Angelina (18 page)

 The Marquis was still waxing lyrical about the horse when Angelina and Elizabeth left the room. She gave one last glance in Rafe’s direction as the door closed. His gaze was fixed thoughtfully upon her, the faintly cynical curve of his grin applauding her courage.

She expected her mother to chastise her again. Instead, there was a quizzical look in her eyes. “It was a damned fine nag, that,” she said, keeping her expression completely under control.

“Damned fine,” Angelina agreed, mimicking the Marquis to perfection. Her eyes joined her mother’s in complete understanding.

Elizabeth smiled. At first it was almost tentative, then a gurgle of laughter left her lips. “If I hadn’t enjoyed that so much I’d be tempted to punish you. Your father was at his most pompous and you took advantage of it.”

“He does not like me, I think.”

“As I told you, he’s not a demonstrative man. You must reconcile yourself to that.”

“Forgive me for saying so, mama, but I do not think I’ll ever grow fond of the earl.” 

“When we were first married I thought that too. There are worse husbands.”

“You did not love him when you married, then?”

“The marriage was arranged by my father just before he died.” She looked pensive. “I grew to love and respect Thomas, as you will grow to love and respect your husband when you wed.”

“I do not intend to wed unless it’s to a man I already love.”

“What nonsense is this?” A vexed frown creased Elizabeth’s forehead. “A daughter has very little say in whom she will marry.”

 “James has promised not to force me into an arranged marriage against my wishes.”

“James is not your father.” Angelina was the recipient of a rueful smile. “I keep forgetting, he’s your guardian. And of course, James would understand your dreams perfectly.”

“He and Celine are so happy together,” she whispered. “To love the person one marries must be wonderful.”  

“But have you considered, Angelina? Your dowry will allow you to pick and choose a husband. Every invitation we sent out for the ball has been accepted since your eligibility has become known, even those we issued for appearances sake. There are bound to be offers.”

“It’s demeaning to be considered eligible because of one’s wealth.”

“If money were the only consideration, Caroline Pallister would not still be a spinster.” Her mother’s smile held satisfaction. “You have beauty and intelligence, and will make a brilliant match.”

“I’d marry a peasant if I truly loved him,” Angelina said bluntly.

Elizabeth shuddered. “It’s just as easy to love an aristocrat, my dear. You’re fond of Lord Lynnbury, are you not?”

“Of course I’m fond of Rafe. He’s my friend...” She blushed to the roots of her hair when the meaning of her mother’s words sank in. Tentatively, she asked. “Rafe has not made an offer for me, surely?”

“Indeed, he has not. Rafe’s not the type to rush heedlessly into marriage. He’s too sensitive about his circumstances.”

“Then Rosabelle - “

“Will be encouraged to wed the Marquis of Northbridge, who’s already made an offer for her hand.”

“That old man?” she said in a shocked voice. “Rosabelle despises him.”

“Age is irrelevant. George Northbridge will make Rosabelle a fine husband.”

Angelina suddenly felt sorry for her sister. “It must be awful to love one man

and forced to marry another. Rosabelle has set her heart on Rafe.” 

‘Encouraged is a better choice of word than forced.’ Elizabeth turned her round to face her. “Would you rather see Rosabelle wed to Rafe?”

“No,” she said truthfully. “I do not think Rafe is fond enough of Rosabelle to offer for her, even if he did have the means. But sometimes he looks at her in a certain way that I cannot explain...?”

“As all men do. Rosabelle’s appearance inspires men, but it is not spiritual, and many a man has been ensnared by his own desire.” She sounded bitter. “When desire is spent there’s nothing left unless friendship and respect exists between a couple. Sometimes that’s all a woman has, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I do not understand, mama.”

Tenderly, Elizabeth took her face between her hands and kissed her. “I pray you never do understand,” she whispered. “I pray you never do.”

Chapter Eleven

Willam and Rosabelle had reined in their mounts at the top of the hill, and were gazing down on Wrey House, set in the mathematical neatness of its grounds.

“That mealy-mouthed, whimpering, snippet was responsible for me being locked in my room for most of the day.” 

William laughed. “Angelina has hidden depths,” he said, admiration colouring his voice. “She took father to task today and he didn’t realise until it was all over. He’s been in a foul mood ever since.”

“How did the prodigal daughter manage to do that?” 

“She reminded him he hadn’t raised her. That girl has a tendency to discover weakness in people and turn it against them. You’d better be on your guard, Rosie.”

“I’m more than a match for her,” she boasted, tossing her head. “If she thinks she’ll put me in the shade, she can think again.” Her laugh had a malicious undertone. “Today, I ruined her ball gown.”

William fought the rush of anger her words triggered. “That was mean of you, Rosie. She hasn’t the time to get another made.” 

Her shrug was indifferent. “Why should you care? She has a room full of gowns she can choose from.”

Odd, but he did care. Not that he particularly liked Angelina, he told himself, it was just...? She intrigued him. Her vulnerable air made him feel protective towards her, even though she’d proved perfectly capable of standing up for herself in the most difficult of circumstance. 

   Rafe Daventry had been amused by his father’s discomfort, and William suspected he harboured more than an ephemeral interest in Angelina.

His glance went to Rosabelle, smugly malicious because she’d ruined  Angelina’s gown. For the first time in his life he experienced dislike for her.

“Pettiness is never very pleasant. Your envy ill-becomes you, Rosie.”

Her face flamed red as she accused. “She’s won you to her side. How could you prefer her to me?” 

“Stop being tedious,” he drawled, knowing it wouldn’t serve to make an enemy of her. “I have no side, and I didn’t say I preferred her to you. You’re beyond compare.”

Nevertheless, he did compare. Rosabelle was a full blown rose whose charms would be gone in a few, short years. Her lush lips would droop with discontent, her magnificent bosom sag with her first child. She also had the makings a nag. Her one redeeming feature was her sensuality. She’d keep a man’s bed warm long after her charms had faded, and provide him with countless heirs. Whether she liked it or not, she would be a perfect mate for the lecherous Marquis.

Angelina was an elegant wild flower, her delicacy threaded through with a tenacity that would make her bloom year after year. Once her roots had buried themselves in the soil she’d endure against anything the elements threw at her.

Like her mother, he thought, surprising himself. Hadn’t Elizabeth survived against the odds? Her roots were buried in Wrey House, and despite his father’s infidelity she still flourished. She was more than his father deserved.

He experienced an unexpected sense of regard for his step-mother. She was a stayer, and sometimes stayers found an extra burst of speed towards the end of the race. There had been a change in her since Angelina had come into her life. She no longer accepted his father’s dictates as law and became quite animated on occasion. There was a quiet determination about her these days, and it would bear watching.

He came out of his reverie when Rosie’s hand slid on to his thigh. He flicked it aside. “You’re disgustingly amoral, Rosie. I’ll be glad when you’re wed.”

“You won’t forget you promised to help me win Rafe?”

He sighed. “We’ll use your plan at the ball. I’ll pass a note for him to meet you in the garden pavilion.” He shrugged. “I doubt if Rafe will fall for such a trick. He’s not stupid.”

Rosabelle’s eyes hardened. “If he doesn’t come, I’ll tell father exactly what has passed between us.”

“And exactly what is that?” You teased me and went to far, and I kissed you on the mouth. Nothing has passed between us since, just the normal expression of affection of one sibling for another.” His fingers closed tightly about her wrist. “Think on, you’ve got much more to lose than I. You’d be sent to a convent for the rest of your life.”

“Sometimes I hate you,” she whispered, jerking her wrist free.

“It was you who pursued me,” he reminded her, ashamed of encouraging such familiarity from his sister. You like to tease, Rosie. It’s part of your nature, and one day it will get you into trouble if you’re not careful.

He set his horse in motion, heading towards the forest deep in thought. His agreement with George to help consolidate his claim on Rosabelle would provide him with the means to establish himself in America, once the betrothal was announced. Rosabelle’s plan to trap Rafe could easily be turned against her.

He began to whistle as his strong, independent streak surfaced. He intended to establish the biggest horse stud in America, and become rich in the process. He’d been toying with the idea for some time. Now his mind was made up nothing was going to stand in the way, not even Rosabelle.

William was quite happy with his lot, even though he wasn’t a comfortable match with his father. He had Ellen to warm his bed. William grinned. He might even offer the girl’s services to a real connoisseur for a price. George Northbridge had an unerring nose for a good whore. Why else had he offered for Rosabelle?

* * * *

James brought Celine to Wrey House two days before the ball was due to take place. There was a great deal of excitement in the air as they entered the hall. The house had undergone a thorough cleaning and was redolent of polish and lavender soap. Maids bustled about with arms full of linen to furnish the guest chambers, and gardeners were moving large tubs containing plants into the house.

The great chandelier in the hall was lowered almost to the floor, it gleamed with shining brilliance and was being refilled with thick, white candles. When lit, they’d last throughout the night.

In the middle of the chaos stood Elizabeth and Angelina. Both held a plan in their hands, and were directing the various workers about their business. They looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, James thought. Elizabeth’s gown was a darker shade of green than Angelina’s, and her hair was drawn into a cap. Angelina’s hair hung in a braid, and was secured by a green satin ribbon.

“Those little trees go into the ballroom, Mr Curruthers,” Angelina was saying. “How pretty they look with their tiny oranges. Were they very hard to grow?”

“They grew from pips in the hot house, My Lady.”

“Goodness, how clever you are. You must show me how to plant them. They’re most exquisite – “ Her voice broke off when she glanced up, her face lit up in a smile. Her squeal of delight was spontaneous and unladylike, bringing heads swivelling her way.

“James! Celine!” For a moment she was poised and quivering like a deer ready for flight, then she ran across the room and nearly bowled him over with a fierce hug. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, dearest James.”

Nobody had ever welcomed James quite so warmly to Wrey House before. He was quite touched by it. Swallowing the lump rising in his throat, he gazed down at her and discovered he couldn’t stop smiling. His arms came around her and he kissed the top of her head. “Angelina, my dear. You’ve been much in my thoughts. You are well?”

“Perfectly well.” Her glance shifted to Celine who was being greeted by Elizabeth. She deserted her brother, transferring her hug to Celine. “My dearest friend, there’s no need to ask if James is looking after you. You’re glowing with enough radiance to put the sun in the shade.”

Exchanging a glance with Celine, his lips curved in a loving smile when he saw a delicate blush rise under her skin. His wife was proving to be everything James had hoped for, and he considered himself a lucky man. He tore his eyes away and embraced the smiling Elizabeth.

“Your usual chamber is prepared, James. Unfortunately, I cannot offer you the adjoining chamber, we will need need every nook and cranny we can find.” She consulted one of the papers in her hand. “Celine’s maid can double up with Angelina’s just across the hall, and your servant will be accommodated in the upstairs nursery. We’ve turned it into a temporary valet’s quarters. Is that satisfactory?”

“Quite.” He gave her another kiss. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you, but no. Angelina has turned out to be a treasure at this sort of thing. Between us, we have everything organised. Another’s input will only serve to confuse us.”

He glanced to where his sister and Celine were animatedly chatting. “Has Angelina been accepted here?”

“Not entirely, James. She and your father are finding it difficult to come to terms with each other. They are uneasy together. I do not think the subject will arise yet, but I beg you to hold fast to your guardianship of her.”

“You have my promise.” 

“As for Rosabelle. She did not welcome her sister at first, but of late she’s been much more civil. Angelina copes quite easily with the situation, but I doubt she will ever regard Wrey house as her home.”

“What did Will make of her?”

“Who can tell what William makes of anything?” Her smile was a trifle pensive. “He gave her a most beautiful horse as a welcome gift and spent time teaching her to ride it. It was a lovely gesture. Since then he’s been civil, but keeps his distance. My impression is, he’s not adverse to the idea of having her for a sister.”

“Will has always been a law unto himself, but he’s able to draw on a well of good sense when it’s needed.” James smiled when he watched Angelina go arm in arm with Celine up the stairs. “It looks as though you might be losing your little helper.”

“She will return when she’s made Celine comfortable. She’s enjoying helping with the preparations for the ball. However, you must be tired after the journey so I mustn’t keep you talking.”