Angelina (23 page)

Rosabelle’s pout registered her displeasure. She enjoyed the power she had over the Marquis, enjoyed his hands on her body, the unrestrained possession of his lips. “Do you find me attractive, George?” she asked, her voice an enticing whisper.

 She smiled as a hot glance raked her body. Light-headed from the wine, her body taunted her with the promise of reckless pleasure. She fluttered her eyelashes, invitingly. “If you want to touch my breasts, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“You have the heart of a trollop,” George growled, his fingers already unlacing her bodice. Released from their covering her breasts sprang free. He touched his tongue to her nipples.

 She groaned, closing her eyes ecstatically.

Hardly able to believe his luck, George eased her skirt up, and was just about to explore what she was clearly offering when the door crashed open and a scandalised voice bellowed.

“Rosabelle, you’ll go to your mother at once! And you, sir, will attend me in study without delay.”

“Papa!” Her eyes widened when she saw his outraged expression. “Gathering her bodice together she gave a mortified sob. “The Marquis attacked me and I fainted.”

“Do not take me for a fool. I have eyes and ears.” Observing the triumphant expression in George’s eyes the earl felt a twinge of sympathy for Rosabelle. “Your behaviour makes it obvious you’re not as adverse to the attentions of the Marquis as you indicated. To keep your reputation intact we shall announce your betrothal tonight. You agree, George?”

George inclined his head. “By all means. I was encouraged to press my suite by Rosabelle’s acceptance of the ball-gown and ruby pendant. You have always known my intentions towards her were honourable.”

 So he’d been her secret admirer! Realising she’d been well and truly outsmarted, Rosabelle gave the Marquis a smouldering glance. “You’ll rue this night’s work, sir, just see if you don’t.”

“That’s enough, Rosabelle!” her father barked. “Go this instant. Tell your mother what is arranged. You have yourself to blame if this betrothal is not to your liking. Another man would consider such behaviour highly undesirable in a wife. Consider yourself lucky the Marquis sees fit to overlook it, and is willing to shoulder the blame by offering you the protection of his name.”

Head held high, she gave the two men a cold look as she flounced away. George Northbridge had a shock coming to him if he thought she’d go willingly to his bed, she fumed, all the hate she felt for him coming back. She’d scratch his eyes out first and pickle them in brine.” Her fingers strayed to the pendant.

 When she’d gone Thomas turned a stern glance upon George. “You’ve betrayed my trust, and that of an innocent girl.” The earl’s voice was dry when he noticed the state the Marquess was in. If he were truthful, Rosabelle’s innocence seemed questionable now. He sighed. “For God’s sake man, get a grip on yourself. Come to my study in one hour. It will give James and myself time to prepare the settlement papers.”

“Innocent girl?” George muttered as Thomas headed back to the house. “She has morals of an alley cat and will need to be kept on a tight rein.” He was wondering if he had sufficient time to ride into town and visit his favourite whore when William emerged from the shrubbery, pushing a cloak-wrapped figure in front of him.

“This is Ellen” he said without preamble. “She’s Rosabelle’s maid and will do anything you ask. Let’s say five guineas.”

“Five guineas!” the Marquis hissed. “I can buy twenty drabs for that price.”

William smiled a little as he drew the girl into the light of a lantern and removed her cloak. “But do they look like this.”

The girl was clad only in a transparent chemise. Her skin was smooth and firm, her high breasts had been rouged. A jewel sparkled in the enclave of her navel. Her venus mount was as plump as a ripe plum, her furrow modestly covered by a wisp of downy beard. She was a tasty piece.

Absently he scratched himself. “That’s a fancy price you’re charging me for wearing her muff.”

“She’s lain with no one but myself.”

“Is he telling the truth, girl?” The Marquis walked around her, pinching her rear when she didn’t answer.

“Yes, My Lord.” Her voice was slightly slurred and he cocked William an inquiring glance.

“A little brandy. She was reluctant to confer her favours elsewhere.”

The Marquis brought out a purse. He wasn’t about to quibble over price. Carefully, he counted five golden coins into William’s palm then held one up to the girl to see if she could focus on it. “I like a woman who is willing. If you lay with me, this coin will be yours, do you understand? I won’t force you?”

She nodded. Taking that as an affirmative he pushed the girl into the pavilion and followed in after her.

William walked away, the coins jingling in his pocket.

* * * *

Elizabeth was well pleased. The ball had been a success, the announcement of Rosabelle’s betrothal timely, especially when she learned of the origin of the gown. The marriage was scheduled to take place in three months time and she was looking forward to arranging the event.

Another source of pleasure to her was the number of invitations Angelina had received. The dowager Duchess of Amberley had been especially pressing. Her son had been unable to keep his pale blue eyes off Angelina.

The young Duke was of pleasant disposition, even though he hardly uttered a word. He was a trifle plump, his chin was weak and his nose prominent. He seemed likable. It wouldn’t hurt to encourage him to call.

Elizabeth laughed when Angelina said with great seriousness. “The gypsy told me I’d marry my true love.”

Which was what she told every young girl who visited her, Elizabeth thought with a smile as she instructed her maid to brush out her hair. Chances of it happening were rare. Her glance fell on the charm the gypsy had given her in parting.

“Place it under your pillow and your dreams will give you answers,” she urged, gazing directly into Elizabeth’s eyes. They were compelling eyes, their dark centres harbouring pin points of light. Elizabeth’s head swam as the woman continued in a low, murmuring voice. “Amber advises you to do this.”

“The gypsy told me I must place this charm under my pillow,” she said, wondering at the absurdity of it. “What do you think of that?”

“Gypsy charms are mighty powerful, My Lady.” The maid’s expression was a comical mixture of awe and wonder that made Elizabeth smile. “Best to do what she says, else it might turn into a curse upon your person.”

Elizabeth sought to humour the maid. “Very well. I have no wish for my person to be covered with warts when I wake. It would cause tongues to wag at the church service, and take the sinners’ minds of the sermon.”

Despite the charm, Elizabeth’s sleep proved to be dreamless. She forgot about it when she woke and readied herself for church.

The Wrey family filled the front two front pews, whilst the remaining guests occupied seats normally used by the estate workers, obliging them to crowd together at the back.

The villagers turned out in force to see the spectacle of the gentry in their finery. Standing gave them a better view of the whole proceedings. Their ripe, earthy aroma filled the small church. Lavender-scented handkerchiefs were hastily applied to the more fastidious of noses.

The incumbent was delighted at having such a fine congregation and out-did himself with his oratory. Flinging his arms heavenward, he postured and ranted until a crusty old earl grumbled loudly to his neighbour; “Confound the man, did you ever see such a bag of wind? If the bugger doesn’t shut up soon I’ll run him through.”

Amid a gale of laughter the sermon was hastily brought to an end. There was a scuffle as villagers raced from the church to grab the best vantage points amongst the gravestones. There, they commented on the dress and manners of their betters. The crusty earl received a cheer as he emerged, leaning on his cane.

“Be off you scurvy varmints,” the old man yelled, shaking the cane threateningly at them and nearly falling over in the process. “Do you want me to set about you?”

Angelina exchanged a glance with James. The giggles she’d been holding on to during the sermon escaped in a gurgle of laughter. James grinned and crossed to her side. “Behave yourself, Angelina. We’re supposed to show a dignified countenance to the villagers.”

“Can’t you imagine that old man waving his sword in the air, and the rector, with his frock held up over his knees running for his life over the fields with the earl after him.”

“I’d rather not.” He chuckled and moved in front of her to hide her wickedly gleeful expression from Elizabeth. “Would you have me get into trouble too?”

“You’re too large and too old to get into trouble.” Sobering a little, she placed a hand on his sleeve. “I’m glad you fell in love with Celine, dearest James. You look so happy together.”

“I’ve never been happier.”

“Then I beg you to talk to mama on my behalf whilst you’re here?” she blurted out. “She seems intent on encouraging suitors.”

“A normal process for young ladies of your age, my dear.”

“But I do not wish to marry until I’m in love.” Her eyes became tragic. “How can mama be set on sending me away when we’ve only just found each other.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” He put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“Elizabeth wants only the best for you. If you refuse to meet marriageable men how will you ever fall in love? She will not force you to marry against your will, she told me so herself.”

“If that’s true, why is Rosabelle being forced to wed the Marquis of Northbridge? And why is she confined to her room?”

He took a deep breath, wondering if she should be kept in ignorance of the reason. He couldn’t imagine Angelina acting in such a manner, but the truth might serve to caution her against similar behaviour. “Rosabelle is being punished. Her vanity led her into a compromising assignation with the Marquis. There was no other choice for her after that.”

Her eyes rounded in astonishment, then narrowed as she said quietly. “How can this be? She said she dislikes the Marquis.”

 “Rosabelle is sometimes foolish.” He offered her his arm. “If George Northbridge hadn’t made good his offer of marriage, Rosabelle would now be ruined.”

“Do you consider me jingle-brained, James?”

Taken aback by her tone, he could only stare at her.

“Rosabelle would not deliberately place herself in a position of obligation to the Marquis of Northbridge. He must have planned her downfall for his own nefarious

ends.”

   “We’ll not pursue this any further, Angelina.”  Knowing she was right didn’t lessen the severity of his voice. “Let’s return to the family, we’re keeping them waiting.”

Tears stung her eyes as she said rebelliously. “I didn’t think you could be so hard-hearted, James. Rosabelle’s affections lie in the direction of Lord Lynnbury?”

“Rafe cannot be held responsible for the romantic notions of flighty young girls.” Seeing her flushed face, he sighed. “I’m not unsympathetic of Rosabelle’s plight, but she brought it upon her own head. If it’s any consolation to you, Rafe has never encouraged Rosabelle to harbour tender feelings towards him, nor had he intended offering for her hand.”

“I’m relieved.”

He smiled to himself when her lips curved upwards at the corners. “This betrothal has made you unsettled about your own future. Rest assured, Angelina. I’ll never agree to a marriage of convenience for you unless the situation warrants it.” 

“The situation will never arise,” she said fervently. “You may have absolute trust in me, James.”

 No doubt she meant it, he thought wryly as he led her towards the carriage, but the men who would pursue her couldn’t be trusted, especially with such a fortune at stake. There was only one man he’d trust her to. That man was impoverished and proud, and had shown no inclination to marry for fortune, thus far. But if Rafe fell in love...? 

He tried to push the devious thought to the back of his mind, but it returned twofold when he saw the smile Rafe exchanged with Angelina. James happened to glance at Elizabeth then, and she at him. Understanding passed between them and Elizabeth gently nodded. It seemed they were of one mind on this.

At that moment, Angelina saw Frey standing in the shadows of the church porch. Face wreathed in smiles, she hurried towards him before James could stop her, exclaiming.

“Frey. It’s so nice to see you again!”

It seemed to Frey as if the earth took one long, quivering breath, and held it. “Lady Angelina?” Cautiously he gazed in the direction at the Wrey family. The earl had an ominous frown on his face. William was staring at him, malice in his eyes, a twisted half- smile on his face. James seemed rooted to the spot.

Angelina was unaware of any tension as she kissed his cheek. “Do not be so correct with me, Frey. I’m your sister, and I insist you must address me as such.”

It was Rafe Daventry who took charge of the situation. Striding towards her he took her by the elbow, saying evenly. “Your mother is waiting in the carriage, Lady Angelina.” He nodded towards Frey. “Good day to you, Mr. Mellor.”

Bundled into the carriage Angelina saw the embarrassed shock in her mother’s eyes. Despite knowing she’d committed an unpardonable sin, she attempted to explain her action. “It’s not Frey’s fault.”

“Be quiet, missy,” Elizabeth snapped. “You’ve publicly shamed me.”

“It’s not your shame,” she persisted. “If it had not been for Frey I’d have perished when I was lost in the forest. He prevented me from riding into the bog and guided me safely back to Wrey House. I’ll not forget that.”

Elizabeth stared stonily out of the window, her mind turmoil. She was trying to pretend the scene she’d just witnessed had not occurred, and that Angelina had not added fuel to the fire with her words.

Celine placed a cautionary hand on Angelina’s arm when Elizabeth’s breath hissed in her throat.

“Hush, Angelina. Your words grieve your mama.”

Angelina’s voice was bitter; nothing she did seemed to please her family. “If the saving of my life causes grief, then would my death have been easier to bear?  Perhaps it would have been better if I’d never been restored to my family, for its heart seems carved in stone.”