The Promise (27 page)

Jane knocked tentatively, but he didn’t respond. She eased open the door and light spilled onto his bed… his neatly made, very empty bed. The note was exactly as she had left it, still unopened.

Jane spun on her heel and stormed through the house in high dudgeon. She had been waiting patiently and he had never even come home!
How humiliating!
Where was he? She fumed and sputtered as she stalked down the hall. No doubt he was still tucked in the arms of his mistress. Jane told herself his amorous exploits were none of her concern and that she was only upset due to his lack of solicitude, but a dull pain in the region of her heart told her otherwise.

Now she truly understood how it would be between them! Two polite strangers living separate lives within a “modern marriage.” Well…
devil take it
… that was just fine with her! She had been confused by their brief interlude of passion, but apparently men viewed such things differently from women. How naïve she had been to think deeper feelings might be developing between them. She had daydreamed about that kiss for weeks, while it had been of little or no consequence to Finn.

Disappointment sucked all the joy from the day. Her lips were pressed together in a grim line when Peckham met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“My lady,” he acknowledged, taking in her flashing eyes with alarm. He had never seen her angry before. It was quite impressive.

“Peckham,” she nodded tersely as she sped past him out the door, down the steps and into the waiting coach.

Peckham turned and looked at John with a raised brow.

“His lordship didn’t come home,” the footman whispered by way of explanation. “She waited for half an hour before checking his room. He never read her note.”

Peckham shook his head. “That boy is a fool,” he muttered.

“Aye,” John agreed.

FEELING ENERGIZED AND content after a good night’s sleep and a generous breakfast, Finn made his way home just before noon. He dismounted and tossed his reins to a groom, then slipped into the house through the French doors at the back of the library. He took the steps two at a time and strode down the hall to his suite. After ringing for Payton, he noticed an envelope on his pillow and recognized Jane’s flowing script. He smiled and tore it open, hoping it contained a request to serve as her escort to some event that evening. They had spent little time together in the past two weeks.

“Hellfire and damnation!” He swore as his valet slipped into the room and bowed.

“My lord?”

“Devil take it, Payton, I’ve put my foot in it,” Finn scowled.

News traveled fast below stairs. Payton was well aware of what had transpired that morning.

“Yes, you most definitely have, sir” he agreed dryly. “Is it to be slapdash and off in hot pursuit, then?”

Finn shrugged out of his waistcoat and began to unbutton his cuffs. “You read my mind.”

Payton tugged off Finn’s boots and gave them a quick polish.

“Out with it,” Finn said. “Every gruesome detail. Was she angry or hurt?”

“A little of both. Checked your room early, like to wake you. With the bed not slept in, who knows what got into her ladyship’s head. In a right twist, she was.”

Finn groaned
. “Damn, damn, damn, and damn!”

Payton opened the drawer of Finn’s shaving mirror and took out one of the gift-wrapped packages. “Might be a good time to spring one of these on her.”

“A bit cynical, but all in all a capital idea,” he agreed with a grin.

Finn changed and submitted to a quick shave. He checked the addresses in Mr. Hamlyn’s files then bolted for the stables where a confused groom retrieved the horse he had rubbed down and led back to his stall only minutes before.

Half an hour later Finn was standing in front of a handsome limestone townhouse on Mulberry Lane, several streets removed from the main thoroughfare. It was nestled in the middle of a quiet block shaded by tall sycamores and tulip poplars. A black wrought iron fence and gate enclosed small flower gardens on either side of wide steps that led up to a massive paneled entry door. Ornate grillwork surrounded balconies on the second and third floors.

Finn lifted a heavy brass doorknocker fashioned in the shape of a lion’s head with a ring in its mouth. He let it drop. A thin, white-haired servant in black and silver livery answered before the second knock.

“May I help you?”

“I’ve come to see the house,” he pulled a small silver case from his pocket and pulled out a card. The servant recognized Finn’s name and ushered his new master inside.

“Will you be wanting a tour, milord?”

“That depends. Is my wife still here?” Finn asked.

“No. Her ladyship visited this morning; the housekeeper showed her the lay of things and introduced her to the staff. Should I summon Mrs. Duffy to do the same for you, milord?”

“No. How long ago did she leave?” Finn asked.

“Not an hour past.”

“Thank you…”

“Crawford.”

“Thank you, Crawford.” He retraced his steps. Since Jane was traveling by carriage, Finn reckoned he would reach The Willows not more than a half hour behind her. Without heavy congestion, there was even a chance he might overtake her.

The ride to Middlesex gave him sufficient time to contemplate an apology. Should he make reference to the fact that he had slept somewhere other than Carlisle House? Or would it be better to gloss over that detail and simply tell her he hadn’t read her note until that morning? He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about where he had been… she was likely to assume the worst unless he told her that he had spent the evening at Nick’s. On the other hand, if he explained himself, it would set a precedent. He didn’t like the idea of having to account to Jane for his whereabouts like a recalcitrant schoolboy.

It was a devilish tricky situation. Thus far he could not have asked for a more undemanding wife. In fact, it scarcely seemed as if he were married at all. With the Season in full swing they saw little of each other. His mother had taken it upon herself to introduce Jane to Society, and her efforts seemed to be paying off. Despite her strange résumé, Jane had been embraced by the
ton
. Finn was relieved for her, but he couldn’t help but resent the endless demands on her time.

Well, things would change greatly when they withdrew from Carlisle House… of that he was determined. He would put his foot down and urge Jane to choose one afternoon each week for receiving callers, two at the most. Together they would establish their own routine. He had been content until now to defer to his mother, but in their new home things would be different.

For weeks Finn had to content himself with brief conversations as they passed one another in the halls, each destined for separate venues. He had glimpsed her in town several times… once on Bond Street entering a milliner’s shop, once on The Terrace, and another time in a coffee shop with his cousin Beth.

In recent days, however, he had acquired some curiously domestic yearnings. He longed to sit across from her at dinner and listen to her talk about her day. He thought it would be rather nice to take an evening stroll through the park with Jane on one arm and Pip on the other. Even better, he wanted just once to spend a lazy morning in bed with his wife, making love as if they had all the time in the world. Never far from his mind was the brief-but-passionate interlude on their wedding night before she had bolted like a frightened rabbit.

Finn realized he could have spent more time with her if he had been willing to take up residence in the parlor, listening to fusty matrons prattle on about their husbands’ gout or the weather.
Not his idea of a good time.
Or he could have accepted one of his mother’s invitations to join Jane and a cortege of ninnyhammers at one of the bland soirees to which she seemed determined to drag his wife.

But he didn’t want to share Jane, so he bided his time with increasing ill humor.
And today he had missed his chance to be alone with her!
Finn gave himself a savage mental kick and prepared to eat crow.

Chapter Nineteen

A rush of nostalgia washed over Jane as she strolled through the terraced gardens that stepped down to the River Thames. As a child she had visited The Willows with her parents during infrequent trips to London, but most of her memories had long ago slipped from her mind. Now, standing on the same pathways where she had once walked with her parents, fragments returned.

She ran her fingers under the cool water of a stone fountain and remembered catching frogs with her cousin Louisa when they were about eight. Tucked under a spreading magnolia was a black iron bench where she and her mother had watched fireflies on a fine summer night. She remembered breaking a window in the springhouse and rescuing a baby bird from the fat orange tabby that lived in the stables. She wondered if the cat’s descendants still prowled the grounds.

Mrs. Williams, a rather dour and imposing woman, claimed to remember her, but Jane had only vague recollections of the housekeeper. The staff assembled around the crushed shell courtyard in front of the manor for Jane’s inspection. She said a few words as she was introduced to each one.

The weather was mild and Jane longed to be outside with the sun on her face, so she informed Mrs. Williams she would tour the grounds first. The gardener showed her the lovely, formally landscaped terrace near the house, an herb garden just outside the kitchen, and a splendid orchard on the lowest level near the Thames. Beyond apple and pear trees, willows lined the banks.

A stately complex of stables stretched out on the eastern side. Low buildings with stone and stucco walls were whitewashed, the roofs covered with old-fashioned rush thatching. There were dozens of stalls, but only six contained horses and only one of those appeared fit for riding, the others being too old or stout. A large shed on one end housed antiquated carriages and gigs.

Jane wondered what Finn would think of the facilities. She knew he was a notable whip who rode almost daily with his friends in Hyde Park. Although she was out of practice, she had dearly loved to ride as a girl. She often wished Finn would invite her to join him in the park. Although she could have dropped a hint, pride had prevented her from doing so. If he wanted her company, he had only to ask.

She tried to concentrate on the gardener’s words, but her mind kept drifting to Finn. Where was he? With whom had he passed the previous evening? Why did she care so much? Then, as if her thoughts had conjured him from thin air, she heard a deep voice behind her say, “I hope that frown was not caused by my thoughtlessness, Jane.”

She turned and her breath caught in her throat.
Oh, why did he have to be so heart-stoppingly handsome?
Black hair, thick and shiny as a crow’s wing, brushed his collar. Her hands tingled as she remembered how it felt slipping through her fingers, soft as sable.

Even in her new straw bonnet and stylish blue walking gown she felt so very… ordinary next to Finn. As if he could hear her thoughts, he took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles, his deep blue eyes never leaving hers. She stiffened and pulled back, reluctant to make herself vulnerable to him.

Finn noticed her hesitance, understood instinctively the lack of trust it revealed, and something twisted in his chest. He wanted Jane to depend on him, to feel cherished. So far he’d done a poor job in his new role of husband, but he would do better from here on out.

“That gown suits your beautiful eyes, Jane. Is it new?” Finn winced as he said it. The compliment sounded unpardonably trite and insincere.

Jane wanted to roll her eyes. Did he think her a gudgeon? That she couldn’t recognize the shopworn tools of a practiced flirt? She had spent the past month surrounded by dedicated gossips. She was fully aware of her husband’s rakish past; he had spent plenty of time with women of easy virtue. In all likelihood, he had been with just such a woman last night.

Beautiful eyes, indeed!

“New? A safe assumption, since everything I own is new,” she said with a brittle smile and more than a touch of asperity. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule, my lord. I’m sure you would have preferred to be doing something more enjoyable.”

Finn’s stomach pitched. Jane was an intelligent woman. He should have known it would take more than platitudes to bring her around.

“Please forgive me, Jane,” he said sincerely, uncaring that the gardener was standing a few steps away. “I played cards most of the night at Nick’s and he was kind enough to offer me a room. It was nearly noon before I read your note. Had I known, a pack of wolves could not have kept me from you.”

Well, that was that. Finn hadn’t known until that moment whether he would choose the recalcitrant-schoolboy approach or the you-have-no-right-to-ask approach. Seeing the hurt in her big brown eyes had settled the matter.

She searched his face and must have been satisfied with what she saw, for the tense set of her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Really, Finn? You would have battled a pack of wolves?”

He grinned. “It’s all that leapt to mind.”

“It was creative.”

“All is forgiven then?” he tilted his head to one side and gave her a penitent grin. “I can’t think of anything more enjoyable than spending the day with my beautiful wife.”

He was rewarded with a warm, dimpled smile. Experiencing a ridiculous amount of relief, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lord.” He frowned slightly at the formality and she relented. “You are here now, Finn, and that’s all that matters.”

They completed the tour of the grounds and spent the rest of the afternoon trailing through the house behind Mrs. Williams.

“Pip is going to love living here,” Finn remarked as Mrs. Williams showed them an extravagant drawing room on the north end of the house that featured an ornate Baroque revival chimneypiece with fantastical dolphins and other sea creatures. Tapestries based on medieval scenes with unicorns and knights adorned the walls on either side of the fireplace.

Jane clapped her hands together. “Does that mean you like this house better than the one in town?”

“It has an appealing fairytale quality. Although the one in town is more modern and would be extremely convenient when Parliament is in session.”

“Must we choose? There is no reason we cannot reside in both, is there?” she asked.

Finn smiled at her enthusiasm. “Absolutely no reason at all. I’m impressed with both houses. Our marriage has enriched me in every way possible,” his eye flickered down over her and she squirmed. “Yet I had no idea you were an heiress when I asked for your hand.”

“At least I never have to wonder if you married me for my money.”

“No. You never have to wonder that.” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear then leaned forward to whisper, “I had other reasons.”

Jane wanted to ask him to be more specific, but resisted the impulse. He was such a flirt that it would be foolhardy to take him seriously. They were standing in the middle of a threadbare Turkish carpet covered with faded flowers. Mrs. Williams had gone to the kitchen to arrange for a light supper and they were alone.

“So it is decided? We will use the town house during the Season and remove to The Willows when we wish to escape the bustle of London?” she asked.

Finn nodded in agreement. “We can’t move too soon for my liking.”

Jane was relieved to hear him echo her thoughts. “I think your mother would be disappointed if we left before the ball. If we wait until Saturday, she’ll have time to adjust to the idea.”

With a nod of his head, Finn agreed.

AFTER A LIGHT DINNER, they set off for London. Finn tied his horse to the boot and joined Jane inside the carriage. They talked about mundane things, upgrades to the plumbing at The Willows and setting up a proper nursery for Pip. Finn enthusiastically outlined changes he would like to make to the stables.

His thoughts strayed to all the challenges Jane had faced. While other girls were enjoying their first Season, she had been raising another woman’s child. Instead of dancing and flirting, she had been baking cakes and changing nappies. At sixteen she had lost her father, her home, a life of ease. And still she had grown into a remarkable, generous, loving woman without a trace of anger or bitterness.

Finn knew there was no way to give her back her girlhood, but it was within his power to… to what? Make her happy? Could he do that? Could he make
any
woman happy? He was as self-centered as any man, perhaps more than most. He might lament the moniker, but Fickle Finn suited him.

His fingers traced the jewel box tucked in his waistcoat. Was this the right moment to give it to her? He reached into his pocket and withdrew it, but Jane was talking about expanding the kitchen garden and didn’t notice. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees with the box resting on his upturned palms. She looked at it and words died on her tongue.

“This is not the most sentimental setting, but we’re seldom alone and I must seize the moment.” Finn took her hand and pressed the box into it, then leaned back against the squabs. “A wedding gift from your lucky husband.” She studied him with an impassive look he couldn’t interpret, then stared at the box as the carriage rumbled on. His smile faded in the silence. Not exactly the reaction he had expected. Or hoped for. He was beginning to see a pattern.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“Pardon? Forgive me, my mind was a million miles away.”

In fact, her mind had only gone so far as Lady Wolseley’s estate in Finchley where she had attended a garden party the week before. Finn, as usual, had been the subject of gossip.

Young, rich, and darkly handsome, for years he had been considered a highly desirable catch. His elusiveness had only served to add spice to the challenge. That he had wed a young woman from outside the
ton’s
inner circle had caused some consternation and numerous vindictive comments had intentionally been made within her hearing.

But as she looked at the box in her hand, one particular comment came to mind.

“Did you see Lady Blaine Fitzgerald and Lord Wheatley at the Waterford ball? She wore the most exquisite diamond lavaliere and earbobs.”

“They must have cost Lord Wheatley an arm and a leg.”

“Oh, Wheatley’s not that generous. According to Blaine they were a parting gift from Lord Wallace. She claims she broke his heart, but that’s doubtful. He has a habit of dispatching his light skirts with pricey tokens of his dwindling esteem. I wonder if his proper little wife will turn a blind eye to his whoring.”

Although she hoped it was just malicious talk, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was true. Did Finn dispense jewelry to his lovers the way other men sent flowers? She tried not to let her misgivings undercut her delight in receiving a gift from him.

Jane slipped off the ribbon and gasped at the sparkling jewels inside. “How lovely!” She lifted the necklace from its bed of crinkling tissue paper.

“Now
that’s
a more satisfying response.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“How about thank you, you’re wonderful, please kiss me,” he quipped, his eyes sparking with mischief.

She laughed. “Thank you, Finn.” Jane pulled off her gloves and fumbled with the clasp.

He slipped onto the seat next to her to fasten the necklace and bracelet. His fingers lingered on her skin. As always, an undercurrent of awareness flowed between them, as eternal as the tide.

“These will match my gown perfectly,” Jane said quietly, trying to maintain her composure as his closeness sent an irrepressible shiver up her spine. “Did you ask your mother what color I planned to wear?”

“No, it was just blind luck,” he admitted, his voice thick and low. “What about the rest?”

She tilted her head in question.

“Thank you… you’re wonderful,” he smiled seductively. “Please…”

“Kiss me,” Jane whispered.

Finn ran a fingertip over her lips. A soft sound escaped her as she leaned infinitesimally closer. He slid his arm around her waist, gently drawing her against his body. The world outside receded until the sound of their breathing was the only thing they heard, his deep and rhythmic, hers shallow, aroused.

He lowered his head slowly, deliberately, as if not to frighten her. His lips covered hers softly, tentatively at first. They both sighed, savoring a joining too long in coming. Her arms drifted around his neck and she molded herself against his hard, muscled body.

Without breaking contact, he lifted her onto his lap and deepened the kiss, his tongue barely entering her at first, tracing the seam of her lips, teasing the corners of her mouth. He was holding back, but she wanted more. She felt alive with pulsing, joyful energy. Finn had awakened a wild, savage part of her she never knew existed. She felt… reckless, audacious. Slipping her fingers into his hair, she pulled him closer.

Finn groaned and gave her what she wanted, fully opening on her, cupping the back of her head and plunging deep. He grasped her face in both hands to slant her head to give him deeper access. He kissed her like a he was a starving man and she was a banquet.