Wicked Promise (25 page)

Her aunt had the good grace to flush. "Yes, well, you needed my feathers, did you not? In these uncertain times, one never knows what might come in handy."

Elizabeth sighed. "I suppose that is true." One certainly never knew which path her life might take. Elizabeth had learned that stark fact better than anyone of her acquaintance.

How could he do that? Make her stomach flutter and her heart beat like a schoolgirl at her first recital when no other man had the slightest effect. Until tonight he had played the role of gentleman, at least in front of the others. But tonight, die moment they chanced to be alone, his eyes found hers and they seemed to burn.

"You're looking radiant, my lady," he had said, pressing the back of her hand against his lips. "A man could fall headlong into trouble just looking into those blue, blue eyes."

Maggie stiffened in surprise, flushed, and made some inane response, unnerved and at the same time oddly excited. Later, her nerves still on edge, she broke away from the others to walk, for a moment, alone in the garden. She was staring up at the moon, studying the shadows and valleys, when Trent appeared out of the darkness.

"I saw you slip away. I hope you don't mind if I join you." He was impeccably dressed and though he was only of average height and build, there was something about him that gave him the appearance of being much larger.

"No, I... I simply needed a moment to myself."

"Then you do mind." But he made no effort to leave and suddenly she didn't want him to. He moved closer, his gaze following hers up to the starlit night, then returning to her face. The air seemed to thicken and expand around them.

"Breathtaking," he said, and she knew that he didn't mean the sky. His hand reached out to brush her cheek. He cupped her face between his palms and his mouth came down over hers.

Heat filtered through her, warming her in ways she hadn't imagined. His shoulders were broad. She could feel the fabric of his coat beneath her hands. His mouth was warm and masterfully skillful as it moved over hers. For a moment she allowed herself to enjoy the delicious sensation, a coaxing, a tasting so different from the harsh, almost brutal kisses Stephen Bascomb had taken from her.

Then reality began to filter in, the knowledge that someone might come upon them. The marquess pulled away at the same moment she did, but his warm brown eyes remained on her face. Her hands were shaking as they unconsciously reached up to touch her lips, slightly swollen from his kiss.

"I am sorry if I have offended you. I have been wanting to do that since the moment I met you."

Maggie said nothing. Her mind felt muddled, confused,

"Come, my lady." Gently, he took her arm. "I believe it is time we returned. The others will begin to worry."

Indeed they would. In truth, she never should have left them. But she had and he had kissed her.

And now it was morning. As the first rays of dawn slipped over the sill and into her bedchamber, she thought of that kiss, thought of Trent and her night of restless slumber, and dragged herself up out of bed.

What was happening to her? Was Andrew merely toying with her, trying to seduce her, as Stephen Bascomb had done? Or were his intentions more serious—which, considering the fact she was no longer a virgin, that she had just broken free of a nine-year confinement and entertained not the slightest interest in marriage, would, in Maggie's estimation, be far worse.

She desperately needed to talk to someone. Someone who would try to understand and might be able to help her. Maggie rang for her maid, who stumbled in half asleep, her mobcap askew and her mouse-brown hair falling down.

"You called, my lady?"

"Yes, Clarice. I want you to help me get dressed."

"Now, my lady?" She studied the purple morning sky. " 'Tis barely past daybreak."

"Now, Clarice. There is something I must do." It didn't take long. In minutes Maggie was dressed in a warm gray serge gown and bowling along in the Ravenworth carriage on her way to Elizabeth's town house.

It was hardly the thing, to appear on one's doorstep at this ungodly hour of the morning, but Elizabeth had always been an early riser. They were friends, after all, and considering her sleepless night, Maggie needed a friend very badly.

When she reached the rented brick house in Maddox Street, a lamp was burning in Elizabeth's upstairs bedchamber, and seeing it, relief filtered through her. Thank God her friend was at least out of bed—she could see a woman's shadow outlined clearly on the wall. She started toward the house, feeling a little better about her intrusion, then paused as a second shadow appeared. A man's shadow, lean and broad- shouldered, standing nearly a head taller than the woman's.

Maggie froze. Holy Mother of God—Elizabeth was upstairs with a man! Shock tore through her. Then worry. Good heavens—what if it were Bascomb or one of his men? Maggie raced up the steep stone steps and pounded on the door until Ae sleepy-eyed butler pulled it open.

"My lady? For heaven's sake, what is it?"

She started to blurt out her fears—but what if she were wrong? Elizabeth was a woman. Maggie knew only too well how easily a woman could fall prey to the wrong sort of man. "I—I have urgent business with Miss Woolcot. It can't wait until later. Don't worry, I shall show myself upstairs."

"But my lady—"

Maggie never heard the rest. Instead, she hurried upstairs and started pounding on the door. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth, are you all right?"

Elias Moody appeared in an instant, Theo Swann close at his heels. "What the devil's goin' on?"

Maggie ignored them. "Elizabeth, please open the door."

It swung open a few moments later and Elizabeth stood in the opening dressed in a blue velvet wrapper, her dark hair unbound and tumbling around her shoulders. "Maggie—what in the world is the matter?"

Margaret Warring looked up at the lovely, slender woman who was her friend and knew in an instant the man in the room wasn't Oliver Hampton. "It's all right, Elias," she said to the man hovering tensely beside her. "I wanted to talk to Elizabeth, is all. I know she rises quite early."

Elias stalked away with a disapproving scowl, a disgruntled sigh, and a yawn. Theo shuffled back to his quarters, and Maggie turned to Elizabeth, careful to keep her voice just above a whisper.

"I know I am hardly the one to criticize your behavior, but the fact is, my brother has gone to a great deal of trouble to insure your future, and I hardly think this is a proper way to repay him."

Elizabeth looked confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the man you have hiding in your bedchamber. I saw him in silhouette when I drove up in the carriage."

Elizabeth's face went pale. "It—it must have been a shadow."

"It wasn't a shadow and both of us know it—dear God, I wish it were." Maggie reached out and took her hand, felt it faintly trembling. "Elizabeth, do you have any idea what you are doing to yourself? Believe me, I do. No one knows better than I what a fall from grace can do."

Elizabeth's trembling increased. "But I'm not... it isn't..." She turned away then, tears streaming into her eyes, beginning to roll down her cheeks.

"Come inside, Maggie," came the cool, deep voice she knew only too well, a voice that sent a wave of dread down her spine. "Come in and close the door."

Nick studied the two women he cared most for in the world. Elizabeth's face was as pale as a sheet. Beneath her short blond hair, his sister looked tortured.

"I can't believe it," Maggie said to him. "I just can't believe it. I thought you cared for her. I thought you wanted to protect her. Instead, you've ruined her—just as Stephen ruined me."

Nick said nothing, but every word stung like the sharp edge of a saber.

"It isn't his fault." Elizabeth brushed at the wetness on her cheeks. "He tried to warn me. He tried to protect me. I am the one at fault. I love him, Maggie. I wanted to be with him."

"You were an innocent. Nick knew better. He should have—"

"I should have stayed away from her," Nick finished harshly. "I should have kept my word. Is that what you were about to say, little sister?"

Maggie's chin went up. "You've changed, Nick. There was a time your honor meant more to you than seducing an innocent young girl."

Nick lunged away from the wall where he had been leaning. "Is that what you think? That all I care about is seduction? That the only thing I want from Elizabeth is the pleasure of her body? If that is what you think of me then you are the one who has changed."

Maggie's eyes searched his face. He wondered if she could read his pain, could see the ache of regret that made his features look hard.

"You are right," she said, her gaze locked with his. "There was a time I believed you would never do such a thing."

"And now?" He had brought this trouble to Elizabeth—he deserved his sister's scorn, yet it stabbed at his heart like a blade.

Maggie's eyes filled with tears. "Now I am older, not able to see things nearly so clearly." She reached out a shaky hand, rested it against his cheek. "If I were younger, I would have seen from the start how much you care for her, how much you need her. That this is hurting you, even more than it is hurting Elizabeth."

Nick's throat constricted. Of course she could see. She had always been able to see inside him. The ache remained, yet it was tempered with the knowledge that the bond between them remained.

"Oh, Nick." Maggie went into his arms and he held her close, wishing somehow he could have spared her.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can say."

She brushed a tear from her cheek. "I am the one who is sorry. It was wrong of me to condemn you—either of you. I suppose my past has made me expect the worst of people."

"You weren't wrong." Nick looked over his sister's shoulder to the pale-faced woman who stood a few feet away. "Everything you said is true. I've ruined Elizabeth's future. I've put your future in jeopardy, as well. I wanted Elizabeth so much I was willing to risk anything—everything—to have her. In truth, I'm no better than Bascomb."

"No!" Elizabeth turned and walked toward them. "That isn't true. You are nothing like Oliver Hampton—nothing! You are generous and good. You are kind and you are caring. You deserve a measure of happiness—no matter the risk you must take."

Nick shook his head, but Maggie gripped his arm. "Elizabeth is right. You deserve to be happy, Nick. If Elizabeth is willing to accept things as they are, then nothing else matters."

But of course it did matter. Elizabeth trusted him to take care of her. His sister trusted him to protect her and see to her future. So far he had done a poor job of both of those things.

He closed his eyes against a feeling of failure. Surely there was something he could do to make things right. Surely there was something.

Nick vowed in that moment that he would find a way.

"Good Lord, isn't that Lord Tricklewood?" Maggie peered over Elizabeth's shoulder out the window of the town house. Now that she knew the truth of the relationship Elizabeth shared with her brother, an even stronger bond had formed between them. Both of them loved Nicholas Warring. Both of them wanted him to be happy.

"Tricklewood?" Elizabeth's eyes swung to the man limping slowly up the path. "Why, yes, and it looks as though he has been injured."

"I can scarcely believe it—surely he and Sir Robert didn't both encounter footpads." Maggie had arrived just after breakfast, bearing news that Sir Robert Tinsley had received a broken arm in a skirmish two days ago with thieves.

"Surely not," Elizabeth said, hurrying to open the door before the butler could reach it. "David, what on earth has happened?"

He stood on the front porch, a grim look on his face. His knuckles were scraped, one eye blackened, his lip cut and swollen. "It's a long story, Elizabeth. May I please come in?"

"Oh, of course. Forgive me. Let's go into the drawing room. You'll be more comfortable there. I'll have the butler bring us tea."

Assisting the viscount into an overstuffed chair, Elizabeth sat down on a blue silk sofa next to Maggie. "David, please— you must tell us what has happened."

He gave up a long-suffering sigh. "It is incredible, really. As evidenced by the bruises on my face, I was set upon by ruffians—last night—on my way home from the club."

"You mean Boodles? You said you were a member."

"Yes. I always go there of a Friday evening for a bit of gaming. Last night was no exception, other than that after I departed, a few blocks from the club, my carriage was waylaid. Two men attacked me, one tall and thin, the other more heavily built, with a thick red beard and red hair."

Elizabeth felt a prickle of alarm."Please, go on."

"They cashed my driver on the head then came after me. They stole my purse, which was rather lighter than usual, since my evening at the tables had been exceedingly grim, then they started to beat me. I fought back, of course, and I believe I acquitted myself rather well, considering. With two of them against me, they won out in the end, left me in the gutter nearly unconscious, but before they departed, they delivered a message."

"A message? What was it?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"They said that I was to give up any thought of marriage to Elizabeth Woolcot. They said she was already spoken for. They said if I continued to court you, the next time I would receive far worse than a beating."

"Oh, my God," Maggie said.

"Bascomb," Elizabeth whispered, cold chills racing down her spine.

"They warned me to say nothing. They threatened to kill me if I didn't keep my silence." He smiled endearingly. "That I am here, dear Elizabeth, is proof of the feelings I hold for you."

A hard lump rose in Elizabeth's throat. Still another person had suffered at Bascomb's hands, suffered because of her. She came up off the sofa and crossed to his side. "Bascomb is obsessed and there is no telling why. You were brave and loyal in coming here, and I shall never forget you for it." She reached out and took his hand. "But I'm afraid, my lord, there are things you don't understand."

"I understand completely. I realize Oliver Hampton is a power unto himself and he will do anything to have you." He smiled, his blackened eye and puffy lip making him look like a little boy. "In a way I don't blame him."