The Gentleman's Promise (Daughters of Amhurst)

by Fowlkes, Frances

  As an overnight patron of the inn, he had first rights to his table nearest the hearth in the smaller adjoining room off the main area. An empty chair sat across from him, no doubt highly coveted by those chilled with the rain and dripping water onto the scuffed floors.

  The idea of upholding his Christian duty and offering up his table by taking dinner in his room had crossed his mind, but he’d seen the same four walls of his lodgings long enough to prefer the commotion of disgruntled and travel-weary men over apathetic solitude.

  He was rather glad for his selfish reluctance as a woman with untidy dark curls stuck her head into the room. She smiled as her searching yielded his gaze, relief and comfortable familiarity settling over her features.

  He had not believed himself fortunate enough to be blessed with Sarah’s company so soon after their last interlude. He’d have thought her a messenger of ill news, given she was not at his sister’s side, but a smile lit her face as she made her way toward him.

  At her arrival, he stood and bowed. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  Her smile fell into a grim line. “Your sister’s health. She is weary and without appetite and insisted I dine with you this evening.”

  Relief washed over him. “Then you must not think ill of me when I say I am thankful for her condition, for it affords me the pleasure of your conversation.”

  Sarah’s porcelain complexion flushed with a rosy glow. “You are too free with your compliments, sir.”

  “Not at all. I am sincerely glad you have come to save me from a meal of silence.”

  Sarah laughed. “You exaggerate. The rooms are filled with the complaints of weary men. I can hardly hear you over the din.” She raised her voice to validate her conviction.

  A curious head or two turned in their direction, which only served to fuel his good humor. She was a beacon of light in the gray weariness of the room.

  He pulled out the chair closest to the fire and motioned for her to sit. Her pale skirts swishing, she lowered herself onto the proffered chair and smiled at him. The action was small, but the effect it had on his insides was vast. How could something so infinitesimal have such large-scale effects? It was only a smile, but the familiar stirrings of desire warmed his blood.

  She was beautiful, her raven curls coiled about her face in untidy disarray. No doubt half the travelers’ gazes were on her. She commanded a man’s attention with her endearing smile and sparkling tawny eyes. If one had not been caught by those features, the slight slope of her nose and her full blush-colored lips ensured enslavement of the eyes.

  Much as his were captive to hers now. Breaking free from the constraints, he blinked and settled himself across from her. “How go the effects of your tea? I must confess, I thought peppermint possessed the powers of rejuvenation, yet you report Olivia is quite sedate.”

  “You know the properties of peppermint?”

  “I purchase soap infused with its oil, in hopes that it will keep me alert and awake while I attend the sometimes droller sessions of Parliament,” he admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

  “I knew I smelled it on you.”

  His brows lifted. As her round eyes grew wide, Sarah’s entire face reddened.

  “What I meant to say, or what the words were intended to mean, is that I was aware of the herb’s stimulating capabilities, and I, well, I can see how it would benefit you in your political endeavors.”

  He desperately wanted to kiss her. She was utterly adorable in her discomfort. Especially as it revealed her awareness of his particular scent—she could not have uttered anything more provocative or sensual had she actually tried. But if the urge to kiss her was strong, his desire to protect her from the repercussions of such an act was greater. The room was filled with people who would have no tolerance for his ungentlemanly conduct, nor would they think kindly of Sarah. He had been entrusted with the betterment of her reputation, not with sullying it further. It was best if he ignored her sentiment, however kind and revealing, and continue with the conversation.

  “The peppermint does not have the same stimulating effect on Olivia?”

  She shook her head. “Whatever invigorating properties the herb possesses are countered by her weariness wrought from her condition. I do, however, have full confidence in a good, sound rest and the passage of time. She’ll be her usual cheerful self before long.”

  “And what of you? How are you faring?” She appeared hale, but Olivia’s monthly bouts could be trying on even the most steadfast of nerves and devoted of friends.

  “I am well. Your and your sister’s hospitality is—”

  “Not as it should be, given the circumstances, but we try our best despite them.”

  “I could not ask for better companions.”

  He let out a low chuckle. “I am glad to hear of it.”

  “I do have a request.”

  Jonathon leaned back in his chair. “The roads will likely be washed out if the rain continues. I do believe we will tarry longer than originally projected and our arrival at Barrington further delayed.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “A distinct possibility to be certain, though not the request I would ask. I wondered if you might enlighten me with your political platform. What compelled you to seek reform?”

  He should not be surprised by her request or her interest in politics and his standings. But he had not thought her interested in his particular role. Merely thankful for his part, and grateful something was being done to rectify the penitent’s plight.

  Had Olivia said something to encourage her interest? He had been careful to hide his failure, his inability to save Elizabeth before the illness wrought by her sinful trade had taken her to eternal pastures. But Elizabeth was their cousin. A distant one, and of lesser means, but she had visited with their mother once or twice in her youth. For all he knew, Olivia may have inquired after her and received the disparaging news of her death—along with his inability to prevent it.

  But he now stood to redeem himself. To make up for his loss, his prior lack of presence within the House of Lords. He had worked for change and was close to achieving it…if he kept himself out of scandal and unattached from anything or anyone who could jeopardize the future of his reformatory school. All the more reason to keep Sarah at a distance, before physical yearning swamped his good sense.

  “Come now, Jonathon,” she urged. “There must be a good story to be told. A viscount’s son, and one who wishes to impress conservative Tories, no less, simply doesn’t visit brothels in hopes of rescuing its occupants.”

  He was fairly certain his jaw fell open and he gaped. He glanced about the room, measuring the postures and gazes he met in return. She was soft-spoken enough for her words not to have carried far. Regardless, it would not do for a woman, especially one who wished to regain favor amongst the ton, to make references to houses of ill repute or the fallen souls within them.

  He cleared his throat and leaned forward. Not too far for an outsider to believe them intimate, but close enough for someone to imagine her hard of hearing. “Perhaps this conversation is better suited for the ride to Barrington.”

  She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Olivia spoke of your vigilance in abstaining from the pleasures of the ton in hopes of garnering the vote. Was it your brothers’ frequent visits that led you to seek reform?”

  Dear Lord. His skin warmed. What must she think of his siblings? And worse—what did she think of his character and the pious pedestal she had placed him on? He was no saint. He had frequented the brothels, though not as often as his brothers, and not with the innocent intentions Sarah had been led to believe.

  No, he’d gone with pure carnal, earthy desires of the flesh in mind. The same ones he harbored for the woman sharing his table. Ones he struggled to suppress.

  His self-control was slipping. He longed for a lengthy kiss from her lips. But she thought better of him than his urges of the flesh suggested.

  There was truth in her words. He ha
d abstained from fornication for almost a year, as his support in the House of Lords had dwindled, in part, from his brothers’ excessive debauchery.

  Thus, to earn support from upright conservatives the likes of Lord Vincent and his elder peers, he had embarked upon his self-inflicted misery to prove the benefits of reform. The promise of votes from a bevy of older gentlemen had warranted the exercise a success, and his continual pursuit of virtue had yielded even more promises of allegiance.

  But it came at a price. His body rebelled against him as Sarah continued to look at him with an adoration he didn’t deserve. If she had access to his thoughts…he’d be understanding of her horrified gasps and utter rejection. His youthful excesses, his frivolities, and his early disregard for his position in Parliament had led to his cousin’s death.

  He’d failed. And never wished to do so again.

  “I find your self-control impressive,” she said, oblivious to any social blunder trespassed in her continual discussion of debauchery. “I think others would find it exemplary. A model example to strive and obtain.”

  “Let us hope the Tories are in agreement with your compliments, my lady,” he said.

  “You doubt their allegiance?”

  “As I told you before leaving Covenan—minds are easily swayed. No vote is fully promised until it is cast.”

  Two mugs of ale splashed their contents on the table as a round young woman came up to their table. “’Ere ya are me lord. I’ll have the soup brought ’round next.”

  With a curt nod, he dismissed her, thankful for both the drink and the distraction she provided.

  He might be able to deflect Sarah’s questions for the moment, but a few more days and a long carriage ride to Barrington would provide ample enough time for her to learn his true motivations for helping the penitents were born out of selfish retribution than any noble gain.

  Would she still think him honorable and of exemplary character when the truth was revealed? And she learned he sought forgiveness the same as her?

  He prayed his skills as a politician held and he would be spared the revelation.

  God help him.

  Chapter Six

  Sarah shifted against the carriage’s firm cushions, unable to find a position that did not include Olivia’s bonnet shoved tight against her shoulder.

  “All the adjustment in the world will not alter her position.” Jonathon sat across from her, a small smile on his lips. “She is quite taken with you. Especially after your diligent care this week past. We are both in your debt.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “It is I who am indebted to you both. You’ve been a delightful distraction leading up to this morning’s inevitable departure.”

  A validation she had done her best to ignore and put at the very back of her mind.

  Jonathon’s gaze held hers. “We should arrive at Barrington late this afternoon.”

  A sudden lurch of the carriage had their bodies careening into the fabric-covered wall of the vessel. If she had thought her position physically uncomfortable before, her pains were now doubled, the weight of Olivia’s body pinning her to the jostling, rumbling side of the carriage’s interior.

  “Allow me to amend myself,” said Jonathon gruffly. “If all goes accordingly, and we do not break an axle, we will make good time. Heavens. Are you all right?”

  Nodding, she let out a breath to right herself as she caught a glimpse out the window. The calm and serene English countryside was in direct contrast to the frazzled state of her nerves. In a few short hours her nightmares would be realized, and the cool, stiff reception awaiting her, endured.

  Her stomach roiled as her brain revisited the looks of condemnation on every face at her last ball, her sisters’ husbands her only dance partners, and they only out of duty to their family—and fear of her sisters’ wrath.

  Even Daniel, with God’s protection, had not willingly walked into the lions’ den. But she, of her own volition, had decided to test the Almighty’s hand by doing just that and appearing at Barrington uninvited.

  Her judgment was poor. Her resolution weak. She should have held her stance and insisted on an immediate departure to Rosehearst and her mother. But then…she would not have been able to assist Olivia in her time of need. Or Jonathon with his. Nor would she have harbored thoughts of kissing him.

  Sarah glanced at his mouth and his perfect full lips. Had the skies not opened and interrupted their earlier conversation, would he have leaned down and kissed her? Would she have given in to her flirtations and allowed him the liberties outlined in the Indian book of intimacies and lovemaking? She remembered the instructions on how to seduce a man with a kiss. How to properly align her mouth with his…

  Olivia snorted into Sarah’s chest as the carriage jostled over the road. Adjusting, Sarah banished her inappropriate thoughts. She could not allow herself to give in to flights of fantasy, not only because it was scandalous and indecent, but because it hurt those she cared for most. If she were to become embroiled with Jonathon, Olivia would never find a suitable husband, as Sarah’s tarnished reputation would prevent a decent match.

  The air inside the carriage’s crowded interior suddenly seemed stale, void of the nutrients required for a decent breath. It did not help that her friend had slid onto Sarah’s chest. The dead weight clamped down on her sternum, making any decent inhale near impossible.

  Her alarm must have been evident in her face, for Jonathon reached for Olivia and thrust her upright. Only to have her bonneted head return promptly to Sarah’s shoulder.

  “Oh, botheration. I would not protest were she truly asleep. But I know her to be awake and capable of sitting upright.” She wriggled under her friend’s weight, lowering a shoulder to dislodge Olivia’s cheek.

  Shifting against Sarah, Olivia snored.

  “She looks well and asleep to me,” Jonathon said, amusement coloring his words.

  Sarah let out the most unladylike snort. “Looks can be deceiving.” As if in protest to her disbelief, Olivia slumped farther.

  Jonathon let out a low chuckle. “In this instance, I believe her to be quite sedated. While her recovery was swift and full, she is slight. The effects of her illness still linger.”

  Sarah cast her gaze to the floor. “That is a possibility. So, too, could her curiosity, and her hope that we let slip something terribly scandalous and secret whilst believing her unconscious.”

  “Scandalous?” He rubbed a hand over his chin as a single brow rose. “And what, pray tell, would you and I discuss that could merit the description?”

  “Well,” she said, lowering her voice, “there is the matter of your school.”

  “My school?”

  “Yes. I understand your reasons for its conception. What I do not know, and would very much like to understand, is what led you to be interested in the reformation of prostitutes.”

  He faltered, if only for a moment, as a bit of something—disquiet, perhaps—flashed across his features. Jonathon was a politician and a very good card player, and had his emotion in check quickly enough for her to wonder if she had imagined his upset.

  “Is not the general welfare of both a person and Society itself reason enough?”

  “I suppose…but you seem impassioned with the idea, indeed, driven to assist these women. It takes more than a simple interest in the betterment of humanity to climb the obstacles Society presents to your cause.”

  His gaze darted to the window. “Does it indeed?”

  “Was it a woman?” Sarah pressed. “To whom you owe a debt?”

  He let out a low laugh as he peered out the glass, his gaze lingering on the same peaceful scenery she had used to calm her nerves and right herself. He, too, seemed to gain a sort of serenity from the passing landscape.

  Had she touched upon some hidden secret with her observation? Something he didn’t want her to know? Had she pushed too far?

  After a minute, or maybe five, he let out a sigh. “There are many women who woul
d benefit from my campaign. Many. And I hope I can extend to them the decency of kindness they have been denied by others.”

  Sarah eyed him. His brothers had obviously patronized a brothel or two. Had he? Was that what drove him to offer protection to these women? Guilt at past sins? “It is a most noble pursuit. It appears to be of great importance to you.”

  He pulled his gaze away from the window to face her. “It is.” His green eyes were steely and hard. She had no doubt he would give his life to see his campaign through to the end.

  Which meant it would be in his best interest for her gaze not to dip to his mouth. She shut her eyes to prevent fulfilling the temptation. There would no more harboring of indecent thoughts or woolgathering over what precisely it would feel like to receive a kiss from his full, soft lips despite the pleasures The Kama Sutra promised would be evoked by the intimacy.

  She was a pariah, and she tainted those around her. What was important to Jonathon was important to her, and she would not allow her reputation to prevent him from obtaining the votes required to accomplish his goal.

  Steeling her resolve, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her with such intensity as to make her wish she had not set her mind against intimacy with him.

  “Have you sent word to Lord Vincent of our delayed departure?” she asked, her voice far thinner than she remembered.

  “I have.” He continued to peer at her. “You need not worry. It is but a small hunting party. And I shall be there to guide you.”

  Which was precisely why she worried. With every breath, every action, every defense of her character, he stood to damage his position within Parliament.

  But how to make him see the disaster born of his well-intended decision? He was as headstrong as she. No words could persuade him to see her logic. Only the interactions of others and their aloof manner toward her would enlighten him to her position. If she could not prevent his aid, she would do her best to assist him. To show everyone she was not the miscreant they believed and attempt to regain the former luster of her reputation.