Promise Me Tomorrow (12 page)

“So you were here at this house.”

“Yes, I was…talking to Iris just outside the back door,” Piers said, a faint flush rising in his cheeks.

Flirting was more like it, Marianne thought, but she said nothing. This obviously wasn’t the time for levity.

“I heard her cry out a moment after she reached the front of the house,” Piers continued, “so I ran out and found them. I punched the scoundrel, of course, and he dropped her and ran off.” He scowled at the memory. “I wish I’d caught the devil, but I couldn’t run after him and leave Iris lying there.”

“Of course not,” Della agreed.

“How awful!” A shiver ran through Marianne. It shook her to think of something like that happening here. It could have happened to any of them just as easily. First that man asking the maid and Rosalind about her, and now this…Her home no longer seemed a safe haven.

“D
O YOU THINK IT COULD BE THE
same man?” she asked Winny the next morning, sitting at the kitchen table and sharing a cup of tea with her old friend.

“The same man as who?” Winny asked, looking at her in some surprise.

“The one who spoke to Nettie and Rosalind in the Park yesterday.”

“What?” Winny’s eyebrows went up.

“Didn’t you know? They were talking about it yesterday afternoon when they came in.” Marianne went on to describe the encounter between the stranger and her daughter in the Park. By the time she finished, Winny was scowling.

“That sly boots!” Winny exclaimed. “Nettie somehow ‘forgot’ to mention that to me. I’ve warned her about talking to strangers—and letting them talk to Rosalind! I’ll have a little talk with her she won’t soon forget.”

“But do you think that’s the man who attacked Iris last night?”

“Why would he attack Iris?” Winny pointed out. “It’s you he’s after, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but doesn’t it seem awfully coincidental that he’s there, talking to Nettie and Rosalind, asking them about Mary Chilton, thinking she’s a maid, and then that evening a maid leaving our house gets attacked?”

“Either one of them’s odd,” Winny said. “It does seem reasonable to think that they’re connected, but—why attack Iris?”

“What if he only wanted to question her, but she took it wrong, got scared and started to scream, and then he just tried to silence her? Or…”

She hesitated and glanced at Winny. “This may sound a little far-fetched, but—did you notice the color of Iris’s hair, that red-gold hue?” Winny nodded. “Well, what if in the dark, it looked more red than gold? What if you were after someone with red hair and knew where they lived, but didn’t really know what they looked like?”

“You mean, what if he thought Iris was you?”

“It’s possible, don’t you think?”

Winny’s gaze was troubled. “But why? Why would someone who doesn’t even know you be looking for you? And then try to kill you?”

“I don’t know! It doesn’t seem very likely, does it? Yet…”

Winny nodded. “I know. It is suspicious.” She sighed. “I don’t like it.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Mama! Mama!” Rosalind ran into the room, her face flushed with excitement.

“What is it?” Marianne jumped up from her seat in alarm.

“I saw him!”

“Who?”

“The man who asked about you yesterday! Come here.” She started from the room, gesturing impatiently. “Come here.”

Marianne followed her daughter out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Winny right behind them. Rosalind led them to Della and Harrison’s room at the front of the house. Della was standing at the window, but well back, looking out. She turned at their approach.

“He’s still there,” Della said, frowning. “Who could he be?”

“I was in here with Aunt Della,” Rosalind explained, “and I looked out the window, and I saw him! He was just standing there.”

She took her mother’s hand and led her to the window. Della stepped back to make room for them, and Marianne looked out. The street looked much as it usually did, except that there was a short, rather rotund man standing across the street, leaning against the fence of the house opposite them.

“He walked up the street and back once, but the rest of the time he just stands there and looks at our house! What does he want, Mama? Is he a bad man?”

“Yes, I am afraid he might be, sweetheart. Until we know for sure, you stay well away from him. Do you understand? I don’t want you to leave the house—ever!—without Piers or Harrison with you. Not even with Nettie.”

“All right, Mama, I won’t.” Rosalind nodded solemnly.

Marianne studied the man. She had never seen him before. He was not a fearsome-looking sort, just a plain man in an ill-fitting suit. But it sent a chill of fear through her to know that he was watching her house.

“Shall I go down and give him a piece of my mind?” Winny asked pugnaciously.

“No. I think it’s best if we pretend that we don’t see him. We want him to lose interest, and that would only stir it up. I will just take care not to let him see me, and no one will go out alone, as we discussed.”

Just at that moment, the door of the house across the street opened, and a dignified butler came out and approached the man. He spoke sharply to the loiterer, and after a brief conversation, the watcher reluctantly moved off.

Marianne chuckled. “Perhaps the neighbors will take care of him for us.”

“It’s a good thing you’re going to that fellow’s party in a few days,” Winny said, moving up beside Marianne. “If someone is after you, they won’t know to look there.”

Marianne turned around. “I can’t go now! How could I leave Rosalind here in danger—or you and the others, either! How could you think I would?”

“
We
are not in danger,” Winny pointed out. “If you are right, the only reason Iris was attacked was the color of her hair, and none of us would ever be mistaken for you. Indeed, if you are not here, we would probably be safer, for he wouldn’t injure one of us trying to get to you.”

“Oh.” Winny’s argument did have a certain sense to it, Marianne had to admit. Perhaps she was endangering the rest of her “family” by being here.

“If he hangs about outside somewhere waiting for a redhead to emerge, then he will have a very long wait,” Della put in. “And I promise you that I will not let Rosalind out of the house with anyone unless Piers or Harrison goes, too, to protect them.”

“Don’t any of you go out alone,” Marianne added. “At least go in twos, and preferably with Piers or Harrison along.”

Winny nodded. “We will. And if he has the nerve to come up to the door and ask about you, I shall tell him that you don’t live here anymore.” She paused, then grinned. “But first I’ll ask him why he’s looking for you.”

Marianne smiled in response. “All right. That will make me feel easier about going to Buckminster.”

It would be impossible to feel entirely easy, of course, what with Lord Lambeth being there. But Marianne was determined to put aside these foolish feelings she had been having. She would approach the country party as a purely business opportunity. She would diagram the house and check out the location of the valuables so well that it would make up for the fact that she hadn’t even investigated Nicola Falcourt’s home last night. It was the height of stupidity, she told herself, for her to worry about Bucky or Penelope, or to feel guilty about using them. They would spurn her if they knew who she really was. As for Lord Lambeth…well, she did not even want to think about him. She would avoid him as much as she could. Surely, in a large house party, that would be possible. And once she got through this party, hopefully she would never have to see the obnoxious man again.

T
HE
E
ARL OF
E
XMOOR’S CARRIAGE STOPPED
,
and the man who had been standing on the street corner got in. He took off his hat, shaking the droplets of water from it, and settled himself on the seat across from Exmoor.

“You failed,” the Earl commented without preamble. His face was impassive, but one who knew him could have seen the signs of bad temper in the compression of his lips and the tightening of his nostrils. “Not only did you not finish the job, you didn’t even get the right person.”

“I told you that you should have used a professional,” the other man pointed out with some irritation, looking away from the Earl. “I am not in the habit of murdering people.”

“I believe I explained to you why I do not wish to involve any person in this for money. I will allow no man to have that sort of hold on me.”

“The sort of hold you have on me, you mean?”

The faintest of smiles moved across the Earl’s lips. “Precisely.” He paused, then continued. “You will have to try again.”

“I cannot continue hanging about, hoping that a redheaded woman will walk out the door!” the man burst out.

“Fortunately, I have learned that our friend Mrs. Cotterwood is planning to attend Lord Buckminster’s country party next week. That empty-headed fool dropped in this morning to inquire after my wife, and he was kind enough to invite Lady Exmoor and me to several of the larger functions during the visit. Our country seat is near Buckminster, and Lady Exmoor is his cousin. I suppose that I will have to return to the country so that I can go to them.”

“Then you can do the job yourself,” his companion suggested.

“Out of the question. I cannot appear to have anything to do with it. I shall spend my time creating unshakable alibis for myself. No. What you need to do is get yourself invited to Buckminster’s party. That shouldn’t be too difficult. You know the fellow, don’t you? Bucky’s a lamentably friendly soul, it shouldn’t be hard to wangle an invitation.”

“It’s absurd. We don’t even know if it’s the right woman.”

“Oh, it’s the right one all right—the similarity of names, a child of the right age, the red hair. But I will meet her and make sure of it. I am sure I can see if there is any family resemblance.”

“I am not a killer,” the other man ground out. “I cannot do it. I had the shakes for hours afterward last night, and I didn’t even kill that girl. It’s utterly impossible.”

“Stop being such a sniveler. Of course you can do it if the stakes are high enough. You are the sort who can do all manner of base acts if you are in danger. And, believe me, you are in danger.”

“I would rather take my chances on them finding her and her remembering what I did.”

“And do you want to take your chances on details of your past life being made available to certain persons?”

“You wouldn’t. You can’t tell anyone without implicating yourself.”

“I wasn’t speaking of getting rid of the children. I was referring to your consumption of opium. Your gambling and drinking and whoring. Oh, Society knows you were a trifle wild in your youth, but I don’t believe anyone is aware of the depths of degradation to which you sank.” A smile played across his lips.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” his companion burst out. “You like destroying people! You get pleasure out of making them squirm.”

“It does alleviate the boredom. Well, sir, what is it to be? Are you going to do the job—correctly this time—or will certain people be receiving packets of information about your former activities?”

“All right! I’ll do it, damn you!”

“Excellent. I was sure you would see the light.” Richard tapped with his cane on the roof of the carriage, and it came to a halt.

With a low growl, the other man bolted out the door, and the carriage rolled off again.

M
ARIANNE LEFT THE NEXT WEEK FOR
Buckminster Hall, traveling in a carriage with Penelope and Nicola. Lord Buckminster and Lord Lambeth accompanied them, riding their horses beside the carriage. Both Lord Buckminster and Lord Lambeth had come to call on her during the intervening days, but Marianne had left strict instructions to tell them that she was out. She spent most of her time with Della and one of the maids, making sure that all her best clothes were mended, cleaned and packed for the long visit. She needed several different gowns, for there would be all sorts of activities, from a ball held for the guests and the local gentry, for which she would need an elegant gown, to riding, archery, hiking and dinners, which would require evening dress only slightly less fancy than a party. Even her nightdress and dressing gown needed to be of the finest quality and style, since she would be spending several nights there, and there was even the possibility that she might have to share a room with Penelope in order to meet Lady Ursula’s strict chaperonage requirements.

Marianne took care of the mending, sewing on ripped flounces and replacing tired-looking ribbons with something brighter, adding flowers to a neckline or a new sash to a dressing gown, or a bit of embroidery to a cotton chemise to make it more elegant. Della, who was rather good with a needle, and Winny, worked fast and furiously at sewing two new walking dresses, while the talented seamstress who usually made Marianne’s gowns did a rush job on a sky-blue riding habit and a stunning new ballgown of deep emerald green velvet. There was also a good bit of shopping to do, for there were gloves, stockings, ribbons, hats and other necessities to buy in order to be ready for continuous scrutiny by the gentry.

Marianne’s mind had been busily at work while she went about her tasks, devising a plan to rid Buckminster of his infatuation with her. She told herself that she was not doing it to help poor Penelope; it would only be a hindrance to have Lord Buckminster always around, dancing attendance on her. She would hardly get a chance to explore the house.

As for Lambeth…well, she dreamed up and discarded plan after plan for delicious revenge. None of them seemed quite adequate, somehow. Only Justin down on his knees, begging, would satisfy her, and no matter how pleasant the daydream, her mind always seemed to balk before she could reach that image.

Penelope had invited Marianne to ride to Buckminster with her and Nicola. However, it was something of a shock when she walked out the door and saw Lambeth and Buckminster waiting outside, as well. Both men had dismounted and stood holding their horses’ reins, and they bowed to her. Marianne acknowledged Lambeth’s bow with a cool, slight nod, but she gave a warm smile and her hand to Buckminster. She watched Lambeth out of the corner of her eye but could see no change of expression at her friendliness with Bucky.

Bucky solicitously handed her up into the carriage, where Nicola sat waiting, and Lambeth gave Penelope a hand up. Nicola greeted her with a certain coolness, Marianne thought. Nicola had seemed friendly enough the other night at the party. Marianne wondered if something had happened since then to make her wary. Could Lord Lambeth have revealed the truth about Marianne to her? Marianne squirmed inside at the thought.

Buckminster bid Marianne goodbye with a sappy grin, waving a casual hand to Nicola and Penelope, then closed the door, and the two men mounted their horses. The carriage rumbled off down the street.

“Bucky is quite smitten with you,” Penelope said, and Marianne shot her a quick glance.

She wondered if Penelope was angry with her, but one look at the girl’s face dispelled that notion. She was trying valiantly to look pleased at the idea, but her smile had a telltale tremble.

“Men are always chasing after a new female. It rarely lasts, I find. I have no interest in Lord Buckminster.”

“Really?” Nicola drawled. “I thought you were quite friendly toward him.”

So that was what made Nicola cool toward her.
The fact raised her in Marianne’s estimation. Penelope was too self-effacing to be angry with her about Bucky, but her friend resented it on her behalf.

“Oh, that…” Marianne waved a hand. “I am friendly for the moment. It is part of my plan, you see.”

“What plan?” Penelope asked.

“Why, to end his lordship’s crush,” Marianne explained.

Nicola’s eyebrows rose, and Penelope looked astounded.

“What—what do you mean?” she asked.

“I wasn’t sure what to do at first,” Marianne began. “I mean, Lord Buckminster obviously has no real affection for me. He hardly knows me. He is suffering from the sort of calf-love that men seem to fall into now and then. And I have no interest in him. It is just as obvious that Penelope is the perfect one for him. He simply has not realized it yet.”

Penelope stared at her, a blush rising in her cheeks. “Oh, no. Bucky doesn’t care for me—I mean, well, yes, he cares, but in the same way that he cares for Nicola or—or for a sister. He is quite kind to me.”

“I think it is more than kindness. Why, think of the fuss he made the other day when your mama wasn’t going to let you come. If he was merely being kind, he might have made a token protest, but he would have dropped it. After all, he is rather awed by Lady Castlereigh, I think.”

Nicola was surprised into a snort of laughter. “Terrified is more like it.”

Even Penelope had to smile. “Yes, he is, rather. Mother can be pretty terrifying.”

“Then he must have been quite concerned about your not coming if he risked a dressing-down from your mother for interfering.”

“Do you really think so?” Penelope could not keep the hope from rising in her voice. Nicola was watching Marianne consideringly.

“Yes, I think he is very fond of you. But, as I said, he simply has not awakened to it yet.” Marianne found herself warming to her subject. It was not difficult to do, with Penelope gazing at her with such rapt attention. Penelope was such a sweet little thing, it was impossible not to like her. “Therefore we have to help him realize it.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Nicola asked, but Marianne noticed that the faintly cynical tone was missing from her voice now.

“Well, I thought if I am icy and rejecting, he is all too likely to go mooning about and fancying himself still in love with me and suffering unrequitedly.”

“That’s true.” Nicola nodded. “Bucky is not as romantic as some, but when he gets his head set on something, he is hard to turn.”

“The only thing to do, then, is to make him fall out of love with me. Then he will be heart-whole, ready and able to fall in love with Penelope. It will be even better if, along the way, we can also throw him together with Penelope.”

“But how do you intend to accomplish that?” Penelope asked, wide-eyed. “I have never seen Bucky so head over heels.”

“I intend to be heartless, domineering and demanding. I shall blow hot-and-cold, a heartless flirt. I shall whine and complain. I shall demand that he dance attendance on me—especially when there is something else he would far rather do.”

“Hunting,” Nicola supplied. “The men always go hunting at these things.”

Marianne smiled at her conspiratorially. “Hunting it will be, then. Before long, I suspect that Lord Buckminster will be thoroughly sick of me and looking for some other fellow to take me off his hands.”

“Capital!” Nicola clapped her hands together, grinning. “I will be happy to help in any way I can.”

“Wonderful. Then you can engage me in conversation around him that will show what a thoroughly shallow person I am. We can work out just what to say.”

“Yes, and if we could do it so that Penelope, on the other hand, looks compassionate and kind and wonderful…”

“Exactly.”

Nicola and Marianne smiled at each other in perfect agreement. All traces of reserve had fled from Nicola’s manner now. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were high with color.

“This is a perfectly marvelous idea,” Nicola told her.

“Thank you.”

“That’s very good,” Penelope said uncertainly. “I mean, I can see how it would be easier on Bucky if he could be led to believe that you are not a nice person, instead of his suffering unrequited love for you. But how is that going to make him fall in love with me?”

“Ah, but that is the beauty of it. You are going to be right there, precisely where and when he needs you. When he wants to talk, you will be there to listen and sympathize, to give him loving support.”

“But that is not enough to make him love me,” Penelope told her softly. “I am sure if I were someone like you, it would be. But, well, look at me. I am not beautiful. I am not enchanting. I have tried to make myself over. Nicola has lent me dresses and tried to teach me how to flirt, but I was no good at it.”

“Don’t make yourself over,” Marianne told her firmly. “That is your first mistake. You see, Bucky already likes you for who you are. He just needs to see that that person is the one he is really in love with. You shall be so refreshingly the opposite of me. Where I will be cruel and uncaring, you will be warm and sympathetic. I will be shallow, you will be kind. I will be interested in talking about nothing but myself, you will listen to whatever he wants to say. How can he help but warm to you? Nicola and I shall see that he will have every opportunity to be thrown together with you and to see what a wonderful contrast you are to me.”

Penelope smiled. “Well, if you think so…”

“I definitely do. As for your looks—a different hairstyle would help.”

“I can do that,” Nicola said confidently. “And you have no idea how much it improves your looks to be away from your mama, Pen. You just brighten up all over. A new hairdo, pinch your cheeks a little…”

“And I can lend you some of my dresses,” Marianne offered. “White washes you out.”

“I know. Mother insists I wear it—she says it’s the only appropriate color for a young girl. I keep telling her I’m not so young anymore.”

“I can also see that the kind of pastels that look beautiful with Nicola’s blond coloring would still leave you…a trifle dull. But I have some deeper blues and greens that I think would look quite good on you—and rose, definitely rose.”

“I believe you’re right,” Nicola agreed. “Even at the time, I wished that my pinks and blues were not so…icy. She’s right, too, about being yourself, Penny. What good would it be if Bucky fell in love with some person you are pretending to be? He must fall in love with you as you are if you expect to be happy the rest of your life.”

They spent the rest of the trip happily chattering away, making plans for their charade and wandering off along intersecting paths concerning clothes, hair and men. At some point Lord Lambeth entered the conversation.

“Now there is a handsome devil,” Nicola commented.

“Very,” Penelope agreed, and grinned mischievously at Marianne. “I would say that he has definitely had his eye on you, too.”

“True,” Nicola agreed, but added warningly, “However, they say that he will marry Cecilia, and I am sure that’s true. That family never marries for love. He’s the sort who will break your heart.”

“I know. I have no intention of falling into his
trap.”

“But, oh, those eyes!” Penelope sighed dramatically, and the other two women laughed.

“Yes. Damn those eyes.”

By the time the carriage pulled into an inn a few hours later to change horses, the ladies emerged from the vehicle fast friends. True to her stated intention, Marianne largely ignored Bucky and flirted outrageously with Lord Lambeth. His lordship looked faintly surprised at the first languishing look she sent him from under her lashes as she stretched out her hand to take his to descend from the carriage, but after that he kept up his end of the flirtation. He flattered her and made outlandish compliments as they made their way into the inn and sat down to a light luncheon, all the while watching her in a lazy, cynical way that made it clear that he did not take her seriously for a moment.

“Doing it rather too brown, aren’t you?” he commented under his breath as she took his arm to be escorted back out to the carriage.

Marianne looked at him with faint disdain. “I am sure I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“This little attempt of yours to make Bucky jealous by flirting with me.”

“It never crossed my mind.”

“Mmm. I am sure it did not. Well, it’s working rather well. He looks positively green.”

“Personally, I’ve never cared for green gentlemen.”

His brows rose a little. “Mrs. Cotterwood! I am shocked. Was that a double entendre?”

“What? No. What are you talking about?” Marianne blurted out, surprised. Then understanding of the sexual undertones that could be applied to her statement dawned on her, and she flushed. “No! I had no such intent.”

The warm laughter in his eyes made her blush all the more. Marianne scowled at him. “You are a rude, crude man, and I cannot imagine why I have been wasting my time talking to you.”

She pulled her hand away and stalked off to the carriage by herself. Bucky hastened to help her up into the vehicle, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you, my lord. At least some men are
gentlemen.
” She flashed a dark look at Lord Lambeth, who was standing a few feet away and smiling at her in a most irritating way.