Promise Me Tomorrow (10 page)

“Me? No.” Justin shook his head. “Lord, no. I don’t know that I’ve ever been serious about a woman. Certainly not Mrs. Cotterwood.”

“Good. Then there’s no problem, is there? You will come to my house party, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Justin promised. “Believe me, I will be there.” And, somehow, he would find a way to keep Bucky out of the beautiful Mrs. Cotterwood’s web.

O
N
F
RIDAY AFTERNOON, A BOX CONTAINING
a corsage was delivered to Marianne’s door. The flowers were from Lord Buckminster. An hour later, another cluster of flowers arrived with an accompanying note from Lord Lambeth, asking if Marianne would allow him the privilege of escorting her to Nicola Falcourt’s ball that evening. Marianne could not keep a smile from stealing across her face as she inhaled the scent of the rosebuds. It meant nothing, of course, she told herself, but she sat down immediately and penned a note giving him permission to pick her up. Della and Winny came in to admire the posies.

Just as she was putting them back into the box, the front door opened, and Rosalind tumbled in, followed by Nettie. “Mama!” Rosalind cried when she saw the women standing in the front hallway. “We saw someone at the park!”

Marianne turned. “What? What do you mean you saw someone? Who?”

“I don’t know. But he was asking about you.” She bounced to a stop in front of Marianne, her chest puffed up with importance.

“What!” A cold chill ran through Marianne, and she looked over at the maid. “Nettie?”

The maid nodded. “Yes, madam. ‘E did. ‘E asked if we lived in this ‘ouse.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say nothin’. I told ‘im ‘e was impudent, but then ‘e asked if I knew Mary Chilton, and I said no, ‘cause I don’t know nobody by that name. ‘E said she was a maid ‘ere. Then ‘e said she ‘ad red ‘air.”

She paused significantly, and Rosalind jumped into the silence, “So I told him my mama had red hair!”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, madam,” Nettie said apologetically. “I told ‘im that you were not Mary Chilton, though, so I thought ‘e ‘ad the wrong place.”

“What did he say to that?”

“Not much, madam. ‘E asked your name, an’ I told ‘im it wasn’t any of ‘is business.” She paused, then added, “But I reckon ‘e’ll be able to find out easy enough from somebody else around ‘ere.”

“Yes, no doubt.” Marianne looked from the maid to Winny, who stared back at her in consternation.

Della looked back and forth between the two of them, confused. “What is it, dear? Who is this man? Why is he looking for you?”

“I don’t know!” She glanced down at her daughter, who was looking at her worriedly.

“Did I do wrong, Mama?” she asked.

“Well, you should not engage in conversation with strange men in the park, even when Nettie is with you. But there was nothing wrong with what you said today.” She smiled at Rosalind lovingly. “Why don’t you run up and wash your hands and comb your hair? Then come back down and you can help decide which flowers I shall wear.”

Rosalind smiled and tore off up the stairs, Nettie following her more slowly. Marianne turned to Winny.

“Is he the same man, do you think?” Winny asked, frowning.

“What are you two talking about?” Della asked, growing concerned.

Marianne quickly told her the story of Winny’s letter and the men who had been looking for her. Della was just as puzzled about the matter as the two of them had been.

“But didn’t she say that she didn’t tell them about you or Winny?” she asked.

“Yes. But I guess he might have found out from another servant or someone in the village, and she just didn’t know about it. Everyone knew that Winny and I were friends, so they could have suggested he try to find her. But who would have known Winny’s address except her friend?”

“But somehow he must have found out. Surely there could not be two different sets of people looking for you.”

“I wouldn’t think so. I can’t imagine what they want, and it scares me!”

“Me too,” Della agreed. All of them had a deep distrust of outsiders, born of years of evading the law, and an even deeper distrust of someone asking questions about them. “I know you don’t want to go to that house in the country next week.” She chuckled at Marianne’s quick look of surprise. “Oh, I’m not blind. I can see the way you look whenever anyone brings it up. But I think it might be a very good thing for you to get away from here for a few days right now.”

“You are probably right.” Marianne still hated the idea of spending a week at Lord Buckminster’s house. Every time she thought about it, it made her cringe. But she could see the point in what Della said. No one would find her at a lord’s estate in the country.

“And if he comes to our door asking questions, we’ll send him on his way fast enough. In the meantime, you cover up your head any time you leave this house.”

“I will.”

Of course, she couldn’t cover her hair with a hat that night, not with it coiled elegantly around her head and a ribbon to match her dress wound through it. She could only hope that in the dark, and with Lambeth’s carriage blocking the doorway, the man, if he was watching, would not be able to get a good glimpse of her.

She wore a gown of peacock-blue satin that turned her eyes to sapphires. The neckline was low, off her shoulders and skimming across the tops of her breasts. She wore Bucky’s wrist corsage, even though she liked Lambeth’s better. Lambeth, after all, must not feel that he had everything his way. For the same reason, she left him standing five minutes after he arrived, even though she was ready to go.

Taking her wrap of silver tissue and her small reticule, she went downstairs. The widening of Lambeth’s eyes was enough to tell her how she looked, even though he followed it up with a pretty compliment. Then his eyes went down to her wrist and saw the flowers that he had not sent, and his mouth tightened.

“From Bucky?” he asked, extending his arm to her.

“Yes. They matched the dress better,” she explained.

“Ah. I see.” From the dance of amusement in his hazel eyes as he mentally compared Buckminster’s white camellias to his white rosebuds, she thought that he did indeed see the real cause of her ploy. “Then I hope that you will at least grant me the honor of the first waltz of the evening.”

She agreed graciously, tucking her hand through his elbow, and they started out the door. Marianne felt nervous and happy and a little excited. Maybe the others were right, she thought; everything would turn out all right. It was easy to believe that in the warmth of the August night, Lambeth’s strong arm beneath her hand, the scent of camellias wafting up to her. She looked up at him and found his eyes on her, and excitement began to dance in her stomach. Perhaps he did have feelings for her.

He handed her up into the carriage, a sleek black affair with the ducal crest of his family in gold on the door. This was what it was like to be a person of privilege, she thought, pampered and cosseted, clothed in the finest of garments and seated on the plushest of cushions, no thought on one’s mind but the evening’s pleasures. It was no wonder the aristocracy were arrogant.

Lambeth settled into the seat across from her, and the carriage started off slowly. Marianne was a trifle shy with him, closed up in this small space. She remembered his eyes as they had been a few moments before as he gazed down at her, hot and yearning; she remembered the feel of his lips on hers, the strength of his arms around her, the dizzying heat that had enveloped her when he kissed her. His kiss had aroused her as no other’s ever had, and she could not help but feel a faint flowering of hope within her chest. Perhaps he meant it when he said he would not coerce her. He had, after all, not turned her in to the authorities. He was right now escorting her to a party as if she really were a lady. She shifted a little on her seat and wondered what he was thinking. His face was shadowed, and she could not make out his expression.

“I want you to leave Buckminster alone,” he said, his voice harsh in the darkness, shattering Marianne’s thoughts.

She simply looked at him, too startled even to speak.

“He is a good man, too naive for one such as you, and I will not see him hurt,” Lambeth went on, crushing the tendrils of soft emotion that had risen in her moments earlier.

Marianne realized with a rush of shame that while she had been dreaming of his kiss, he had been thinking only of keeping her from his friend. She swallowed hard, forcing the tears from her voice. “I scarcely see how this concerns you, my lord.”

Marianne was pleased to hear that her voice came out tart.

“Bucky has been my friend all my life, and he is a good fellow. I have no intention of letting him get his heart broken by a conniving adventuress.”

His words sliced through her like a knife. He had no interest in her, she knew. Indeed, his voice held nothing but contempt.

“You think that I would set out to hurt him?” She could not completely hide the tremor of emotion in her voice, but he did not seem to hear.

“What else should I think? He is a very wealthy man and obviously head over heels in love with you. You, on the other hand, are a thief.”

“How can you say that? I have not stolen anything!”

“I have not seen you take anything with my own eyes,” Lambeth conceded. “But it was obvious that you were up to something. If I needed any confirmation, I think it was amply provided by your ‘family.’”

“How dare you!”

“How dare I what? Speak the truth? Your kin are as fine a set of criminals as any I have ever seen. Your ‘da’ picked Bucky’s pocket neatly, and your grandmother seemed inordinately eager to involve him in a game of cards. I am not sure whether you actually steal things from people’s houses or are just a lure to bring wealthy men into the circle of your family, where they can fleece them thoroughly. But whatever your scheme, you are clearly an adventuress. You certainly are not going to pass up a golden opportunity like Buckminster. You will get every cent you can out of him and leave him heartbroken.”

“I wonder, then, that you should soil yourself by being with me. It seems most odd that you come calling and send me posies when my soul is so black. One would think that you would want nothing to do with me.”

“There is a world of difference between Bucky and me,” he replied flatly. “Bucky is naive and trusting, easily taken in by a schemer. I, on the other hand, know you for what you are, and I can handle you without getting my heart broken.”

“As if you had a heart to break!”

“That is precisely what I mean,” he said, his smile flashing whitely in the darkness. “I can enjoy your charms without losing myself. Buckminster cannot.”

Marianne was swept with a sick fury.
How could she have been so stupid? How could she have thought even for an instant that he might have feelings for her?
He was like Quartermaine, interested in nothing but his own gratification. She was not a person to him, but an object of contempt to be used and discarded, to be kept away from his more vulnerable friend for fear she might contaminate him.

Almost shaking with rage, she leaned forward, her voice a fierce rasp, “I will do what I want with Buckminster, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Lambeth’s eyes flashed, and his jaw tightened. “By God, I’ll tell him the truth about you.”

“Go ahead.” Her tone was contemptuous. “Tell him I am wicked. He will not believe you, he will only think you are jealous and want me for yourself. I will make him fall in love with me so hard and deep that he will never recover. If you make your slimy accusations about me, it will serve only to make him dislike you. And if you make him believe the worst about me, he will not thank you for it. He will hate you for being the person who destroyed his dreams. So you see, you are in my power as securely as he, and you would have done better not to order me away from him.”

They had reached the Falcourt house and were drawn up in the line of carriages waiting to reach the front door. Marianne wrenched open the door and scrambled out of the carriage, ignoring Lambeth’s furious command to stop. He reached out for her arm, but she twisted away from him and jumped down to the ground. She heard his muffled oath behind her, but she did not look back, only hurried up the street, ducking around the knot of people emerging from the carriage at the head of the line, and joined the group of guests moving up the steps to the front door.

When she stepped through the front door, she saw Bucky standing on the landing of the staircase, where it split and went up on either side. He was scanning the crowd, and when he saw her, a broad smile curved his lips. He hurried down the steps to her.

“Mrs. Cotterwood!” He managed to make it to her side without knocking into more than one fellow. “I am so glad to see you.”

Marianne, sure that Lambeth was somewhere behind them, observing the greeting, turned a dazzling smile on Buckminster. “I am so glad you are here,” she said, tucking her hand confidingly into the crook of his arm. “I feel quite alone. I know no one here.”

He patted her hand reassuringly. “I will introduce you to everyone.”

The line of guests moved forward at a good pace. Lord Buckminster stayed at Marianne’s side, and she flirted shamelessly with him for Lambeth’s benefit. She felt a momentary qualm for Buckminster’s sake. He really was a nice man, and it was cruel to raise his hopes. It was also unkind to Penelope, whom she liked, and whom she suspected was more than fond of Lord Buckminster. Later, she told herself, she would somehow make it up to the two of them. She would think of a way to turn Buckminster’s affection away from her, and perhaps she could even manage to direct it toward Penelope.