Two Beaux and a Promise Collection (21 page)

He had greeted an acquaintance outside the parlor with studied ennui, but the moment he identified her, his manner changed.

“My dear Maggie,” he exclaimed, dropping his glass as he bent to clasp her hand to his breast. The glass bounced painfully on her knee. “Had I suspected such beauty, I would have rushed to your side days ago.”

She bit back a scathing response. Her intuition had been right. Not only was he lying, but he was doing it poorly. Patrick had delivered his flummery with far more conviction. But at least this proved that her attraction to Marcus had nothing to do with being second cousins. Robert shared even closer blood, yet she already wished herself elsewhere.

“Mr. Adams,” she replied coolly, retrieving her hand. “May I present my companion, Mrs. Sharpe.”

“Charmed.”  He did not even glance at Alice as he reclaimed her hand, gripping it so tightly that only a struggle would free her. “Shall we dine?”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes when she stood, for she was taller by at least an inch. And temper tensed his arm when she deliberately stumbled, nearly tripping him. But he suppressed it, flashing another false smile. “I would have recognized you anywhere,” he claimed, heading for the dining room. “You’ve the look of your father.” 

“Nonse—”  She strongly resembled her mother, but scrabbling claws interrupted her protest, drawing all eyes to the grand staircase. Teddy jerked the lead from Lady Augusta’s hand and hurled himself at Robert, barking loudly.

“Ignore him,” Maggie said quickly. “He won’t bite.”

Robert ignored her instead. His foot struck, tossing the dog against a chair several feet away. “Quiet, you stupid beast!”

Lady Augusta screamed.

“What did you do that for?” demanded Alice.

Robert ignored her.

Teddy backed toward his mistress, snarling.

“That animal should be shot for insulting a gentleman,” snapped Robert as he strode toward Lady Augusta. For a moment Maggie thought he meant to strike the woman, but again he kicked at the dog.

This time Teddy was ready. He ducked the foot, sinking his teeth solidly into the other ankle.

Robert lost his balance and crashed to the floor.

“Serves him right,” muttered Lady Augusta, scooping up Teddy. She stalked off, murmuring soothing sounds into the dog’s ear.

Maggie let Simmons help Robert to his feet. The incident had been illuminating. Robert’s eyes had revealed fury and arrogance, but no fear. Even if Teddy had been attacking, he was too small to inflict serious damage. Most people would have tried placating the animal, but Robert had treated him like an annoying insect.

Nor did he hold her in higher esteem. By the time they reached the dining room, he had added condescension to his incessant compliments, ignoring every attempt to correct his false assumptions. He considered her a brainless rustic, and Alice might have been one of the lobby’s statues for all the attention he paid her.

“London will seem overwhelming after living in the wilderness,” he said, patting her hand, “though escaping America must be the answer to your prayers. I cannot imagine being trapped in a country overrun by savages.”

Nor could she. It was too late to avoid dining with him, but she could at least discourage further contact. She had no wish to pursue this connection. Yet he was too arrogant to believe she found him boring, so her best approach would be to give him a disgust of her.

“I would hardly call them savages,” she protested sweetly. “We lived with a tribe for a time, and I’ve several Indian friends. They are quite charming and more honorable than many settlers.”

He gasped, fanning himself with his handkerchief. “What was Uncle Andrew thinking to expose you to such horror?  The experience has clearly muddled your brain.”

“Really?  You sound shockingly narrow-minded. There are many ways to live.”

Unfortunately, he interpreted her words as an attempt at humor. Making another condescending remark about untutored colonials, he welcomed the soup, not noticing that they had placed no order.

She described her winter with the Indians, embellishing because she had been only five at the time, so remembered little of it. An early snow had caught them in the wilderness the year her father had tried his hand at trapping. Unfortunately, her tale had less effect than she’d hoped. Either Robert was not listening or his motives for seeking her out were unusually strong. A half hour later, he was still dumping the butter boat over her head.

When three waiters arrived to lay out a new course, the lady at the next table snorted. “Shocking service,” she snapped loudly. “We arrived at the same time, but have yet to see the soup.”

Robert glowered at the woman, then administered a direct cut. “The problem with public dining is that one must share the room with encroaching mushrooms,” he proclaimed. “Money will never overcome such obvious lack of breeding. As heir to a viscountcy, I will always be served first.”

“Such arrogance,” said Maggie, referring to Robert, though he assumed she meant their neighbor. The wait staff answered to DuPré, whose temper was legendary. His infatuation with Alice resulted in better food and service every day.

But she said nothing as she sampled a lobster patty. Meeting Robert had been a mistake. He talked incessantly, but she could not believe anything he said, even about the family. He exaggerated other people’s faults to make himself appear saintly and shamelessly puffed his own consequence. Yet he ignored even blatant rudeness in his effort to convince her that he was hopelessly smitten.

She finally gave up. She’d met too many determined suitors to mistake his purpose, though why he would seek her hand was beyond understanding. Perhaps he was under pressure to wed and thought an insignificant colonial would be easier to control.

Yet that seemed unlikely. Two hours of acquaintance should have proved that she was rude, argumentative, and unwilling to change – she’d insisted on using a fish fork for the beef even though he’d corrected her twice.

Their waiter presented Alice with a frothy confection of fruit-filled meringue topped with sugared violets. “All day Monsieur DuPré has exerted himself for you,” he said, bowing over Alice’s hand. “He calls it Henri’s Delight.”

“Thank you, Matthew,” said Alice. “Give him our compliments. This was his best meal yet. And the service was exceptional.”

“He will be charmed,” said Matthew, winking.

“He will puff himself up until those nearby cower for fear that he’ll burst,” she countered, making him laugh. “But this time he deserves the praise – yet I shan’t utter a word until I have the recipes.”

Maggie choked. Not at Alice, for these exchanges had become a nightly ritual – DuPré believed she had the ear of society’s most powerful arbiters of fashion. But Robert looked like someone had just thumped him on the head. He had seemingly forgotten Alice’s presence.

“I am appalled,” snapped the lady at the next table. “There is no excuse for catering to that popinjay!  I swear the service is worse now than when the hotel opened.”

“Then why are we eating here?” her husband demanded, draining his glass. “Give me my club any day. Never did like fancy plaster and all those foreign statues. Waste of good blunt. I’d wager Sir Michael cut corners on the construction to pay for such fripperies.”

“Do you think so?” she asked, peering suspiciously at the ornate ceiling as a waiter set a platter of squabs on her table.

“Sure of it. No need to cover sound building with gilt. Take my club – good solid walls with sensible paneling.”  He shoved a pigeon breast into his mouth.

“Hardly elegant, though,” said his wife, nibbling her trout.

“The fellow who designed this place was the same one who did the Ipswich Gardens Hotel. Hiding deficiencies under plaster frills did not work then, and it won’t work now.”  He gulped another chunk of squab.

“Kitchen fires are common.”

“Faulty construction. The wall behind the ovens was too thin. If the chef had been slower, the whole building would have burned.”

Robert snorted. “That fellow should keep his mouth shut about things he doesn’t understand. I was staying with friends in Suffolk when that fire occurred. Despite the rumors, it cannot have been more than a grease fire or the place would have burned to the ground – like Billings Hall. A single spark ignited a fire that spread so fast the family barely escaped. Generations of records gone.”  He sighed. “The paneling dated to Elizabeth’s reign.”

After hundreds of years, even thick beams would have been dry as tinder, but arguing would serve no purpose. It was time to end the evening. Yet curiosity prompted one last question. “Why does Uncle William refuse to see me?”

“He will come around,” he said, frowning when she moved her hand out of reach. “But you remind him of Andrew’s insane jealousy.”

“Jealousy?”  What lies would he repeat now?

“Andrew despised being the younger son. He hated knowing that Father would have the title one day, so he lashed out whenever he could.”  He shrugged. “The final straw was forcing himself on Father’s betrothed, then abducting her. Father never recovered.”

“Instead, he twisted the facts. My mother never wanted William, but no one listened, so her only option was to flee.”

“A lady never contradicts a gentleman,” Robert said, finally giving in to the anger she’d seen whenever she’d tried to provoke him. It was the first true emotion he had shown since confronting Teddy.

“I prefer truth.”

“Females are incapable of comprehending truth.”  He held up a hand to halt her words. “Do not prattle about things you don’t understand. Your father would never have admitted his crimes to you.”

“Nor would yours. Heed your own advice, Cousin. You weren’t there, either.”

Robert took a deep breath, then donned another false smile. “I must take you firmly in hand if you are to go on in society, Maggie. Your barbaric upbringing will have you ostracized in a trice. I warned you about contradicting a gentleman. It is never acceptable.”

* * * *

Marcus stared at Robert’s back as he placed his dinner order. He should have warned Maggie to avoid her Adams relatives until he could introduce her, but he’d assumed that she would leave the matter in his hands.

Idiot!
  She was no helpless maiden. The fact that she had come to England by herself proved that she was a determined woman who rarely relied on others. He should have known that she would shove the Adams family’s rejection back in their faces.

So now she was at the mercy of Robert’s charm. He hoped she was experienced enough to see through him. Robert’s debts must be larger than anyone knew. Why else would he court a woman so different from his usual tastes?

He absently drained his wineglass.

If only it had not taken so long to authenticate her papers. Robert was dangerous. More than one innocent had fallen victim to his charm.

But he relaxed the moment he caught Maggie’s eye. Her face lit up, the contrast making it obvious that she was barely tolerating Robert’s company. To make sure she understood her danger, he scowled at Robert, shaking his head in warning. She nodded agreement, her eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter.

Relieved, he winked. He could almost read her mind – which was rather disconcerting. He’d never felt so attuned to another person.

Robert noted her inattention and glanced over his shoulder. “Be careful of that one,” he warned her, administering a direct cut as he turned back. “He can never introduce you properly to society. Look at that insipid jacket and that dull waistcoat. The man understands nothing about fashion.”

“But I have no interest in fashion,” Maggie said, pulling on her gloves. Her eyes now held only irritation.

Robert laughed as if she were joking, though Marcus knew she spoke the truth. She would return home as soon as she had carried out her father’s wishes – which meant he must act immediately. At least explaining the Widmers was straightforward. Discussing the Adams family was another problem entirely.

-4-

Maggie frowned. Alice had not yet returned from her morning visit to the kitchen, and breakfast was growing cold.

She had declined to accompany Alice today, though she had done so two days ago, creeping down the servants’ stairs into the bowels of the building. The kitchens were cavernous rooms kept uncomfortably hot by numerous cooking fires and four huge ovens. The smell of baking bread had made her mouth water, reminding her that she’d not yet eaten.

Assistant chefs had scurried about in apparent disarray, though they actually worked in concert to prepare a vast array of food. DuPré was a master of organization.

“Ze trick is in ze wrist,
chérie
.”

His voice had cut through her study of the tricks he used to keep the kitchen running efficiently. Startled, she’d realized that he was teaching Alice how he introduced lightness into his creams.

“Hold ze spoon like so.”  He’d stood behind Alice, his hands covering hers as he demonstrated how to beat air into the cream. Several of his minions had stared in amazement.

Maggie grinned at the memory. DuPré had continued the lesson for nearly an hour, flirting outrageously the entire time. His voice had resembled honeyed velvet as he led Alice through the motions, nuzzling her neck between words. They were undoubtedly sharing another lesson today, but Maggie would not join them again. She did not belong there, as one of the maids had made clear. The girl had been so shocked to find her belowstairs that Maggie had felt obliged to apologize. Clearly, her standing as a lady would be in jeopardy if she indulged her curiosity again. Service would suffer.

Now she picked up the two letters that had arrived with breakfast. Robert’s arrogant scrawl adorned one. The other had been penned in a precise hand that revealed nothing of its owner’s character, so it was probably from Marcus.

A glance at the signature verified her guess.
Forgive me for ignoring you these past days
, he’d written.

Recalling that astonishing moment of mind-sharing in the dining room last evening, she blushed. She had lain awake long into the night, torn between awe that he understood her so well and regret that she must leave soon. They would never meet again – a fact she must not forget. She returned her attention to the page.