Promise Me Forever (13 page)

“You’re an heiress, Lauren,” Gina reminded her. “You’ll have dances and plenty of them. His friends may feel sympathy for Kimburton, but there isn’t a lord in London who wasn’t glad to know he might have an opportunity to fill up the family coffers with what marriage to you will provide. Trust me, I know all about how desperately some want to fill the coffers.”

It was filling the Huntingdon coffers that had led to her marriage to Devon. A marriage of convenience that had unexpectedly turned into a marriage of love. Whereas if Lauren had married Tom long ago, their marriage of love would have become a marriage of convenience. Although she couldn’t help but wonder how different her experiences in England might have been if she’d had him at her side, exuding confidence even when he wasn’t sure of himself. To constantly have his kisses, his touch—

“So what are your plans regarding Tom?” Lydia asked.

Swallowing hard, Lauren stared at her cousin. “Pardon?”

“Tom. What other lessons do you plan to teach him?”

“Oh, lessons, yes. Umm…well, there’s your ball next week, of course. We’ll need to review the protocol there.”

“Did you want me to have a small ball, so you might practice?” Lydia asked.

Lauren laughed. “No, that won’t be necessary. I can explain what he needs to know. He wants to be seen as not being a barbarian. I suppose an outing to the theater might suffice.”

“Are you really going back to Texas?” Gina asked, effectively altering the direction of the conversation, before Lauren could completely compile a list of lessons.

She smiled warmly. “Indeed I am. Does it make you jealous?”

“Strangely, no. Going to Texas would mean leaving Devon. I can’t imagine my life without him in it. You loved Tom once—”

“I was a child. We’ve both changed considerably.”

“What if while spending time with him, you fall in love with him again?” Lydia asked.

Ignoring her cousin’s question, Lauren got up, walked to the window, and looked out on the garden. “It looks as though the gentlemen have gone outside to smoke cigars.”

“Should we join them?” Gina asked. “I’ve always thought separating the sexes after dinner was silly.”

“You think everything is silly,” Lydia said.

“Because most of it is.”

“What do you think they talk about when they banish us from their presence?” Lauren asked quietly.

“Rhys assures me that it’s nothing of any importance,” Lydia said.

“We could always sneak up on them and eavesdrop,” Gina said.

“That would be highly improper,” Lauren reminded them.

“We’re Texas ladies,” Gina said. “We’ve earned the right to be improper.”

Lauren spun around, smiling. “Earned the right?”

Gina shrugged. “Maybe
earned
isn’t the right word. What ever the word is, however, is unimportant. If we want to know what they’re saying, we should just go listen.”

“I’m trying to teach Tom proper behavior.”

“Boring behavior if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Lauren snapped. “And do you think I want to watch him change, do you think I want to be the one responsible for caging up everything about him that I once loved?” She buried her face in her hands, fighting back the tears.

“Lauren?”

She felt both her friends at her side. Sniffing inelegantly, she dropped her hands to her side. “I’m
sorry. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself, and I promised to teach him, and I know it’s silly, but I miss the boy he was.”

“That would be the case even if you weren’t teaching him,” Lydia said. “He stopped being the boy you knew a long time ago. Maybe it’s time you took a good, hard look at the man.”

“That was much more enjoyable than I thought it would be,” Tom said, as the carriage traveled through the quiet streets.

He sat across from Lauren but she could smell the faint scent of a richly aromatic cigar and the barest hint of the brandy he’d sipped and the incredibly, wonderful masculine fragrance that was him. He took up so much space inside the carriage, not because he was huge, but because she was simply so aware of his long legs and hard muscles and broad chest and wide shoulders. Take a good, hard look at the man her cousin had suggested. As though Lauren had any choice. As though every aspect of his appearance didn’t draw her eye, wasn’t pleasing. As though she wasn’t aware of each breath he took. As though she couldn’t make out the outline of his hands in the dark resting on his thighs, couldn’t clearly envision them reaching for her buttons—

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Lydia”—she cleared her throat hoping to make her voice stop sounding like a hinge in need of
oiling—“will be hosting the first ball of the Season next week. I was simply making a mental list of everything we need to address before then.” Liar, liar. “I suppose we should make arrangements for dance lessons—”

“I know how to dance.”

She laughed lightly. “The dancing here is a bit different than what you’re used to, Tom.”

“I know how they dance over here. Lydia’s stepfather gave a bunch of us cowboys a few lessons right before her eighteenth birthday. I think that was part of his birthday gift to her: making sure she didn’t get her toes stepped on.”

“Oh, yes, she’d mentioned that you’d danced, she just hadn’t indicated that you were very good at it.”

“I don’t know why she would.”

Because it was a part of him that Lauren wanted to know about. She was greedy for any little tidbit of information. Glancing out the window at the night, she didn’t know why it bothered her to think of her cousin dancing with Tom, being held in his arms, feeling the warmth from his body…of dancing with him when Lauren never had. Surely she wasn’t jealous. No, of course not. She was simply mystified that there were so many aspects of Tom with which she was unfamiliar, things that he had experienced that she had no idea about.

Picking at the fabric of her skirt, she considered all that she didn’t know. Finally, she said, “Before
coming here, you could have asked Grayson Rhodes to teach you what you wanted to know.”

“I didn’t have time, except to get on a steamship and try to figure out what all this mess was about. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t get over here and discover it was all a mistake. Then wouldn’t I look like a fool, going around telling people I was an earl when in fact I wasn’t?”

She’d never realized before how much he worried about the impression he made on people, and she wondered what aspects of his life were responsible for that.

“So you feel you can handle a ball quite satisfactorily?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“Then I’ll arrange a few other outings between now and then. It’s important to be seen, and if Lydia and Rhys accompany us, you should be able to have a few introductions before the ball so you won’t feel as though you’re walking among strangers.”

“I like Rhys,” he said, as though he’d grown bored of talking etiquette. She’d tried to warn him.

“Lydia loves him so much.”

“I think the feeling is mutual.”

“Last Season he tried to send her away, but she refused to go. She stood by him when no one else would.”

“For a town that has so many rules about proper behavior, there sure seems to be a lot of scandal going on.”

“Imagine how much more we’d have if we had no rules.”

“Maybe it’s having all the rules that causes all the problems. Some people just feel a need to break rules, or at least to see how far they can bend them.”

“Is that what you do, Tom? See how far you can bend them?”

“Don’t you know me well enough, Lauren, to know I’m not content with bending? I much prefer to break them.”

“What if someone gets hurt?”

“I don’t see how using a fork in my right hand is going to hurt someone.”

“Are there rules you wouldn’t break?”

“Of course there are.”

“I should tell my mother that. It might put her mind at ease.”

“I doubt it.”

A dangerous undercurrent shimmered through his voice, warned her that she needed to change the course of the conversation. “Did you know that here ladies are expected to swoon? Lady Blythe once had a swoon party where all the girls—this was a while ago—had to practice swooning and gave each other advice on how to make it look more convincing.”

Tom chuckled. “I can’t see you swooning.”

“I never have. I think it’s silly, to appear helpless when you’re not.”

“Maybe the ladies swoon because they think it makes the men feel strong, like they’re protecting them.”

“It’s still silly. Would you want to marry a woman who was completely helpless?”

“No. I want a woman who could stand up to me, who could take my teasing and tease back. A woman who would put me in my place if I got out of line.”

“Maybe I’ll write a book like Lydia’s, but I’ll call it
A Lady’s Guide to Taming a Cowboy
. It should sell quite well as long as you’re not married and every lady in London thinks she has a chance at capturing your heart.”

“Rhys said they don’t necessarily marry for love here.”

“That doesn’t mean they don’t try to capture hearts. It’s part of the game. And you will need to marry, Tom. You’ll need to provide an heir.”

“Ravenleigh hasn’t. Is he worried about it?”

“It seems contradictory, but he never has pressured Mother to give him a son. At least not that I’m aware of. As a matter of fact, he seems quite content to pass everything on to his nephew.” She yawned. “All in all you did very well to night.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“That was the beauty of having dinner with Lydia. No one would have cared.”

“I think I could consider Rhys a friend.”

“Yes, you probably could, considering you both have a bit of wickedness in you.”

“I think you like wickedness.”

“Don’t tempt me into proving you wrong, Tom.”

“I think you’re afraid you’ll prove me right.”

He moved across the carriage until he was sitting beside her.

“A gentleman isn’t supposed to sit beside a lady—”

“I know.” He touched his finger to her lips. No gloves. When had he removed his gloves?

“Don’t you get tired of spouting rules?” he asked.

“It’s what you’re paying me to do.”

“When it’s just you and me, I don’t give a damn about the rules.”

Before she could even contemplate objecting, his mouth was covering her, his tongue delving deeply, hungrily. She could taste the brandy he drank earlier, could taste the unique flavor that was him. She should shove him aside, insist that he stop…and she would in a few more seconds. She would allow one more sweep of his tongue, one more groan, one more whimper, one more—

The carriage rolled to a stop, and they broke apart. She could see his satisfied grin in the shadowy confines of the conveyance.

“You didn’t prove anything,” she said.

His grin simply grew. She knew she was protesting too much. Where he was concerned she seemed to have no will to resist.

The door opened, and the footman helped Lau
ren alight. Tom followed and escorted her up the steps. At the top, she placed her hand on the door handle.

“So what’s next?” he asked, as though he realized that she planned to disappear before he could kiss her again.

“I’ll talk with Lydia, see when she’s available and send word to you.”

He trailed his finger along the side of her neck and desire raced down to the soles of her slippers. “It was just a kiss,” he said quietly.

Just
a kiss? That was like saying the Crown jewels were just jewelry or Big Ben was just a bell.

“Moments like that will simply make it more difficult when the time comes for me to leave.”

“So you’d rather have no memories to take with you?”

She looked over her shoulder. “I’d rather we stick to the bargain we made.”

“All right.” He took her hand, very slowly peeled off her glove, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “Just remember that we’ve made two bargains, and they both need to be kept.”

Before she could comment that the bargain they’d made as children would never be kept, he’d turned and hurried down the steps. She wouldn’t keep it. He was being silly to even think that she would.

As she walked into the house, she decided that come morning she would have Molly discard any
dresses or gowns that Lauren had with buttons in the front. Not that she thought Tom would take advantage without permission, but because the truth was, he’d guessed right. She was afraid he was a temptation she couldn’t resist.

Within his carriage Tom stroked the glove, pulled it between his fingers, wondered when Lauren would realize that he hadn’t given it back to her. Every moment spent with her was pure torment, to be near and not touch, to give in to temptation and kiss, but not possess.

He wasn’t exactly certain when his plans regarding her had changed, when he’d decided that he didn’t want her to teach him as much as he wanted to demonstrate to her the passion and fire that could exist between them.

He didn’t want her leaving with anything left unexplored between them. And that meant doing all in his power to break through her reserved facade. To undo her years of training.

To make her want him as desperately as he wanted her.

“I
inquired. He’s been invited.”

“Then surely he will show.”

“One can only hope.”

“He might not realize the importance of this affair.”

“It’s the first ball of the Season. Of course he realizes its importance. He’s been here long enough to learn to appreciate a few of our customs.”

“I do hope you have no plans to seize all of his attentions this evening, as you apparently have since his arrival.”

Standing with the four ladies who had been in her stepfather’s drawing room the afternoon Tom had arrived, Lauren couldn’t seem to stop herself
from blushing as Lady Blythe directed her last statement Lauren’s way with obvious disapproval. Her glare was hard, her lips pursed, and her brow arched. The dancing had yet to begin, and the ladies were engaged in their customary gossiping session. The fact that it was indeed the first ball of the Season—hosted by the Duchess of Harrington no less—also meant that many of those in attendance had a good deal of catching up to do, and a few other ladies were nudging up against their circle, striving to determine what juicy tidbits they might have missed.

“During the time I’ve spent with him, his attention has been focused more on learning your rituals than on me,” Lauren explained, resenting that she felt any need at all to explain her actions or her time with Tom. Over the past week, accompanied by Lydia and Rhys, she and Tom had attended a performance at Albert Hall, browsed through the National Portrait Gallery, visited the Crystal Palace, and strolled through the zoological gardens. Everywhere they went, Lydia was quick to introduce the new earl to anyone of importance, which was the advantage of going through London accompanied by a duke and his duchess: There were few people they couldn’t impose upon for introductions.

Tom was always charming, dazzling the ladies with his roguish smile. Even his slow drawl didn’t seem to grate on anyone’s nerves as hers had. Lady
Blythe had spoken truly that first afternoon: When one was wealthy and titled a good many faults were easily overlooked. As a matter of fact, Tom was handling himself so well that Lauren was really beginning to wonder if she had any true purpose other than to provide him with a decoration for his arm and occasional conversation. Not that either was any hardship, but he was much less untutored than she’d realized.

Oh, some of the minute details would throw him from time to time: the practice of tipping the street sweepers who cleared the streets ahead of them so they could cross without stepping in horse dung, sitting in a shop so items could be shown to him—he’d purchased fans for all the ladies in Ravenleigh’s house hold. Small things. Things he could have easily learned through observation. He was extremely generous—

“He sent me flowers, you know,” Lady Blythe said. “After we rode through the park last week. Pink roses.”

Too generous perhaps
, Lauren thought, suddenly unreasonably irritated that he was showering attention—

“The ones he sent me were white,” Lady Cassandra said.

“Mine were red.” Lady Priscilla giggled.

All eyes turned to Lady Anne. She blushed. “Mine were an assortment of red, pink, and white. ‘I appreciate the warm welcome,’ was written on
the note that accompanied them. I thought that was extremely sweet of him.”

But none had been sent yellow roses, Lauren couldn’t help but notice, taking delight in the realization that those had been reserved for her and her alone. A little bit of Texas.

The ladies nodded, murmuring that Sachse had expressed the same sentiments to them. Very tactful on his part, not to single one of them out for more attention while at the same time making each feel special. Very tactful and very clever.

“And the color of your flowers?” Lady Blythe asked Lauren, a bit of snideness in her voice that Lauren didn’t appreciate.

“I didn’t receive flowers after we rode in the park,” she said, not inclined to reveal that hers had come before. They knew enough about her public moments with Tom. The private ones she intended to hold to herself—not that they’d had many private moments, but still…

“Do you think he’ll come dressed as a cowboy to night?” Lady Cassandra asked.

“I daresay that would be scandalous,” Lady Blythe announced.

“He wasn’t wearing gloves when he appeared at Ravenleigh’s or the morning when we rode together in the park.” Waving her fan frantically in front of her face, Lady Cassandra appeared on the verge of a swoon. “I’ve never touched a man’s bare hand before. I do hope he shall ask me to dance.”

“What if he doesn’t know how to dance?” Lady Priscilla asked.

“Oh, he knows,” Lauren assured them.

“Did you teach him?” Lady Priscilla asked.

“No, he picked that up in Texas, all on his—”

“Oh, my word, I think that’s him,” Lady Blythe interrupted breathlessly.

“I believe you’re right,” Lady Cassandra said. “I daresay it is quite a quandary whether I prefer him dressed as a cowboy or a gentleman. Although I must confess that I don’t recall him looking quite so extraordinarily handsome.”

“He does still look exceedingly dangerous, though. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I can scarcely breathe,” Lady Blythe said.

Perhaps your corset is laced too tightly
, Lauren considered murmuring, but held the words back, because she, too, was having difficulty breathing.

Tom was quite simply gorgeous. Every ounce of English blood he possessed was on display. Oh, he still possessed a slight swagger, but his mien radiated confidence and self-assurance. His black swallow-tailed double-breasted jacket, open to reveal his white silk waistcoat, did little to hide the breadth of his chest and shoulders. A white silk tie adorned his white shirt, and brought out the swarthiness of his deeply tanned complexion. The darkness of his skin was a stark contrast to the paler complexions of many of the other men in attendance. Yet so much more about him caused every
head to turn toward him. It was the manner in which he strode through the room, dark and feral, sleek, like some ferocious beast that might be captured but never tamed. Not a wolf, but something more regal: a lion perhaps, a tiger, a panther. A creature that prowled through the night.

In spite of her recent tutoring and instructions, she’d failed to tame him, and that knowledge pleased her immensely. She had yet to destroy that which made him magnificent. And he was magnificent, as he cut a swath through the other men as though they hardly existed—with only a brief acknowledgment here and there—his gaze boring into her as though no other lady inhabited the room. With all these people gathered around, how had he managed to find her so easily?

Before he reached her, the music began signaling that the first dance of the evening—a waltz—was soon to begin. Lauren’s dance card was almost completely filled, but she’d deliberately left the first dance open. Only now did she realize why.

Tom came to a stop before her, his gaze roaming over her, his eyes filling with an appreciation that caused her heart to speed up, her skin to grow warm.

“Good evening, darlin’,” he said in that low rumble that sent shimmers of plea sure cascading through her.

“Hello, Tom.” She shook her head, curtsied slightly. “Hello, my lord.”

He grinned, his mustache shifting up to accommodate the width of his smile. “No need to be so formal, Lauren.”

Before she could comment, he’d turned to the others. “Good evening, ladies. I can’t recall ever seeing so much beauty in one place.”

Lauren heard the tiniest of squeals and a wistful sigh.

“I hope I haven’t arrived too late to reserve a dance with each of you.”

Lady Blythe giggled annoyingly and held up her wrist, dangling her dance card in front of him. “I believe dance five is available. It’s a waltz.”

Tom took the pencil she offered and scrawled his name on her card. Then he looked at Lady Cassandra. “What about you, darlin’? Do you have a dance for me?”

Lady Cassandra began frantically waving her fan, and Lauren feared she was on the cusp of demonstrating one of her infamous swoons.

“Number eight,” she fairly squealed, as though her corset was also laced up too tightly.

Lauren was feeling quite nasty; she didn’t want to acknowledge that it might stem from the fact that they had such a keen interest in Tom or that he might be the slightest bit interested in them. She didn’t like seeing him flirting with them, even though she knew it was his nature to flirt harmlessly with anything that wore skirts.

Tom signed Lady Cassandra’s dance card, then
Lady Anne’s and Lady Priscilla’s. And as a few of the other ladies who’d been gathered nearby pressed in on him, he signed their cards as well. Then he winked, somehow managing to take in the entire assemblage. “Now if you ladies will excuse me, I promised my first dance to Miss Fairfield.”

Tom reached for Lauren’s hand, but before he could grab it she placed her hand on his arm.

“You offer a lady your arm,” she said quietly.

He grimaced, and she thought she could see a blush beneath his collar. He wore no bandanna that might reflect any sort of red coloring onto his skin. How interesting that he was so easily embarrassed, that he did actually blush.

“Thanks,” he said, as he escorted her onto the dance floor, where he smoothly took her within the circle of his arms.

“I must say that you are certainly charming the London ladies,” she said.

“I’m trying. Harrington explained that my most important task is to find a wife.”

She lost her footing—

“Whoa,” he said. “Are you all right?”

—but his hold on her was sturdy enough that they managed to avoid any embarrassing mishap.

“Yes.” She laughed self-consciously. Of course, he would marry. She knew that. She simply hadn’t accepted it. “I didn’t realize you’d already begun the wife hunt.”

“The ‘hunt’ part makes it sound a little barbaric.”

“Yes, I suppose it does, but still I didn’t realize that you were searching for a wife already.”

“Not seriously pursuing one at the moment. I’m simply keeping my options open.” His gaze roamed over her bare shoulders. “I sure do appreciate your dress.”

“I believe Charles Worth would shudder if he heard you call it a dress. It’s an evening gown.”

“It suits you.”

“Worth has an uncanny ability to know the style and color that will most flatter a woman. His gowns are considered works of art, and I daresay that he charges enough that they could be framed and hung on walls as such.”

Tom laughed. “Still a bit of country in you, isn’t there, Lauren?”

“I sometimes fear there’s more than a bit.”

“Why does that frighten you?”

“That was simply an expression. I actually hope I’ve retained some of the country. I worry a bit that I won’t fit in when I return to Texas. Wouldn’t that be ironic, to find that I’ve changed so much that I might feel as out of place there as I once felt here?”

“I think if you set your mind to it, you can fit in wherever you want.”

“I can at least give the appearance of fitting in,” she admitted. “Speaking of fitting in, you certainly
have adapted well. I don’t think you’re going to need me at all to night.”

“Oh, darlin’, I need you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

There was an undercurrent to his words, something more than the idle banter. She wanted to touch his cheek, brush back his hair that had fallen forward. As he continued to swirl her around the room, she became lost in the heat of his dark gaze. She didn’t want to think of him looking at anyone else in quite the same manner as he looked at her: as though she was still his.

The music drifted into silence and quiet murmurs began to take up the space left behind as people started to seek out their next partner. Lauren had never had a chance to dance with Tom in Texas. She was glad that at least she’d leave England having had one dance with him.

He leaned near, bending his head slightly. “It was my plea sure to dance with you, darlin’. I hope you’ve saved at least one more dance for me.”

Her heart fluttered with the seductive rasp of his voice, the wafting of his breath just below her ear. She nodded, barely able to push out the words. “The last one.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes.”

As he escorted her off the dance floor, she realized that she would be as well.

Tom had never had occasion to experience jealousy, but at the moment it was sure rearing its
ugly head. Lauren was without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the room, and one of the most sought after. Her dance card was obviously filled because she had yet to sit out a dance. Tom seldom took his eyes off her, which made dancing with any other lady a dangerous undertaking.

“Stop watching her.”

Tom shifted his gaze to Lydia. It seemed that they’d both improved since they’d danced in her family’s barn on her birthday. “I can’t say I think much of this two-dance rule you have over here,” he said.

She gave him an impish grin. “If we didn’t, she wouldn’t have much of a chance to dance with anyone else, now would she?”

Not if he had anything to say about it. Not that he thought he would. During the past week, during each of their outings, she’d been polite and reserved while rattling off instructions, explanations, and examples of what was considered proper and what wasn’t. He couldn’t deny that he’d learned a lot or that she was doing exactly as he’d asked: teaching him to project the polished veneer of a civilized man. But they’d seldom had a moment alone, to truly talk, to explore possibilities.

It had taken every bit of restraint he could muster not to go out every night and toss rocks at her window to get her attention.

“Oh, someone’s brooding,” Lydia said.

He dropped his gaze to Lydia’s. “My apologies.
I was just thinking about everything we’ve done in the past week, and it doesn’t seem like we’ve really had any time to just…” He let his voice trail off. To just what? To get to know each other again?

“The Season is known for being a whirlwind of activities.”

“And you love it.”

“I do. And I’ll warn you that it’s about to get much more hectic, now that the first ball has taken place.”