A Reckless Promise (6 page)

“Yes, yes, run along. I'm only sorry to have impeded your progress.”

“Oh, no, Your Grace, you haven't—” The footsteps were getting closer. “Yes, thank you.”

As she picked up her pace she could hear the viscount's voice, but not his words. His tone was light, even friendly. He was probably attempting to talk his way around the duke, which certainly wouldn't happen. She stopped, leaning her back against the wall, her chest heaving after her effort, sure the duke would turn the man around and send him about his business, for he certainly had no
business
in this private area of the mansion.

“Sadie? Why, yes, son, she just blew past me as if shot out of a cannon, matter of fact. You two up to some mischief? A little hide-then-seek, eh? I remember those days with my Viv like it was yesterday. Come to think of it, it was last week, when Clarice and her Rigby were out for a drive. Don't worry, son, I'll keep mum. Us men have to stick together, don't we? Just go to the end of the hall and turn to your right—mind the carpet, it slips—and then the third door down.”

Shock that the duke would aid and abet, as it were, seemed to have stuck Sadie's shoes to the floor. Admittedly, she wasn't as shocked as she would have been five days ago, since the duke and duchess were quite
open
with their affection (“randy as a pair of old goats,” Clarice had called them, winking).

Then she was off again, realizing for the first time how long the hallway was and how defenseless she seemed to be. She hadn't heard any of the ladies following, calling after the viscount, and now the duke had as well as given the dratted man carte blanche.

Her original plan of hiding behind the locked door of her bedchamber seemed ridiculous now, if the viscount had dared come this far. He'd probably just bellow through the door and everyone would know what she had done.

So thinking, she left the door open behind her and hastily flung herself into a pink-and-white flowered slipper chair, folding her hands in front of her as she attempted to catch her breath.

She heard his footsteps, the hunter carefully approaching his prey.

He did in fact stop just in front of the opening, very nearly posing there, drat him, and then so unnecessarily
knocked
on the wooden door before stepping inside and closing the thing behind him.

Now she knew how the mouse felt when the cat had it cornered.

“With your kind permission, Mrs. Boxer,” he drawled before dragging the desk chair into the center of the large room and sitting down, his long legs crossed at the ankle, his arms folded against his chest.

“Let me think for a moment. You are without a husband. And, in almost the very next breath, you told me Maxwell died two years ago,” he said.

He had a memory as good as Marley's, drat him!

“Both truthful statements, yes. Um, taken separately, that is.”

“So you didn't lie to me. Precisely.”

“No, I did not. Not precisely.” Her heart was pounding half out of her chest. If the man became any more
relaxed
he might slide right out of the chair!

“Pardon me if I don't figuratively shower you in rose petals in reward for your selective honesty.”

He had every right to be angry. Incensed. And yet he seemed somehow pleased. What was wrong with the man?

“I had a reason.”

“Oh, I'm certain you did, and a prodigiously good one at that. Please share it with me. I'm all agog to know.”

“Not if you continue to be so facetious. And...and smug. I would have told you. Eventually. Someday. If left with no other—and now you're grinning. How dare you!”

“I dare, madam, because you're not married, have never been married and are definitely not a widow. You certainly aren't a Boxer. So what do I call you now?”

“I don't believe we have a choice, unless you want to tell those kind ladies downstairs that they've been lied to, which I sincerely do not wish to do. Especially after the duchess and Clarice, believing me widowed, insisted on sharing some rather, um,
pointed
jokes about the joys of...”

He was sitting forward now. “Yes? The joys of what, Sadie? I've settled on informality, you'll notice.”

“They considered me equally...experienced. And I won't say any more than that because it would only make you happy. I just thank heaven I spent enough time in my brother's surgery to understand what they were referring to much of the time.”

“Pertaining to the male anatomy, I'll assume. When you dig a hole, Sadie Grace Whomever, you dig it deep, don't you? I suppose we should both thank your lucky stars that Maxwell wasn't a Pomeranian.”

Sadie's mouth twitched upward at the corners, but only for a second. There was much more to come, and she knew it. He was being entirely too congenial for a man who'd been tricked into thinking of her as Mrs. Boxer, addressing her as Mrs. Boxer in conversation, introducing her to his friends as Mrs. Boxer. In fact, he should be hopping mad!

So why wasn't he?

“I shouldn't mention this, as it reveals my sad lack of trust in you, but I wasted a good part of the last four evenings pestering friends and acquaintances, hoping one of them would remember a Maxwell Boxer, perhaps from the war. Oddly enough, none did.”

“You can't blame me for your suspicious nature, my lord,” Sadie pointed out, because she could take his
facetious
and raise him two trumps, blast him!

“I suppose you have me there.” He put his thumb to his cheek and stretched out his fingers to begin massaging his forehead above his left eye. His lips thinned noticeably and his complexion had gone rather pale.

For all his outward composure, clearly inside he was struggling to control his temper. She'd given him the headache, and felt instantly ashamed.

She rushed to explain.

“Marley is John's daughter—I didn't lie about that. She's here because John instructed me to bring her to you. And I'm John's sister, just as I said I am. Sadie Grace Hamilton. I simply felt it safer to travel the public coach as a soldier's widow than as who I am, that's all.”

He looked at her with his one eye. That single piercing blue eye. What was he waiting for now?

“Now you want to know why I simply didn't identify myself in my letter. I...I felt I had a good reason for that. It seemed sensible to have my letter to you carry more weight than one penned by a grieving sister.”

He was still staring.

She squirmed in her seat. What else did he want her to say?

And why couldn't she simply
shut up
?

“And yes, I will say it did occur to me the precariousness of my position. I was bringing my niece to what I believed, rightly, to be a male household. Alone as I was, with only a child with me, I did not want to be perceived as...as fair game.”

At last, a reaction.

He allowed his hand to drop into his lap. “By
me
? Good God, woman, what in bloody hell did John tell you about me?”

“Lovely things, all of them,” she hastened to assure him. “But that doesn't mean I wasn't, am not, an unmarried woman straight from the country, with limited resources of my own, without the slightest protection and determined to do anything I could to assure my niece's well-being.”

“And safety. Let's not forget her safety, as that's what piqued my curiosity in the first place. Are we finished now? Is there anything else I should know?”

Sadie thought for a moment. Was there anything else she should tell him? Probably. Anything else she
wanted
to tell him? No, definitely not.

“Yes, there is. I want you to know that I have agonized over what I've done and am heartily sorry. My plan was hastily formed and badly flawed. And...despicable.”

“Surely not despicable. Unfortunate perhaps. Poorly conceived. Misleading at the least, and maddening at the most. You've caused me several uncomfortable hours, Sadie Grace, for reasons I will not discuss. Yet at the same time, you've eased my mind considerably. You are who you say you are. Marley is whom you say she is. I suppose I'd rather your misguided lies than know I've foisted a pair of imposters upon my friends.”

“How you comfort me.”

“I won't even point out that your last remark could be construed as facetious. I'm a gentleman that way. Now we will put all of this behind us. She likes the dog, you know,” he said. “The stable bitch whelped over a month ago, and suddenly it struck me that Marley might feel
safer
with a companion. I think I did well.”

“You could have brought her a kitten. A female kitten,” Sadie pointed out, getting to her feet, so that he did also. “It would have made everything so much easier.”

“Don't look a gift puppy in the mouth. You've saved yourself a rather intense grilling, Sadie, and should be thankful Marley and the ladies were present when the magic penny finally was dropped into my suspicious brain.”

Was that it? Was he done? She'd like to believe so.

“I suppose I did, yes. I knew you didn't believe me. I'm...I'm not at all used to not being taken at my word. It came as a terrible shock, especially when I realized you had to either take my word on faith or toss us both back into the streets. I began to regret my lie in earnest then.”

“I wouldn't relax just yet. I'm fairly certain those ladies downstairs have been busy putting two and two together and coming up with a solid four. In other words, no, you can't continue as Mrs. Boxer. You have considerable explaining to do, I'm afraid, but I know they'll keep your secret.”

“I'd much rather hide in shame up here for eternity than disappoint them, but if I must, I must. I imagine they're appalled to know I haven't been totally honest with them.”

Now Darby actually laughed out loud. “On the contrary. Knowing the ladies, I imagine they'll be too busy complimenting you before pointing out ways you could have done it better. But we can discuss this in greater depth once we're out of this room and safely public in the square. For now, let's go see how Marley and Max are rubbing along.”

She was more than happy to leave the subject of her lies behind them, and latched on to the subject of the puppies. “You said a litter, didn't you? What are you doing with the rest of them?”

“Naturally, needing only the one, I had the rest drowned in a bucket. Is that what you want to hear?”

Since her relief wasn't exactly total, she could forgive him for his lingering anger.

“I'm not that eager to make you into a monster, my lord. I only hope they find good homes if you can't keep them in the stables.”

“There were only four. Arrangements were made. Come along, we were going for a stroll, remember?”

Sadie looked at the closed door in horror as another thought struck her with the force of a slap to the face. “You followed me upstairs. They all saw you. The duke saw you. We've been gone for a long time. What are they thinking? Oh, Lord, Clarice will giggle, and the duchess will probably ask me outrageous questions. Or worse,
wink
at me.”

“I applaud you on your belated ability to see too late what you should have realized sooner. But I'm afraid it's worse than that. It was one thing for me to have a private talk with the widow Boxer, my ward's aunt. Not precisely proper, considering this is your bedchamber, but rules are meant to be bent. Some of them, but not all.”

Sadie felt a figurative pit opening beneath her feet.

“But that's ridiculous. You can't possibly mean—”

“No, actually, I don't. Knowing these particular ladies as I do, I imagine they'd all think it simply deliciously naughty. Lord knows the duchess doesn't care a snap for convention. Coop's mother believes conventions were invented by men simply to annoy women, and Clarice, bless her, has no real idea as to what they are.”

Sadie sagged back into the chair. “Thank God. For a moment I thought—”

“You thought I'd say convention dictates that we marry. Yes, I know. However, the idea has merit. Speaking practically.”

Sadie believed her eyes just might pop out of her head.

“I beg your—
what?
” To look any more smug he'd have to push out his chest like a pouter pigeon, drat him.

“Speaking practically,” he repeated, retaking his own seat. “Marley is now mine. You? You're rather just
floating
about, aren't you? Neither here nor there, neither fish nor fowl, as it were. The aunt. The spinster aunt, well past her first blush of youth.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“You cut your wisdoms years ago, Sadie Grace, even if you are not yet at your last prayers. I can't hire you as governess and pretend you are no more than a paid employee, not when you're the aunt. I can't allow you to wander about my household in the aforementioned neither fish nor fowl category until Marley is grown and gone—or until you molt. If I were to marry, how on earth would I explain you to my bride? Oh, and one thing more—I'll be damned if I'll give you a Season. So what does that leave us, Sadie Grace, hmm?”

“You can't mean this.”

“I can't do myriad things. I can't fly. I can't swim across an ocean. I can't pat my head and rub my stomach at one and the same time—but you might want to apply to Rigby on that one, as he believes the feat extraordinary when he does it. I
can
, however, see the merit in a marriage of convenience between us. Purely a business arrangement. And think how pleased Marley will be, to know for certain that you're not going to leave her. Consider the child, Sadie Grace.”

“I can't believe this is happening.”

“Oh, come now, am I that terrible? I'm fairly attractive, even with the patch. My teeth are good, I bathe on a regular basis and am complimented on my abilities on the dance floor. Oh, yes, I'm also so very wealthy I could grow old just counting my money. In short, I'm quite the coup.”