Promise Me (32 page)

He tipped his hat in acknowledgement. “Now how did you recognize me, pretty lady?”

“
I was about to ask you the same question.”

“
Who said I recognized you?”

“
You walked straight up to me.” She frowned. “Kat told you, did she not?”

“
I waved to her and her friend perched on the second floor landing above the foyer, but we never spoke.”

“
You expect me to believe that?”

“
Would you believe I have a fascination for dark-haired gypsies?”

“
And now you insult my intellect?”

“
All right, Miss Sheridan. You win. Your costume is clever, I’ll give you that, but I guessed your identity when I saw you giving instructions to a servant.”

“
I’ll accept that explanation. Would you care for a glass of lemonade?”

“
No, thank you, ma’am.”

“
Champagne then?”

He shook his head. “The bubbles drift up my nose.”

At the ballroom entrance, laughter erupted. Leah stood on tiptoe, fingering the colorful beads of her necklace, but too many swirling dancers obstructed her limited view.

“
No cause for alarm,” O’Connell told her. “It’s just two court jesters poking fun at one another.”

“
I suspect one is my father.”

The Caledonian ended, and the dance floor cleared enough for Leah to observe the new arrivals pouring in. Some headed across the room. Others made for higher ground; the balcony running the length of the ballroom on both sides and one end. She didn’t see the duke.

“
I doubt he’s arrived yet,” O’Connell stated.

“
Who?”

“
Chase.”

“
You’re making assumptions, sir.”

He grinned. “Am I?”

“
I was simply searching for unique costumes.”

“
If authentic costumes interest you...” A line of giggling females headed for the lemonade tables, and O’Connell gripped Leah’s elbow and steered her out of the way. “As I was saying…” He pointed to the long windows. “Have a gander at that American Indian over there.”

She did. The man, dressed in a long sleeve, brown tunic with fringe trim and matching pants with loincloth, stood watching the dancers. He wore soft moccasins on his feet, and a multi-colored feather protruded from the back of his headpiece.

“
How original,” Leah remarked. “It’s a pity he didn’t paint his face.”

“
She tried, but it smudged beneath her mask.”

“
She?”

“
Yeah, that’s my granny.”

Leah couldn’t believe it. “
That’s
Lady Westwood?”

“
Sure is.”

“
Remarkable.”

“
If you’d seen her waving around a tomahawk, you might’ve said frightening.” He leaned in. “Care to hear about Chase’s costume?”

She hesitated. “Did Kat tell you?”

“
Nope.”

“
Then how--”

“
You forget. Spying is my profession.”

Leah steered her gunslinger companion to the open French doors. “All right, Mister O’Connell. Let’s you and I strike a bargain. You tell me how the Duke of Chase is dressed, and I’ll allow you a stroll into the gardens.”

“
Now how can a red-blooded cowboy pass up such a tempting offer?”

###

Nicolas escorted Grandmother Margaret around the crowd to a row of seats in front of the tall windows where a comfortable cross-breeze stirred. Before Gran sat down, she waved a friend over. When the elaborately costumed Indian drew closer, he realized it was none other than Lady Westwood.

“
Oh, Louise...I never imagined how truly magnificent you would look. What do you think, Nicky?”

“
You certainly stand out in a crowd, madam.”

“
Nicolas,” Gran admonished.

“
My apologies, Lady Westwood. I meant no offense.”

“
And I took none.” She eyed his attire. “The black mask and pirate outfit flatter you, Chase. Is that a fake dagger sheaved at your belt?”

“
No, it’s authentic.”

“
A gift from his grandfather.” Gran placed her hand on Lady Westwood’s arm. “Louise, I’m wearing the Scottish dress I told you about. What do you think?”

“
It’s lovely, my dear. Is that the Macgregor tartan across your shoulder?”

“
Yes. My mother stitched it herself.”

“
And you’ve matched the colors to your mask.”

“
You two should be ashamed,” Nicolas reprimanded.

“
What on earth for?” Gran inquired.

“
You’ve obviously discussed your costumes beforehand.”

“
Well of course we have,” Lady Westwood stated. “How else would Margaret and I recognize one another?”

“
That’s the point, my lady. You’re not expected to recognize one another until the masks are removed.”

“
Oh, but Louise and I are not husband hunting, dear.”

“
Nor do we care to tax ourselves with dancing.”

“
Conversation and observation,” Gran said. “It’s a dowager’s duty.”

“
I see. May I fetch you two dowagers some refreshments before I take my leave?”

“
Stop coddling us, Nicolas. Lady Westwood and I cannot gossip with you hovering over us. Now run along and find Miss Sheridan.”

Nicolas frowned. Had his intentions been that obvious?

Gran’s mouth puckered into a half grin. “Do you not wish to inform her that Edwin’s adoption was approved?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

“
You might spot the lady quicker if you knew what costume she wore,” Lady Westwood teased.

“
That’s true, madam.”

She grinned. “Dark-haired Gypsy.”

“
And you know this...how?”

“
Trinity. Seems he’s got his eye on that gal. A few minutes ago, they slipped out those French doors down at the end there.

Bitterness set Nicolas on the defensive, but he recognized the assault and squared his jaw. He’d be damned if he let this troublemaker get the best of him.

He forced a pleasant smile. “Thank you, my lady.”

She nodded once. “You’ll recognize Trinity straight away. He’s dressed as a gunslinger.”

“
Of course he is,” Nicolas muttered.

He made his way down the length of the ballroom and around the guests standing near the French doors. Out on the terrace, fresh air surrounded him and cooled his temper. He headed down the stone steps, and the sweet scent of late blooming flowers drifted with the wind. Lined with herbaceous borders, the path branched off into two directions. He chose the left.

He’d purposely avoided Leah Sheridan this past week, fearing he could no longer hide his growing desire. On the long ride back from Cambridge Town, with Edwin’s future settled, he realized he no longer needed a fiancée. The thought depressed him. Had he fallen in love with the pretense? Or with the lady herself?

Nicolas met several couples strolling along the path before it veered sharply to the right, opening into a clearing with a magnificent three-tiered water fountain as the centerpiece. Another couple stood in the shadows on the far side near a Weeping Beech.

The man’s western attire snagged Nicolas’ attention. He drew closer and realized Miss Sheridan stood with her back to O’Connell.

“
Hold still now,” the American said in that irritating drawl. His hands settled about her shoulders. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“
I’m no fragile flower, sir.”

“
Yeah, well…I’m afraid I’ll have to remove this.”

“
Do what you must.”

Nicolas ripped off his mask. “O’Connell! What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

The man glanced over his shoulder. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“
Since we are in mixed company, and I am a gentleman, I’ll refrain from answering that question, but I’ll ask you to take your hands off my fiancée this instant.”

She moved out of O’Connell’s shadow. “I’m not sure I care for what you’re implying, your Grace.”

“
Then enlighten me, Miss Sheridan. Explain to me why you’ve placed yourself and your reputation in jeopardy by being alone with a man...
this
man...in a secluded garden?”

“
My repu...” Behind the jeweled turquoise mask, anger lit her green eyes. “Mister O’Connell and I were not locked in a tender embrace.” She tugged on the strand of beads around her neck, nearly dislodging her dark wig. “He was trying to free me.”

Comprehension finally dawned on Nicolas. “My apologies. I thought...”

Good God, what he’d thought!

He drew a tight breath. “O’Connell, would you mind leaving us in private?”

“
Yeah, I would, but at least you asked nicely this time.” He aimed a grin at Miss Sheridan. “The masked pirate carries a dagger. You want me to leave you a pistol?”

“
No, I’ll be fine.”

“
All right, but you yell if you need me.”

Nicolas glared as O’Connell passed him. “And you’ll come running with pistols blazing, is that it?”

“
I’ve rescued plenty of ladies back home, your Grace, so I know how it’s done.”

“
I’m sure you do.” Alone, Nicolas approached Miss Sheridan. “Turn around.”

Without question, she followed his direction.

He brushed the dark wig aside, revealing her slender neck. An overwhelming desire to kiss her nape almost modified his primary purpose for seeking her out.

She sighed. “The beads are hopelessly entangled, are they not?”

“
Yes, my lady. The masked cowman was right.”

She laughed. “Cow-
boy
. Not man.”

“
Exactly.”

She faced him, and her detailed gaze slid down the length of his costume and back. “Pirate suits you.”

“
So I’ve been told.”

“
What happened to your mask?”

“
I’m not sure,” he replied. “When I saw you with O’Connell…” He decided not to finish the sentence. “You make a fetching gypsy, Miss Sheridan, but I prefer your blond locks.”

She removed the tangled beads and dark wig before casually tossing both over her head. They landed in the fountain’s bottom tier.

“
That’s better.” Nicolas focused on her mouth. Was it improper to kiss first and propose marriage second?

She smoothed her hair and readjusted the pins, leaving her delicate mask in place. “You wished to speak with me, your Grace?”

His sensual thoughts came to a complete stop before reversing course. “Yes, about Edwin. I met with the chief magistrate this afternoon.”

Her breathing stilled. “And?”

“
After several hours of trying to convince me to change my mind, he finally agreed to the adoption.”

She flew into his arms.

Nicolas drew her close, appreciating her lavender scent with each breath.

Miss Sheridan immediately stepped back. “Goodness, I...I’m terribly sorry,” she stammered, her face flushed. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”

“
It’s quite all right. I rather enjoyed the assault.”

She moved away, ignoring his flirtatious comment, and again placed a comfortable distance between them. “I am happy for you and your grandmother, your Grace. And of course for Edwin.”

Her detached tone surprised Nicolas. A few moments ago, she’d been warm and inviting. Something had changed to cause this sudden aloofness. What had he said? Or done?

“
Miss Sheridan...”

Begin with an apology.

His attention briefly shifted about the gardens. “Your mother once told me that if a gentleman suspects he has unintentionally offended a lady, then he must begin with a sincere apology. ‘What if the gent has no clue as to the offense,’ I asked. ‘Then apologize for the nasty weather,’ her ladyship replied.”

“
That ridiculous etiquette book,” she mumbled.

He laughed. “Should I apologize for the weather?”

“
Absolutely not. The weather is beautiful this evening, although I’m rather confused as to why you would think you’d offended me.”

He drew closer. “Perhaps because I forced you into the middle of my family’s problems. And now our situation has changed and--”

“
You didn’t force me into anything, your Grace. Really, there’s no need to explain. I understand what comes next. Our betrothal served a purpose, but now the play has ended. And so ends the ruse.” Again she backed away. “You’ll have your freedom by the end of this night.”

Freedom?

Nicolas wasn’t sure why he’d ever valued that particular commodity.

“
Please excuse me,” she said. “If I do not speak to my father, he’ll announce our betrothal as planned.”

He blocked her exit.

She halted abruptly, her gaze questioning.