A Reckless Promise

Not to the lies themselves, thank goodness, but to the fact she was telling them.

She’d actually believed herself to be on relatively solid ground until he’d asked her why he should believe her as to Marley’s identity, her own identity. He’d certainly had every right to ask the question, but she hadn’t been prepared to have her word doubted. She had proof, certainly she did, but to show it to him would open the door to everything else.

“There you are, Sadie. He’s downstairs. Don’t forget your new cloak and bonnet. And just you wait until you see what he’s brought with him!”

Sadie snapped out of her uncomfortable reverie, surreptitiously wiped at her damp cheeks and unfolded herself from the window seat overlooking the mews. Smoothing down the same light blue morning gown she’d worn the first time she’d met the viscount, she looked at Clarice, who was all but hopping from one foot to the other, apparently in some anticipation.

What a lovable creature she was, and lovely into the bargain, from her blond curls to her saucer-size blue eyes, to her...interestingly curved figure. But it was her open and carefree nature that made Sadie feel so comfortable around her, and she knew she had found a friend.

Clarice Goodfellow viewed most everything to be either delicious or wonderfully exciting and worthy of exclamations—be it the materials the ladies had picked for Sadie’s and Marley’s new wardrobes or the fact that the Cranbrook chef had prepared sugared berries for dessert.

“My goodness, Clarice, did the man bring a pony with him, or perhaps a monkey on a chain?”

Her new friend looked crestfallen for a moment. “No, neither of those.” Just as quickly, she brightened once more. “But very nearly as wonderful.”

Sadie patted at her hair as she did a quick inventory of her appearance in the mirror—she must have looked into the mirror more often since arriving at the cottage than she had done in her entire life—picked up her borrowed cloak and bonnet and followed Clarice out into the hallway. “Then we must settle for very nearly as wonderful. I will do my utmost to hide my disappointment.”

“Oh, he didn’t bring anything for you, silly. He brought it for Marley.”

Sadie found herself tipping her head slightly and smiling. The viscount had brought a gift—a very nearly as wonderful as a pony or a monkey gift—for his new ward? Wasn’t that sweet. And thoughtful. Perhaps she’d been judging him too harshly, and he was more delighted to have a ward thrust upon him than he was interested in asking questions.

No, she doubted that. He had probably brought the gift just so that she would relax, feel in charity with him, and then he’d start in on the questions once more.

Oh, he was a tricky sort. And not above using Marley to get to her, soothe her into lowering her guard, even liking him. She’d thought he’d assign the ladies the mission of asking penetrating questions, assuming she would tell women things she would not tell him. They’d gathered around like mother hens over Marley, and taken Sadie into their circle without a blink. She had never much cared for the company of women, truth be told, but these ladies were so open, so sincere and definitely unique that Sadie probably would have confided in them if they’d asked.

Yet none of them had, not in five whole days.

“You’ve been lulled into feeling comfortable, Sadie Grace. This unexpected gift to Marley is probably the man’s coup de grâce, and he’ll expect you to spout the truth now like a garden fountain.”

“You said something, Sadie?” Clarice asked from behind her.

“Just cudgeling my brain as to what this gift could be,” she answered, realizing she still had her hand on the newel post, and had not begun a descent to the lower floor.

“There’s only one way to find out, you know, and dragging your feet like some silly looby isn’t one of them. Come on now, it doesn’t bite. Well, at least it hasn’t yet. Follow me.”

Clarice brushed past her, leaving Sadie to follow. But slowly. She was girding her loins, or stiffening her upper lip, or whatever anyone could hope to do when faced with a worthy adversary.

But she possessed her own measure of intelligence. She had long ago cultivated a rather admirable backbone. She had to remember that; she was not without defenses of her own. The viscount was no match for her, not when she didn’t allow herself to be distracted by anything. Not by this so-called gift. Not by the generous inclusion offered by the ladies. Not by the soft bed, nor the more than ample meals. Not the new gowns she and Marley would soon have hanging in their wardrobes.

And most certainly not the smiling, one-eyed viscount who was much too attractive for her to think about him the way she had been these last days, just as if she’d never before encountered anyone quite like him.

Even if she hadn’t.

Sadie approached the drawing room slowly, listening to the voices coming from the interior, and paused in the doorway to see the duchess, Clarice and Mrs. Townsend all leaning forward in their seats, looking at something on the floor.

Someone on the floor.

The viscount, clad in his impeccable London finery, was actually sitting cross-legged on the carpet, watching as Marley sat there, as well, attempting to hold on to a squiggly tan puppy with long drooping ears and a tongue currently employed in placing slobbering kisses all over her niece’s face.

“Oh, stop, puppy, stop!” Marley exclaimed, still holding on tightly. “That tickles!”

“Perhaps if you let him go he’d stop,” the viscount suggested, his smile easy and relaxed.

He looks younger again, the way he did with the pillow marks on his cheek. And he genuinely seems to be enjoying himself.

Marley tightened her grip on the puppy, and Sadie quickly recognized a now-familiar panic rising in the child. She would have gone to her, but wanted to see how His Lordship reacted to this new problem. Besides, the shin-kicking episode was still fresh in her mind. With her aunt by her side, Marley might just feel protected enough to say or do something that would ruin the lovely scene.

“Go on, sweetheart,” Clarice soothed as she settled into a chair. “He really seems to want to roam now.”

“You won’t take him away, will you? He gets to stay with me forever and ever, doesn’t he? Auntie Vivien,” she implored, looking to the duchess, “he’s my puppy now, isn’t he? He won’t go away?”

Even as the duchess and the other women all spoke at once, fervently agreeing the puppy would stay (Clarice adding, “Even if he pids on the carpets”), the viscount inched closer to Marley, patting the dog’s golden head.

“Marley, look at me, please,” he said quietly.

The child sniffled, but then did as she was told.

Sadie held her breath.

“I told you the puppy is yours, didn’t I? I wouldn’t lie to you, on my word as a gentleman. I realize you don’t know me well, but I trust the good ladies here will vouch for me.”

As one, the ladies “vouched.”

“Thank you, ladies. Do you believe me now?”

Marley bit her bottom lip, but then nodded. “I suppose so, Darby.”

Dear Lord, he had the child calling him Darby? Against her wishes to the contrary? First the puppy, and now the unseemly informality. What next from this unpredictable man? Would he bounce her niece on his knee while reciting nursery rhymes?

The viscount held out his arms and the child released her death grip so that he could deposit the fuzzy and undoubtedly relieved little thing on the carpet, where, as if fulfilling a prophecy, he immediately sniffed the carpet and then piddled.

He was a small puppy, so it was a small piddle, and nobody commented.

“Good. And now that that’s settled, perhaps you’d feel even better if you gave this scamp here a name. We can’t keep calling him ‘puppy,’ now can we? Do you have a name in mind? Reginald, perhaps?”

Once again the ladies spoke in near-unison:

“George, after our beloved king.”

“Bouncer. See how he bounces when he walks?”

“Major. Look at those paws. He may be small now, but he’ll grow. He needs a name worthy of the man—that is, the dog he will become.”

“I shall name him Max,” Marley announced above the friendly argument.

There was an immediate chorus of agreement. Sadie imagined the ladies would have lauded the choice if her niece had chosen to name the thing Doorstop.

But did she have to pick Max?

“Max,” the viscount repeated, looking to Sadie, proving he’d known she’d been standing some distance away all along.

Did she look like someone whose stomach had just hit the floor?

“His name is Max,” Marley said again, rather forcefully this time. “Max is a very good name for a dog. Papa named his dog Max, so this one will be Max, as well. Only I won’t let this Max escape his leash and get run down by a cart, or leave me the way Papa did. Mama died, too, but I don’t remember her. You promised, Darby.”

The ladies variously sighed, or dabbed at their eyes or, in the case of Minerva Townsend, loudly blew into a handkerchief.

“Then it’s agreed,” the viscount said, again looking toward Sadie.

Had he noticed that she’d backed up two paces since he’d last glanced her way?

The duchess, carefully keeping her skirts out of reach of the dog, asked Marley if this Max looked like the last Max. “I know your uncle Basil gave the same name to two of our birds, but that was only because we had so many that he forgot we already had a Punjab. Extremely common name, Punjab. Well, at least in some areas. I believe we were in—but that doesn’t matter at the moment, does it, Minerva, so you can stop worrying that I’m about to launch into a story not fit for young ears.”

“I know I’ll hear it later,” the lady grumbled, and sat back on her chair, clearly finished with the subject. “Just don’t linger on the birds and leave out the good parts.”

Marley, seemingly oblivious to everything save the duchess’s first question, shook her head, her newly trimmed blond curls swinging about her cheeks. “Max was so big I could ride on him. Papa said he looked like a horse, so that was all right, at least until I grew.”

Sadie backed up another step, turned her head to judge how far she was from the hallway, the stairs.

The dratted man couldn’t have brought her a kitten, could he? Or even a monkey.

The viscount scooped up the puppy and returned it to Marley’s arms. “I’ve recently purchased a very handsome black horse. Was he perhaps black, this horse of yours?”

Marley began petting the puppy. “No, Max was brown, but much browner than this. And he had little ears that stood up, and white feet like the grocer’s wagon horse, and some white on his face even though a lot of it was black. Papa called him sleek. He was so handsome.”

“Brown—clearly dark brown,” Clarice said, apparently enjoying a puzzle. “White feet, black muzzle—oh, and small ears. Do you know what I think? I think Marley means the dog was a boxer. My cousin Lester had a pair of them for hunting. Handsome things, when they weren’t slobbering all over my shoes.”

Sadie had resumed covertly backing up when the viscount asked the color of the dog.

She’d turned toward the foyer at the words even though a lot of it was black.

And she had tossed both cloak and bonnet in the general direction of one of the duke’s footmen before she’d hitched up her skirts and was already halfway up the stairs as Clarice had clapped her hands and asked, “Do you know what I think?”

By the time she reached the landing she could hear the viscount’s Hessians on the marble stairs, and increased her pace, praying there was a key on her side of the bedchamber door.

Skirts still above her ankles, she ran down the hallway, sliding around a corner thanks to a small rug on the floor that apparently wanted to travel along with her.

“Whoa there, Sadie. In a rush, are you?”

She skidded to a halt. “Your Grace,” she gasped, dropping into a curtsy as she came face-to-face with the Duke of Cranbrook. “I’m so sorry. I forgot something in my room. Please excuse me.”

“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.