He sighed and marched over to the stable and waited for his horse to be saddled. Now all five were married, life was quieter than ever. He did not much mind the peace. His duties in London and the modest estate kept him busy enough—not to mention looking after Aunt Jean. He did, however, resent Lady Angel interrupting it.
Rubbing a hand across his jaw, he sighed again. What would he do with her? She was not easily frightened away by all appearances. The woman had the brashness of someone raised with money and few consequences.
But, according to the letter he’d just received, money might very well play a role in why the lady was here in Berkshire. It was no secret his uncle had left Aunt Jean with a sizeable inheritance nor was the knowledge that his aunt had been taken advantage of by unscrupulous characters who wanted nothing more than access to her coffers.
If his information was correct, the Templetons were in financial crisis after the marquis’ late-wife accrued significant debt. Reuben was not unaware of the financial burden siblings could be but now his were all married, he did not have to worry so much. The marquis’ brothers and sisters were unmarried, however, and no doubt cost him a pretty penny.
Reuben mounted the horse and directed her out of the estate. What this meant was he had to put a stop to Lady Angel’s ways and ensure she was out of his aunt’s life with haste. Poor Aunt Jean was far too trusting.
By the time he reached the house, a light drizzle dusted him and the horse with a sheen of damp. Droplets began to gather on the brim of his hat, and he swiped them away as they trickled down his face. He hoped Lady Angel was at least clever enough to ensure his aunt was not outside for once, or she’d catch her death.
When he reached the stables, he slowed the pace to eye the carriage currently being wiped down. Bunching the reins in his hand, he clenched his jaw. That damned Christopher Cartwright was back and no doubt clutching at Aunt Jean’s skirt hem hoping to charm her into another of his investments. Reuben blew out a breath. He doubted any of the money went anywhere other than Cartwright’s own pocketbook.
Drawing off his hat as he entered via the rear door, he pushed a hand through his damp curls and worked his way through the house toward the main drawing room. Servants greeted him with a curtsey. He forced a tense smile, but his knuckles hurt from grasping his hat too tightly. He’d be damned if that bastard would take advantage of his aunt again. If he had any proof of what the man had done, he’d have handed him over to the local magistrate. Unfortunately, it was only hearsay at present.
Not that he needed evidence to know Cartwright was up to no good. The man was a notorious gambler and a blaggard to boot.
Reuben slowed his pace when Lady Angel’s light laughter trilled through the house. The sound made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end—and not for the right reasons. He ground his teeth together and tried to force his mind away from the sordid place it kept seeming to end up when in her presence. What a fool he was to be so distracted by a pretty smile and a laugh that seemed to tangle his insides. No doubt she had distracted many a man with her wiles, and he’d be damned if he’d be added to that list.
With cautious steps, he moved into the hallway, aware of the leather of his boots creaking with his every movement. It might not be becoming to sneak into a house, but when he heard Cartwright’s low tones, he knew he needed to hear whatever they were conversing about. For all he knew, they were looking to swindle his aunt together.
Another laugh. He bit down harder. Curse the woman for having such an attractive laugh—and for using it so frequently. He remembered it from the one ball he’d attended in which she had also been in attendance. It was no trifling, girlish giggle, but a full one that drew attention and made people want to smile. He’d witnessed that very thing himself in Town, and apparently it was not put on for the people of the ton.
“I hope we shall see much more of each other, Angel.”
Reuben fought a snarl and slid behind the staircase to peer around. Cartwright had his back to Reuben while Lady Angel stood to the man’s side, her profile illuminated by a candelabra nearby.
“I am here for another two months, so I am sure we shall,” replied Lady Angel.
Cartwright moved marginally closer. Reuben didn’t think she had even noticed him encroaching on her space, but he damn well did. First, he didn’t address by her title and then he stood far too close to her. If he did not already know her, then he was being entirely inappropriate.
Reuben rubbed his jaw to ease the ache from clamping it tightly shut.
“I look forward to it.” Cartwright moved closer still. “We can get to know each other much better.”
“Well, you must be warned that Mrs. Stone intends to keep me quite busy.”
Scowling, Reuben observed her take a slight step back from Cartwright. Her tone held a slightly hesitant note that belied her easy smile and the laughter he’d heard. It seemed she did not know him after all.
“I did not take you for the sort of woman who was all work and no play.” Cartwright closed the gap again, and it was hard to miss the lascivious quality of the statement.
“You hardly know me, Mr. Cartwright. I do not think you should jump to conclusions so quickly.” She straightened her shoulders and looked him square on.
Reuben had to ignore the little flare of pride that rushed through him. For all he knew, she wanted Cartwright gone so she could ensure there was no competition for his aunt’s wealth.
“As I said, I hope to remedy that.” Reuben heard the smile in Cartwright’s tone. “The country can be a little dull at times. I always welcome a beautiful face and a quick wit.”
“You cannot know if my wit is speedy or slow, Mr. Cartwright. I might very well be the biggest bore you have ever come upon.” Lady Angel glanced around. “In fact, I should be—”
“Angel—” Cartwright stepped closer and reached out, his fingers grazing a curl that framed her face.
Damn it all. Reuben marched out from behind the steps and cleared his throat. For a brief moment, Lady Angel’s face lit with relief until he saw recognition flare behind her eyes and her expression hardened.
Skin hot, muscles tense, Reuben came to stand at Lady Angel’s side. “Lady Angel has duties to which to attend. You are dominating her time.”
Cartwright ran his gaze lazily up and down Reuben. Though Reuben was never one to fall for the latest fashions, his clothes were well-made and cut to fit him perfectly. However, Cartwright gleamed and shone and made Reuben look like a bloody pauper next to him. He could not help wonder if Lady Angel preferred the perfectly put-together look combined with a strong jawline, clear blue eyes, and golden hair that Reuben knew had worked on many a woman.
“Good to see you too, Hunter.” A smile slipped across Cartwright’s lips. “I thought I would call upon your aunt and ensure she was not feeling lonely.”
“She is not lonely by a long shot,” Reuben fired back.
“Well not now she has the lovely Angel here to keep her company.” Cartwright’s gaze skipped up and down her. Reuben saw her stiffen. “But I would be remiss not to visit your aunt. She is delightful company, and I know she appreciates my visits.”
“A visit which I believe is over, is that right?” Reuben moved closer to Angel, inserting himself ever so slightly between the two of them.
“Indeed, I must be going, but I will ensure it is not long until I return.” Cartwright donned his hat. “What can one do when one’s company is so much in demand?” He grinned. “Not that you’d know much about that, eh, Hunter?”
“Actually, my aunt has requested that I stay for a few weeks,” Reuben spilled out.
Cartwright’s upper lip curled. “Well that seems a waste of effort. You live a mere two miles away.”
Angel stepped around Reuben. “You know how fond Mrs. Stone is of Mr. Hunter.”
Reuben glanced at her in surprise and eyed her serene smile.
“She does so love her nephew. Why would she not wish him to be around more fr
equently?” she continued.
Cartwright swung his gaze between them, a frown puckering his brow. He shrugged slightly then took his jacket from the butler. “Enjoy your stay then, Hunter.” He leaned in. “I know I would,” he murmured and shot a meaningful look at Angel.
Fists bunched, Reuben glared at Cartwright, not moving a muscle until the front door shut behind him. He released his fists and glanced at Angel.
“You should be careful,” he warned. “Mr. Cartwright is a swindler and a cheat.”
“Goodness, those are harsh words,” she said, her lips tilted. “Your aunt seems to like him.”
“My aunt does not know what is good for her.”
“Is that why you are intending to stay?”
He hesitated. What could he say? That he was so maddened by the idea of Cartwright near Angel that he had not been thinking? Or that now he stopped to consider it, it was not such a terrible idea? He could keep an eye on her and ensure she looked after his aunt properly.
Or should he admit that he wanted to spend more time with Lady Angel Templeton?
No. That was not it. He’d be damned if he’d be sucked in by her smiles and laughter like every other fool.
“As I said, I think my aunt would benefit from my company,” he said stiffly.
“I am certain she would enjoy it.” Her smile grew. “But do not fear, Mr. Hunter. We may be but weak and feeble women, but we shall not let any Mr. Cartwrights take advantage of us.”
She bounded off like a child skipping through an overgrown field. He grimaced to himself. Whatever had he done.
Chapter Five
A groan escaped Angel before she quite realized why. Drawing open her eyes and taking in the dusky light of the room, she groaned again when a knot at the top of her spine panged in protest of the slight movement. Lord, no wonder she ached all over. Mrs. Stone had suffered a restless night with a grievous headache and the only way to settle her had been by reading stories by candlelight and gossiping about all the old gentry.
Angel had to admit, the gossiping part had been rather amusing. Who knew that old Lord Duffield had been quite the rogue in his day? It was hard to imagine the octogenarian flirting with any ladies now, especially since he refused to believe he was hard of hearing and shouted at everyone.
However, her body was not made to lie on an armchair all night. She straightened and tilted her head side to side in an attempt to loosen the knots. No, she was used to the very best of beds. And even though the ancient bed she had here could not compare to her one at home with its plump pillows and luxurious mattress, anything would be preferable to this worn leather chair.
Her gaze fell on Mrs. Stone who was laid on her back, mouth slightly ajar. White wispy hair escaped the braid that Angel had tied and her cap was askew. But she looked peaceful, and that made Angel smile. She had to admit, Mrs. Stone was not the awful old crone she feared she would be. With all her tales and her interesting take on life, combined with an enormous amount of energy for a lady of her age, these two months would not be entirely dull.
Especially with her nephew only a few rooms down.
She tried to force away the image of the stern Mr. Hunter likely sleeping restfully in a comfortable bed in the room that Mrs. Stone claimed she always reserved for her favorite nephew.
However, the image was stubborn. She scowled to herself. The briefest glimpse of him before he had retired sealed a sight in her mind that refused to fade. The lack of cravat, combined with tousled hair and a loose shirt as he had ducked into his room after bidding his aunt good night had impacted her far more than it should have done.
After all, the man’s constant scowl told her all she needed to know. And if that was not enough, he had practically told her how useless he thought she believed her to be upon their first meeting by scolding her like a child. She did not quite understand his slight change in temperament after his decision to stay. Though perhaps her support in showing a united front against the coarse Mr. Cartwright helped—who she could swear was up to no good even if she could not place a finger on it.
Anyway, a slight change in temperament did not mean much. The man was thoroughly uncharmable, which was strange indeed. Even Mr. Cartwright had been charmed by her, and she had not been trying. The moment the man had stepped into the house, she had been on the defense. Underneath that sheen of what she imagined many thought of as charisma was something else. She could not put her finger on it, but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Angel put a hand to the neck in question. Mr. Hunter had rather the same effect unfortunately, and it did not feel nearly as unpleasant. Especially now she knew what he looked like cravat-less. It was silly really. She had met many an attractive man and none of them ever scowled at her or scolded her like a child.
Which begged the question…why was she so preoccupied with him?
Pushing fingers through her tangled hair, she rose from the chair, wincing when the floorboards creaked. She could not quite make out the time on the mantle clock as the heavy curtains blocked out most of the light from the room, but the gray light seeping in through the gaps underneath told her it was early morning. She was slowly learning Mrs. Stone’s habits, and it would be several hours before she rose, so that gave Angel time to wash and dress before the morning meal.
Slipping out of the room, she eased the door shut and listened for a moment. She released a long breath. All was quiet. Mrs. Stone might be jolly good fun, but there was quite a bit of labor involved in working for her, which Angel had not anticipated. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. Seven o’clock in the morning. Lord, she never saw that time at home. If her siblings could see her now, having put in a night’s hard work and rising at such an early hour, they would have a collective heart attack.
“Ah.”
Angel jolted away from the door, a hand pressed to her chest. “I was just—” Words failed her when her gaze traversed Mr. Hunter. She could not help but take a slow, lazy perusal of his person, taking in the damp hair, the open collar of his shirt, the unbuttoned sleeves that were rolled up to just below his elbows. Veins and sinew flexed on arms that were slightly sun-kissed. A jacket was slung carelessly over one shoulder.
Mouth dry, her mind raced. If a glimpse of a lack of cravat had addled her mind then she might as well be committed to the asylum now. Nothing could have prepared her for Mr. Reuben Hunter slightly damp and not at all appropriately dressed.
To make matters worse, his lips tilted slightly, drawing her attention to a mouth that should be banned on men. It was entirely unfair that the rougher sex should be bestowed with full lips like that.
“Forgive me, I did not think you would be awake.”
She jerked her gaze up to his and tried not to imagine how hot and pink her cheeks had to look.
“No…” The word came out more like a mouse squeak than a word. She cleared her throat as quietly as she could. “No…no need to apologize. I was just, um, checking on your aunt. She had a rather restless night.” Angel put a hand to her hair and grimaced internally. How must she look in yesterday’s crumpled gown and her hair wild? And here he was looking as though he had been conjured from one of those gothic romance novels.
A crease appeared between his dark brows, and his gaze trailed over her. “Did you spend the night with my aunt?”
Hands tight at her side lest she start fussing with her hair again, she gave a stiff nod. Surprise lit briefly in Mr. Hunter’s eyes. Angel could not help but lift her chin. The man apparently thought her utterly heartless, despite hardly knowing her.
“She needed me, Mr. Hunter, so I thought it prudent to stay with her until she was settled.” She forced a smile. “That is what I am here for after all, is it not?”
“Indeed,” he said tightly. Mr. Hunter swung his jacket from over his shoulder and clasped it in both hands. “If you will excuse me, I should…” He motioned to his bedroom door.
“Do you ride every morning, Mr. Hunter?” she
blurted out and fought the urge to slap a hand to her forehead. What was wrong with her? The question had been burning in her mind, but she had not anticipated it escaping her, not when she was so close to ending this interaction and escaping his relentless glower.
“I do.”
“Even in the rain?”
He motioned down his person. “As you can see.”
“Yes.” Oh yes, she could see. She saw the way his shirt clung to muscles that implied he did more than riding. Fencing perhaps. Or maybe boxing. Muscles that were apparently making her ask the most nonsensical questions. Maybe he was correct in not trusting her to look after his aunt. After all, she was hardly proving herself to be the cleverest of women.
“Angel?”
Angel might have winced at the sound of Mrs. Stone’s surprisingly strong voice coming from her bedroom, but at least it gave her an excuse to end this interaction and gain some sense of dignity. Mr. Hunter’s casual attire did strange things to her mind, and she needed some space from him as soon as possible.
“I had better…” She indicated to his aunt’s bedroom door with a thumb.
“Yes, of course. I shall see for you for the morning meal no doubt, my lady.”
She laughed at the sudden formality. Given that he was in a state of undress and she still wore yesterday’s clothing, it seemed absurd. “I think you had better call me Angel, Mr. Hunter. After all, we will likely be spending more time together if you intend to stay here.”
“Very well.”
He turned abruptly and marched into his room without giving her a second glance. Angel eyed the spot in which he’d been standing, aware of her heart beating at an oddly frantic pace. She noticed he did not offer the same deal so she supposed he would have to be Mr. Hunter for a while longer. What a strange, rude man he was. If it was not apparent how much he cared for his aunt, she would think him quite awful indeed.
There Are Plenty More Dukes in the Sea (The Inheritance Clause Book 1) Page 4