Promise Me Forever (8 page)

She thought about telling him about Kimburton, but what was the point? That aspect of her life was over.

“I think I wrote a couple of lengthy letters about my clothes,” she said instead, “especially after my first trip to Paris for a Worth gown. In Texas, I put on a dress in the morning and took it off before I went to bed at night. Here, I change my clothing three or four times a day, depending on the activity or where I’m going or who I’m going to visit. Sometimes I feel guilty for not being happy when I’ve been given so much, and there are others with nothing.”

“You’ve really been that unhappy over here?”

She slowly shook her head. “I can’t explain it, Tom. Everything I missed. The smells inside the
general store when we went into town on Saturday. The open friendliness of people, everyone greeting you regardless of who you were or who your parents might be. As long as I sirred or ma’amed my elders, I didn’t get into trouble for addressing someone inappropriately.” She peered over at him. “Here, they have rules for who can sit beside whom during dinner. Introductions are so formal. Even when you run into someone you know, you have to adhere to the proper way of greeting him…or her. It’s tedious.”

“So tell me, darlin’, how are you getting back to Texas?”

“On a ship.”

He laughed, a full-throated sound. “You know I figured that much out on my own. But passage on a ship costs money. Is Ravenleigh paying for it?”

“I wouldn’t presume to ask. He’s been a wonderful father, and I don’t wish to place him in an awkward position. Mother desperately wants me to remain here. She thinks life is too hard in Texas, that I’ve forgotten what it’s really like.”

“It is hard, Lauren.”

“It’s a different kind of hardship here, Tom, but it’s still hard. Don’t think it isn’t.”

“I wouldn’t do that. But you still haven’t answered my question. How are you paying for passage?”

“It’s terribly scandalous, and you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?”

“I’ve taken a position at a shop.”

“A shop? What kind of things does it sell to be scandalous?”

“The scandal has nothing to do with the shop itself, but what my working there represents. My stepfather is a peer. For it to be known that I’m working would cause him embarrassment. I went to great pains to locate a shop in an area of London that isn’t likely to be visited by anyone of importance.”

“Ravenleigh seemed surprised that you were planning to return to Texas.”

“I’d told him and Mother that I was spending my days doing charity work.”

“You lied?”

“I didn’t see that I had a choice if I wanted to accomplish my goal of returning to Fortune. Why even to night Mother ordered me to resign my post.”

“Will you?”

“How can I when it limits my opportunities, forces me to remain here?” Sighing, she shook her head. “I’ll think about it all tomorrow. Right now, I’m weary of talking about me. Tell me about you. What have you done all these years?”

“I’ve been a cowboy all these years,” he said. “Nothing extraordinary in that.”

She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out, cupping his chin, rubbing her thumb over the thick
hair on his face again. “Why did you decide to grow a mustache?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it just fine,” she said, pleased that her opinion mattered to him. “I’m simply trying to figure out some of the things you’ve thought over the years, to understand some of the decisions you’ve made.”

“Second year out on the cattle drive, they made me trail boss. I was all of seventeen, giving orders to men a lot older than me, so I thought if I grew some hair over my lip, I might look a little older, a little tougher so they’d take me more seriously.”

“Oh, my gosh, Tom, you must have been the youngest one ever.”

“There were younger ones during the war. It’s not that hard.”

When had Thomas Warner become so modest? She had to continually remind herself that a good deal about Tom had changed, just as a lot about her had changed. They weren’t the same people any longer. She was torn between wanting to know him better and fearing that particular path would lead only to more heartache.

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” she told him.

“It meant I got paid more, meant I could get the things I wanted quicker.”

“And what did you want?”

“My own ranch. A cowboy who works for an outfit has little chance of ever having a family, and
no chance whatsoever of providing for them the way he’d want to.”

“Do you have your ranch now?”

“I sure do. I just finished building the house. I pounded a lot of the nails in myself, wanted it to have my mark on it. I’ve always wanted something permanent, something sturdy that would outlast me. I find it ironic that all this time, I had estates over here that I never knew about.”

“It doesn’t diminish what you did in Texas. What did you name your ranch?”

“Lonesome Heart.”

Her chest tightened, a knot formed in her throat. There was nothing she could say to that, nothing he could say either. The name of his ranch said it all for both of them. The silence eased in around them, comforting, familiar.

“What’s your earliest memory?” he asked, with so much solemnity that she wondered where the silence had taken him.

“Seeing you behind the general store.”

“Not of me,” he said quietly. “The memory that goes the farthest back in your mind, before you ever met me.”

“Oh, gosh.” She closed her eyes, thought for a moment, opened them. “It would have to be of my father, dressed in gray, kneeling before me, telling me that he loved me, promising me that he’d come home.” With startling clarity, she realized she’d had a lot of broken promises in her life. “It was a promise he wasn’t able to keep.”

“If I’m doing the calculation right, you were only four.”

She nodded, even though he probably couldn’t distinguish her movements in the shadows. “Close to that. I’m not sure how long the war had been going on before he went to fight.”

“I was a little older when my mother took me away from here, and I have no memories of any of it, Lauren. I don’t remember saying good-bye to anyone. I don’t remember any hugs or tears. I don’t remember if I was scared or excited. I don’t know if I thought we were going on an adventure. When I look back, my memories begin in New York.”

“What if they made a mistake, Tom? What if you aren’t Sachse?”

“Have you ever been to the Sachse residence in London?” he asked, obviously not interested in pursuing her question.

Was he like other men she’d known—so enamored of the title that he didn’t want to contemplate that it wasn’t his? Wouldn’t entertain the notion of giving it up? She couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed in his unwillingness to pursue the possibility that he wasn’t Sachse.

“I’ve seen it from the outside, of course, but I’ve never been inside,” she finally admitted. “I don’t remember Lady Sachse ever hosting a ball, and if she gave a dinner, I wasn’t invited.”

Suddenly he sat up. “I want to share something with you, but it’s at the house.”

“Tom—”

“I know it’s not proper for you to be in a gentleman’s house without a chaperone, but what we’re doing here isn’t exactly proper either. The only one who will be awake at this time of night is the butler, and Matthews isn’t going to tell anyone. Since I’ve been here, I’ve learned that servants keep what goes on between the walls to themselves.”

“Unless someone pays them handsomely,” she reminded him.

“No one’s going to know, Lauren. Come to the house with me.”

“It’s after midnight,” she said, not entirely comfortable with the notion of going into his home that late, which was silly really. Nothing could take place inside his residence that couldn’t take place there by the Thames.

“It won’t take long,” he said. “I’ll have you home before the sun is up and anyone has realized you’re gone.”

Her curiosity overrode her hesitation. Besides, she wasn’t quite ready to give up her time with Tom. “All right.”

L
auren stared at the portrait of the last Earl of Sachse. She shifted her gaze over to the man standing next to it. The resemblance was uncanny. “You have kinder eyes.”

Tom glanced back over his shoulder at his father’s striking image. Even if it hadn’t been the largest framed portrait in the gallery that surrounded the balcony overlooking the entry hallway, it still would have commanded attention. The pose, the expression of the man rendered in oils demanded it. “He was a handsome devil,” Tom admitted.

She laughed. “Like father, like son.”

“God, I hope not.”

Her laughter abruptly died as she recognized the burden of his father’s legacy mirrored in Tom’s somber eyes. He stepped away from the wall, crossed his arms over his powerful chest, and leaned back against the balcony railing. He’d removed his duster when they’d arrived, and she could easily see the bulge in his arms that came by way of hard, honest work. While most of the gentlemen had their clothes custom tailored, she suspected Tom’s tailor would find himself challenged, because he’d probably seldom been required to make clothing for such a fine physical specimen.

“I’ve been in London only a few days,” Tom said, snatching her attention away from his muscles to the seriousness of his expression. “I’ve visited a gentleman’s club, my solicitor, a business manager, the bank, and your family.” Holding her gaze, he shook his head slowly. “Not a single person I’ve met regretted my father’s passing. No kind words are ever associated with his name. The same held true while I was at my ancestral home. Everyone looks at me as though they’re waiting for a fatal blow to be delivered. This afternoon in your drawing room was the first time that I’ve felt any sort of welcome from anyone I wasn’t related to. The only family I’ve met is Archibald Warner. He’s a fine gentleman, but his blood is far enough removed from my father’s that his every action wasn’t scrutinized with suspicion.”

“Tom, I’m sure you’re misreading people’s reactions.”

“Do you know why I’m so wealthy?”

The question was asked matter-of-factly, without any boasting, as though the extent of his wealth was simply something achieved without fanfare. Still, she couldn’t help but think it an odd question. What in the world did one have to do with the other? She shook her head, raised a shoulder in helplessness, and stated the obvious truth, “Because you raised and sold cattle.” What was the price on beef these days?

He gave her a small smile that indicated he thought she was innocent and naive. “If it was that easy, everyone in Texas would be wealthy.”

“Then what was your secret?”

“I can look at a man and accurately judge his honesty, his trustworthiness, his dependability. I can close a deal with a businessman with nothing more than a handshake, knowing he’ll do right by me and leaving him knowing I’ll do right by him. I can look straight in a man’s eyes and know his opinion of me. When I meet the gazes of people here, I see them wondering how close the acorn fell from the tree.”

She couldn’t help herself. Her gaze went back to the portrait, and she shivered. Something about the man was chilling. It was more than arrogance. An air of entitlement wreathed him, as though he thought he stood well above anyone else.

“I’ve got two things going against me—my father and my upbringing.”

She looked back at Tom, waiting. Obviously, he’d given considerable thought to everything he was telling her. She remembered the ladies in her drawing room, referring to his barbaric ways—

“I know they consider me a savage, Lauren,” Tom said, as though reading her thoughts. “I look enough like my father that people can’t overlook my roots. They expect me to behave like him. People know I was raised in a fairly untamed land, and they’re looking at me like I’m some trick pony, and they’re waiting for me to perform. The way I see it, I’ve got only
one
thing going in my favor.”

She waited for him to reveal what he thought his advantage might be, but he did nothing more than hold her gaze. Finally, she asked, “And what is that, Tom?”

“You.”

She felt as though the balcony had crumbled beneath her feet. “How do you figure that?”

“Because you know these people, you know how to meet their expectations, and while you may not have liked it, as Ravenleigh said this afternoon, you adapted. I’ve attended meetings, had dinner, and engaged in business dealings with cattle barons. Hell, I’m a cattle baron, if you want the truth of it. I want—I need—to show these people that I can hold my own here.” He lowered his gaze, studied his boots, then lifted his gaze back
up to hers, and for the first time she saw his vulnerabilities. “Maybe I need to show myself, too.”

Her heart tightened painfully at his quietly delivered confession. She saw the pride in his stance, and what it had cost him to reveal his insecurities. She remembered the confident way he’d strode into the drawing room. She remembered how uncomfortable he’d appeared in the library explaining his change of fortune. He was a complex man, and she barely knew him. In spite of the fact that no one expected him to know how important everything was, he did comprehend the extent of all he’d inherited.

She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know exactly what he was asking.

“But to accomplish what I need to do, I need some help, darlin’. You want to go back to Texas? I have four thousand acres of good Texas ranch land, house and cattle included. It’s yours. Just help me be the lord that my father wasn’t.”

When he delivered such a heartfelt plea, gazed at her with such earnestness, without bravado, without daring or challenging her, but simply asking…Had Thomas Warner ever asked for help in his entire life?

“Tom, there is so much—”

“I’m not asking for forever, Lauren. Just the Season.” He gave a quick nod. “And yep, I know what the Season is.”

“Lords don’t say ‘yep.’”

One side of his mustache twitched. “Some habits are going to be hard to break. Will you help me break them?”

Break them and in the process possibly break him? He’d had years to let the wildness in him run free, but English society would seek to hold him to its rules, mores, and etiquette. It would slowly destroy everything about him that had once appealed to her. Make a civilized man out of one who had never known restraint. Perhaps that was the reason she’d refused earlier to teach him. She didn’t want to be responsible for turning him into the type of man that she could never love. Didn’t want to see him change, because he would change. It was inevitable.

She knew what it was to resist, and she knew what it was finally to accept a new life, even though she abhorred it. It was the reason she’d decided to leave, the reason she couldn’t stay now that he was here. Because he had no choice in the matter. He had to stay. He was a lord.

And in the staying, he would cease to be her Tom.

“I know I’m asking a lot—”

She held up her hands; he fell silent. Asking a lot? He had no idea. She felt the last remnants of hope that she might have meant something powerful to him wither away. If he’d ever considered that they might again have what they’d had in their youth, surely he wouldn’t have offered to
provide her with the means to leave, to support herself, to be an independent woman away from him. Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Passage back to Texas. That’s all I want, Tom.”

So she wouldn’t have to stay and witness what she was about to create.

He gave a brusque nod, again without arrogance, as though he’d feared she’d turn his offer aside, and was greatly relieved that she hadn’t.

“I’ll have my lawyers draw up the paperwork.”

“No need. You said you handled deals with a handshake.” She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and extended her hand.

He wrapped his long fingers around hers, but instead of shaking her hand, he drew her closer. “I do it a little differently when I close a business deal with a woman,” he said, using his free hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking the corner of her mouth. Even though it seemed innocent enough, it burned right into the heart of her womanhood.

“Do you?” she asked, sounding as though she had no breath in her body, possibly because she didn’t. How could he steal away her breath with nothing more than a light touch?

He lowered his mouth to hers, and as inappropriate as it was, she welcomed the kiss, parting her lips slightly when his tongue insisted she do so. With a deep groan that shivered between them, he deepened the kiss, the hunger there but re
strained as he leisurely took his fill. She didn’t remember moving forward, but she was suddenly aware of her breasts flattened against his chest, the fingers of her free hand tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as heat and desire swirled through her.

He’d taken her to the river so they could get reacquainted, to remember happier times. He’d brought her here, so she could understand what it was he was facing. And now he was giving her a sampling of what
she’d
be facing: day in, day out, in the presence of a man who could turn her knees into porridge. Ah, Lord, she didn’t know whether to be afraid or giddy.

He drew back, desire evident in his gaze as it swept over her face. The weakness in her knees spread through her entire body, and she wondered how in the world she was going to manage to walk down the stairs. “So how many women have you closed business deals with?” she asked, needing anger, jealousy, disappointment—something, anything—to get her body to quit reacting as though his lips were still pressed to hers.

A slow, sensual smile flashed across his darkly handsome face. “This was the first, darlin’.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed at his audacity, laughed because if she didn’t, she might weep for what they could possibly have had. “We might need to establish rules—”

“Darlin’, I have enough rules to learn. I don’t
need you adding to them. I’ll behave.” His grin broadened. “Within reason.”

Keeping his earlier promise, he delivered her home long before the sun came up. After they arrived, he helped her out of the carriage and walked with her up the steps to the door.

“I’ve started taking an early-morning ride in Hyde Park,” he said.

“So I’ve heard. Lady Priscilla apparently saw you there.”

“I’m probably doing it all wrong. Go with me in the morning and teach me how to do it proper.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re riding a horse, Tom. I’m sure you know how to do it properly.”

“Riding isn’t the problem. It’s knowing which people I can talk to and which I can’t.”

“All right. I’ll meet you along Rotten Row at the fashionable hour of eleven.”

“Good night, Lauren.”

He turned to go and she called out to him. “Tom?”

When he faced her, she smiled. “In the morning? Leave your gun at home.”