A Reckless Promise (12 page)

Sadie nodded her head. “They're both very fond of Clarice.”

“They also both have strangely inventive minds. I can hear Basil now, contemplating a possible assassination. He's already come to her defense, you know, much to Gabe's astonishment, but that's a story for another time. Besides, I think we may want to further explore your remarks concerning who might have put a curse on the Sinclair men. I'll have a coach sent 'round for you both at eleven.”

Sadie was confused. “All right, I suppose. But I was only being silly.”

“Sometimes, my dear Sadie Grace, being silly is actually achieved by highlighting possibilities other, more sober brains may have overlooked.”

“Do you really think—”

“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'? Yes, I do.”

“Shakespeare. Hamlet, to be exact. Quoting the bard doesn't make the idea any less absurd, you know. Look,” she said as the door opened, “here comes Rigby now. Oh, dear, he doesn't look happy, does he?”

“Rigby?” Darby inquired as their friend brushed past them and down the steps.

“I'm going home with you,” the ejected swain called back to them. “She tossed me out on my ear, and I'm told Sadie knows why. If she knows, you know. Hurry up, I want a drink.”

“Several drinks would be my guess,” Darby said, smiling at Sadie. “We'd better make that noon.” He bowed over her hand, turning it at the last moment to press a shiver-inducing kiss against her palm, and then he was gone.

Sadie squared her shoulders and entered the mansion, wondering if the duchess might allow her a few sips of her favored gin. She could pour it into a teacup, and nobody would know...

CHAPTER NINE

C
LARICE
ARRIVED
HEAVILY
VEILED
, and quickly raced ahead of Sadie and their maid-cum-chaperone to enter Darby's Park Lane townhome, even while he stood at the window, watching as Sadie stopped to admire the facade that boasted a first-floor balcony facing Hyde Park. He'd spent many a pleasant hour on that balcony, smoking cheroots with his friends, or just idly watching Society go by inside the park...many of them making cakes of themselves as they did so.

Poodle Byng, the Green Man, wet-behind-the-ears young dandies perched precariously in their yellow-wheeled curricles while being dragged along by their showy yet fairly useless cattle. And not to forget the ladies, each attempting to outdo the other as they feigned ennui with the whole process even as they prayed to be noticed.

Sadie would enjoy sitting out here with him, half-hidden behind the greenery from a few strategically placed pots. He was as interested in hearing her comments as he was eager to compare them to his own thoughts. One thing about Sadie Grace Hamilton...the lady did not suffer fools gladly. She hadn't had the time, had she? But now, even as her world changed around her, he had the distinct feeling that she would never change to suit it.

He remained amazed that he'd allowed himself to be talked into removing his patch, even more taken aback to have fallen asleep under her ministrations. When was the last time he had been that close to a woman's bosom without taking full advantage of that happy happenstance?

That, he knew, was a rhetorical question.

He moved away from the window as he heard Willie Camford beg the ladies to please follow him upstairs to the drawing room “where His Lordship awaits.”

Sounds as if I'm here in my lair, prepared to pounce.

Strange how he suddenly found himself looking at his world through the eyes of a person who had never had the time, and probably the use, for half of the nonsense Society used to measure the acceptability of others. If he'd had his own way, he would have met Sadie at the door; indeed, probably helped her down from the coach and escorted her inside so that he could see and hear, firsthand, her reaction to his townhome. Instead, Society dictated that he
await
her in his lair.

“Your Lordship,” Willie announced with all the formality his father had impressed on him and his brothers, Lawrence, Thomas and Quentin, all raised to be butlers, all now in charge of Nailbourne holdings. “Misses Hamilton and Goodfellow are here to see you.”

Since Clarice had already bounded into the room, the ridiculously long veil still hiding her features as she proclaimed, “He knows who we are, you silly man,” and Sadie stood in full sight just behind the butler, the announcement was half formality, half comedy.

“Thank you, Camford,” Darby said. “You may retire. Please have refreshments sent here for the ladies.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Willie bowed himself out of the drawing room, just as if he and “my lord” hadn't spent an hour or more last night, their jackets gone, their shirtsleeves rolled up, playing two-handed whist and reminiscing over shared days at the cottage in their younger years after they'd finally managed to get a by turns sorrowful and belligerent, definitely drunken Rigby upstairs to one of the guest chambers.

“Are you just going to pose on the threshold, Sadie Grace, not that you don't make a pretty sight?” Darby asked as he crossed the room to greet her.

She lifted her hand, more to wave off his words than anything else, but he managed to secure it, bow over it and place a kiss on her gloved fingers. He leaned in close to say quietly, “You and the memory of these magic hands served to keep me awake most of the night. Pleasantly, I might add.”

She ignored his smile, and his intimate tone. “Clarice and her tears kept me from my bed well past three. Where's Rigby?”

Clearly the interlude in the coach was not to be discussed. Just as clearly, he was to adjust his behavior accordingly. His circumspect lady of the day...but perhaps not so much the lady in the dark? An intriguing prospect.

“Banished to his own lodgings until he can make himself presentable. I expect his return at any moment.”

“We had to almost physically boost Clarice from her tub. The duchess feared she would try to drown herself, but Clarice swore she thinks better in the tub.”

“And does she?” Darby asked as he escorted Sadie to one of the couches.

“Not noticeably, no. She did end up looking rather prune-y, but no brainstorms rained down upon her head.” Sadie looked up at him, a frown furrowing her smooth brow. “She's here to offer Rigby his freedom.”

“She's what? She couldn't blast our Romeo from her side with a cannonball. Strange. I hadn't thought of Clarice as a martyr. In fact, I initially worried she might only be taking advantage of Rigby for his title and deep pockets, but that thought soon faded. They're ridiculously, almost embarrassingly in love.”

“Yes, and only a woman in love would consider such a sacrifice. My heart is breaking for her, and the duchess retired to her rooms in tears, to demand the duke
do something
. From the little you said last night, that alone should be enough to give us all pause.”

“Most definitely, and I speak from Gabe's experience. We have to come up with something, and do it quickly. Ah, here comes our worse-for-drink friend.”

Rigby burst into the room, nearly knocking down Camford, who had returned carrying a tray of refreshments. The butler hastily deposited it on the table in front of Sadie and was gone as quickly as he'd arrived, probably to stand in the hallway and laugh himself crooked, Darby decided, since
he
didn't have to deal with any of it. Sometimes it was wonderful, having Camy's sons established as butlers at his various estates, and sometimes he believed he was still a youngster, and prone to be laughed at by much older cousins.

Darby reluctantly turned his attention to the reunited couple.

Clarice got to her feet, fighting free of her veil. “Oh, Jerry, my heart, my soul!”

“Oh, Clary, my life, my love!” Rigby sent his curly brimmed beaver flying, nearly scattering a collection of jade pieces displayed on a nearby table.

“Oh, bollocks,” Darby muttered as the two lovebirds came together in the middle of the room, nearly taking each other to the floor with the force of their collision.

“Don't be so cynical. They're happy to see each other.”

“Happy, Sadie Grace, doesn't begin to describe it,” Darby said as the dramatic reunion appeared likely to escalate into passionate lovemaking. “I should have Camford send up a few buckets of cold water. Either that, or you should close your eyes.”

“Nonsense. They'll stop soon enough, when Clarice tells him her plan.”

“In other words, when they finally feel the need to take a breath. You're right to keep your eyes open, as this should be interesting. It's probably too late to call Camford back to watch with us. There aren't many who can say they've witnessed a man's head spin about in a full circle while still attached to his shoulders.”

Sadie looked up at him. “I know, Darby. You're as worried about them as I am.”

“Did I say I was—oh, all right. Yes, I'm worried. Rigby is by nature a gentle creature, which is another way of saying nobody wants to see him when he's finally provoked into anger. We were out on a stroll in a small Spanish town we'd captured when he ran off down an alleyway, having spied out soldiers from another regiment assaulting one of the village females. Two of them, and neither small men. By the time the rest of us arrived on the scene, one man was howling with a broken arm, and the other was dazedly looking about on the cobbles to locate several of his teeth.”

“That's very interesting, even edifying, but he can't mill down Mrs. Henderson to keep her from speaking. Oh, look, they're talking now. At least Clarice is.”

Darby directed his attention to the pair, now sitting close together on a settee beneath one of the windows, their hands tightly intertwined as they half-faced each other.
Lovers in a Window.
A pretty picture, save for the fact that Rigby, who hadn't looked all that splendid when he'd stumbled out the viscount's door this morning, looked five times worse now.

“He's not taking this well,” Darby said as he sat down beside Sadie.

Sadie watched along with him. “No, but since Clarice is being strong, he rather has to be, doesn't he? It's what I told her I'd hoped. She did have that small lapse when she first saw him, but I believe she's doing much better now.”

“Pardon me? Are you saying you and Clarice—most apparently, you—came in here with a plan to keep Rigby from making a scene? Save for that small lapse, of course.”

“Yes. Nothing is ever solved by ranting and raving, now, is it? Why should any of us have to deal with Rigby crashing about, spouting invectives, gnashing his teeth and so forth, all to no avail, as histrionics seldom are? Once I pointed out that she'd be helping Rigby, Clarice was in complete agreement.”

Darby looked at her, saw the quick twitch of her lips as she hid a smile. “Whoever said women are devious creatures didn't know the half of it. Are we always managed so easily?”

“I don't know. I was only using the strategy I employ with Marley. It's awkward to know yourself hysterical when those around you maintain their calm. The hysterical one either storms out, which does no one any good but at least clears the room, or that person calms down, as well. It's really a simple remedy. But it's the only plan we had, and it goes only this far. Now it is up to you and I to present both of them with an alternative that doesn't rip them apart forevermore in order to save Rigby's reputation—I'm quoting Clarice now. So, what are we going to do? And hurry, because I think I see Clarice's chin wobbling.”

“All right,” Darby said, “let's run down our options.”

“We have options? Why didn't you say that earlier? I'd be grateful to hear a single idea that has some hope attached to it.”

“Oh, that's unfortunate. I'm merely guessing, you understand, but I suppose that means you don't want to consider kidnapping the two ladies, stuffing them into sacks and tossing them onto a ship bound for the port of Virginia. A pity, because I believe that was my best idea.”

“You're impossible.”

Darby kissed her on the cheek before she could protest, or perhaps she didn't notice. She was clearly concentrating all her efforts on the problem at hand.

He took a moment to reflect on this new level of association with his betrothed.
Friendship.
The word had never entered his head when the subject was females. She'd even accepted his kiss the way a friend or even sister or cousin might do. Did he have no romantic effect on her at all? How lowering.

There was still no real noise coming from the devastated lovebirds other than the occasional heartfelt sigh, so Darby pressed on.

“I suppose we could pay her to forget she saw Clarice.”

Sadie shook her head. “Considered and discarded, as soon as the duke offered his own purse. Clarice told us the Hendersons already are swimming in lard, or some such thing.”

Darby laughed. “My dear naive Miss Hamilton.
Nobody
ever has enough money. That's a universal rule of the wealthy, especially the odiously wealthy. Money itself, or something they want that is owned by someone else, and therefore unattainable.”

“I don't understand that, but I suppose you'd know better than I on the subject, having already admitted to being one of the odiously wealthy. I also wondered if perhaps we could offer Mrs. Henderson our assistance in finding a husband for her daughter in exchange for her silence. She doesn't seem to be doing very well on her own, does she?”

“Thought of it,” Darby said. “Not enough time. It would take more than a fortnight to bring anyone up to snuff, I'm afraid. There is her dowry, which by Clarice's description of the Henderson wealth is probably considerable, but do we really want to stoop so low as to bracket the poor girl with a fortune hunter? Sadie? You're hesitating.”

She sighed. “I know. Just for a moment I—we have no more ideas, do we? What is the daughter like, by the way? Just so I can feel more guilty for having entertained the notion, if only for that one moment.”

“Miss Belinda Henderson? Horse mad, I'd say, like many English girls, as well. She was employing her fan as a riding crop—a most betraying habit—and insists she be back in Virginia for the foaling season. Frankly, other than to be momentarily titillated by my title, I doubt she could have cared a fig that she'd been introduced to my most impressive self.”

“How that must have stung,” Sadie responded, her expression marvelously bland.

But Darby was deep in thought and didn't react.

“Darby? I didn't mean to insult you.”

“That's all right, you're forgiven.”
What the devil had she said?
“It's just that I may have had another idea. Oh, and by the way, you're brilliant. I never would have thought of this if you hadn't asked me about the girl.”

So saying, he cupped his hands on her cheeks and caught her mouth with his own. This time a longer kiss, a lingering kiss that could lead to so much else.

But not now, even if the lovebirds across the room wouldn't have noticed.

Besides, Sadie hadn't exactly objected. She also hadn't wound her arms around him and called him her darling, but she hadn't slapped his face. He'd take that as a victory over mere friendship, and perhaps later think more about what he'd done, and how ridiculously pleased he was with himself for having done it, how natural his reaction had been. Feel happiness, kiss Sadie Grace. A lovely combination.

He stood up, suddenly anxious to be on their way to doing something, which was not as wonderful as sitting here with Sadie, but at the moment was a very close second place finisher. “Rigby? Pull yourself together, my friend. I think I've solved our problem.”