She walked down the hallway to the library, a room she’d always found comforting, a place where the family had spent many a night reading. It was the one room that reminded her of Texas, because her mother had always read to them in the evenings when they’d lived in Fortune. She’d continued enjoying the practice, but she had many more books from which to choose. But then Ravenleigh always had so much more of everything. It was one of the reasons her mother had never been able to understand Lauren’s discontent.
Taking a deep breath to calm her frenzied nerves, Lauren strolled into the library. She thought she should have found the pleasant memories associated with this grand room comforting, but everything faded into insignificance with Tom’s overpowering presence. How could he take up so much space, when he was doing little more than sitting in a leather chair opposite her stepfather, both men holding a glass of amber liquid? Whiskey, no doubt. Liquid courage. Lauren could have used a good swallow of some courage herself at that precise moment.
Setting the glasses aside on the small, round marble-topped tables beside each chair, the men stood. The walls and ceiling seemed to swirl, move out and move in, until she was disoriented, uncertain, afraid that she might actually swoon. She could hardly wrap her mind around the reality that he was there.
He was there. Tom. Tom, who’d promised to write and never had. Tom, who’d promised to come for her and had finally arrived…
To collect a debt.
If she wasn’t so devastatingly disappointed, she’d be infuriatingly angry. Although in total honesty what could she have said if he had told her that he’d come for her? She saw shadows of the boy he’d been, but could she truly say she knew this man well enough to traipse halfway around the world with him?
He’d grown taller, broader, but it wasn’t the physical changes that she found so disconcerting. It was the confident aura that surrounded him, a man who had been shaped by the fires of hell into uncompromising steel. She didn’t need to know the path of his past in order to recognize the results of his journey.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she finally managed, wading through the incessant questions and doubts that plagued her.
“Nonsense,” her stepfather said. “Tom was just sharing some fascinating news. Please join us.”
As though in a fog, she walked over to her stepfather and sat in the chair beside his, facing Tom. He wasn’t the boy she’d left behind in Texas. His attentions back then, while scandalous, had still held a certain measure of innocence. She didn’t think this man, with the deep creases in his face, carved by sun, wind, and hard work, and the sharp edge in his eyes, held any innocence at all. Yet he was still her Tom. What ever it was that had first drawn her to him was still there, perhaps not quite as obvious, but she sensed that it was still a part of him. That for all the rules he’d broken and the scandalous behaviors, he possessed an undeniable goodness deep down inside where it mattered the most.
“What’s the fascinating news you were sharing?” she finally asked.
Tom looked to her stepfather as though he expected him to announce it, what ever it was, as though it was too difficult for him to speak again. Dread began to creep through her. What could have possibly happened to cause such hesitation?
When her stepfather did nothing more than study them as though slowly coming to a realization that he may have missed something important along the way, Tom—looking incredibly uncomfortable—leaned forward and planted his elbows on his thighs. It was a posture so typical of Tom, that it caused an unexpected ache in Lauren’s heart.
He rubbed his hands together as though he thought he could conjure up the words like some magician, then clasping his hands so forcibly they made an audible clap, he unflinchingly held her gaze. “That lady in the drawing room guessed right.”
“That you’re a cowboy? That’s not a very difficult guess to make. One doesn’t even have to look closely—”
“No,” he said cutting her off, grimacing. “The other. That I’m the Earl of Sachse.”
She heard the words, but they made no sense. Oh, she understood what they meant, the meaning was clear enough, but that they were coming from Tom…more importantly that they applied to Tom…
She shook her head. “You’re the Earl of Sachse?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”
She thought of the ladies in her drawing room and their interest in the new earl. She considered the compassion and empathy she’d felt for him, not realizing he was a man she knew…or at least a man she’d known when he was very young.
Lauren stared at him, this man she’d carried into her dreams since she was fourteen. No, it wasn’t he whom she’d carried. She’d carried a sixteen-year-old youth. Did she even know this man? Had she simply imagined that a part of him remained the same?
Overwhelming disappointment slammed into her as the true reason for his arrival hit her square in the chest. She hadn’t been a deciding factor in his decision to come to England, hadn’t been any factor at all. He hadn’t come for her. He hadn’t even truly come to unbutton her bodice. He’d come to England because he had obligations. Because he was a damned earl!
She was merely an afterthought, if even that. What ever desperate hope she’d held on to that he would one day again be hers burst into a conflagration, leaving her with nothing except scorched ashes.
“You’re Lord Sachse?” she clarified again, her voice raspy and dry.
Tom slowly nodded.
“Why didn’t you acknowledge it when Lady Blythe—”
“Because you were so sure I wasn’t, and it was the easier path. I didn’t want to get into explaining my present circumstance with an audience of strangers listening.”
“Your present circumstance? You say that as though you’re expecting it to change.”
“I’m aware that it won’t. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t wish it would.”
“So that’s the reason you’re here. To claim your title.” She was incredibly proud of herself for keeping her voice even, for not revealing even a hint of the devastation she was feeling with the painful realization that he hadn’t come for her. After all this time, she’d been unrealistic to think he would.
“The reason I’m in England.” He left unsaid, but the look in his eyes communicated clearly, that it wasn’t the reason he was now there, at Ravenleigh’s house. He was there to claim a debt that no reasonable man would expect a woman to pay.
She glared at him, hoping to signal her displeasure at his boldness. He hitched up a corner of his mouth in familiar challenge. Why did everything about him have to seem familiar, yet foreign at the same time? Why couldn’t she simply forget about the history that not only joined but separated them?
“You told me your parents were dead,” she reminded him.
“I thought the folks I was living with were my parents. They never gave any indication that matters were different. The past few months have…unraveled everything I believed.” He shook his head. “I have no recollection of my life here, in this country, of my true mother and father. I stare at my mother’s portrait…I want to remember her, but I can’t.”
She couldn’t imagine not having any memories of her parents. Her recollections of her true father were vague. She’d been so young when he’d marched off to war, but she did have memories of him, frayed with time, but still there.
“I’m sorry that your life has been turned around,” she heard herself say, her sympathy true. She was only too familiar with the awful reality of suddenly living a life that was so very different from what one was accustomed to, to what one expected. “I can’t imagine how difficult it is suddenly to have all these responsibilities thrust on you.”
“The responsibilities don’t bother me. I’m used to handling more than my share there. It’s just the finding out that I belong to a life I’d never given any thought to that’s not to my liking. I considered ignoring the summons, but as the investigator explained it to me, I had no choice in the matter. Whether I wanted it
or not, everything waiting over here for me was mine.”
“The law is quite clear in that regard,” her stepfather said. “One can’t turn away from one’s responsibilities toward a title.”
“So you’re stuck here, in England,” she said.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Tom said.
“Lauren’s never been happy here,” her stepfather said.
Astonished by his comment, she looked at him.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said quietly. “It’s my single regret: that I was unable to bring you the happiness you deserve.”
Her emotions still raw from the reality of Tom’s arrival, her stepfather’s heartfelt words caused tears to sting her eyes. She desperately wanted to acknowledge the comfort, the love, the acceptance that he’d always given her. She shook her head. “You can’t blame yourself. There’s nothing you could have done differently. I simply wasn’t meant for this life.”
“But you adjusted, you learned, and while you might not have been happy, you did succeed in mastering all the intricacies of our life. Tom is in need of someone to teach him all the English trappings, as he’s referring to them. We were discussing the possibility of you tutoring him.”
“What about Lady Sachse? The old earl’s widow,” Lauren said. “She did an exemplary job teaching Archibald Warner.”
“And fell in love with my cousin during the process,” Tom said. “She recently married him.”
“I didn’t know.”
“The ceremony didn’t take place in London. She left all this behind, without looking back.”
A woman who had achieved what Lauren had only dreamed about: leaving all this behind and never looking back. She suddenly felt a kinship with the woman. The way Lady Sachse had waltzed through London, Lauren had never guessed that she wasn’t happy with the life she led. How many other ladies weren’t?
“You might talk to my cousin Lydia. She’s the Duchess of Harrington now, and she absolutely adores the rules. She’s even published a book on the subject of manners. Blunders in Behavior Corrected. It’s apparently quite popular among the American heiresses who are looking to fit into London society. You can purchase it at any bookshop.”
“I’ve never been one for reading. I prefer being shown. I’d rather you be the one doing the showing.”
“I’m afraid that my present schedule gives me very little time,” she said.
“I wouldn’t need much,” he said.
She smiled sadly. “You have no idea, Tom. There are so many rules, so many things to learn. It would take months, and I don’t have months to give.”
“What’s so important that it can’t wait?”
“For some time now, I’ve been making plans to return to Texas.”
Chapter 4
L auren’s announcement hit Tom like a solid punch to the gut that would have caused him to stagger if he’d been standing. He wasn’t prepared to have her exiting his life so soon after he’d walked back into hers.
Ravenleigh looked equally startled, but before he or Tom could question Lauren further, joyous laughter echoed outside the room just before the door opened and three women—smiling brightly, obviously happy—traipsed in.
Joining Ravenleigh as he came to his feet, Tom thought the older woman was Lauren’s mother, but she in no way resembled the harsh woman whom he’d avoided at all costs back in Fortune, a woman he’d never seen smile. The two ladies accompanying her had to be Lauren’s sisters. He had a vague recollection of them, but even without that memory, he would have recognized the strong family resemblance: blond hair, blue eyes, and delicate features. Her sisters had grown into beauties, but they still paled in comparison to Lauren. He recognized that all women always would because they always had.
“I take it you had a successful outing,” Ravenleigh said.
“Yes, indeed,” one of the younger ladies acknowledged, her blue gaze shifting to Tom with obvious interest.
“You remember Tom, Mama,” Lauren said.
For the briefest moment, he thought he saw fear reflected in her mother’s blue eyes, just before she angled her chin defiantly, a gesture that Lauren had long ago begun to emulate. “Yes, of course. What in the world brings you to London?”
She surprised Tom by speaking with a refinement that she hadn’t before, not quite British, but almost. He wondered if a day would come when he’d sound as foreign to himself as everyone around him did now.
“He’s come to claim his title,” Lauren said, before Tom could respond. “He’s Lord Sachse.”
Her mother looked at Tom as though he’d suddenly sprouted a set of horns. He shifted his stance, wishing he didn’t feel so incredibly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. The woman had always had a knack for making him feel as though he was doing something he shouldn’t. Usually because he had been.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” her mother finally said, tonelessly.
“I daresay that’s an understatement,” one of her sisters announced. “You’re the talk of the town. Everywhere we went today, people wanted to know if we knew the new Earl of Sachse.” She laughed lightly. “We had no idea that indeed we did.”
“You might feel as though you know him,” her other sister said, “but I must confess that I have hardly any memory of him. I’m sorry, my lord.” She curtsied. “I’m Amy in case your recollection of me is as vague as mine of you.”
Tom bowed his head slightly, acknowledging—and he hoped—appearing refined at the same time. “I remember you.”
Lauren’s other sister gave him a coy look. “And me, my lord. Samantha. Do you remember me as well?”
“Yes, ma’am, but you don’t have to call me ‘my lord.’”
Samantha smiled warmly. “I’m afraid we do. It’s one of the rules you see. Rule number three, I believe.”
“The rules are numbered?” he asked incredulously.
“She’s teasing,” Amy said. “There are so many rules that Lauren took to numbering them shortly after we arrived here. I think she got to number thirty-five before she declared it a hopeless task and stopped.”
“Did you know you were an earl when we knew you?” Samantha asked.
“No.”
“You must tell us everything. We shall, no doubt, be the envy of the Set.”
Tom despised revealing his ignorance, but he figured it was less embarrassing to display it among folks who’d known him in Texas than around those who hadn’t. “The Set?”
“My apologies, my lord. I’d forgotten how strange everything can seem at first. The Set. The Marlborough House Set. Fashionable people with whom the Prince of Wales keeps company. Marlborough House is his London residence, of course, and hence responsible for the name associated with those with whom the prince is intimate. They love gossip. And now that we know who you are”—she gave him an impish smile—“I suspect we shall be even more sought out for any juicy tidbits we can provide.”
He wasn’t at all sure that he liked the sound of that possibility. He hadn’t been there long, but he’d already figured out that he was fodder for gossip.
“I would think the last thing this family would need is more gossip,” their mother said.
“That’s the point, Mama,” Samantha said. “The gossip won’t revolve around us any longer—”
“Spreading gossip often backfires, Samantha,” her mother said, her gaze darting between Tom and Lauren, as though she feared the gossip might run closer to home than she wanted. “We need to prepare for dinner.”
“I’ve invited Tom to join us,” Ravenleigh said.
It was strange that Lauren’s mother suddenly looked defeated. She gave Tom what he was certain was a forced smile. “Yes, of course. We’ll be delighted to have you. Come along, girls, we need to prepare ourselves.”
It didn’t escape his attention that unlike her daughters, she wasn’t prone to refer to him as my lord. He suspected she still viewed him as the callow youth she’d known in Texas.
As her mother
ushered all her daughters out of the room, Lauren gave Tom a parting glance, similar to the ones she’d given him on the street in Fortune. He supposed some things never changed. A mother issuing orders was always a mother to be obeyed.
“Let’s finish our drinks, shall we?” Ravenleigh suggested.
Nodding, Tom sat in the chair, took his glass, and sipped on the whiskey that Ravenleigh’s brother had sent him from Texas. It was good to taste the familiar when everything else around him was far too foreign. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, holding the glass in his hands, studying the amber liquid. “You seemed surprised by Lauren’s announcement that she was making plans to return to Texas.”
“Quite.”
Tom lifted his gaze, hoping the man might be a bit more forthcoming.
“I’m sorry, Tom”—Ravenleigh shook his head—“Sachse. I can’t elaborate, as I have no idea how she’s planning to accomplish this feat.”
Tom nodded, wondering if he might get a chance to talk with Lauren alone before he left. How long had she been planning to return to Texas? What exactly was it that she’d missed? Obviously it wasn’t him if she was still planning to return now that he was in England.
“Do you see much of my brother these days?” Ravenleigh asked, effectively steering their conversation off the path that Tom would have preferred it stay on.
Kit Montgomery was becoming a legend, his daring exploits and pursuit of justice rivaled by few. Once the marshal of Fortune, he remained a partner in the various Texas Lady ventures and a man for whom Tom had a great deal of respect.
“I don’t see him much since he became a Texas Ranger and moved to the western part of the state,” Tom admitted.
“He thought the drier climate might help his wife’s health improve,” Ravenleigh said. “I suppose it has.”
“All I really know are the rumors floating around. Montgomery is getting quite a reputation as a lawman. I hear they’re writing another book about him.”
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