A Reckless Promise (17 page)

“I didn't know, didn't realize you could ever... Are you certain? Even after everything I've told you? I...I don't know what to say to any of that.”

Darby's hopes soared. “You could say yes.”

“You're right. I could do that. Yes, I'm doing that. I'm saying, yes, I do want you...in that way. I do. Wait—where are we going?”

He'd led her down the steps of the gazebo and onto the grass, still holding her hand, pausing only to bend down and scoop up John's letter and shove it in his pocket. “We'll burn this, together.”

“Wait. We should take the tea tray back to the kitchens so no one has to come fetch it.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but only briefly, because his plans included much more than a kiss: she'd just agreed to much more than a kiss, and tea trays be damned. “Sadie Grace, you're a wonder in so many ways. But if you want Camy and the servants solidly in your corner, you won't usurp their duties.”

“Oh. You're right, of course. I have so much to learn, don't I?”

“Don't worry about that as I am more than delighted to play tutor in all things. I know just where we should begin, and it's definitely not in thinking of everyone else's needs before your own.”

“Darby!”

He grinned at her, not Society's impressive and powerful Viscount Nailbourne, but merely a marvelously carefree man who was about to be even happier.

Shame on me.

“Darby, where are you taking me?” she asked him, lengthening her stride to nearly match his own.

Ah, an added benefit of those long legs I can't wait to see.

“There's a side door that leads to a rarely used flight of stairs. But we must be quiet.”

“I'm beginning to think...”

“No, don't think, Sadie Grace. We're all done thinking for today.”

“Perhaps you are, but what on earth will everyone else think?”

“I don't care. I'm the master of this house and you are soon to be its mistress.”

“Did you have to say
mistress
?”

He squeezed her hand as they finally left the grass and moved along the brick walkway leading to the small, deeply shaded door he'd used in his childhood when he'd wanted to avoid Camy and the servants.

“Stand here,” he told her. “I'll just be a moment. Now, where the devil did I hide that key?”

“Pardon me? When did you hide this key?”

Darby was already lifting bricks one after the other, while attempting to jog his memory. “I don't know. I couldn't have been more than fifteen. Ah, here it is.” He held it up for her inspection. “I've wondered since if they knew, and only allowed me to think I was brilliant in finding a way to be out and about on my own.”

“And what did you do, out and about on your own?” she asked as he cleaned off some clinging mud and slid the key into the lock.

“Probably broke every rule you wanted to break when you were that age. Now we must be quiet.”

“I feel silly.”

“Good. So do I. We all deserve to feel silly from time to time.” He took her hand and led her inside, then motioned for her to precede him up the narrow wooden staircase, and then passed ahead of her once they reached the landing.

Her hand was cold in his as they sneaked along the carpeted hallway and slipped into his chambers.

“Oh, my,” she said as he locked the door behind him, and then locked the door to his dressing room even though Norton was happily ensconced in London. “This is quite huge, isn't it?”

She was probably commenting on the size of the chamber, which was considerable, or else the size of the Tudor-style four-poster canopy bed, which could also be very likely.

“Here, let me take your cloak.”

Sadie was still looking around the room, and rather absently untied the cloak and handed it to him before walking to her left and the large sitting area he hadn't planned on as her destination. Perhaps the warmth of the fire had lured her, or the fact that the couches were quite distant from the bed.

As if he'd be so overt.

“
Paradise Lost
?” she questioned, picking up a large leather-bound tome he'd been reading while waiting for the arrival of his ward. “Our father read this to John and me, night after night, verse by verse. I believe I may have been six. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to throw it in the fire.” She put down the book and wiped her hands together, as if wanting to remove even the feel of it from her memory.

Darby joined her as she sat down on one of the couches. “Do you want to do that now?”

“No. I imagine it would be less frightening if I were to read it now. But I won't. I much prefer the works of Miss Jane Austen the duchess loaned to me.”

Darby slipped his arm over the back of the couch, resting his hand on her shoulder. “‘One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.'”

Sadie looked at him curiously. “You've read
Emma
?”

“My dear, everyone reads the works of Miss Austen, whether they admit to it or not. To be honest, I had only been reading Milton in order to put myself to sleep.”

“That's certainly not the effect it has on a six-year-old. But you could burn John's note. I think I'm ready for that.”

“Done,” he said, taking the note from his pocket and unerringly launching it into the burning fire. “See? It even wanted to go there. Now we look to the future.”

She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. “Yes. The future. There's still much to discuss.”

He lightly placed his knuckle beneath her chin and turned her toward him. “I was referring to the very near future.”

Her hands stilled in her lap. She looked into his face, her gaze unflinching. “I know. Are you going to kiss me now? Because I really do think it's time, don't you?”

He moved closer. “Before you change your mind, Sadie Grace?”

She was watching his mouth now, her eyelids lowered slightly. He could feel the tension growing between them. “No. I won't do that. I'm not a child, but not yet a woman. If anyone is going to change that I...I want it to be you.”

Darby Travers, you remain the luckiest man in the world...

“I'd be honored,” and then he captured her mouth in their first real kiss. A kiss that was more than a tease, or even a small experiment on his part. A kiss that claimed, that promised. A kiss she returned with maidenly fervor as he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her high into his arms and carried her over to the bed, before setting her down on her feet.

He broke the kiss then, but only for a moment, sliding his arms around her small waist, running his hands up and down her long back, along the enticing dip at her waist, the magnificent curves of her buttocks, amazed at her sleek perfection.

In another lifetime, she could have been the purest of Arabians. Wonderfully constructed, beautiful to look at, deceptively strong. Built not merely to be admired, but with hidden strength and a great heart ready to go the distance, whatever distance was required.

He allowed his hands to travel upward again, gently searching for and finding the pins holding her long blond hair and releasing them, sliding his fingers into her soft curls as they fell nearly to the middle of her back.

She sighed into his mouth as he lifted her arms from his shoulders.

“I'm not going anywhere, Sadie Grace,” he promised, smiling into her eyes. “But there are practical matters that must be addressed.”

She lowered her forehead onto his chest. “I...I'd wondered about that.”

He chuckled softly. “My ever-practical Sadie.” He swept her long hair over her right shoulder and drew her close, his normally confident fingers fumbling slightly as he released the row of buttons on her gown. “Clearly a garment not constructed with seduction in mind,” he joked as he was finally able to ease the gown from her shoulders, to fall in a puddle of sunflower silk at her feet.

He leaned in to kiss the side of her neck, silently marveling at how well-matched they were, her height bringing their bodies together in all the most interesting places. He felt her hands against him as she undid the laces of her final concealing garment, wordlessly telling him she was ready for whatever was to come next.

“A moment, Sadie Grace,” he said, leaving her only long enough to rather ruthlessly pull down the heavy covers on the bed, exposing the soft cotton sheets he'd favored since childhood.

When he looked back, it was to see her toeing off her kid slippers, so that now she was clad only in white silk hose that enhanced the perfection of her long legs, and the chemise she held tight against her waist, her freed hair tumbling over her breasts as a sort of living curtain of modesty.

“I still feel rather silly,” she said as he simply stood there, unable to do more than look. “Too tall by half and, unlike Clarice, sadly lacking in...attributes. I hope you're not disappointed.”

“I believe I'll manage. Now turn your back, if you please, for I'm about to rid myself of my own outward trappings.”

Her cheeks colored most adorably. “I've seen men's bodies before, in the infirmary, as well as cared for my brother.”

“Not the body of a man who clearly isn't at all disappointed, Sadie Grace. Please, turn your back.”

She looked at him for a moment in question, and then her eyes widened. “Oh. Um...
oh
.”

Darby's laugh sent her scurrying onto the bed and beneath the covers, but not before he caught a quick glance at her firm bottom as the chemise slipped from her hand.

Had there ever been a seduction quite like this? He doubted that highly. What a shame for the rest of the world.

Darby made short work out of employing the bootjack to remove his Hessians—Norton would probably never forgive him—and then stripped off his neck cloth, tossing it to the floor. Shrugging out of his well-tailored jacket was nearly as difficult as removing his boots, but he easily picked up the pace as first one, then the other white silk stocking was pushed out from beneath the covers and onto the floor.

Next time, we'll leave her stockings in place
, he thought as he removed his own and slid into bed beside Sadie.

“Hello again,” he said as she lay near the middle of the wide bed, having scooted across the mattress in order to give him room.

So thoughtful. Clearly she could keep her head during most any circumstance.

“I feel so—”

“Silly. Yes, I know. I'm here to remedy that. Although I do warn you that if you were to laugh at any time during the coming procedure, I would probably be immediately crushed.”

She put a hand to her mouth, obviously to stifle a giggle, and he knew the worst was over. She was ready for whatever would come next, or at least believed she was, probably thanks to John's anatomy books.

But now, to my delight, and with only a whisper of trepidation, I am about to prove her wrong.

He'd begin where they'd left off, with kisses meant to both relax and inflame. At least that's how their first kisses had affected him. Turning onto his side, he braced his palm against the mattress beside her and smiled down into her eyes.

They had somehow gone deliciously blue. He liked that.

“You have the most intriguing mouth, Sadie Grace. Plump, and curved, and eminently tempting. Let me teach you how to use it.”

She parted those lips slightly, perhaps to contradict him, but he didn't give her the chance. Mouths were meant to mesh, to engage, to serve as the initial portal to that most deepest intimacy. Tongues were meant to taste, to tease, to mimic that same intimacy, flood the body with sensations that, once aroused, could not be denied.

As she began to move beneath him, he knew that, even if her mind did not yet fully understand, the most sensitive parts of her had taken the message to heart.

As had his. Darby knew he had to ignore the messages his own body was sending, at least for a while, but that would be one of the most difficult things he'd ever do, especially when he began exploring her body, first with his hands, and then with his mouth playing accompaniment to the music singing inside them both, growing to a crescendo.

If she had first been shy, unsure, even embarrassed, the Sadie coming alive in his arms was none of those. She matched him kiss for kiss, caress for caress, her touch even becoming slightly frantic as she wrapped her arms around him, drew him to her, up and over her.

Another intimate kiss, her lips drawing together around his tongue, sucking him in, a slight shifting in their bodies, and the deed was done. The last barrier gone, he was inside her, trying to calm himself, allow her to become accustomed to this new fullness, to even say no, although it was eons too late for no.

He would take even this slowly. For her, most definitely not for himself. His movements were slow, allowing her pleasure to build, struggling to control his breathing even as he knew, for all his experience, that he had never experienced this depth of feeling and wanted to explore it more himself.

But when her grip on his shoulders tightened, her fingertips pressing into his flesh, and he felt those long legs that had previously only done so in his dreams wrap high around him, Darby most willingly lost the battle.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“C
LARICE
,
YOU
HAVE
to stop laughing, or else you'll wake the entire household. And
that
was a snort. I'm certain ladies don't snort.”

Sadie and her friend were sitting cross-legged, facing each other on Sadie's bed, which had become their nightly ritual, it seemed, discussing the events of the day and at times nattering about nothing, really, which was also fine with both of them.

Tonight had been no different, even if Sadie's world had changed irrevocably that day. She wanted to tell Clarice about it all, and would. Once she'd finished telling her about Belinda Henderson's inspection of Marrakesh...and once Clarice stopped laughing.

“Truly, Clarice, it wasn't all that amusing. Marrakesh was clearly mortified.”

Clarice wiped at her eyes. “I'm sorry. But remember, I know Belinda. I'd wager my last two new bonnets that that's as close as she'll ever come to any sort of male naughty places. And wouldn't she be disappointed if she did.”

“Clarice, stop, please,” Sadie said, laughing in spite of her best intentions.

“And another thing. I don't see anyone ever wanting to hoist up her tail to take a peek at her underpinning, neither.”

Sadie allowed her upper body to fall forward, burying her face as she dissolved into giggles.

“See?” Clarice said rather triumphantly once they'd both recovered their composure. “You were being all serious about everything—oh, the poor, poor horsey—and there is nothing that is all serious, Sadie. That stallion will live higher on the hog than half of the people in Fairfax County, and have all the humping and bumping he wants. Belinda is going back to where she wants to be, to do whatever it is that makes her happy, and her mama sent around a note earlier reminding me to be sure to pen
her
a letter once His Lordship decides when we're to visit Virginia, as she wants to give a ball in my honor. In
my
honor, Sadie. Yesterday, that woman wouldn't have thrown me more than the empty shell after she'd chomped on her morning egg. Really, I'm going to give Darby the biggest kiss when I see him, because he's a true wonder, isn't he? Don't you think he's a true wonder?”

Sadie could feel hot color rising in her cheeks, and turned to look across the chamber at nothing in particular, showing great interest in that nothing. “Yes, that's just the word I would have chosen. A wonder.”

“My Jerry said he refused to be thanked, because friends
do
for friends, which is just the— Sadie? Is something wrong? All of a sudden you look all—wait a moment. I know that look. That's the same look Thea gave me, or tried not to give me, after she and Gabe—
Sadie
!” Clarice pushed herself to her knees and began bouncing on the bed. “Tell me. Tell me
everything
.”

“There's nothing to say, is there, as you've clearly guessed. However did you do that?”

Clarice gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It's a talent, I'll admit. I've precious few of them, but I've certainly got a nose for sniffing out April and May. Was it today? After he shooed off the Hendersons? Yes, it had to have been today, or I would have noticed yesterday, wouldn't I? So-o-o...you stayed at the cottage, and I'll wager he
introduced
you to the gazebo. That's where Dany and Coop first...and then it was where he—well, never mind about that. I must have Jerry ask Darby if we can drive out there one day. You know, before it gets too cold.” She tapped her hands against her cheeks. “Oh, shut up, Clary, and let the girl
talk
!”

“Why, when you were doing so well on your own?” Sadie said, realizing that she had a true friend, and true friends can say most anything to each other. It was remarkably freeing, really, after a lifetime spent keeping her thoughts to herself, depending only on herself. “And it wasn't the gazebo, although it may have begun there. We...we sneaked up to his bedchamber. He had a key buried under the bricks, you understand, so that's how we— I can't believe I'm telling you this!”

Clarice shrugged. “Who would you tell, if you didn't tell me? Vivien? Believe me, her questions would probably even put me to the blush. And a woman has to tell
someone
or else burst. Are you all right? Was it wonderful? Please say it was wonderful.”

“I'm fine, more than fine. And it was wonderful. Silly, then wonderful—and I'll say no more on that because you're much too eager to listen—and then silly again. At least Darby found it all amusing.”

“Why? What was so amusing?”

“I said Darby found it amusing. I...I was concerned about...other things.”

Clarice leaned forward. “What other things?”

“The sheets, Clarice,” Sadie whispered, again feeling heat rising in her cheeks. “Darby wasn't in the least concerned, but he wouldn't, would he. He didn't care what anyone might think, would know what had happened, but
I
wasn't about to go crowing it from the rooftops.”

“I still don't understand what you're—oh,
that
. Sorry, that was a long time ago for me, and I didn't have to worry about what might have been left behind on a haystack, now did I? Sadie, you're much too worried about what other people might think. I know that sounds ridiculous, coming from me, after Mrs. Henderson and all, but it's true. There are times we must do what makes us happy, and be damned to everyone else.”

“Yes, that's what Darby said, and I certainly can see his point, and yours, as well. But as I told him, I believe I'll have to slowly
ease
my way into thinking differently than I have for all of my life.”

“That's because you're not selfish, Sadie. Everyone needs to be at least a little bit selfish, or else the world will trample right over you. You also have to sometimes step back and let others
do
for you. Just follow my lead. I've taken to letting others do for me quite handily, Jerry says, but that's because I knew my place when it was my place, and I know what those who are in my place expect of me now that I'm in a different place. I may still be learning exactly what those in my new place
do
, but I certainly know what I should no longer be doing, because I'm not in that place anymore. Do you understand that?”

Sadie nodded. “Unbelievably, yes, I do. I shouldn't save someone else steps by carrying a tea tray back to the kitchens. That is what you mean, isn't it?”

Clarice pointed a finger at her. “In a nut's shell. And not because you're lazy, or tipping up your nose at everyone like you're
so good
, but because it makes people nervous, thinking mayhap they aren't doing their job the way they should and could be out on the streets without a reference. You're in Society now, not mucking about in your brother's infirmary or under your parents' roof. For the love of ducks, Sadie, you're about to become Lady Nailbourne. You ring for tea and then serve it. You don't go lugging the tray from the kitchens. You leave your shoes right where you are when you take them off, and don't brush them clean yourself and carry them back to the wardrobe, leaving nothing for your maid to do but suck her thumb. You don't climb out of bed and lickety-split turn back to pull up the covers and—oh, Lord. Oh, sweet Lord, tell me it isn't true. You insisted on making up the bed afterward, didn't you?”

“You needn't sound as if the world is ending, Clarice. Besides, the bed couldn't be simply straightened after—should I tell you how he kissed me? Because I'm beginning to think I'd be less embarrassed to do that.”

“No, no. I know about kissing, and the rest of it, and my imagination can do the rest. I want to hear about this bed.”

“Darby says he'll remind me of it annually for the remainder of our lives,” Sadie said quietly. But then, slowly, she smiled.

First had come the small argument about the whole thing, with Darby pointing out once more that she really needed to stop worrying so much. But she'd won that particular argument, explaining that she simply couldn't
do
that to Camy or any maid who would immediately come tell her what she'd seen.

She just couldn't, that was all, and she didn't care what lordships and ladies did because Sadie Grace Hamilton had her limits.

Besides, once he'd agreed with her, he'd pointed out that a good half of the large bed had remained pristine, without so much as a wrinkle, and that seemed a cruel waste of fresh linen.

Sadie didn't tell Clarice that part, but concentrated instead on how she'd had to instruct Darby on how to remove and fold up sheets...once he'd freed her after having playfully rolled her up in one of them, not giving her a chance to first hop down from the bed.

Really, there was a lot of the naughty boy in Darby Travers, for all his sophistication.

Then again, apparently there was a good amount of naughty in her, even if she'd only discovered that fact this afternoon. How lovely it was to finally be a woman.

“Sadie? You can stop smiling at any time, and tell me the rest,” Clarice prodded.

“Oh, I'm sorry. The sheets. At any rate, only once the bed was stripped did I realize that we now had to go sneaking about the hallways to find the linen cupboards. Thankfully, Darby remembered he had hidden in one of them as a boy, to eat a peach tart he'd nipped from the kitchens. Then it was explaining to him just
how
to replace the sheets and smooth them just so—and to that I'll only say it is a wonder how men rule the world when they seem to have six thumbs when it comes to something so ridiculously simple. At one point, as we fussed with the heavy coverlet, he said a word I didn't think gentlemen said, but then decided the entire household staff deserved a raise in wages.”

“I believe I adore your Darby.” Clarice had been munching on a seed cake while Sadie told her story, but now asked, “So where are the betraying sheets now? Surely you didn't pack them up and bring them back here.”

“I confess I hadn't thought of what we'd do with them, not until we'd done it,” Sadie said as she slid off the bed. She picked up the gown she'd worn that day, currently hung over the back of a slipper chair, as she'd dismissed her maid and Clarice had helped her with the buttons, and headed for the large cupboard.

“Put that back down,” her friend ordered. “What did you do with the sheets?”

“We didn't stuff them up the chimney, if that's what you're asking.” Sadie rolled her eyes, but obeyed the order, being careful to place the gown so that it wouldn't become too wrinkled. “And I just want you to know what we did wasn't my idea. Darby rolled open the window and tossed them to the ground. Once he determined it was safe for us to leave his chambers again, we retrieved them and took them to the washhouse, and used one of the paddles to submerge them in a large washtub already filled with water. No one will know how they got there, he said, and someone would simply wash them and put them back in the linen cupboard.”

“And you think this Camy person doesn't count the linens every week and won't be any the wiser?”

Sadie returned to the bed. She was accustomed to having only one sheet for every bed, and those sheets were washed and replaced in the same day. “Why would she count the sheets?”

“Because that's what housekeepers do, you ninny. They're forever counting things. Linens, silver, china. They also have eyes in the backs of their heads, at least the good ones do. You did all of that for nothing, Sadie. Camy will know. She won't say a word, but she'll know. Just as I'd wager she knew about the key, and even the peach tart.”

For a moment, Sadie was mortified. But then she remembered how Darby had looked exasperated yet boyishly flummoxed as he wrestled with the bedclothes—with the heavy satin spread clearly winning—and she broke into a grin. “I can't wait to tell him.”

Clarice began bouncing on her knees again. “No. No, no, no, Sadie. You never tell him. Because he knows. He knew all along, yet did what you wanted, anyway, and made a rare cake of His Lordship's self as he did it, to hear you tell it.”

Sadie didn't understand. “But...but why would he do that?”

“There's nothing else for it, you silly. The man is dotty for you.” She reached for the now totally flummoxed Sadie and gave her a tight hug. “Now, good night. I'm certain you have much to dream about.”

Sadie didn't sleep much for the entire night after that impossible revelation, and was up and dressed and fed and was now sitting by herself in the drawing room, although she still felt far from awake or even able to form proper sentences.

The man is dotty for you.

No, he wasn't. He was dotty for
parts
of her. He'd made that clear enough, and since she felt rather the same about him (embarrassing to admit, even to herself), she'd had little difficulty believing him.

But
dotty
was clearly Clarice's definition of love, or something very close to love, and that was ludicrous.

Their marriage was to be one of convenience, granted one now apparently including rather more convenience than simply to give Marley a feeling of home and security, but convenience nonetheless.

The mantel clock counted out the hour of eleven, and she realized Darby wasn't being his usual prompt self. Had his night been as disturbed as hers had been, or was he perhaps reluctant to see her again after what had transpired between them?

No. Not Darby. He'd either behave as if nothing untoward had occurred, or he'd bounce into the room his jolly, witty, well-dressed self, and make her blush by saying things that might sound perfectly reasonable to others, but not to her.

There was a noise just outside in the hallway, and Sadie tensed, turning to see if there would be a bounce in Darby's step, except that it was Marley who came skipping into the room, followed by the duke himself.