Promise Me Tomorrow

“Rosalind, what are you doing here? I thought you were in the kitchen with Winny, working on your studies.”

“I came out to see who was here, Mama,” Rosalind replied pragmatically. “Nettie came into the kitchen and said, ‘Lor’ but there’s a ‘andsome devil out there.’ So I wanted to see.”

Lambeth chuckled. Marianne couldn’t see that the disclosure discomfited him much. He probably expected everyone to find him handsome.

“But he doesn’t look like a devil to me,” Rosalind went on seriously.

“Bless you, child.” Lambeth grinned. “Just for that, I’ll take you up with me one of these days in my curricle.”

“Would you?” Rosalind turned to him, eyes sparkling. “Where everybody could see?”

“Indeed. What would be the point otherwise?”

A sunny smile spread across her daughter’s face. “I’d enjoy that ever so much.”

“Rosalind, I think it’s time you went back to your studies, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.” She turned and started away, then turned, asking Lambeth gravely, “You won’t forget, will you?”

“I swear it.” Lambeth laid his hand over his heart dramatically.

Rosalind grinned and skipped away. Marianne watched the child leave, then turned back to Lambeth, irritated at the easy way he had won her daughter over.

“How did you find me?” she asked bluntly.

His eyes lit with laughter. “Were you hiding from me?”

“Of course not.” Irritation stiffened her spine. “But I gave you no permission to call on me.”

“I know. I am far too bold. I’ve been told so before. However, I felt sure that if we had not been so rudely interrupted, you would have given me your direction.”

“You take rather a lot upon yourself.” This was an awkward situation. If they were to stay in London, as the others wanted, she needed somehow to deflect this man’s suspicions. She could not simply turn him away, for that would only increase his doubts about her. But she knew that if he were to meet any of her supposed family, it would likely do the same thing. While most of them spoke rather genteelly, she knew from being around the ton that they would not pass any discerning eye—and this man’s eyes were more discerning than most.

“I felt sure I could depend on your good nature.” Lambeth’s eyes were laughing at her again, and Marianne felt as though she could cheerfully shove him out the front door. It was especially irritating that the twinkle of those sherry-colored eyes made her insides jangle in a most disturbing way.

“Won’t you come in, then?” she asked, assuming as gracious a voice as she could muster, and extended her hand toward the front drawing room, the most formal room in the house. She spared a glance toward the sitting room, which she had just left, and caught sight of Betsy’s curious face peering around the door.

She closed the door to the drawing room behind them. It was a thoroughly indelicate thing to do, and God knew what Lambeth would think of her for it, but she hoped that the closed door would send a message to the rest of the “family” to stay out.

“Now, would you tell me why you came here?”

“Why, to see you. Why else?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. I though perhaps you came to renew your absurd allegations.”

“My dear girl.” Lambeth put on a wounded expression as he took her hand in his and raised it to his mouth. “I came to apologize for offending you.”

His lips brushed her skin like velvet, and Marianne felt it clear down to her toes. She struggled to keep her breathing even. “A note would have done as well.”

“Ah, but then I would not have had the pleasure of looking at you while I threw myself on your mercy.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. I don’t think you are in the slightest sorry.”

“Indeed, I am. I am very sorry that you slipped away last night before we had finished our conversation.”

“There was nothing further to say. Somehow you got the wrong impression of me, and I don’t know how I can change your mind.”

“I would not be at all averse to your trying.”

“Lord Lambeth, you are very presumptuous.” He was still holding on to her hand, and it took some effort for her to pull it from his grasp. She walked away from him, sitting down in a chair and gesturing him toward the sofa opposite her.

“Mmm. No doubt. I have found that it usually serves me well.” Lambeth took the chair beside her instead.

“Was it you following me yesterday?” she asked bluntly.

“No, I assure you.” He smiled. “I knew that if you saw me you would flee immediately. I sent one of my servants instead—and a cursed clumsy job he must have made of it if you spotted him.”

“I didn’t spot him. It was just a feeling.”

“I apologize if he alarmed you.” His voice sounded sincere, and Marianne felt unwillingly warmed by it. “I wanted very much to see you again—that is my only excuse for such behavior. You say that I got the wrong impression of you the other night at Lord Batterslee’s. I fear that you received the wrong impression of me, as well.”