Love's Promise (37 page)

The girl curtsied and hurried out, and Anne gazed around a final time.

“Farewell, old room,” she murmured to herself. “Farewell old life.”

She thought of all the years she’d squandered, waiting to marry, only to learn that she had no dowry. Fleetingly, she wondered what else the Duke had frittered away. Who else, besides herself, had been depending on him, had believed his lies? How many other dreams had he destroyed?

She walked out and headed down to the library where her father was ranting. His rage over the duel still hadn’t abated, and Anne had heard enough cursing to fill a barrel. She was so glad she didn’t have to waste another second on him.

“For bloody sake,” he was shrieking at Michael as she entered. “I have ten lawyers scurrying about London to keep you from being arrested! Do you know what the jails are like in this country? Well, I do! I’m one of the men who decides what’s spent on them—which is nothing! They’re hellholes. Is that where you want to end up? Are you insane? Is that your problem?”

“Father,” she interrupted, but he ignored her.

“Perhaps that
is
your problem. Perhaps you are insane. Maybe I should have you committed to Bedlam. It would serve you right.”

Michael yawned.

“Father,” she tried again.

He whipped around. “What, Anne? What?”

“I just stopped to say goodbye.”

“Well good-bloody-bye to you, too. Can’t you see we’re talking? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Yes, I can, but goodbye anyway.”

As she turned to go, she was amazed to note that she wasn’t nostalgic at all. The only emotion she felt was relief. She couldn’t wait to step outside into the fresh air.

The finality in her tone must have caught the Duke’s attention, because as she reached the door, he barked, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I told you: I’m leaving.”

The maid peeked in. “Your hackney is here, milady. Your trunk is loaded.”

“Your trunk!” the Duke snapped. “Just a damned minute...”

He marched over, shooing out the maid.

“Tell me what this is about,” he demanded, “and make it fast. I have one child who’s gone stark-raving mad”—he pointed at Michael—“and I don’t have the patience to deal with another.”

“I don’t wish to live here any longer, so I’m moving out.”

“You are not,” he scoffed,” and I won’t have you pestering me with your nonsense.”

“No, Father. Not this time. I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”

He studied her as if he were a scientist and she a curious bug.

“What did you say?”

“I’m moving out. I’ll be at Phillip’s, where I intend to beg him to marry me. If he throws me out—which is a distinct possibility—then I haven’t a clue where I’ll be. I’ll let you know.”

“You’ll let me
know
? You’ll let me
know
?” He was shrieking again, his voice raising an octave or two. “I forbid it! Do you hear me! I forbid it!”

“Yes, I hear you. The whole house hears you, and we’re all tired of listening.”

She peered over at Michael. They hadn’t spoken since the duel, since he’d shot her great love—and could have killed him. She had no idea if he felt any remorse, and she didn’t care enough to inquire.

“I hope someday,” she began, “that you’ll recognize how shameless you are. I hope someday you’ll regret how you’ve always treated Phillip, how you ruined Miss Carrington like the worst sort of cad, but I won’t hold my breath. I’m not coming to your wedding, so make my apologies to Rebecca.”

She started out, then stopped. “Oh, and by the way, while you’re sitting here, basking in Father’s glow, you should be aware that he knew about Thomas—probably from the moment he was born. When Thomas and the Carringtons were in dire straits and they wrote to John, pleading for assistance, Father intervened somehow. I’m fairly sure that John never knew Miss Carrington had tried to contact him.”

“That’s a lie,” the Duke claimed, without much conviction.

A dangerous light flared in Michael’s eyes, but it was quickly snuffed out.

She left, a stunned silence in her wake. She’d never stood up to either of them before, and she was positive that—once the shock wore off—they’d snicker and wager over how soon she’d slink home. What they didn’t understand was that she would never return.

When she’d seen Phillip, kneeling in the dirt with Fanny Carrington, his shirt caked with blood, his expression ragged with grief, she’d had the most remarkable insight: She’d made all the wrong choices.

She was weary of her father, and she loved Phillip. If he’d let her, she would build a new life with him.

With unshakable resolve, she hurried out and climbed in the hackney, and shortly, she was at Phillip’s. The driver helped her down.

“Bring my trunk inside,” she said, “and no matter what the servants say, leave it in the foyer.”

She gave him his fare, plus a generous tip, then she went over and entered without knocking. The driver followed her in, dropping her luggage with a heavy thud, and a maid ran down the hall to check on the noise.

“Lady Anne?” The woman gulped with dismay. “What are you doing here?”

“Would you fetch Mr. Sinclair for me?” The maid looked panic-stricken, and Anne added, “I realize that you have orders not to let me in, but don’t worry. I’ll take all the blame. Go get him, would you?”

The maid raced off, and Anne took a deep breath, steeling herself for the pending confrontation. Despite how he raged, despite how hard he tried to toss her out, she wouldn’t be intimidated and she wouldn’t depart.

She removed her cloak and hung it on the rack in the corner, tugged off her gloves and laid them on a chair as if they belonged there.

A footman came by, one who—apparently—hadn’t heard the edict about keeping her out. When she advised him to carry her trunk up to Phillip’s bedchamber, he complied without hesitation.

Grinning, she waltzed into the parlor to pour herself a brandy—a brandy! She was changing so fast that her head was spinning.

Very soon, footsteps pounded down the stairs, and she knew it was Phillip. He’d told her to stay away, and she’d defied him, so there would be a good deal of shouting and recrimination, and—she hoped—a good deal of reconciliation, too.

“What on earth are you thinking?” he growled as he swept in. “Don’t you listen? It’s over between us. Go away!”

She downed her brandy and marched over, approaching until they were toe to toe.

“I accept,” she said.

“You...what?”

“I love you, and I always have. I accept your proposal of marriage.”

Her declaration flustered him. It wasn’t anything close to what he’d been expecting.

“There is no offer on the table,” he hotly replied. “It was rejected, and I have no desire to submit another.”

“You don’t need to submit another. I’m accepting every one you’ve tendered. I’m ruined, and I’ve fled from my father. My luggage is up in your dressing room and being unpacked.”

“It had better not be!”

“I want to leave for Scotland today. Can you?”

He scowled. “Have you tipped off your rocker?”

“Probably. Now say
yes
. Say you’ll marry me and make me the happiest woman in the world.”

“You don’t want to marry me. You never have.”

“My prior refusals were a blunder—I admit it. I wanted to marry you; I was just scared.”

“But suddenly you’re ready?” He was dubious, sarcastic.

“Yes.”

He wrenched away from her and stumbled to the window to stare outside. He was rigid with fury, but she could sense that his mind was racing, trying to figure out what was driving her.

“Did you tell the Duke?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What did he say?”

“He forbade me from coming to you.”

“Yet you came anyway?”

“Yes.”

“And your brother? What was his opinion?”

“He had no comment.”

He made a scoffing sound, and his shoulders slumped. She walked over to him, and she rested her hand on his back.

“After the duel,” she said, “after I saw you wounded, and Miss Carrington hurt, I went home, but it seemed that I’d gone to the wrong house. I don’t belong there anymore.” She paused, letting her words sink in, risking all for love. “I belong here with you. You knew that I did, and now, I know it, too.”

He turned to face her.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he choked out. If she’d been torturing him on the rack, he couldn’t have appeared more wretched.

“Because I love you.”

“And you would marry me—today—if I could get a license and a vicar?”

“I would marry you this very second.”

“What about your precious bloodlines? What about your fancy pedigree and your lofty family name?”

“I’ve been an idiot, Phillip, and I’m sorry. My entire life, I’ve obeyed my father and lived like a fool. Can you forgive me? Can you give me another chance?”

“Fanny Carrington is here.”

“I assumed that she was.”

“I’ve informed her that she can remain for as long as she likes.”

“She’s your sister, and I swear I’ll come to care for her as you have.”

His gaze narrowed, and his voice was rough, as if he was daring her. “I’ve made a vow to myself, that I will assist my half-siblings. It might mean shelter or funds or other types of aid I haven’t even contemplated. I wouldn’t tolerate any complaint from you. What do you think of that?”

“I think you’re the kindest man I’ve ever known.”

“Fanny is increasing—with your brother’s child.”

“I can’t believe it! Michael never told us!”

“The baby will be your niece or nephew. Mine, too, and I spent yesterday, waiting to hear if she miscarried. Are you upset that she didn’t? After all, an illegitimate child isn’t really a
child
, is it? A miscarriage would have wrapped things up so neat and tidy—no fuss or embarrassment for the Wainwrights.”

“I’m not that callous, Phillip. You’re being unfair.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are.”

She stared into his eyes, seeing the grief and sorrow written there. He was a very loyal person. When he loved, it was real and solid and true, and he was bereft over events, over his inability to arrange the ending for Fanny that he felt she deserved.

He looked as if he’d aged ten years in the past twenty-four hours, and his misery made her realize how she could help him the most: She could take charge. It was what she did best, what she’d learned by running the Duke’s household. When no one else could figure out how to proceed, she led the way.

“It will be all right, Phillip,” she gently said. “I’m here now. Everything will be fine. Lean on me for a bit, would you?”

She stepped in and snuggled herself to him from top to bottom. For the merest instant, he stood, stiff as a board, but quickly, he relented and crushed her to his chest. Then he was kissing her and kissing her, the embrace continuing on forever. When he finally drew away, he slipped his hand into hers and started for the stairs. They climbed to his room.

She was an optimist who’d anticipated that she’d sway him, and she’d brought along one very sexy negligee just in case. A competent servant had found the garment and laid it across the edge of the bed, predicting—and rightly so—that Anne wasn’t going anywhere.

When Phillip saw it, he chuckled.

“It looks as if you’re staying.”

“Yes, it looks as if I am.”

“I hope we give the Duke an apoplexy.”

“So do I.”

He tumbled onto the mattress and pulled her down with him, her cheek resting directly over his heart. In two seconds, he was fast asleep with her in his arms as if she’d always been just there and nowhere else.

Michael stood on the verandah, reading a demand letter his father had given him earlier in the evening. A bailiff had arrived at one of their properties in the country, the estate where Michael had spent most of his time as a boy. The furnishings were being assessed to pay one of the Duke’s promissory notes, and with it being such a public act, the chances of keeping his fiscal crisis a secret were over.

Debt collectors, sensing a fiasco, would begin to circle, would seek recompense on old bills that had been ignored, but the Duke didn’t have sufficient resources to meet his obligations. So what was the answer besides marriage to Rebecca?

Despite the Duke’s being unworthy of any allegiance, Michael was a loyal son. He felt such a heavy responsibility to wed Rebecca, to get his hands on her fortune and stave off calamity. But should he?

For once, he was wavering. A small voice kept asking:
what if?

What if he walked away? What if he left the Duke to rot? Many would suffer, but Michael would be free of the Duke’s influence and control. Could he do it? Could he save himself at the expense of others?

He didn’t think so. The Duke was his father, the properties Michael’s legacy that he would eventually leave to his own sons. It simply wasn’t in him to behave so selfishly.

He gazed off toward the river, though there wasn’t much to see. It was a dark night, but the fog had lifted, and there were boats out on the water, their lamps reflecting like tiny stars.

He was curious about the sailors who manned them, if they were content with their difficult lives and meager circumstances. Perhaps they were so poor that they didn’t realize they were miserable.