Promise Me Forever (10 page)

“Yes, well,” Lauren responded. “As soon as I’ve been to the shop, I plan to meet Tom at the park. To night we’ll be dining at Lydia’s. I’ll instruct him to call for me here, if you have no objections.”

“No objections whatsoever,” her stepfather said, before her mother could respond. He stood, clapped his hands together. “Now that’s all settled I’m famished.”

He headed for the side table.

Her mother looked at her scarred hands. “I do appreciate that you didn’t risk your neck and try to climb out of your window when he came for you last night. I assume this won’t become a nightly ritual.”

“Mama, you have to let me live my life, make my own mistakes.”

“So you recognize that he’s a mistake.”

How could her mother offer independence with the one hand, yet chains with the other?

“I recognize that I’ll never know if you continually clip my wings.”

Her mother looked at a loss for words, but Lauren had nothing else she wanted to say on the matter.

An overpowering fragrance of roses wafted into the room. Lauren turned her head to see the butler striding in, two footmen in his wake carrying enormous bouquets of roses, one white, the other yellow.

“My lady,” Simpson said, with a slight bow, “these were delivered with instructions that the white were for the lady of the house, the yellow for her eldest daughter.”

As the flowers were extended to Lauren and her mother, he also handed them each an envelope. Inside hers, Lauren found a note that simply read, “A little bit of Texas.” Burying her nose in the fragrant bouquet that had to be comprised of at least two dozen roses, she peered over at her mother. “What does your note say?”

“No hard feelings.”

How Texan and to the point.

“For what it’s worth, he said he only wrote a sentence or two in each letter,” Lauren said.

Her mother cleared her throat and stood. “Well, if his words were as honestly delivered as these, that might be all he needed. I need to see about getting these roses into water.”

She walked out of the room, and Lauren looked to the end of the table where her stepfather had quietly taken his place, although it looked as
though he had yet to begin eating. “She meant well all these years,” he said quietly.

“I know.” With the bouquet still cradled in the crook of her arm, she rose and walked to his end of the table. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. “I love you, Papa.”

Twice Tom had managed to give her a little bit of Texas. She strolled out of the room wondering if little bits of Texas had been there all along, and she’d simply failed to notice them.

“My lord?”

Tom glanced over at the butler he’d not heard enter the dining room. He still found it unnerving that the servants moved through the house so unobtrusively and silently, like phantoms. It was enough to make a man jumpy. One of the reasons Tom had stopped wearing his gun before Lauren’s edict. His valet had startled him yesterday morning, and Tom had drawn it on the man, who had immediately crumpled to the floor in a faint.

Tom turned his attention to the butler and the silver tray he extended. On it rested an elegant embossed card. Tom read the name. Obviously word was spreading that he was in town.

“Show them in.”

The butler bowed slightly. “As you wish, my lord.”

Using the linen napkin, Tom wiped his mouth and hands, tossed the cloth onto the table, shoved
his chair back, and stood. He wasn’t wearing a jacket—which was improper when receiving guests, but he figured these guests might be forgiving.

A woman more elegant than he remembered her to be, bestowing on him a smile that rivaled the sun in brilliance, waltzed gracefully into the room, a dark-haired gentleman dressed much as Tom knew he
should
be dressed following in her wake.

“Thomas Warner, look at you,” Lydia said, reaching out, taking his hands in her gloved ones, and squeezing. “Why didn’t you let us know you were in town?”

He felt his face heat up at her chastisement. “I only got here a couple of days ago. I haven’t quite figured out this practice of calling on people yet.”

He was surprised to notice that she seemed to be inordinately pleased by his response.

“I want to introduce you to my husband,” she said, stepping back slightly, an incredible amount of love and pride reflected in her eyes. “Rhys Rhodes, the Duke of Harrington. Thomas Warner, the Earl of Sachse.”

Tom liked what he saw in Harrington. His silvery gray eyes reflected a forthrightness that Tom related to and respected. He was a man Tom could take into his confidence, a man he could trust to keep his word with nothing more than a handshake.

“Sachse,” Harrington said, in a deep refined rumble.

“Harrington.” Tom shook his head. “Have to admit I find it odd, this practice of not calling a man by his name.”

“Trust me, using titles will come naturally to you in no time. Does my stepfather know about your good fortune?” Lydia asked.

Her stepfather, Grayson Rhodes, was another of the Englishmen who’d arrived in Texas following the Civil War. Tom had visited with Rhodes when the man had returned from his visit to England with his family a year earlier, so Tom knew Lydia’s husband was the man’s half brother, the legitimate heir to the dukedom, while Rhodes had been the duke’s bastard. Older, firstborn in fact, but not legitimate, so he’d not inherited what his father had left behind. Sometimes the family connections got so complicated that Tom thought they needed to devise a chart to sort it all out. And here he was in England, adding to the complications.

Tom shook his head. “I didn’t tell anyone before I left Fortune. I didn’t see the point. I kept thinking once I got here, I’d discover it was all a mistake.”

“This is absolutely incredible.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“You had no idea?”

“None.” Tom glanced at the table, glanced at them, didn’t know if it was proper but offered anyway. “You’re welcome to join me for breakfast.”

“I would be delighted,” Harrington said. “The
moment Lydia realized she knew you, she wouldn’t be content until we were on our way over here. My stomach has been protesting ever since.”

“Help yourself,” Tom offered.

When plates were filled and everyone was sitting at the table, Lydia gave him a pointed look, and demanded, “So what are your plans regarding Lauren?”

Tom nearly choked on his deviled sausage. He swallowed hard, wiped his mouth, held Lydia’s gaze, and responded honestly, “I haven’t quite decided.”

Although that wasn’t exactly true. He had her for the Season…then, well, he’d worry about that when that time came.

“Is she the reason you knew I was here?” he asked.

Lydia nodded.

“Did you know she’s making plans to return to Texas?”

Lydia seemed to hesitate, as though she wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal. “In the early years,” she finally said, “after she came here, she often wrote me. The letters were always tearstained. She had a difficult time adjusting, but she seems self-assured now, never complained…honestly, I only recently realized that she still dreamed of returning to Texas.”

Tom nodded.

“I do know that she’s going to help you through
the Season. During that time, perhaps you could convince her to stay,” Lydia suggested.

Tom held her gaze, keeping his words honest. “I don’t know that I want to.”

Not only because it seemed cruel to hold her if she didn’t want to be there, but because he was no longer sure of his feelings where she was concerned.

Ten years. They’d both changed. He didn’t know if what they’d had once could thrive in England, and he knew for damned sure that it couldn’t if she wasn’t where she wanted to be.

“Why has he not yet arrived?”

“Surely he will be here at any moment.”

“Perhaps we’ve missed him.”

“He was riding quite early yesterday morning.”

“You might have said something sooner.”

While Rotten Row was favored by the ladies for spirited riding, the four ladies who had been in her stepfather’s parlor the previous afternoon seemed hesitant to be off. They’d been waiting at the entrance when Lauren had arrived. One did not have to be a genius to determine for whom they waited.

“I can’t believe you took up a post outside his residence and watched for him,” Lady Cassandra said.

“I was fairly certain the man at Ravenleigh’s was Sachse. How many men dressed as cowboys
are roaming around the streets of London? I simply wanted to confirm it for myself.”

Lady Blythe followed her statement with a stern look at Lauren, whose heart had begun beating erratically with the knowledge that the woman might have been hiding in the bushes when Tom had escorted Lauren into his home.

“You might have confirmed that I’d identified him correctly. It would have saved me hours of sitting in front of his residence,” Lady Blythe admonished.

“Quite honestly, I didn’t realize he was Sachse until later,” Lauren said, trying desperately to sound contrite, when in truth she wanted to pepper Lady Blythe with questions regarding her spying.

“Did he see you?” Lady Priscilla asked.

“No. I was well hidden inside my coach. Darkness had settled in by the time he arrived home. Although quite honestly, I’d been prepared to wait longer. He must have left your residence immediately following dinner.”

“He did leave quite early,” Lauren offered, not certain why it bothered her so much that the ladies were so interested in Tom. She’d expected their curiosity, of course. She simply hadn’t expected how much she disliked their prying into his affairs, especially when those affairs involved her traipsing about with him in the middle of the night.

“Oh my word, is that he?” Lady Cassandra asked. All eyes turned in the direction she was looking.

“It must be,” Lady Blythe announced. “But he’s not wearing his greatcoat this morning.”

“It’s a duster,” Lauren explained impatiently.

“Is he wearing a pistol?” Lady Cassandra said.

“I can’t tell,” Lady Priscilla said. “But it doesn’t appear so.”

“Do you suppose he has ever fired it?”

“Do you think he’s ever killed a man?” Lady Blythe asked.

“It would be inappropriate to ask,” Lady Cassandra said.

“I find Americans fascinating,” Lady Anne said. “Unfortunately, Richard has no patience for them.” Blushing, she darted her gaze to Lauren. “My apologies. I meant no offense.”

“I assure you, none taken.” Lauren had always found Lady Anne to be the most sincere and kindest of the group. She turned a bright smile Tom’s way. “Good morning, my lord.”

With a broad grin, Tom swept his hat from his head in an extremely gallant gesture. “Ladies.”

Lady Blythe began rapidly blinking as though a gnat had flown into her eye, and she was attempting to dislodge it; Lady Cassandra began patting her chest; Lady Priscilla giggled, Lady Anne smiled. Honestly, Lauren would think they had never before seen a man if she didn’t know better. Yes, Tom was novel, different, unlike what they
were accustomed to, but did they have to carry on so? It was beginning to grate on her nerves. On the other hand, if they were so enamored, perhaps others would be as well, and Tom’s entrance into society wouldn’t be nearly as bumpy as he’d feared.

“My lord,” Lady Blythe said, laughing lightly. “How terribly naughty of you not to confirm who you were when I correctly guessed while we were all gathered in Miss Fairfield’s drawing room.”

“My apologies, darlin’. I’m still not used to being a lord. And since Ravenleigh and his family didn’t yet know…well, I wanted to tell them in private.”

“I daresay I shall only forgive you if you allow me to ride alongside you.”

“Well, now, I did promise Miss Fairfield that I’d join her this morning, so I’m obliged to keep that promise.” He winked. “But it would be my pleasure to offer you my other side.”

Lauren couldn’t help but think how smoothly he’d handled what could have become an awkward moment, and she found herself wondering how many women in Texas he may have practiced his flirtation skills on. He’d certainly developed them beyond what they’d been outside the general store.

“And my plea sure to take it,” Lady Blythe gushed.

Lauren wasn’t certain when Lady Blythe had
become such an irritant, but she couldn’t deny that she found her to be exactly that as she nudged her horse near Tom’s right side, while Lady Blythe guided her horse around to his other side, where she promptly began to engage Tom in conversation, hoarding his attention like a miser accumulated gold. Lady Cassandra, much to Lauren’s surprise, urged her horse up alongside hers.

“You know,” Lady Cassandra whispered, “I’m not at all certain it will be as difficult as we’d first surmised for him to find a suitable wife.”

“I’m not certain he’s looking for a wife,” Lauren said, again surprised by the flare of jealousy that the thought sparked. Of course, Tom would find a wife. He needed an heir, an easing of loneliness, and someone to help him manage his house holds. She couldn’t fault any lady for wanting to fill the position.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Lady Cassandra asked. “He needs an heir after all.”

Maybe it was only that Lauren didn’t want to contemplate that he
might
be looking. “He has to grow accustomed to life over here.”

“It appears he’s already adjusted fairly well. Except for the clothing of course.”

“I rather like his clothing,” Lady Priscilla said, in a conspiratorial whisper from the other side of Lady Cassandra. “I find it quite roguish.”

Yes, it did seem quite roguish, his shirt molding against his body with no jacket to hide the ripple
of his muscles with each of his movements. Lauren dropped her gaze to his bare hands, roughened by hard labor, where they held the reins with ease. She fought not to envision those long, sturdy fingers slipping her buttons free of their moorings, peeling back the cotton…would they tremble now as they had when he was younger? Would she shiver with desire? Would his knuckles graze against the inside swells of her breasts, breasts she’d barely had when he’d made his daring proposition? Would his gaze heat with yearning for what the bargain would deny him—the touch of her flesh?