A Reckless Promise (21 page)

She shot her arms out so quickly even Sadie was taken aback, watching as Madame's hands unerringly came crashing down on the crystal ball. “Done!”

“Done? What's done?” Basil got to his feet. “What does she mean,
done
?”

“Sit down, dearest. I'm certain she'll tell us.”

Madame Royale removed her hands from the crystal ball and Henry bowed before lifting it from the table and carrying it out into the hallway, returning with a small silver box she presented the fortune-teller, who didn't take it, but merely moved her ring-heavy hands over it three times, muttering something under her breath.

“Rather dragging it out, isn't he?” Darby whispered.

Norton opened his eyes, glaring at the apparently offending table until Rigby scrambled to remove it.

“There was a duke called One,” Madame intoned heavily, her hands still hovering over the silver box. “He took the land and told the Gypsies they must go, never to return, as they had returned for many years. Greedy man. The Gypsy queen cursed him, vowed that he and all his male seed would die before their sixtieth birthdays, a fishbone magically appearing in their gullets. The curse would remain until the Gypsies were invited to return.”

Rigby nodded sagely. “That explains the
erp
.”

“I'll never eat fish again,” Clarice added sincerely, a hand to her throat.

Darby had been right. Their friends' reactions were so much better than if they'd been let in on the secret.
Perhaps I'll tell Clarice one day. And perhaps I won't...

“But...but Madame Royale,” the duke said nervously. “What do I do? I don't
know
any Gypsies. Darby? Rigby? Where does one locate Gypsies?”

“Yes, Darby,” Sadie all but cooed, blinking up at him, as she hadn't been privy to this information before Norton had been sent off with Marley and the maid. “Pray tell, where, oh, where do we find Gypsies before the duke's sixtieth birthday?”

“Be patient, Sadie Grace. I'm a man blessed with a highly inventive mind,” he whispered, at the same time lightly running a finger down the side of her throat...which distracted her from the matter at hand more than she would have previously thought possible.

“Stand before me, Basil Sinclair.”

“Me? Yes, yes, here I come,” the duke said, scrambling to his feet.

Madame Norton—er, Royale rather—waggled her fingers over the silver box. “Gypsy queen, your voice has been heard. The land is now open for your return. I, the most renowned on three continents, revered by kings and princes, feted from the steppes of Mother Russia to the vineyards of France, blessed with ancient secrets and the power to tell all, heal all, the most magnificent, resplendent, glorious Madame Royale, demand you lift the curse from this good man.
Curse—begone!
”

Henry opened the lid of the silver box, reached inside and tossed a handful of silvery glitter in Basil's direction. Because of her small stature, the glitter landed within the area of His Grace's ample stomach.

But Madame Royale wasn't done, and neither was Henry.

“Begone!”

Another shower of silvery glitter.

And yet a third time:
“Begone!”

Thwack
, one last shower, this one delivered as Henry went up on his tippytoes and the glitter smacked the duke square in the face.

“It is done,” Madame said, getting to her feet, lifting one of her many colored shawls and tossing one end over her shoulder. “M'lords, miladies, my work here also is done. Henry!”

The lid of the silver box snapped shut. Henry followed Madame out of the drawing room, but only after turning back to the company and giving them a small wave.

“Oh, good Lord,” Sadie said, burying her head in her hands.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

E
VEN
THE
BEST
-
LAID
plans of mice and men didn't always work out exactly as planned.

Darby had been surprised by Jasper Hooper's revelations; there was no question about that. He hadn't known exactly what he'd wanted to hear, but to think his ward, his sweet Marley, could be the object of a plot to remove her from any line of inheritance had set off an anger inside him the intensity of which amazed even him.

He'd been to war; he'd seen his share of enemies. But to wish a child dead? No. He needed to find and speak with Sam Dobson before he'd believe that.

Except that he already believed it.

Meeting privately with Sadie last night, however, whisking her away on the pretext of a late party and instead taking her back to Park Lane, had been a casualty of that belief, as her total concentration was now centered on getting to Sam Dobson. A romantic dalliance was the farthest thing from her mind, and he could understand that.

He didn't like it, but he could understand it.

My, what a mature fellow you're turning out to be, Darby Travers...

At least his hastily devised plan to ease Basil's mind had come off
wale
. Basil's many travels, and the sights and rites and such that he'd seen, had sparked the idea in Darby, telling him the duke would be at least open to the notion of a curse and a way to banish it.

The man had been positively giddy, requesting that a willing Clarice scoop up “that glittery magic stuff” from the floor so that he could toss some of it over his head, just to make certain all of him was now “uncursed.”

Another result of the evening, for good or ill, had been returning to Park Lane to confront Norton, and ask him a few pertinent questions while the man packed his employer a small traveling bag. He probably should have asked those questions earlier, but he'd been too happy to find an at least marginally proficient and temporary valet for the length of the Little Season.

Norton, it seemed, had more than occasionally dabbled in acting. He was a dedicated
thespian
.

An underappreciated thespian, hence his occasional stints as a valet or gentleman's gentleman. After all, even thespians have stomachs. He met whenever he could with kindred spirits at the Crown and Cock in Piccadilly, all of them “wintering” in London and subsisting as best they could via myriad varied endeavors while awaiting the chance to join with other traveling players and be off on the road again come spring.

Norton had run lickety-split to the Crown and Cock that afternoon, where his friends helped kit him out with the paste jewels and draperies that had changed him into Madame Royale, and even given him hints on how to best play the role.

This had necessitated the shaving of his beard and mustache, a sacrifice he'd made in the name of his art, but he would grow both again.

“One never knows when one might come in handy. Cover the hair, or shave off the beard, and I can play most any role, my lord, from lady of the manor to the Sultan of Persia. Madame Royale cost me the beard, but it was a small price to pay for the opportunity to perform before a duke. I'm the envy of all at the Crown and Cock.”

Darby said he was happy for the man, and turned in, knowing he'd had a busy day, with another full day stretching out before him.

Unbelievably, he slept quite well.

He was up and dressed before sunrise, penning a note to his friend Gabe, apprising him of the lifted curse, and another to Coop, only to tease him about the duke's plan to play at matchmaker between Minerva and the king of coal.

That would teach them both to leave him here with only Rigby to assist him in riding herd on the duke and duchess.

By six, his matched chestnuts were standing ready in their traces and his hooded curricle awaited him as he bounded down the steps clad in tan buckskins, a hacking jacket, his many-caped great coat, his curly brimmed beaver and riding gloves, easily catching the reins his yawning tiger tossed him.

He expected Sadie to be waiting for him when he arrived in Grosvenor Square, and he wasn't disappointed. She wore a fashionable woolen cloak, a matching green velvet bonnet and apparently Clarice had loaned her the ermine muff. With the pair of heavy carriage blankets already folded on the seat, wrapped hot bricks to rest her half boots on and the top pulled up on the curricle, she should be tolerably comfortable. Not toasty, but she was made of stern stuff, and speed was of the essence.

The tiger strapped her small portmanteau beside Darby's, and they were off.

As it was, employing the chestnuts for the first twenty miles, and then changing horses at posting inns every ten miles after that, and stopping only for luncheon, it would still be past two before they caught their first sight of Prinney's minarets.

They wouldn't be able to muster anything in the way of speed until they'd reached the outskirts of London, so Darby took this time to ask about Marley.

“Marley? Please, she is now Henry, or so she insisted last night as we attempted, without much success, to stop her from running in circles around the nursery, spouting that same
‘Begone!'
nonsense Norton had her parroting in the drawing room. She also tossed
magic
glitter on everything from the rocking horse to poor Bridget, when she didn't move out of the way in time.”

Darby laughed. “Have we lost her to the stage, do you think?”

“I sincerely hope not, although she was quite good, wasn't she? I don't think His Grace suspected a thing. When I was at last able to settle Marley and returned to the drawing room, it was to walk in on a lively discussion of the plans for his celebration. He wants pipers now, to precede him into the ballroom, and he and Vivien will be visiting an establishment they referred to as Gunter's today to place orders for all sorts of fanciful confections, as well as ice sculptures of Princess the cockatoo for the supper room. Turbot, you will be unsurprised to learn, has been removed from the menu.”

“I would have been disappointed if it hadn't,” Darby said as he neatly avoided a wagon holding a large mound of cabbages probably meant for Covent Garden Market. “Once we're free of the city, I plan to spring the horses for a bit, if that's all right with you.”

“If we could sprinkle glitter over the horses and they could magically
fly
us to Brighton it would be all right with me,” she told him. “In the meantime, I've asked Clarice to be certain she and Rigby both accompany Marley if she is to go outdoors, and then only as far as taking the air in the square, to exercise Max and Goody. I'd like to believe the Odlings have no idea where she is, but they did find us in Dibden, didn't they? They're probably paying their own robin redbreasts to hunt her down again. I really should have told you all of this sooner, but I truly believed she was safe once she was in London with you.”

Darby reached over to squeeze her hand. “She's safe, Sadie. And we're about to make her safer, remember? Are you ready? The roadway looks clear enough ahead, and my cattle have had enough of this slow pace.”

“I'm ready. Rigby's already told me you're an outstanding whipster, as did you, now that I think of it. Although I suppose anyone would be an improvement over that horrible little man who held the reins on the public coach. One of the outside passengers was actually bumped off at one point and we had to wait while his friend went after him, to dust him off and bring him back. He'd paid, you see, so the coachie had no choice but to stop.”

“I promise, if my tiger is bumped off, I will personally go back and get him.” He raised his voice and called out jovially, “Robinson? Miss Hamilton is up here fretting, and wishes for you to hang tight to the bar, as I'm about to spring 'em.”

“You're impossible.”

“Yes, I know. I've actually begun to look on that as an expression of endearment. ‘Come kiss me, you impossible man.'”

Sadie rolled her eyes, and then grabbed for the strap as he flicked the reins and the chestnuts sprang forward.

Darby was pleased with their progress, and when they stopped for a second change of horses and some luncheon, was even able to tell his tiger to fold back the hood, as the sun was pleasantly warm.

It was quick work arranging a retiring room for Sadie and a private dining room, and he was sipping from a glass of moderately tolerable wine when she was ushered into the room, her nose delightfully shiny thanks to a recent encounter with soap and water, and her gown had been freshly brushed free of road dust.

“Don't you look fine, wife,” he said, getting to his feet and walking around the table to kiss her hand.

“Don't you
wife
me,” she whispered to him as the innkeeper himself carried in their luncheon platters and set them on the table before bowing himself out again. “When the housemaid sent to assist me addressed me as
my lady
, I had to look about to see if someone else had come into the room. Was that really necessary? You could have warned me.”

“I know,” he said, pulling back a chair, inviting her to sit down. “I suppose I didn't have to do it, but I do have my reputation to maintain.”

“
Your
reputation? It was my reputation you were—oh, all right.” She reached for a dangerous-looking knife and attacked the crusty loaf with it. “I concede the point. I have no maid with me, to satisfy the proprieties. But pray tell, my lord, where
do
you put a chaperone when riding through the countryside in a curricle? Do you strap her to the back of the equipage with the luggage?”

“Exactly. Like a stag brought down during a hunt.” He watched, amused, as Sadie next set her sights on the ham. “Did the ham do something to annoy you, Sadie Grace?” he then asked, quickly securing a slice with his fork and tossing it onto his plate.

She looked at what she'd been doing, and all but slammed down the cutlery.

The expression on her beautiful face did not bode well for him, perhaps for any man.

“I have been carving ham for all of my life. I've done everything but butcher the pig and render the fat. But I suppose now the slicing of the ham is to be left to you? The way everything seems to be left to you? I'm not silly enough to lie and tell you I want to go back to the life I have so lately escaped, but nor do I appreciate being seen as someone suddenly rendered incapable of crossing the street on her own. A maid for this, a chaperone for that. I'm not even allowed to put up my own shoes in the cupboard!”

“Your shoes? So this has to do with more than I initially thought. You've got an entire budget of woes to expound on, don't you?”

“I suppose I do, and if that seems ungrateful I'm certain it is, but I have to say it. I'm a grown woman, Darby. I have a mind, and yet I often feel a spectator of my own life these past days. Everything's happening so quickly.”

“There is that, yes. Things. Happening quickly.”

Lord, she was gorgeous when she was angry...and he should be drawn and quartered for thinking such a thing.

“I'm not finished. I'll admit I rather enjoyed being in charge while John was off at war, and it wasn't easy for me to step back when he returned, pretend I had no real mind of my own. And then there you were—there was everyone, and all of them feeling in charge of me, of Marley. All with the best of intentions, and I thank them for it, truly I do.”

“They all adore you both.”

“As we adore them. But
you
? When it comes to managing my life for me, you, my lord, carry off the prize. ‘We're going to London, Sadie. Here is where you will live, Sadie. This is what you will wear, Sadie. Oh, look, Sadie, I've brought my ward a puppy, without so much as asking if puppies might make her sneeze. We will be married, Sadie. Just follow my lead, Sadie. Come lie with me, Sadie.'”

She stopped then, rather abruptly, as if realizing what she'd just said.

Darby got to his feet and moved around the table, to go down on one knee beside her chair. “You're right, and I'm sorry. If I could go back and begin again, I'd do things differently, I swear.”

She kept her chin high, facing forward. “How?”

She had him there. He really couldn't change much leading up to the proposal. And to tell her that he was sorry that he'd taken her to his bed? He'd made his mistakes, yes, but he wasn't a total idiot!

“I don't know. I suppose I should have conferred with you more, asked your opinion.”

Now
she looked at him. “You
suppose
?”

He held up his hands as if to be prepared to defend himself. “I
know
I should have asked your opinion. I should have told you where I was taking you before we set foot in Grosvenor Square instead of springing Vivien and the others on you. Although I doubt you would have believed a word I said about them. I should have conferred with you before landing a puppy in your lap when you were more used to making decisions that affect Marley. I should have prepared you better before announcing our betrothal to everyone. It is my fault entirely that I didn't share Jasper Hooper's name with you before taking you to his residence.”

“And...?”

She wasn't about to let go, was she?

“And I should have taken my time courting you, advancing by inches rather than giant steps. But I'm not going to apologize for that, Sadie Grace. It may have been wrong, but it was also very, very right, which you'd admit yourself if I hadn't given you time to have second thoughts last night. That is what's happened, isn't it? Sadie?”

She reached for the small butter pot and began buttering the slice of bread on her plate.

“Sadie, this is a stone floor, and it's not only uncomfortable on my knee, but cold into the bargain. Are you going to answer me?”