Love's Promise (32 page)

The Duke’s quarrel with Phillip’s father had been long and bitter. Perhaps the fathers’ feud was spilling over to the sons, and if so, the Duke was glad of it. He’d never have to see Phillip again.

“How horridly have you used her?” Phillip demanded. “I ought to know, so I can calculate the amount of compensation you owe her.”

“I guess you’ll need to sue me for a fortune,” Michael retorted, “but I won’t pay her a penny. She enjoyed it as much as I did.”

Before the Duke realized Phillip should be stopped, Phillip hauled off and hit Michael as hard as he could. Michael staggered to the side, knocking over a small table, and figurines flew to the floor with a loud crash.

Michael straightened, appearing urbane and unruffled, and he hurled the one insult he knew would incense Phillip even further.

“Bastard!”

Was he mad? Phillip moved to hit him again, and the Duke leapt into the fray, a hand on each chest pushing them apart.

“Boys! Boys!” he bellowed. “Desist! At once!”

Phillip stepped away, rubbing his knuckles while Michael rubbed his cheek. They were glaring as if they hated each other, as if they’d always hated each other, and for a frantic instant, the Duke wondered if he shouldn’t go locate that annoying Fanny Carrington and bring her back.

How could they proceed to the wedding with Michael behaving like a maniac? Who the hell cared if Michael kept Fanny Carrington as his mistress? Not the Duke, certainly. Rebecca was the only one who’d be displeased, but her feelings were of no consequence. Why not allow Michael his romance?

But as quickly as the thought whizzed by, he shoved it away. Fanny Carrington was a nuisance, and he’d never let her sink her claws into Michael again.

“What did you want, Phillip?” he inquired. “You had something to tell me, so spit it out, then go. As you can see, Michael isn’t himself, and we’re in no mood for company.”

Phillip studied Michael, then the Duke, then Michael again. He shook his head with disgust.

“Never mind. It’s a bad time. I’ll call on you some other day.”

“I doubt our situation will improve for several weeks,” the Duke admitted, “so you might as well speak your piece.”

“There’s no point. I’m sorry to have intruded.”

He whirled to stomp out, just as Anne hurried in.

“What is it now?” she fumed, her exasperation clear. “The butler fetched me. He said you and Michael were...”

On observing Phillip, she stumbled to a halt.

“What are you doing here?” Her question sounded like an accusation.

“I came to talk to your father.”

“About...me?”

“Yes.”

“I told you not to!” she hissed.

“I know you did,” Phillip replied, “but I didn’t say I’d listen.”

The Duke scrutinized the two of them. Though they were separated by many feet of space, sparks seemed to be shooting between them. Their attraction was blatant and undeniable.

When had this happened?
How
had this happened? How had he not noticed it fomenting?

“Whatever he said about us, Father,” Anne insisted, “it’s a lie.”

“I haven’t said a word,” Phillip interjected. “Yet.”

“But if he
had
spoken”—the Duke was rigid with fury—“what might he have told me?”

Anne was flummoxed, recognizing she’d given up the game when there’d been no need.

“Well...nothing. He’d have told you nothing at all. Isn’t that right, Phillip?”

She frowned at Phillip, flinging visual knives to keep him silent, but Phillip had never been a man to obey orders. It was one of the many things the Duke loathed about him.

“I want to marry her, Your Grace,” Phillip said. “I’m asking for her hand.”

The Duke had understood that a proposal was coming, but still, he couldn’t believe his ears.

“You what?”

“I want to marry her. I seek your blessing.”

“Are you insane?”

“No. I simply want to marry her. I always have.”

“How in God’s name could you have formed an opinion on the subject?”

“We’ve dallied enough for me to be sure.”

The Duke gasped. “You’ve been trifling her? Behind my back?”

“Yes.”

“Have you fucked her?” the Duke crudely inquired.

“As a matter of fact, I have. On several quite lurid occasions.”

Anne nearly swooned.

“You impudent, insolent, cheeky scoundrel!” the Duke raged.

“Should I take that as a
no
?” Phillip taunted.

“Get out of here,” the Duke commanded, but Phillip just stood there.

“She could be increasing already,” Phillip said, “with my son.”

“Get out! Get out!”

“If you try to hide her or marry her off to someone else, I’ll announce to the whole world that I had her first and the child is mine. So don’t even
think
about making her disappear.” He spun on his heel and went to the door. “I’ll drop by tomorrow, when I trust cooler heads will prevail. We’ll discuss it again. I’m not going away.”

“You wily, slimy bastard!” The Duke was shrieking, so incensed that he truly worried the top of his skull might blow off. “I had plans for her. I had men—rich men! titled men!—eager to join with my family over her. She was my pawn, the ace up my sleeve, and you’ve ruined everything! Everything!”

“How could that be?” Phillip said. “She has no dowry, remember? Who would want her besides me?”

“What?” Anne gasped.

“You have no fortune, Anne,” Phillip informed her. “The Duke squandered it years ago. Why do you suppose he’s never accepted any of your marriage offers? There’s no money in the bank, and he’s too embarrassed to say so.”

“That’s a lie!” Anne turned her beseeching eyes on the Duke. “Isn’t it a lie, Father?”

“Of course it is,” the Duke blustered.

Phillip scoffed. “I’ll have her anyway, Your Grace. Even if she’s poor as a church mouse.”

He continued out and as he passed by Anne, she seethed, “I’ll never forgive you for this as long as I live.”

“Forever is a long time,” Phillip advised, and he vanished.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“If you ever visit your mother again,” the Duke hissed, “you will be whipped and sent away forever. Do you understand me, boy?”

Thomas stared up at his grandfather. “Yes, sir.”

“If you ever speak with your Aunt Fanny again, you will be whipped and sent away forever.”

“Yes, sir,” he repeated.

“If you complain to your Uncle Michael about my rules, you will be whipped and sent away forever.”

“I won’t complain.”

“You had better not,” the Duke threatened. “You’ll be going away to school soon, and I’ve informed the headmaster about all the trouble you’ve caused. He has my permission to beat you whenever necessary. You will obey me, or you will suffer the consequences.”

At the notion of being sent away to school, Thomas was terrified. He had always done his schoolwork at the kitchen table, with Aunt Fanny. His new teachers might be grumpy old men who didn’t know how smart he was, and he’d have to sleep in a strange bed and reside in a strange place.

If he left London, how would Aunt Fanny ever find him again?

“Grandfather,” he said, “I don’t want to go away to school.”

“Your opinion is irrelevant, and your uncle is waiting for you in the foyer.” Thomas didn’t move, and the Duke waved to the door. “Out!”

Thomas walked out, hiding his dismay when he saw not only his uncle, but Lady Rebecca, too.

She and Michael were about to marry, but they were both so angry. After the ceremony, he would have to live with her, but he couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t like him, and she was cruel to him—as his mother had been cruel.

He had tried to tell Uncle Michael, but his uncle wouldn’t listen. Uncle Michael had hurt Fanny, had made Thomas leave her behind at his mother’s, but his mother hated Fanny. Bad things would happen to her there, and it would be all his uncle’s fault.

If Thomas was as rich and important as Uncle Michael had once claimed, why couldn’t he take care of Fanny? Why couldn’t she live with him? No one would explain. The few occasions he’d asked questions, the answers had been so short and so heated that he’d given up.

“There you are,” Michael said, smiling his fake smile.

Thomas didn’t smile back.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

Michael stuck out his hand, expecting Thomas to clasp hold, but Thomas pretended not to see the gesture.

“Where have you been?” Lady Rebecca scolded.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I was talking to Grandfather.”

“A likely story.”

Thomas knew it was pointless to try to convince her. He stood, silent and miserable, as the butler helped him with his coat, then he followed Michael and Rebecca out into the cold, rainy afternoon. They climbed into the Duke’s coach.

He hadn’t been told where they were going, and he hoped it wasn’t Wainwright Manor. He didn’t want to be by himself in the big, lonely mansion. There were no children to play with, and none of the servants were kind.

The driver cracked the whip, and as the carriage lumbered away, he tried to get comfortable, but his new shirt rubbed his neck, and his new boots pinched his toes. He fidgeted against the seat.

“Sit still, Thomas!” Lady Rebecca snapped.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Don’t call me Miss! You know how you’re to address me.”

“Yes, milady.”

“Thomas!” she barked again. “Stop kicking your feet. It’s annoying.”

“Leave him be, Rebecca,” Uncle Michael said. “He’s fine.”

“He has to learn how to behave. I swear, from the way he acts, he must have been raised by wolves in a cave.”

I was not
, Thomas said to himself.
I was raised by my Aunt Fanny
.

He was painfully aware that Fanny’s name wasn’t to be mentioned, and the restriction upset him very much. Why shouldn’t he be able to talk about her? Why shouldn’t he be able to say whatever he liked?

“Thomas, for pity’s sake!” Lady Rebecca protested. “Will you fuss the entire trip?”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he murmured.

“Don’t sass her,” Uncle Michael said. “Just be still—as she requested. I would like us to ride in peace.”

Tears welled into Thomas’s eyes, but he couldn’t bear to have them see, so he tugged on the curtain and gazed out at the street.

There were many people strolling by, and for the briefest moment, the crowd parted. A woman was watching the coach, and it seemed to be Fanny, but she looked so different that he wasn’t sure. Her hair was snarled, the rain matting it to her head. She was very sad, and she appeared fatter, her tummy having more of a bulge than he remembered.

He was desperate to call out, to find out if it was really her, but any comment would produce more scolding from Lady Rebecca.

What would Rebecca do if he leapt for the door and jumped out? He yearned to try it, but he didn’t. The footmen would simply grab him and bring him back, and then, he’d be in trouble.

He might even be punished, might get the thrashing his grandfather had threatened, and if Thomas was whipped, he would be so ashamed. If he was sent away, Fanny would never know where he was.

The woman was almost out of sight, and he wiggled his fingers so that if it was Fanny, she would realize that he’d seen her. The woman waved back, and he leaned out, deciding to call to her after all, when Lady Rebecca nagged, “Thomas! Lower the curtain. You’re letting in a draft.”

Thomas peered out again, but Fanny had vanished.

“Thomas!” Lady Rebecca shouted.

“Thomas,” Uncle Michael said, “just sit back, would you?”

Thomas relaxed against the squab, but he was very angry. He wanted to make them feel bad, wanted to make them sorry for the way they treated him

“I saw my Aunt Fanny,” he boldly stated, delighted with how they both stiffened on hearing her name. “She was standing on the corner when we drove by.”

Uncle Michael frowned. “I don’t think it could have been her, Thomas. It was probably someone who resembled her.”

Obviously, he didn’t believe Thomas, and his uncle wasn’t the least bit concerned that Fanny was out in such terrible weather. He didn’t so much as glance out the window.

“It was
her
,” Thomas insisted. “She waved at me.”

“With all this rain we’re having, it would be hard to tell for sure.”

Uncle Michael patted Thomas’s shoulder, then he yawned and shut his eyes.

“She’s getting fat,” Thomas pressed.

“It wasn’t her,” Lady Rebecca claimed.

“It was, too,” Thomas mumbled.

“She’s not even in London,” Lady Rebecca added.

“Yes, she is. I don’t care what you say.”

Lady Rebecca gasped with outrage. “Do you see what I put up with, Michael? Do you see? How long will you permit him to speak to me like that?”

“Thomas, please,” Uncle Michael said. “You know better than to carry on like this. Where are your manners? Apologize to Lady Rebecca.”

“I apologize,” Thomas grumbled, frustrated, furious, glaring at the floor.

It was, too, my Aunt Fanny
, he said to himself.
It was, and she will never stop loving me
.

Fanny stood outside the gate of the Wainwright’s town house, glad she’d gotten to see Thomas one last time. He was dressed in expensive clothes, his hair slicked back, his boots polished to a shine. He’d looked stoic and resigned, and nothing like the happy, carefree boy she’d known.