of it. “You received the duke's note. Allow me to please introduce my fiancée, Miss Sadie Hamilton. Miss Hamilton, you see standing before you the king of coal, or so says the duke.”

“Oh, none of that. Call me Jas, everyone does, save m' Sally, who doesn't call her da much of anything now that she's a fine lady, just as if I hadn't turned her over m' knee a time or three when she was naught but a snivelly nosed brat spoiled to the hilt by her mama, rest her soul. Hullo there, miss. Here, come have a seat!”