The Rogue and the Rival (20 page)

BOOK: The Rogue and the Rival
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“I had suspected you were with him.”
“You did?”
“Penelope and Helena arrived at the chapel in quite a state, because you had not been in your room. We all feared that you were in the chapel, because we know of your nighttime visits there. But you weren’t there, obviously. So I thought you might have been with Lord Huntley.”
“I was.”
“Is there grounds for a marriage?”
“There is no chance that I am with child. But people have married after being caught in less compromising positions. But as Helena said, no one can get this man to the altar, not even you. And frankly, I don’t want to marry him if he is forced into it.
I
don’t want to be forced into it.”
“Angela, you do realize why I assigned you to take care of him?”
“Because I hadn’t taken my orders, so I could be in the company of a man.”
Lady Katherine threw her head back and laughed.
“I can’t believe none of you have seen through that! I could have always requested that someone from the village come up here to take care of him until he was well enough to be moved.”
“Yes, you could have done! Why didn’t you?” Angela was stunned that she hadn’t thought of this herself
. Really.
“Like I said, I had always suspected that the religious life was not for you. But how were you ever going to know that if you didn’t leave, or didn’t get a glimpse of what was out there? And how were you ever going to achieve any sort of resolution about the man who had ruined you if you did nothing but curse him for your present unhappiness?”
“You were giving me a gift, and I thought you were punishing me,” Angela answered.
“I had a less noble reason as well. I was an excellent matchmaker when I still took part in society functions. I haven’t had much practice these past few years. I couldn’t resist.”
Angela’s mouth dropped open in shock. She had been set up and hadn’t even realized it. She looked at Lady Katherine in a different light, and could easily see her as a younger woman, shrewdly observing the goings-on in a ballroom and seeing what others failed to notice because they were so caught up in themselves.
“Having said that, I now have a proposal for you,” Lady Katherine continued. “I will not demand a marriage unless there is a chance that you might be with child. I expect that you will either refrain from such activities or inform me that we need to plan a wedding ceremony. And if that is the case, I will personally escort him to the altar with a pistol at his back, if necessary.”
“Lady Katherine!” Oh, she was shocked. But she was also pleased. She had a champion.
“He has gotten away with far too much as it is,” Lady Katherine said. “It’s about time someone brought that man up to scratch.”
A sentiment likely held by the entire population of England, Angela thought. But was she the one to reform the biggest scoundrel in a generation? If she failed, no one would be surprised, and she certainly wouldn’t be the only one.
“But you must go when he leaves—either with him or without him.”
Her instinct was to agree immediately, before she thought too much about it. Still, reason intruded with practical questions. What would she do if she struck out on her own? Where could she go? Perhaps she should stay at the abbey after all, living out the rest of her days wondering what might have been if she hadn’t passed up the chance of a lifetime . . .
She didn’t know the answers to those questions. But maybe she didn’t have to know. Because maybe . . . maybe . . .
Angela nodded her agreement.
She was not hopeless. Quite the contrary, in fact.

 

Chapter 10
Phillip
awoke at dawn. His eyes easily adjusted to the morning light, which was now familiar to him. Though he had lain awake for hours the night before, the sleep he managed must have been enough. His mind felt clear—clear enough to recall and compare all the other mornings of his life when he woke up feeling positively wretched. It seemed like another lifetime, or even someone else’s life.
Funny, that.
Angela was right. He was changing. And she had better still be around to appreciate what she had done to him.
Phillip dressed quickly and went off in search of her. And it occurred to him, as he wandered the halls, his nerves on edge, that he felt rather like he was fourteen years old again.
Like he was a mere lad, wandering around the halls of Cliveden, searching for Jenny, the pretty housemaid he had fancied. OK, he had been infatuated with her. She was a year older than he, experienced, and had returned his affections enough to relieve him of his virginity. He had been heartbroken when he had discovered her with one of the footmen, though he never let anyone know it. A footman! He was going to be a duke, and she chose a footman instead.
But at the moment, he didn’t recall that blow to his pride as vividly as he remembered the sweet anticipation of glimpsing her, of talking to her. He felt this now, and he hadn’t felt it since he was a lad of fourteen. And when had he lost it? When, exactly, had he forgotten about that feeling? When had he started skipping over it, just to get into bed and get out before dawn came, before the woman realized that she might rather have a footman instead of him?
Where was Angela? This corridor was empty, and he was lost, but he kept going. Perhaps she was in the kitchen. He hoped so, because he was hungry now, and he couldn’t manage a day of physical labor on an empty stomach.
Gah. A day of physical labor. His first day of work in his life. It took him twenty-eight years to get to this. Some people he knew, like his father, died without ever having done anything remotely resembling physical labor, unless one counted hunting. Phillip suspected most people didn’t.
At the thought of this first day of work, Phillip felt as he had on the way to begin school at Eton. He had spent the entire journey there telling his twin that it was likely Devon wouldn’t have any friends, no one would like him, the work would be too hard for him to manage, and he would fail out by the holidays.
Phillip had, of course, been transferring his own fears onto his twin. Devon had made friends (despite Phillip’s taunts) and excelled at school (despite doing most of Phillip’s work for him). But Devon wasn’t around to bully today, and Phillip knew now that it wouldn’t help if he were. So Phillip did what he did best, which was push unpleasant thoughts aside and think of something else instead.
Finally, he found the kitchen.
And Angela.
He leaned against the door frame, forgetting about his hunger and instead savoring the sight of her engaged in conversation with Penelope while standing over the stove. From where he stood, it didn’t seem like one of those sob-filled I-can’t-believe-I’m-leaving-I’ll-miss-you-so-much conversations. He felt relieved.
And then she turned around, he caught her eye, and she smiled.
 
It was nice, Angela thought, that he sought her out this morning. Unless he was avoiding a private conversation with her. No—now was not the time to start second-guessing herself. She made herself focus on the breakfast tray she was preparing. She had just added the fried eggs to the plate, which already contained bread and slices of ham.
He was walking toward her now. His stride was sure, confident, and she was clearly his destination. Her pulse quickened. I am leaving
with
you, she thought.
“He is handsome, isn’t he?” Penelope sighed beside her. “I bet he is devastatingly so when he is dressed for a ball.” Angela murmured her agreement, even though she thought he seemed quite handsome the way he was now: breeches, boots, and a shirt unbuttoned at the collar and rolled at the sleeves. They were all clean but still rather worn. They were undoubtedly of a lesser quality than he was accustomed to, but he wore them well, and he did not complain. He could do with a shave, though. Or without. It didn’t matter to her.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling especially at Penelope.
“Good morning, Lord In—Lord Huntley,” she answered.
“Call me Phillip,” he said, and smiled at her expectantly.
There was a long silence.
“Oh, very well, I can take a hint,” Penelope said with a laugh before she went outside into the garden, leaving them alone in the kitchen.
“You didn’t come to my room last night,” he said pointedly to Angela.
“I know,” she said, pouring tea into a cup, which she handed to him. He didn’t say anything, though certainly he must have something to say. “If you have a question, Phillip, you can just ask.”
“Tell me what happened with the abbess.”
“That wasn’t a question,” she couldn’t resist pointing out.
“I’m trying, woman, I just don’t know where to begin.”
“Maybe I don’t, either,” she said. “We talked for a while. And I suppose all you need to know is that Lady Katherine and I agreed that I am leaving the abbey when you do—either with you or without you.”
“Angela! Angela?” Voices were calling for her. Male voices. Ones that could only belong to Johnnie and William Sloan, Penelope’s brothers.
Because of the interruption, Phillip did not have a chance to reply. Although, she noted with some satisfaction, his darkened expression at two men calling out for her might have been the answer she was looking for.
In a minute Phillip would see that they were just boys and not in competition with him for her affections. William, the eldest of the pair, was eighteen, and Johnnie was a year younger.
“There you are, Angela!” William said, coming into the kitchen from the garden door. He stopped abruptly when he saw Phillip, and Johnnie, coming up behind him, bumped into him.
“What’d you stop for?” Johnnie asked, annoyed.
“Looks like you might have competition for Angela’s affections, Johnnie,” William said teasingly after taking note of Phillip. Johnnie’s face flushed as red as his hair—the same shade as his sister Penelope’s.
“Hello, boys,” Angela said. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on the chapel? Or do you need something?”
“Penelope told us some fellow was in here that is going to work with us. I figure that’s him,” William said, jerking his head in Phillip’s direction.
“Hey, isn’t that the bloke we found in the ditch?” Johnnie asked.
“Yes. His name is Phillip,” Angela said, and then completed the introductions.
“You look a lot better than the last time we saw you,” William said. “I could have sworn you were dead when we first found you.”
“Thank you for taking a closer look and for bringing me here,” Phillip said. Angela watched the Sloan brothers’ expressions when Phillip spoke. His accent betrayed him, making it clear he was of the upper class. The boys did seem to note that, suddenly standing a little straighter and becoming a bit more reserved.
“Do you boys want something to eat?” Angela offered. They hesitated. “It’s no trouble.”
“Perhaps a cup of tea, if that’s all right,” William answered for them both. Phillip sat down to his breakfast, and the Sloan brothers joined him. Angela straightened up the kitchen while listening in on their conversation.
“So where are you from?” William asked.
“Buckinghamshire. But I spent most of my time in London.”
“What brings you round these parts?”
“I was returning to London from Paris.”
“Paris? Lots of fellows around her have been to Paris. Two French blokes have been staying at the tavern, in fact. And then Frank Jones, from the next town over, was in France for a bit during the war. He said the women over there were quite different from the English ones, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Phillip said, grinning in spite of himself.
“So, could you tell us about them?” William asked in a lowered voice.
Angela caught them all casting glances at over at her. Or rather they caught her shamelessly listening in.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said sweetly. “Do carry on.”
“Angela, what Phillip is about to tell us is not fit for a lady’s ears,” Johnnie said gravely.
BOOK: The Rogue and the Rival
10.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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