Promise Me Forever (12 page)

He pretended he was playing poker, careful not
to reveal the cards he was holding, because he didn’t want her to know that it disappointed him to realize that she
expected
him to blunder. Perhaps that was his fault, based on previous conversations, based on his request for her help. But he was a little more refined than she seemed willing to give him credit for.

Perhaps the evening would be a learning experience for them both.

The more Tom came to know the Duke of Harrington, the more he liked him. Perhaps because, like Tom, the man had found himself unexpectedly titled. Well, not completely like Tom and not totally unexpectedly. He was the second legitimate son and had grown up knowing he always had a small chance of becoming duke, unlike Tom, who’d never had any inkling of what awaited him.

The man was without pretense, earning a glare from Lauren when he told Tom to call him Rhys.

“Tom is supposed to be learning how to address people properly,” she’d chided.

“I’ll purchase him one of Lydia’s books,” Rhys had promised.

Tom had also taken an instant liking to Huntingdon, perhaps because when he’d removed his gloves before dinner, it was evident that he had the hands of a farmer, and from what Tom had gleaned so far, aristocrats weren’t supposed to en
gage in manual labor. But apparently times were changing.

Dinner had actually been enjoyable, with pleasant conversation and no one judging his actions. There was a method to the madness of so much silverware, utensils to be taken from the outside in. Mastering eating with his fork in his left hand had taken some time, since he was accustomed to using his right, but as Lauren explained to him it was a sign of good breeding to use only his left hand. The right was for the knife, which he mentioned he might use to slit his throat.

He’d noticed Rhys fighting not to smile at that comment, while Lydia and Lauren had seen fit to chastise him profusely for uttering such a vulgar remark. Getting Lydia riled was almost as much fun as doing the same to Lauren.

Sitting beside him, she tried gently guiding him through the meal, with quiet whispers and slight nudges, only a few times losing patience with him and snapping at him because he wasn’t trying. He honest to God didn’t see the point. If holding a fork in his right hand caused someone to think less of him, he wasn’t altogether convinced that he was going to put any stock in the person’s opinion anyway.

The seating arrangement hadn’t been quite up to what it should have been had the dinner not been a practice. Tom hadn’t minded. Lauren sitting beside him so he could smell her perfume,
feel the warmth radiating from her body, was a hell of a lot more pleasant than having her sitting across from him.

“Thank God, that’s over,” Rhys said, as soon as the ladies quit the room. “I can barely tolerate these formal dinners.”

Dinner had come to an end after eight courses. The ladies had retired to the drawing room, while the gentlemen remained at the table for some brandy and supposedly
manly
conversation. Tom didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he’d rather have had the ladies present. He didn’t think they were appreciated enough there. He didn’t see a need to chase any away so he could talk to a man, but Lauren had insisted.

“Formal? Good God, man, formal is when a hundred are in attendance. This affair was simply a pleasant evening,” Huntingdon said.

Rhys looked at Tom, nodded toward Huntingdon. “Unlike you and I, he’s never had the luxury of knowing anything other than a nobleman’s life.”

“When was the last time you harvested wheat?” Huntingdon asked.

“I have to confess that the closest I’ve come is loading ships, and that, my friend, is backbreaking work.”

Chuckling, Tom gained the attention of both men. “I thought peers were supposed to pretend never to lift a finger.”

“Quite so,” Huntingdon said. “Sorry for the slip.”

“So how are my brother and his family?” Rhys asked, as the footman poured him some brandy.

“They were doing well, the last I saw them,” Tom said. “Building a new house, doing a little traveling.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Grayson had a difficult life growing up here, not being legitimate and all that. It’s terribly frowned upon, and my older brother Quentin was not the kindest of brothers.”

“Is cruelty common among the aristocracy?” Tom asked. “Because I’ve heard a few bad things about my father, as well.”

“Not really. For the most part, the aristocracy is made up of good men and women who take their duties and position quite seriously and with a great deal of honor and nobility. But like all aspects of society, exceptions abound, and we have our bad apples.” Rhys took a sip of brandy. “I believe this is the part of the evening where I’m supposed to instruct you on after-dinner manners. Lauren whispered in my ear before leaving the room that you possessed—in her words, not mine—the nasty habit of smoking. Therefore, here are the rules as I know them. If you decide to enjoy a cigar or cigarette, you can’t rejoin the ladies. It’s not polite to be around them with your clothing smelling of smoke. Of course, if your host has a smoking room and can offer you a
smoking jacket, then it’s allowed. I have neither.”

“A shame. I have some fine cigars in my jacket pocket.”

“Truly? Of all my vices, I’ve yet to add smoking to the list. Do you think stepping out on the veranda would serve to keep the smoke from getting into our clothes?”

Tom grinned. “It’s my place of choice.”

Rhys had the glasses filled with more brandy, before escorting Tom and Huntingdon to the veranda. Before long, each was puffing on a cigar and enjoying the brandy.

“I believe this may be the start of a bad habit for me,” Rhys said.

“I can think of worse habits. Have even engaged in a few,” Tom said.

“As have I, although marriage has curtailed my number of bad habits considerably.”

“So I understand that you knew Gina in Texas,” Huntingdon said to Tom.

Tom nodded. “Not as well as I knew Lydia, since Gina’s family left Texas. Does she ever talk about wanting to go back?”

“No, I think she’s quite happy here.”

Leaning against the pillar, Tom wondered what it would take to make Lauren happy here. “So tell me. How important is all this stuff that Lauren thinks is so damned important?”

“You mean the Season?” Rhys asked.

“The Season, the manners, the etiquette, the making of a good impression. Any of it. All of it.”

Studying Tom, Rhys took a puff on the cigar. “Actually, it’s terribly important. It broadens or limits your options, depending upon how well you…
perform
. Believe it or not, your most pressing task is to get married and produce an heir to inherit your titles.”

Tom couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “You’re not serious.”

“Unfortunately, I am. If I understand your financial situation, based upon the rumors circulating, you have no problems there. You need to oversee your estates, of course, but much of that is simply delegating, then following up to make sure the work is done properly.

“However, a good deal of effort goes into finding a suitable wife, and that, my new friend, is the true purpose of the Season. Each ball is a marriage market. You look the offerings over, make your selection, charm her, so that by Season’s end she is wearing your ring rather than someone else’s.”

“So if I’m not looking for a wife, I could skip all this nonsense.”

“I thought Lauren was planning to return to Texas.”

“She is.” That didn’t mean Tom had given up on her completely. He took another puff on his cigar. “I know she’s unhappy here.”

“I can’t speak to that. I only met her last Sea
son. Before that, I was somewhat of an…outcast.”

Tom narrowed his eyes at Rhys, studied him. “How does one become an outcast?”

“A bit of family scandal, which to my way of thinking, doesn’t make me the ideal choice for instructing you in proper behavior. However, supposedly all is forgiven, and I’ve regained my good standing, but only because Lydia made it so.”

“She’s happy here.”

“Incredibly.”

“How did you make that happen?”

“Don’t think I really had much to do with it. She simply thrives on all the ceremony that I find tedious.”

“If you find it tedious, then why are you in London?”

“Because she loves it so, and I love her. Besides, I must begin laying the groundwork so that our children, when they come along, will be accepted and loved by all who know them.”

Tom grimaced. “I’m used to a man being judged on his own merits.”

“A man can rise above his family’s scandals. A man’s scandals can also bring his family down. Improper behavior is not tolerated well, especially by the older ranks. As much as I wish it were otherwise, I would advise you to take Lauren’s lessons seriously. A soiled reputation is not easily washed clean.”

“Lauren says it takes courage to thrive here.”

“Indeed, and probably of a sort you’re not accustomed to. I suspect the dangers you faced in Texas were exceedingly clear, visible, without question. Here, they are not always so blatantly obvious.”

“I’d been thinking that if I could figure out what was really making Lauren unhappy, I could fix it so she might decide to stay.”

“Ah, then you wouldn’t have to wife hunt.”

Tom looked out at the darkness. If Lauren left…“How can you marry someone you don’t love?”

“My father did. He and my mother spent a good deal of their lives miserable, and it rained down on their children so they, too, were miserable.”

“Yeah,” Tom said quietly. “I could see where it could make a lot of people unhappy.”

“Speaking from experience,” Huntingdon said, “a marriage of convenience need not always be miserable. I married for money and was fortunate enough to gain love as well.”

“Still, you must admit that among the aristocracy, marrying for reasons other than love is usually the case,” Rhys said. “Politics, prestige, money…they are more often sought after than love. I suppose that’s the reason so many take lovers.”

“I can’t imagine marrying for any of those reasons,” Tom said.

“Are you telling me that love is the only reason that people marry in Texas?”

Tom finished off his brandy, shook his head. “No. Men need helpmates, women need security. Sometimes it’s to fight the loneliness. I guess it just seems that our reasons are more honest than yours.”

Rhys chuckled. “You’re going to have to stop thinking of yourself as not one of us. That won’t sit well among your peers.”

“And you think that’s something I need to worry over? What sits well with my peers?”

“If you do one day take a wife, if you do one day have children, then yes, you’d better give a damn that your peers think well of you. That’s not to say that you can’t be your own man. You simply do it within the confines of our society.”

Tom was beginning to understand why Lauren was miserable there. It wasn’t a place where a girl would let a boy unbutton her bodice. It wasn’t a place where a boy would even presume to ask. With their chaperones and strict behaviors, it was a wonder a man could figure out who he might enjoy spending the rest of his days with, let alone who he might love.

Three dark-haired lords had sat at the table during dinner. Observing them, based on their behavior, Lauren had been unable to distinguish the two who had been raised in England from the one
who hadn’t. Only when Tom spoke did evidence surface that he’d journeyed a serpentine path to his destination.

Yet even when he spoke his drawl was not quite as pronounced as usual, as though he was working to keep his differences at a minimum. She’d been sitting beside him so she could quietly comment on his manners when appropriate—and had spent most of the meal uttering few words, other than insisting he keep his fork in his left hand.

“I thought dinner went smashingly well,” Lydia said, as the ladies sat in the drawing room, drinking tea while the men drank brandy in the dining room. “Don’t you agree, Lauren?”

“What? Oh, yes,” Lauren said, trying to focus her attention on the conversation rather than her thoughts during dinner. She knew Lydia and Gina would probably disagree, but she’d thought Tom had been the most handsome of the three, and watching him had certainly been no hardship.

“Tom seemed to be very comfortable in our company during dinner,” Gina said. “I still break out in hives when Devon even mentions attending some sort of large affair.”

Lauren thought it interesting that the two ladies she trusted most of all had such different views on etiquette: Gina abhorred anything to do with it, while Lydia thrived on it.

“You worry about it too much,” Lydia said.

“Strange words from someone who thought it
was important enough to write a book about,” Gina responded.

The one thing they both had in common was that neither was shy about expressing her opinion.

“Lauren, you seem miles away,” Lydia said.

Lauren looked at her cousin, looked at her friend, shook her head. “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“By what?” Gina asked.

“I’m afraid I’m as guilty as the ladies of London in thinking that Tom is going to behave like a barbarian.”

“There’s not a lot that one can get wrong during a dinner,” Lydia said.

“Not a gentleman, anyway,” Gina said. “The arrangement of the seating, the courses to be served, everything of any importance is left to women. Men just have to sit where they’re told and eat what’s placed before them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true enough.” Still, something bothered Lauren about to night. “He seemed so sure of himself.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He was among friends,” Lydia said.

“You didn’t give him a lesson when you went to visit him this morning?”

“Of course not. I only wanted to make him feel welcome.”

“What does it matter if he’s getting lessons elsewhere?” Gina asked.

“It doesn’t, except I could be on my way to Texas if not for my promise to teach him.”

“I can’t believe that you’d want to miss the Season,” Lydia said.

“Only because you love it so,” Gina said.

Lauren shook her head. “After turning down Kimburton, my Season will be most boring. I suspect I’ll have very few dances.”