The Promise (9 page)

Finn stepped into a large room with terracotta floors and white walls beneath a pressed tin ceiling painted green and gold. There were four ovens and an equal number of utility tables. Shelves were stacked high with every size and shape of baking pan. Canisters held utensils, some of which Finn recognized, but most he did not.

“The tools of my trade,” she picked up a cookie cutter in the shape of a star.

In the far corner a large desk sat next to a bookcase full of cookbooks and ledgers. Beside it was a child-sized table with paper and a box of wax crayons. Pip’s drawings were tacked up on the wall. Finn was seized by intense guilt.

High transom windows vented heat from the kitchen, but the room was still too warm for Finn’s comfort. “It must be unbearable for you in August.”

“I’m used to it,” Jane said. “On the bright side, it’s toasty all winter.”

“You’re an optimist.”

“Always.”

“Is this Pip’s corner?” he asked.

“Yes. When she was a baby Mrs. East allowed me to keep a crib down here. When Pip started walking, we enclosed a small area where she could play safely. Although I miss her, I’m glad her horizons have expanded. Eventually she would have grown very bored,” Jane said, hiding her melancholy under a veil of pragmatism.

“Do you prepare everything yourself?” he said, surprised that he was really interested and not just asking to be polite. “You sell so many different things, it seems like too much work for one person.”

“Mrs. East works alongside when the counter is slow. There’s a lot of down time after the morning rush. It picks back up for an hour or two midday, then again when the shops let out and factory workers stop by on the way home,” Jane explained, leading him through the kitchen to the pantry where large tins of dried fruit and nuts were lined up neatly on steel racks next to canvas bags of dry goods.

He stepped in behind her. The air was fragrant with sweet things and spices, a mélange of scents he thought of as Jane’s perfume. He wondered if she would taste as good as she smelled. He resisted an urge to slip his arm around her waist and pull her against him so he could find out. He wasn’t used to denying urges where women were concerned. The audacious women he preferred always welcomed his advances. He never had to try too hard.

Would the virtuous Miss Gray welcome him as well?

Oblivious to the direction his thoughts had taken, Jane opened a canister and offered the contents to Finn. “Macadamia nuts. They’re the newest import from Australia. I’m experimenting with different recipes.”

Finn took one and popped it in his mouth. “Delicious.”

His eyes had that rascally look she was already becoming familiar with. He was standing a bit too close, so she tried to skirt around him. Finn casually shifted his weight from one foot to the other, preventing her from sliding by.

“Close quarters,” he observed, his deep voice resonating in the small space.

Jane squinted up at him suspiciously. “Please move.”

“If the lady commands it…” he said, stepping closer. His chest was inches from her nose. A strange sort of energy sparked between them. The air fairly crackled with it. Jane said a little prayer of thanks when she heard the sleigh bells jingle on the front door. What would Mrs. East think if she caught her in the pantry with a man — especially this one?

“I meant please move
away
,” she said in an urgent whisper.

“Pardon me,” he grinned, leaving her in no doubt he had been having a little fun at her expense. “You have to be very specific when you tell a man what you want, Miss Gray. We are a dense species.”

Jane shot past him into the front of the bakery. He waited until the customer had left to follow.  She lifted the gate again and he stepped through, pausing to wipe a dab of confectioner’s sugar from her cheek. He would have preferred to lick it off.

“Not too worrisome, as occupational hazards go,” he held up his finger to show her the dusting of white then popped his finger into his mouth.

Jane’s eyes widened in shock at the gesture which seemed indecently intimate. She lowered the counter and immediately felt better with the barrier back in place. A timer went off in the kitchen and she breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Duty calls. Good day, Lord Wallace.”

“Good day, Miss Gray. And thank you for the guided tour… and your forgiveness. I have an appointment to meet Pip and Mother in Hyde Park after they’re done shopping. I wish you could join us.”

She looked crestfallen and he regretted mentioning it.

“Perhaps some other time.”

She replayed their conversation over and over until closing time. Had Lord Wallace been flirting with her? Or was it just his natural inclination to tease all women? By the end of the day she had convinced herself that he had been kind and nothing more. She appreciated his apology and decided to take him visit at face value.

JANE FLIPPED THE OPEN sign and pulled the blinds shut. After cleaning up, she threw on her coat and struck out across town. The streets were crowded with shopkeepers and laborers heading home. She cradled a boxed cake in her arms, trying to avoid crushing it as she was jostled to and fro. By the time she arrived at Carlisle House, dinnertime had passed. Jane hoped Pip had not already fallen asleep.

She needn’t have worried. As soon as Peckham opened the door, Pip charged into her arms. Jane would have dropped the cake if the butler had not executed a graceful save, relieving her of the box and steadying her with a hand beneath her elbow at the same time.

“Goodness, child!” Jane chuckled. “I’m happy to see you, too!” She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Pip. “I missed you something awful today. You have to tell me every little thing you did with your grandmother. You mustn’t leave anything out.”

Jane closed her eyes against a swell of tears as she savored Pip’s fierce hug. When she opened them Lord Wallace was standing in the entry hall watching her intently. A jolt of awareness shot through her system.

“Lord Wallace,” she acknowledged him warily then rose, her pulse racing.

“Lovely to see you again so soon, Miss Gray,” he said in a rich baritone that sent a thrill down her spine.

“How was Pip today?”

“A perfect little angel. We enjoyed learning about each other, did we not?” he smiled down at his niece. To Jane’s surprise Pip ran over to him and grabbed his hand.

“Uncle Finn took me to the park and we had lemon ices. They were soooooo yummy! I fed the swans and played with a little girl named Charlotte. She is very pretty and very nice, Mama. I might play with her again tomorrow.”

Pip looked up at her uncle and giggled when he winked at her.

“This way, Miss Gray,” Finn still held Pip’s hand as he led her down the hall to a room Jane had not seen the day before.

“We call this the blue salon, Miss Gray. Mother uses it on visiting days,” Finn pushed open the door.

The room was light and airy with a high, coffered ceiling and elaborate wainscoting. The tops of the walls were decorated with plaster friezes with swags of laurel leaves. Tall mullioned windows overlooked the terrace and garden where Pip had played the day before. The walls were a chalky robin’s egg blue and the moldings and frieze details painted a creamy white. It was elegantly cozy with overstuffed chairs and dreamy landscape paintings on every wall.

“What a lovely room!” Jane exclaimed.

“Thank you, my dear,” the duchess said from behind her. “It is my favorite.”

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Jane said with a curtsy.

“Good evening,” the duchess smiled warmly. “I have ordered tea and hot chocolate. Peckham showed me the beautiful cake you brought. Did you make it yourself, Miss Gray? So much work must have gone into those little butterflies and birds. However do you do it?”

Jane blushed at the compliment. “I have had a great deal of practice and I confess that I enjoy the more creative aspects of my profession. Your granddaughter is quite a talented cake decorator in her own right, aren’t you Pip?”

“One time Mama and I made a cake that looked just like a beehive with honey dripping down the sides with bees all over it. They weren’t real bees, though, just frosting bees,” she said. “Mama, can we make another one to show Grandmother?”

“We will have to ask her cook’s permission to invade the kitchen,” Jane laughed and gently caught Pip’s wrist to hold her still. “You are in fine fettle. I’m surprised you aren’t in bed already after the busy day you’ve had.”

“I took a looooong nap,” Pip explained. “The bed is so soft it’s like sleeping on a cloud. It is much softer than my bed at home. The room is ever so much nicer, too.”

Jane exchanged an amused look with the duchess. Children were frightfully honest. “I can’t disagree with you, love. It is very soft indeed. Don’t forget I slept in it last night.”

She sat in one of the inviting armchairs with plump floral cushions. Pip climbed onto her lap, wrapping her arms around Jane’s neck.

“Oh yes, I did forget,” Pip said, then talked for fifteen minutes straight about the modiste who had measured her for new clothes. She described the fashion plates from which she had chosen her new dresses and the little shop on Bond Street where her grandmother had taken her to shop for shoes. Jane listened and interjected the appropriate number of “Oohs” and “Aahs,” but Pip was so excited she would not have noticed if Jane had remained silent.

For the next week, Jane’s days followed a similar pattern. There were no more surprise visits from Lord Wallace, but he did join her and Pip for a few minutes each evening. While he was always cordial and scrupulously polite, Jane often caught him looking at her with an expression she found both thrilling and alarming. There was something irresistibly dark and dangerous in his eyes that spoke of craving and possession. She felt him calling to her and Jane very much feared that if he did, there was nothing she would deny him.

Chapter Seven

Finn studied Jane’s face as Pip regaled her with the day’s adventures.  She gave the child her undivided attention, her eyes sparkling with amusement and affection. Every now and then she tucked an errant lock of hair behind Pip’s ear and fondly touched the side of her face. His niece had been fortunate indeed to have such a loving surrogate mother. Maura’s guardian angel had been hovering above her shoulder the afternoon saintly Jane Gray noticed her sitting on a bench in Russell Square.

Saintly?
Without a doubt, she was that.

He, however, could not lay claim to such virtue, remembering the intensely erotic dream he had enjoyed the night before in which he had taken her repeatedly and with great enthusiasm.  His fingers curled as he recalled it. Powerful and graphic, the dream caught him by surprise; although pretty, she was not the type of woman who usually caught his eye.

Perhaps it was that look she had given him at dinner the first night that was to blame. It had somehow been both demure and lusty, an intriguing mix of sexual longing and innocence. Her blushes always charmed him. The women he consorted with were worldly, sophisticated, most had lost the ability to blush years ago.

Finn’s typical erotic fantasy involved a fierce, acrobatic coupling with an anonymous beauty, uniformly blond with amorphously pleasing features, well endowed to an extent seldom seen in nature. But last night had been very different. His subconscious had conjured a number of slow and gentle matings with a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Miss Gray. His “fancy women” — as the duchess liked to call them — smelled of expensive, exotic perfumes. Jane smelled of cinnamon and sweet bread.

Images of Jane Gray had intruded upon his thoughts all day, firing a need to see her again, if for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity. He wanted to determine what it was about her that had inspired such delicious dreams. Most evenings he played cards, drank port, and discussed politics with friends at his club. Then, if the spirit moved him, he capped it all off with a visit to his
chère amie
of the moment. Finn enjoyed sexual variety and changed mistresses often.

But tonight he had stayed home with the sole purpose of seeing Miss Gray. The mere thought of being in her presence engendered a pleasant feeling of anticipation. He didn’t understand why, for she was in truth quite unexceptional compared to his current lover, Blaine. The comparison wasn’t fair, of course. Blaine was a vibrant bird of paradise, a lush, voluptuous hothouse flower, while Miss Gray was more of a, well… a daisy… Finn supposed.

She was
wholesome
, for Christ’s sake. Where was the appeal in that? He silently laughed at himself, knowing his friends would ridicule him mercilessly were they privy to his remarkable thoughts. Despite it all, he couldn’t deny that Miss Gray possessed a quality that drew him in an intense and decidedly unwholesome way.

He felt quite… randy… actually. He rather liked the feeling.

Finn narrowed his eyes and studied her with analytical intent. She was thin, average in height. Her breasts were small but sweet… high and perky. What color were her nipples, he wondered; they had been coral pink in his dream, call it libertine’s intuition. As he watched her speaking to Pip, he began to appreciate her more subtle attractions. Her smile was fetching, with lusciously bowed lips bracketed by dimples. Her eyes widened theatrically in response to something Pip said and candlelight accented amber and gold flecks in her rich chocolate irises. Locks of chestnut brown hair had escaped from a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. Finn wanted to nuzzle her there, to catch her woman’s scent mingled with sugar and spices.

Objectively he had to admit she looked a bit of a mess, but he found her disarray endearing, probably because he knew she had worked all day and still hustled across the city to see Pip before she was tucked into bed. Admirable, that.

Jane exuded warmth and soft femininity, qualities that seemed to have awakened certain dormant masculine urges. Inexplicably, against all logic, and in complete opposition to his character as he understood it, he wanted to provide for her, protect her, and have her delicious little body in his bed. He felt… possessive. For Finn an unprecedented feeling. Perhaps that explained why his dream had been tender and emotionally satisfying, descriptions that didn’t apply to any of the sexual liaisons in his past. Finn had always enjoyed a certain type of female… beautiful, experienced, sexually aggressive. Women who craved honest, enthusiastic sex, never mistook lust for love, and took no offense when he chose not to linger after the deed was done.

That he was even slightly attracted to Jane was a conundrum. And he was more than slightly attracted. He knew an honorable man would put all ideas of Miss Gray from his mind. Finn liked to keep things light and he was a good enough judge of women to know she was not the sort to indulge in a casual affair. Be that as it may, Finn had never been one for self-deception or self-denial. Although he admired Miss Gray, his intentions toward her were definitely not altruistic. He planned to seduce her. The promise of that dream had been too tempting to ignore and his fascination with her was growing with every second he spent in her company.

He wasn’t the only man at Carlisle House who had developed a soft spot for her. Peckham had made it a point to inform him that she had left the house in the wee hours of the morning (by the by
on foot and without an escort
, the butler had sniffed in disapproval). Then Peckham had asked how he should handle her transportation needs in the future. Usually aloof and supercilious, the butler’s expression had warmed when he spoke of Miss Gray.

Finn had instructed Peckham to hire a hack for her in future, or to summon one of the unmarked carriages. He smiled at the image of Jane transported to the bakery in full ducal splendor with a gilt-crested coach and four, liveried coachman, outriders, and two white-gloved footmen in attendance. As if aware of his scrutiny, she glanced across the room and their eyes met. His groin tightened even as he smiled innocently to mask his lascivious thoughts. She returned his smile and looked away. Was she aware that he had taken an unseemly fancy to her?

“Pip, dear, would you like a slice of cake?” the duchess interrupted her granddaughter’s flighty monologue to hand Jane a cup of tea.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jane accepted the cup, but left the saucer in the duchess’ hand. She couldn’t take both with one arm around Pip.

“However do you stay so slender, Miss Gray? If I were surrounded by treats all day, I would be tempted to overindulge.”

“I confess there are certain sweets I can’t resist, macaroons are a particular weakness. For the most part I’ve lost my taste for sugar, probably because I have to sample every batch. Too much of a good thing, I suppose.”

“This is almost too beautiful to eat,” the duchess commented, slicing through the elaborately decorated confection.

“Thank you, but it was made to be eaten. Enjoy it while it’s fresh. I baked it this morning.”

“For large parties I usually order from the Mayfair Bakery on Battersby. Baked goods are not Cook’s specialty and anything this elegant is quite beyond her skill,” the duchess said.

“The Mayfair Bakery is a rat catcher’s paradise!” Pip chirped, eager to slander Sugarmann’s main competitor.

The duchess disguised her chuckle with a cough and Finn laughed out loud.

Jane was embarrassed. “Good heavens, Pip! What a thing to say! I’m sure the Mayfair sells fine goods.”

“That’s not what Mrs. East says. She says Mayfair customers can buy a cake, then get a free ride home on a giant rodent. The alley behind...”

“Enough Pip! I am sure that was said in jest. Either that, or Mrs. East is jealous. The Mayfair does twice as much business as Sugarmann’s. I don’t want to hear that again. If you can’t think of something pleasant to say, say nothing at all.”

Pip looked suitably contrite. “Yes, Mama.”

Taking pity on his precocious niece, Finn took a bite of cake and changed the subject. “This is delicious, Miss Gray.”  The words were innocent enough, but the way he looked at her when he said them was… she wasn’t sure what. Fierce, perhaps. To her acute embarrassment, she blushed.

“Ambrosia,” his mother agreed, her eyes twinkling at the exchange.

Jane looked away from Finn and fussed nervously with Pip’s hair. “I have a big order for cherry tarts in the morning. I’ll make extra to bring with me tomorrow evening. Pip loves cherry tarts, don’t you Poppet?”

The child nodded vigorously. “And apple tarts, and blueberry tarts, too. And mincemeat tarts,” she added after a pause.

The duchess looked apologetic. “I had hoped to take Pip to a piano recital tomorrow evening.”

“I see. Well. I’ll just have to bring them another time,” Jane said lightly, although she looked a bit crestfallen.

Pip frowned at her grandmother. “I won’t see Mama tomorrow?”

“One of your cousins will be performing. I thought you’d like to meet her…”

“No! I want to go home with Mama tonight!”

“Don’t be silly, Pip. You’ve been telling me about the wonderful day you had with your grandmother and Uncle Finn. Think about your beautiful room upstairs with that soft-as-a-cloud bed and all those toys and books. It must be boring to watch me work all day.”

“No it’s not! I like the bakery. Take me home,” she pressed her cheek against Jane’s chest and pouted.

“We don’t have to decide now. Let’s see how you feel later,” Jane stalled.

Thankfully, Pip was soon distracted by the elaborate decorations on the cake.

Jane’s attention was focused on Pip, leaving Finn free to resume his musings. On a purely social level, he was perplexed by the attraction. He had never been one to dally with housemaids or bar wenches, invariably preferring women of his own social class. A pastry chef was leagues beneath him in circumstance and breeding, yet he craved her with an intensity he found bewildering.

When Pip began to look tired, Jane scooped her up. “It’s bedtime, I think.”

“Will you stay with me Mama?” Pip asked sleepily.

“Mmmm,” she said noncommittally then turned to the duchess, “Your Grace, if you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course,” the duchess smiled. “Good night.”

Jane glanced at Finn. “Good night, Lord Wallace.”

“Allow me,” he said, holding out his arms.

“She’s not heavy, but thank you,” Jane hugged Pip tightly.

“As you wish. Goodnight, sprite,” he murmured, leaning over to drop a kiss on Pip’s cheek, bringing his body in tantalizing proximity to Jane’s. “Until tomorrow, Miss Gray, when I will once again look forward to sampling your treats,” he said with a rakish grin, just inches from her face. His voice was low and intimate, his gaze filled with playful humor. Fine laughter lines bracketed deep blue eyes.

Her brains scrambled. She swallowed.

“Tomorrow. Treats. Yes,” she stammered awkwardly.

JUSTINE TOOK FINN’S ARM to signal that she, too, was ready to retire. She studied his profile thoughtfully, her eyes darting speculatively between him and Miss Gray. Her son was openly flirting with the baker. She made a mental note to have a word with him. Miss Gray might mistake his casual teasing for genuine interest and end up disappointed. And God forbid he actually seduced the poor girl. Finn was a compulsive womanizer and always had been.

Justine knew what sort of ‘tarts’ her son preferred, and they weren’t blueberry. It was too much to hope that he’d be drawn to a woman of substance like Miss Gray. Even if he were, his interest would be transient and it wouldn’t extend beyond the physical. As his mother, she felt a bit guilty thinking it, but Finn was a jaded rogue and the last thing a virtuous woman needed.

The next morning Finn cancelled his obligations to spend the day with his mother and Pip as part of an ongoing campaign to make her feel at home with her new family. Unfamiliar with children, especially little girls, he was surprised to enjoy every minute he spent with his niece. Pip was polite, unspoiled, intelligent, and cheeky. In short, she was a delight.

Finn was surprised to discover Pip could already read and had often visited the circulating library with Jane. She spoke French tolerably well and had many interests, including a particular fondness for insects and birds. She was a fountain of entomological trivia.

“Uncle Finn, see that butterfly?” she asked, pointing to a pretty specimen with black and yellow wings. “That’s a swallowtail. The caterpillars give off a smell like rotting fruit when they’re threatened. Did you know that?” She pointed out other examples, a purple hairstreak, a long-tailed blue, a brown argus, a Duke of Burgundy. “Isn’t that a funny name? Duke of Burgundy?”

“I assure you the butterfly is considerably more handsome than Burgundy himself. I know him well,” he commented and she rewarded him with a giggle and a nudge.

“You’re funny, Uncle Finn.”

Other children who were visiting the park with maids were drawn to Pip’s effervescence. She made friends easily. Finn found her mischievous and amusing. She carefully picked up a praying mantis and showed it to another girl who promptly screamed and ran away. Pip found the girl’s reaction endlessly entertaining.