Promise Me Tomorrow by Candace Camp Page A

wrong impression of you the other night at Lord Batterslee’s. I fear that you received the wrong impression of me, as well.”
    He was leaning closer to her, his dark-lashed eyes gazing into hers. Marianne’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes went involuntarily to his mouth. He caught the glance, and his eyes darkened. His hand came out to cup her chin.
    “You are a very desirable woman, and I will admit freely that I want you. But I would not coerce you into my bed with threats, madame.”
    His face loomed closer, and Marianne knew that he was going to kiss her. She also knew that she ought to pull away, but she found it terribly difficult to move. Her eyes drifted closed.
    The door snapped open behind them, and they jumped, pulling back from each other and whirling around to face the door. Piers stood there, scowling suspiciously. Marianne’s heart sank. She had been afraid that Betsy would join them, but Piers was even worse. He had taken a dislike to Lambert last night from her story. She only hoped that he would not get some silly idea in his head and confront the man.
    “Piers. How nice to see you.” Her voice rang false.
    “Marianne.” He looked pointedly at Lambeth.
    “I’m sorry. Lord Lambeth, this is Piers Robertson.”
    Lambeth rose politely and shook the man’s hand. “Are you Mrs. Cotterwood’s brother?”
    “No,” Marianne answered.
    “Yes,” Piers responded at the same time.
    Lambeth’s eyebrows rose.
    Marianne glared at Piers, then turned back to Lambeth, smiling woodenly. “Piers is actually my cousin, but we have always been as close as brother and sister. I—he—his parents raised me. Mine died when I was quite young.”
    “I am sorry to hear that.”
    “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember them.” That much, at least, was true.
    Lambeth’s eyes went from Marianne back to Piers. “Do you live in London, Mr. Robertson?”
    “I live here. ” Piers’ feet were spread apart, his jaw thrust forward, his whole attitude bespeaking a readiness to fight.
    “Ah. I see.”
    “My whole family lives here,” Marianne put in hastily. “Piers, why don’t you sit down?”
    Piers consented to move to the couch, still regarding Lambeth pugnaciously.
    “I don’t believe I saw you last night at the Batterslees’,” Lambeth went on coolly. “Did you accompany your… cousin? ”
    “No. Piers never attends such things.” Marianne jumped in before Piers could answer. Piers’ rudeness was obviously making Lambeth’s distrust worse. “He finds them dead bores, don’t you, dear?”
    “Yes. Though perhaps I should attend, if fellows are going to be making advances to you.” He glared meaningfully at Lambeth.
    “Piers!”
    A faint smile touched Lambeth’s lips, but his eyes were as cold as metal. “Yes. Perhaps you should. Not quite the thing to leave a lady unprotected.”
    “I am well capable of taking care of myself,” Marianne put in crisply, forestalling Piers’ reply with a dagger look. “I don’t need a keeper.”
    “Indeed. I suspect it is more the gentlemen who need protection from you,” Lambeth replied, turning away from Piers, the amusement back in his gaze.
    “What the devil does that mean?” Piers demanded, starting to rise.
    Lambeth turned a bland face toward him. “Why, only that Mrs. Cotterwood’s beauty is so great, it is we gentlemen who are in danger of losing our hearts.”
    “That would be a prettier statement if I thought you had a heart to lose,” Marianne said tartly.
    Justin let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Touché, my dear.”
    Piers’ jaw clenched, and Marianne tensed in fear of what he might say. At that moment Betsy breezed into the room, followed by her husband. Marianne noticed that Betsy had used the time since Lambeth had arrived to fluff white powder on her face and rouge her cheeks and lips. Though she had given in to modern styles of dress and hair, she refused to give up the makeup worn twenty or thirty years