A Reckless Promise (18 page)

“Look at me, Sadie!” the child exclaimed. “Escaped from the nursery and Miss Potterdam's lessons in globes.” She pushed down her chin, doubling it, and proclaimed in a deep voice,
“I don't care a goat's bladder what you say, missy, if I want the child with me, the child is with me! I'm the duke, blast it all, and that has to be good for something!”
She turned to beam up at His Grace. “Isn't that right, Uncle Basil?”

“Regular little parrot, ain't she?” the duke said as Sadie quickly got to her feet and dropped into a deep curtsy. “Never saw the point of keeping the kiddies all locked up, fed pasty porridge and put to bed before sundown. Don't you agree, heh-heh?”

“Why, yes, Your Grace, I most certainly do,” Sadie said, since there was undoubtedly nothing to be gained by disagreeing. “And may I say, Your Grace, that is a lovely parrot.”

The duke turned his head to look at the large white bird perched on his shoulder, almost as if he'd forgotten it was there. “Not a parrot, Sadie girl, not in the truest sense, I could say. Cockatoo straight from Siam, this gal is. Bought her from a nabob, as I recall, or did I trade him my watch for her? No matter. Name of Putri, which means princess.”

“So we call her Princess,” Marley interjected—thankfully, or else the duke was bound to go on for hours on his own. “And she's going to be mine someday years from now, unless Uncle Basil dies next week, but he's not going to die, Sadie, is he?”

Oh, dear. And here everyone thought the duke had cast aside his worries, and was even looking forward to his birthday and the ball to be held in his honor. Vivien would be crushed to hear he still harbored worries of some sort of Cranbrook curse. We really need to do something about this.

“No, sweetheart, he's not,” she said, giving as close to the evil eye to His Grace as she could muster.

“No, no, o' course I'm not,” the duke blustered, puffing out his cheeks even as the cockatoo's magnificent white crest popped up as if it was on a string. “Can't say what I was thinking, to even hint at such a thing. Come along, pet. We'll take Princess here to the solarium, just as I promised, and let her hop about in the greenery, hunting up beetles. Ah, Darby, my son, how are you today?”

Sadie relaxed. He looked perfectly normal. She could only hope she looked the same. But then, what had she been expecting?

“Basil,” Darby said, bowing, and Sadie quickly composed herself as she watched Marley run into his extended arms for a hug. “Well, look at you, poppet, sprung from your jail. And where is Max?”

“He barks like a berserk banshee when Princess is about,” Marley told him seriously, “so he's banished to the kitchens for the nonce, happy enough with a marrow bone.”

“Berserk banshee, is it? For the nonce?” Darby looked at Sadie. “And what, pray tell, is a banshee, Marley? For that matter, what is a nonce?”

The girl grimaced. “You always know, don't you? How do you always know?”

“When you're being a parrot, you mean?” he countered, winking at Sadie.

“This one's a cockatoo,” the duke corrected, looking abashed. “Come along, Marley, before we're both banished to the nursery.”

They watched as Marley slipped her hand into the duke's and the pair went happily off to the solarium.

“She gets the cockatoo if the duke dies next week,” Sadie said as Darby joined her on the couch, lifting her hand to plant a kiss on her palm. “When do Thea and Gabe return to the city?”

“Not until next week, I'm afraid. I had a note from Gabe yesterday, informing me that Thea slipped on a banana, took a tumble and sprained her ankle. And before you say another word, that can be easily explained, as they've been supervising the dismantling and reconstruction of the great hall at Cranbrook. We're not to let Vivien know about Thea, and then I somehow forgot. I had other things on my mind yesterday.”

“I
knew
you'd say something!” Sadie pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't really say anything, did you?”

Darby smiled. “According to many, I rarely do. Perhaps if I were to kiss you, it would help settle your nerves. You appear poised to leap from this couch if I so much as sneeze.”

“I do not!” Her shoulders slumped. “Yes, I do. I spent half the night wondering how I'd feel seeing you this morning, if you would even come here at all.”

“I never had any intention of not coming to you this morning, but I will say I, too, was awake most of the night. I woke only a little past nine after falling asleep in my study, and then I had to eat, bathe and, most naturally, change my linen.”

“
There!
See? Now you said it. You had to say something, didn't you? Are you done now, because we have other things to—oh. You were awake most of the night, and fell asleep in your study?” She put a hand to his forehead. “Was it the headache again? Is it gone now?”

He took hold of her hand and kissed it. “Yes, it's gone, but I admit to nearly ordering my carriage and coming here, begging for your magical ministrations. Norton tried, but even with my instructions, I'm afraid he failed miserably. That crushed him, as the man appears to have his pride, but although he was to be but a temporary valet while I'm here in London, he's informed me that, as long as Miss Marley is to become a part of my household, he will consider the possibility of making his position permanent. My opinion on that was not consulted.”

Sadie shook her head. “What a strange man. But they did seem to strike up a friendship in the short time they were together in the coach on our way here, and in the few times they've seen each other since then. That's probably because she gave her approval on his reason for
painting
his beard black. Are you quite certain you don't want to know why?”

“And risk another headache? Thank you, but no. But now, about that kiss...”

She closed her eyes and met him halfway, welcoming the thrill that ran through her as their mouths engaged. She was better at kissing now, having had several hours of practice, and only sighed in pleasure as he cupped her breast in his hand, lightly stroking her nipple through the soft cotton of her morning gown.

“Oh, dear. I'm so,
so
sorry. I'll leave now. Don't let me interrupt, just carry on as if I wasn't ever here.”

Sadie pulled back, touching her neckline to be sure it hadn't slipped dangerously low.

“Vivien, my love,” Darby said, getting to his feet to sweep the duchess an elegant bow before escorting her to the facing couch, kissing her hand as she sank into the soft cushions, her tiny feet dangling a good three inches above the carpet. “Even your interruptions are a delight. If you're looking for Basil, he and Marley are entertaining a cockatoo in the solarium. Or perhaps that's the other way 'round.”

Vivien gave a wave of her lace-edged handkerchief. “Looking for him? Gad, I'm
escaping
him. We were merely nattering over breakfast when I happened to mention our travels in Italy and that
lovely
terrace overlooking the red roofs of Florence and the night we—well,” she ended with another flourish of the handkerchief, “just let me say that Harris, my dresser, didn't seem best pleased to have the dressing of me
twice
this morning.”

Darby leaned close beside Sadie's ear. “And you were fretting about the linens. We can only goggle at the thought of what Harris has to say in the servants' hall.”

Sadie bit her bottom lip to hold back a smile. Odd, but Vivien's references, however veiled, to her and the duke's dalliances carried much more meaning this morning than they had heretofore done
.

And all I can say to that is
brava, Your Graces!

“Oh, did I tell you both that Minerva, dearest Minerva, has deserted me to join Dany and Coop, in order to meet Dany's family now that he's prepared them for her? She was invited, you understand, by Dany's sister and her husband, as they were headed there, anyway, to surprise the family with news of the impending birth of the Cockermouth heir. None of them will return until the night of the party for Basil, and although I will miss my friend, I must say, her insistence on purple as the color for all the flowers and bunting was depressingly funereal. Now we'll have pink!”

“Your Grace—”

“No, no, I'm quite settled on the color. And that's Vivien, darling. I shouldn't have to keep reminding you that you're family now. Yes, dear?”

Sadie hesitated. She probably should wait until she could confer with Darby, and with Clarice, as well, but since Gabe was not going to be available and she'd had an idea, and since Marley was now involved, she felt it might be unwise to wait.

“I don't know everything, or even very much at all, about the duke's fear of his coming birthday. But from something he said minutes ago, something Marley said—about a bird, ma'am—I fear His Grace is not entirely confident he'll survive to see it.”

Her Grace sighed. “Giving away things again, is he? Two days ago it was the watch fob he purchased in Paris that he pressed on his valet, and yesterday he gave the cook his best set of suspenders. At least I could understand that, as the cook is nearly as round as he is tall and anything that might relieve the strain on his trousers should be appreciated.”

“Vivien,” Darby said soothingly. “Focus, please. Sadie is telling us that Basil still thinks he might die before his birthday. Is it possible he'll take to his bed again, even retreat to the country again?”

“He seems fairly happy with Marley, bless her heart,” Sadie added. “But that isn't to say he isn't putting on a brave face for her. I...I've seen people die simply because they're fearful that they're going to, especially in the elderly.”

Oops!

Sadie's eyes widened as the duchess's eyes narrowed.

“Not that the duke is elderly. Goodness, no, Vivien, that's not at
all
what I meant. Why, he's just—you're
both
just entering your prime. Aren't they, Darby?”

“‘Indeed, the prime of a man's life lies in the agelessness of his mind,'” he responded profoundly.

“Precisely!” Vivien pointed a finger at him before hopping to her feet and making her way across the room to the drinks table, clearly aiming for the decanter of gin.

Sadie whispered to Darby. “That really doesn't make sense. Who wrote that? Surely not Shakespeare.”

“Hardly. I just made it up. It seems to have worked to pull you out of the briars, and I certainly wasn't going to point out that Basil, although gifting others with his possessions, appears hardy enough to live the romantic life until he
erps
.”

If only I wouldn't appear to have gone mad if I were to dive beneath the couch...

“You're impossible. And I didn't just make that up—you've been impossible since the day we first met. Still, thank you.”

“You may thank me later. Or do you think I'm devoid of a plan to abscond with you for a few private hours this evening?”

There wasn't much she could say to that without betraying herself. Besides, the duchess and her glass of gin were back.

“All right. Now where were we? Nowhere near
elderly
, I'm sure,” she said, taking a sip from her glass.

Sadie rushed into speech. “I just feel, Vivien, that it may be necessary to ease the duke's mind now, rather than risk his trepidation growing with each passing day.”

And to ease Marley's mind, poor baby.

“It isn't that I haven't tried to keep him occupied,” the duchess said on a sigh before busying herself arranging her skirts into flowing pleats. “Lord knows how I have tried,” she repeated, as if talking to herself.

Darby leaned in to whisper in Sadie's ear. “Day in, day out, and very possibly twice on Sundays, goodness, how the poor woman has tried.”

“You're im— No, I'm not going to say it.”

Sadie stood up and walked around the large low table to sit down beside the duchess.

“Vivien,” she said, taking the older woman's hands in hers, “do you think His Grace truly believes there's a curse on the Sinclair men?”

“My dear Sadie, his brothers all—well, as Basil so inelegantly puts it, they did all
erp
on the eves of their sixtieth birthdays. What would you think if you heard the story?”

“Yes, and how did that go again, Vivien, if it isn't too upsetting for you to tell us? Truly, Sadie, it is rather remarkable.”

“No, Darby, it doesn't upset me, except that I sometimes get the names mixed up.” Vivien politely tugged her hands free from Sadie's sympathetic grip, and began counting on her fingers. “The first duke stuck his spoon in the wall with the swiftness of a blown-out candle days before a celebratory hunt in his honor upon his sixtieth birthday. That began it all, although no one thought so at the time. After all, he'd been a hard-living rascal, which is the way nice people say hell-raking libertine. Then came the first of his five sons—the first duchess popped out sons on nearly a yearly basis, you understand. The oldest, and now the second duke, Boswell, was leading a sweet young thing onto the dance floor when, as the story has it, he rolled his eyes heavenward, said something akin to a startled
erp
, and the next thing anyone knew, he was facedown on the floor and gone...also mere days away from his sixtieth birthday. He was quickly followed to his heavenly reward by Bennett, Ballard and Bellamy, each succumbing quite suddenly and, yes, also within days of
their
sixtieth birthdays. Basil began to worry with Ballard, but when we got word about Bellamy having
erped
? The man hasn't been the same ever since.”