Promised

by Leah Garriott

  “It makes no difference. Truly, Father. He means nothing to me beyond his being Louisa’s brother.” I dropped his hand and danced to my new position on the opposite side of the woman next to me.

  My father didn’t speak until we joined hands again. “I only ever wished for you to be happy.”

  “And I am. I will be.” But as Daniel and Louisa flashed into view, I realized the small twinge of pain I’d felt earlier was no longer small.

  I was aching with loneliness for Gregory. Where was he?

  Forty-Four

  James Johnson claimed my hand for the next dance.

  “You look quite lovely tonight, Miss Brinton.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We are all relieved to hear of your sister’s recovery.”

  “Yes,” I said, dropping his hand to turn. “Thank you. We are—” I glimpsed his sister Catherine along the wall, speaking with a brown-haired gentleman whose back was to me. But I knew those shoulders, the tilt of the head. My breath caught and I stumbled.

  James grasped my hand, steadying me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” I replied. I searched the wall, but neither Catherine nor the man was visible any longer. Perhaps, in my current state, I had mistaken someone else for Gregory.

  We stepped away then stepped back together. “I believe we were speaking of your sister,” he prompted.

  “Oh, um, Alice. We are quite relieved about Alice.”

  “Will she be recovered enough to attend the wedding?”

  We turned to dance back down the room. “I believe so.”

  “Your brother and Miss Rosthorn look very happy.”

  I followed his gaze to the head of the line, where Daniel and Louisa smiled at each other, seemingly unaware of the rest of the town’s presence. “It has been a long time coming. Which reminds me, by asking me to dance you have played quite into my mother’s expectations.”

  The dance required we shift partners. When James and I rejoined each other, he smiled. “And you still believe my feelings for you have not changed?”

  I lifted my brow. “Are you going to pretend they have?”

  He laughed. “No, you are quite right.”

  I caught sight of Catherine again. She was dancing with a man who was definitely not Gregory. “My mother will be very disappointed.”

  “Disappointing mothers seems to be my lot in life,” James replied.

  “Mine, too.”

  Once the set finished, I allowed James to walk me to the side of the floor, but it wasn’t long before another man claimed my hand. I twirled and clapped and forced myself to smile through dance after dance. But eventually the searching and the waiting became too much. I had seen numerous men who resembled Gregory in some way, each time my heart lurching with hope and anxiety until I recognized them for who they were. Or, rather, who they were not. Gregory wasn’t here. It was well past the time for people to arrive. Which meant he wasn’t coming.

  I slipped out the open side doors onto the terrace. There were only two more dances until supper, but I wasn’t up to tolerating the crush of people, perfumes, and body odor that plagued the room. Though I wore long gloves, the night was chilly without my wrap. I inhaled the fresh air with relish, then immediately began rubbing my arms with my hands, walking until I reached the banister at the far side of the terrace, where no one would notice me if anyone also decided to enjoy a break from the festivities. I leaned on the railing and looked out over the dark lawn.

  The ball was a success. Everyone was commenting on how they had never seen a couple so happy. Daniel had left Louisa’s side only to fetch her a drink. The musicians were superb, the punch divine, and all the guests seemed content to spend the entire night in celebration.

  I tried to ignore the emptiness inside me by studying the stars and the outlines of the trees, but the ache wouldn’t go away.

  I had been so certain Gregory would come.

  “Margaret?”

  I turned away from the balcony. “Daniel, I’m here.”

  He walked over and followed my example of leaning against the railing. “Louisa sent me to find you. How are you?”

  “She did? I didn’t think she knew anyone was in the room aside from you.”

  He chuckled.

  “Of course, if Louisa had come out here I would have said the same about you.” I poked him gently in his ribs.

  “We’re not that bad.”

  I lifted my brows high and looked down my nose at him.

  “Well, maybe we are.” His large, toothy grin indicated that he was not in the least apologetic about it.

  “You are,” I stated with decisiveness.

  His smile faded. “How are you? Edward and Mrs. Rosthorn mentioned they had seen you.”

  “I don’t understand why everyone is so concerned with how it would be with Edward.”

  I turned to study the darkness over the lawns.

  He placed a hand over mine. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  I didn’t understand. Gregory hadn’t come. He’d given me all the signs. There was a donkey in my barn, for goodness sake. And, yet—

  What if Mr. Northam had sent those things as a joke?

  Was I that much of a fool? “What if I never marry, Daniel?”

  He hesitated. “You are still young. I would hardly suggest putting yourself on the shelf yet.”

  “Twice engaged and never married.”

  “You will always have a home with Louisa and me.”

  I faced him. “A place as the unwanted burden, you mean. An expense you will never be rid of, who will never bring in income, who will only be a drain on you and your family. That is what you mean, for that is what I will become. Though I would make a good governess to your children.”

  Daniel suddenly straightened, his brow furrowing. “I doubt you will have to stoop so low. Know that I wish for you to be as happy as I am.” He reached forward and awkwardly patted my arm, then turned and strode across the terrace to the party.

  I frowned, astonished at his abrupt departure. Had my summation of what he stood to lose just become real to him? Had he only now realized the burden I would be? He had not even asked me to return inside with him. Perhaps this was his way of uninviting me to the ball.

  The clearing of a throat behind me chased all thoughts of Daniel from my head. I spun, afraid of being cornered on the balcony at night.

  Even in the poor light I recognized my companion instantly. Gregory.

  He’d come! He stood only a few paces from me, his dark coat blending in with the night. I wanted to leap into his arms, be held against him, tell him how much I’d missed him.

  No. I would keep control of myself. Everything I said and did would be polite. Formal. Proper.

  I opened my mouth to bid him a good evening, but instead asked, “What are you doing here?” My question was no more than a strangled whisper, so faint I wondered if I had actually spoken.

  He took a hesitant step toward me. “I received an invitation. Well, two, actually.”

  “You received two invitations?”

  “Yes. One from your father and one from your brother.”

  My father and my brother? Daniel’s actions just now—he had seen Gregory behind me. My father’s words earlier—had he known Gregory would come?

  “And, I believe you dropped this.” Gregory held out his hand, the blue ribbon Alice had given me resting comfortably in it.

  I glanced down at my dress. How had I not realized it had fallen? How embarrassing. “Thank you.”

  Reaching for it, I indulged myself by brushing my fingers against his hand, the thinness of my glove allowing me to feel the lines in his palm. My whole body seemed attuned to his nearness, to his chest rising and falling with each breath—did his breath hitch when I touched his hand?—to the muscles of his should
er keeping his palm stretched before me—was it offered a fraction longer than necessary?—to the way it would take only a step to put him close enough to kiss me—did he want to kiss me? My stomach clenched while my lips tingled.

  He was here. And I was still in love with him.

  I placed a hand on the banister for balance. “I didn’t think you would come.”

  “I wasn’t sure how I’d be received.”

  “I had hoped—” I stopped.

  He shifted closer. “You had hoped . . . ?”

  I nodded. I had hoped. Foolish eternal hope.

  Except he was here. “There were the flowers. And the book. Those were from you, were they not?”

  He placed his hand on the banister next to mine. “Is there someone else they could be from?”

  “We thought at first the flowers were for Alice. And my father ordered the same book. But the notes . . . Only, your cousin—it could be a mean joke. But then the donkey came. How would he know of the donkey?”

  Gregory nodded. “His name is Oscar.”

  I shook my head. “Gregory.”

  “Yes?” He sounded confused.

  I bit back a smile. “The donkey’s name is Gregory.”

  Gregory stilled. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

  “I did. Your mother would approve.” I lifted my gaze. His hair, though styled, still curled above the ear. And his face—how had I ever thought him less than the most handsome man I had ever beheld? And his eyes—

  His eyes met mine, and I never wanted to move again. I wanted to stay forever with him looking at me just like that, hunger and hope and slight exasperation openly displayed in his eyes.

  How I’d missed him.

  “I believe my mother would approve of a great number of things that ought not be approved of, Miss Brinton. What happened to poor Oscar?”

  “Gregory is quite content in a stall. Well, I believe he is content. I probably should have removed his hat.”

  “You left the poor animal with that hat on?”

  “I didn’t want to be late for the ball. In case. . . .” I slid my hand closer to his.

  His fingers touched mine. “In case what?”

  I brushed my fingers against his. “In case there was someone here I was supposed to meet.”

  His hand crept over mine. “Was there?”

  The tips of our thumbs touched and I grazed mine against his in a playful motion. “My mother did instruct me to pay special attention to James Johnson.”

  Gregory tensed. “Did she?”

  “Yes. She said she wanted to see me as happily settled as Daniel and Louisa.”

  “And she believes Mr. Johnson would make you happy?”

  “He has a strong constitution to withstand my opinions,” I said, recounting Gregory’s counsel to me from when we’d discussed ending the engagement. “And I believe he has enough sense to support me comfortably.”

  “But will he give you flowers?”

  My body tingled. “Probably.”

  “And gifts?”

  My heart began to pound. “Oh, yes. I believe Mr. Johnson would give very good gifts.”

  Gregory shifted nearer. I probably moved toward him as well. It didn’t matter who had moved anymore. I adjusted my weight forward, awaiting his next question. Kisses.

  “And . . . donkeys?”

  I paused, letting the disappointment soak in before settling back down onto my heels. “Oh. Probably not. Which is a shame. I guess he wouldn’t suit after all.”

  His hand clasped mine. “Perhaps there is someone else out there for you.”

  “Hope’s eternal flame,” I murmured.

  “Your hand is cold.”

  “Is it?”

  His thumb ran over the back of my hand in a gentle caress. “As a gentleman, I should insist you return inside.”

  “Are you not a gentleman, then?” I would never tire of looking at him, of searching his face for his thoughts, of waiting for his teasing replies.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “I believe arrogant aristocrat describes me better.”

  “In which case, even if you insisted, I would probably refuse to give heed.”

  “I suppose it then becomes my duty to warm this poor hand, does it not?” He lifted my hand to his lips. The kiss was as soft as a dream and turned my heart to liquid.

  “You cannot believe,” he said quietly, “that my intentions toward you were ever solely based on winning a wager.”

  He clasped my other hand and raised it to his lips. “From the moment Mrs. Hickmore introduced us, I was drawn to you.”

  “And I to you,” I confessed. “That was the problem.”

  I reveled in the feel of my hands in his. Having him near felt so right. I wanted this. I wanted him. I needed him. I would always need him. Admitting it sent a shiver racing through me.

  He dropped my hands, shrugged out of his coat, and draped it across my shoulders. The smell of him surrounded me. Every empty place within me filled to overflowing. It was too much. I swallowed, but it didn’t keep the tear from slipping down my cheek.

  His hand raised, hesitated, then rested on my cheek, his thumb slowly wiping my tear away in an achingly tender arch. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  I leaned into his hand, thirsty for the feel of him, unwilling to deny myself a moment of his touch. “You never promised you wouldn’t.”

  “But I did promise to try not to. And I thought—I thought I could make you care for me. I thought I could make you love me.”

  His gaze was so full of tenderness and desire it was hard to breathe. “You did.”

  He lowered his head until he was staring straight into my eyes. “I love you, Margaret. I’m not sure if it happened when you looked me in the face and boldly declared, quite truthfully, that I had never been in love, or when you fell off that wall while spying upon your own family. I knew I would do anything to keep you when you showed me that letter.”

  “The one from Louisa?”

  He nodded. “Although, come to think of it, I believe I realized I was falling for you when you couldn’t keep your eyes off me after dumping me into the lake.”

  “I distinctly remember not looking at you,” I protested. Unlike now, when I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  He smiled. “Perhaps we’ll have to agree to disagree?”

  “Is that even possible?”

  His hand slid under my chin, lifting it. “With you, anything is possible. Marry me. Please. This last week has been agony. I do not think I can bear to pass another moment without you in my life.”

  His whispered words dissolved any remaining hesitation; all my silly promises swept away. A weightless sensation steadily filled my chest, dispelling the misery that had lodged there for too long. “My lord—”

  He let out a long sigh. “Are you ever going to call me Gregory on a consistent basis?”

  The corners of my lips twitched as I struggled to keep a straight face. “You would prefer I call you the name of a donkey?”

  “Margaret!”

  His low sigh of exasperation made me smile. I raised a hand to his chest, my fingers curling around one of his lapels. “Yes, Gregory.”

  My response surprised both of us. “Yes?” His voice was breathless with hope.

  “Yes.” Because even if there was pain in my future, or betrayal, or heartache, the promise of being with him was something I wanted more. Something I was willing to risk all of my safety for.

  We stared at each other. The cold of the night disappeared. The darkness lightened. Time stopped. And then I became conscious of the sound drifting from the open door. A strain of music in three-quarter time floated to us from inside.

  Gregory’s lips curved. “A waltz, my lady.”

  I could scarcely speak. “I believe you owe me a d
ance.”

  He took my hand and slowly raised it to his shoulder. “There are numerous positions for the waltz.” His voice was as gentle as his touch. He lifted my other hand to his other shoulder before his fingers slid down my arms, coming to a stop on my own shoulders. “This is one.”

  Then they slid down my back, encircling my waist and pulling me closer to him. I gasped.

  His voice held a trace of laughter as he said, “This is another.”

  “This is not a dance position. This is an embrace!”

  “Not yet, it isn’t.” He grinned before his gaze fell to my lips and all amusement vanished. He pulled me closer and a hand slid up my back in an agonizingly slow path to my neck. His fingers slid into my hair.

  “Is this another position for the waltz?” I asked, breathless.

  He froze, then started to pull his fingers from my hair.

  “Because,” I said, curling my own hand into his hair, “I believe you owe me much more than a dance.”

  His smile grew deliciously wicked. “I believe you are correct.”

  His arms tightened, his head lowered. I lifted onto my toes.

  Our lips touched, softly, as though neither of us could believe it had finally happened.

  I pulled away.

  Gregory lifted his head in surprise, his expression quickly turning to concern.

  “That was for the wager,” I said quietly. “You should have won.”

  He quirked a brow. “Then this is for everything else.”

  He lowered his head and our lips met again. His lips were warm and tender, almost hesitant. I didn’t pull away. I pressed against them. I never wanted to be apart from him again.

  His kiss turned insistent, possessive, as though he felt the same way. His arms wrapped tighter around me and I moved closer, wanting more, needing more, needing him, and was gratified to hear a strained murmur of my name escape him.

  A throat cleared behind us. Suddenly recalling where we were, I jerked away, but Gregory tightened his arm around my waist so the most I could do was turn my head. “Why are we always interrupted?” he groaned quietly.

  My father stood not far from us. “This is not quite the scene I expected to find.”