Forbidden Angel

by Sandra Lea Rice

  A delightful room, Angeline smiled with pride. Wood was added to the fire and the space was now warm and inviting. It seemed strange to her that her father had never mentioned this house, nor had she ever seen it. But as she thought back, there were many strange things.

  Cook busied herself in the kitchen, rearranging things to her liking. Once the dust covers were removed and the upstairs bedrooms cleaned and aired, the town house began to show its true beauty.

  The staffs’ quarters now smelled of lemon and beeswax. Additional furniture had been found in the attic and brought down to add to their comfort.

  Street urchins had been paid to muck out the stalls and lay fresh straw. With hay stacked and the feed bin full of oats, it was ready for horses. The large carriage house at the back of the stable would safely conceal the presence of visitors.

  Frank, with the help of some able-bodied men hired from the wharfs, repaired and cleaned the front gate, pruned the rose bushes, and re-bricked the walkway. The ivy had been trimmed and pulled away from the windows to allow light into the rooms above. Although too late in the year to paint the trim, nevertheless, the transformation was remarkable.

  Mansfield stepped to the drawing room door. “Mr. Thornby, my lord.”

  Adrian rose. “Thank you, Mansfield. Please show him in.”

  “Certainly.” Mr. Mansfield bowed and withdrew.

  Edward swung around the corner, clutching his satchel in front of him, his hair ruffled and his spectacles sitting slightly askew on the end of his nose. He paused abruptly when he saw the room full of people watching him.

  His startled gaze fixed on Angeline and he audibly swallowed. “Welcome home, my lady.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Thornby. May I introduce my husband, Adrian Spencer, Lord Windsford?”

  His gaze swung to Adrian. “Lord Windsford, a pleasure to finally meet you.” Edward’s timid acknowledgment seemed to encompass Michael and Frank.

  “This is Captain Michael Harrington and Mr. Frank Bates. With my wife’s permission, whatever we need to discuss may be said in front of them. Please, have a seat.” Adrian indicated one of the chairs.

  “Such a comfortable room. I have always liked it,” Edward commented as he perched on the edge of his chair. “I would like to congratulate you on your nuptials. I know Lord William would have been pleased. That had been his and Lord Elliot’s desire for quite some time.” As he spoke, he shuffled though the papers in his worn satchel.

  Adrian and Angeline exchanged a surprised glance.

  Quickly and succinctly, they explained what had transpired since Angeline’s departure from London.

  “Sir Malcolm is a scoundrel and not welcome in most decent homes. Should you decide to repudiate his charge, his behavior before and since the, er, incident, will lend credence to your case,” Edward promised.

  “Thank you, Thornby. Living under a cloud of suspicion, no matter how slight, is not something I wish to inflict upon my wife and future children.” Adrian stood before the fire, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “I’ll send a missive to Sir Malcolm and ask to speak with him.” Edward peered at Adrian above his spectacles. “I would imagine all forms were signed and the marriage consummated?”

  Adrian nodded and glanced at Angeline, who blushed a very becoming shade of pink. Though not something normally discussed in front of ladies, Adrian was aware Edward Thornby mentally ticked off items in his head as he brought them to light. Lacking somewhat in the social graces, he remained an immensely thorough barrister. There’d been nothing but good reports when Adrian had him checked out.

  “Then I doubt Sir Malcolm could have the marriage set aside on a technicality,” Edward added as an afterthought.

  Adrian stepped slowly toward him, a thunderous look on his face. Edward’s eyes grew large, and the papers he held in his hand dropped to the floor.

  “Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Mr. Thornby.” Adrian towered over him. “There is no way Malcolm will ever have this marriage set aside. There is no law that I will accept, and if he tries, I will kill him. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Perfectly clear, my lord,” Edward croaked, squeezing his eyes tightly closed while he wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “But, if I might suggest, my lord,”—he peeked at Adrian—“I would not say such a thing outside this room.”

  Adrian blinked in surprise. “Well done, Thornby, well done.”

  Chapter 21

  A pitcher of honey had been added to the usual tea accoutrements on the tray. Angeline prepared a cup to Edward’s liking and brought it to him.

  He carefully accepted the cup from her, and his glasses, which had fallen from its precarious perch on the tip of his nose, from Michael. “Thank you, uh, both.”

  As he sipped his tea and visibly relaxed, Angeline’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. “I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, Mr. Thornby.”

  Edward preened. “I do my best, my lady.” He set his cup down and meticulously cleaned his glasses before addressing Adrian. “I brought information on Sir William’s holdings, estates, and his further desires for young Master James. The recent accounts from the manor house are also ready for your inspection. I’m prepared to explain anything I can that may be of assistance.” He set the now clean eyeglasses back on his nose.

  Adrian inclined his head. “Thank you, Mr. Thornby. Perhaps you would join me later in the study?”

  Angeline watched the exchange between the two very different men, noting Edward’s obvious respect for Adrian.

  “Certainly, my lord.” After a few more sips of his tea, Edward heaved a contented sigh.

  “Mr. Thornby, earlier in our conversation you mentioned this room as though you’d been here before. Have you?” Angeline queried.

  Edward peered at her through his thick lenses. “Why, yes, though not in many years. I was instrumental in the purchase of this townhouse.” He sent an encompassing glance around the room. “Lord William bought this house as a gift for Lady Franchesca. She loved it. After her death, he had the residence closed up with only a rudimentary staff to care for it. Though he couldn’t bear to part with it, I don’t believe he ever set foot here again.”

  Angeline tried to picture her mother in the lovely dwelling. “Thank you, Mr. Thornby.” She was quiet for a moment. “Do you know anything about my mother’s family?”

  Edward sighed. “I know she was from Spain and her name was Franchesca Elaina Cordova. She refused to speak of her family, and neither would Lord William. I was made to understand there would be no contact with them.”

  Angeline lowered her gaze to hide her disappointment. “I see.”

  “That isn’t much, I know, and I’m truly sorry. Would you like me to look into it for you?” Edward asked.

  She sent him an appreciative smile. “I would be grateful for anything you could do to help.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Edward began stuffing papers back into the worn satchel, then stopped when he came across an envelope yellowed with age. “I almost forgot one of the reasons I came. Your parents gave me this to hold until such time as you married. I have had the letter for these twenty years.” He brought the envelope to Angeline.

  She slipped it into a pocket of her gown. “If you would care for something to eat, Mr. Thornby, I believe Cook has prepared a light supper for you.”

  “Yes, indeed. That’s most kind.” Edward finished with his satchel, snapped it shut, and happily followed Shirley from the room.

  “Strange little man,” Frank commented.

  Michael grinned in response. “But surprisingly outspoken as needs be.”

  When Angeline rose, the men came quickly to their feet.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me?” Although she was eager to read her letter, she preferred the privacy of her room.

  Adrian walked her to the staircase. “May I look in on you later?”

  With one slippered foot on the first step, she stopped and regarded him
. “You didn’t come to me last night.”

  “No. My joining you must be your choice, dearest.” He trailed a finger along her cheek.

  “Then I will see you later, in my bedchamber.”

  Adrian lifted her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “Until then.”

  When Adrian returned to the drawing room, he was met by Mansfield who carried in a tray holding a decanter of brandy and three glasses. Setting the silver salver on the tantalus in the corner, he gestured politely. “I thought you gentlemen might enjoy a drink before retiring.”

  Adrian smiled his approval. “We would indeed, Mr. Mansfield.” He poured three glasses and handed Frank and Michael each one, then crossed the room to the hearth to stand before its heat. “It gets more complicated daily. I don’t know what technicality Malcolm could use, but I get the feeling Thornby does and is not yet saying.”

  “Perhaps the next few days will bring answers. We can decide then how best to proceed,” Michael suggested.

  “I’ll check the docks in the mornin’ for the next ship from America. That’ll give us an idea on when to expect him. I don’t care much for bein’ snuck up on.” Frank downed his drink. “If ya don’t need me, Boss, I’ll be off ta bed.”

  “Good night, Frank.” Adrian swirled the brandy in his snifter, aware that Michael watched him.

  “What is it, Michael?”

  “I was about to ask you that same question.”

  Adrian sipped his drink while he considered how best to reply. “It’s Angeline’s desire to find her mother’s family that’s troubling me. There’s something more we don’t know, a very big, important piece, I’m certain.”

  “Perhaps the letter she received will help.” Michael’s forehead creased. “I don’t know why so much was kept secret, and, if there are relatives, why they haven’t come forward.”

  “I’m not certain either, but I don’t want her hurt any more than she has been.” Adrian finished his brandy and set the glass aside. “I need to meet with Thornby, so I’ll see you in the morning.”

  After poring over the accounts and information with Edward for an hour, Adrian finally made his way upstairs. He could see a thin line of light beneath Angeline’s door. Tapping once, he entered.

  Angeline sat in a chair by the fire, the letter lying open in her lap. Although she glanced at him, her eyes were distant.

  He hunkered down in front of her, taking her hand in his. “Angeline, sweetheart, what is it?”

  “She gave up everything for him.”

  Adrian frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “In the letter, my mother speaks of their devotion and love for each other. It was written at my birth, a wish for my happiness.”

  She turned sorrow-filled eyes to him and his gut tightened. “Don’t you want to truly love the person you marry?” She looked away. “No, of course not. That’s a sentiment you do not believe in.”

  Adrian jerked to his feet and paced restlessly, before turning to her. “Tell me what that night on the ship was about. What happened then, between us?” For the rest of the trip she had allowed him to sleep in the bed but had stayed firmly to her side, offering him no encouragement.

  She rose to stand beside him. “I should think you would recognize what that was,” she said calmly. “I wanted . . . sex, Adrian. I realized, just as you had done earlier with me, such a very pleasurable act could be accomplished without love. It was nothing more.”

  “I see.” Adrian gritted his jaw. “Thank you for clarifying that for me, madam.” He swooped and picked her up, carried her to the bed, and tossed her into the middle of the soft mattress. He climbed onto the bed and knelt beside her.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to scoot away, but he caught her ankles and stopped her. “I thought you said you wouldn’t force me.”

  He stiffened. “I will not. Was your invitation to join you here just to tease me?” He waited. “Tell me now if you do not want me, and be honest with both of us.”

  She hesitated, her gaze sweeping over his face. “I—want you.”

  “Say my name, Angeline.” He would allow no pretense between them.

  “I want you, Adrian.”

  Later, spent and tired, Adrian held her while she slept. He understood sexual desire and was not a man who believed a woman didn’t enjoy the same feelings. But he would wager a small fortune what had passed between them on board the ship, and tonight, had been far more than just satisfying a sexual need. He kissed her softly and roused from the bed to pick up the fallen letter, holding it near the firelight to read.

  To my beautiful daughter, Angelina, on this, the day of her birth:

  Today my sweet daughter is born. As we hold you we see not only a new life that begins, but a fulfillment of a promise we made to one another. A promise to keep above all else, forsaking all else, in this life and for all time.

  We want to tell you of our love for each other, and wish for you the same kind of happiness we have found. It can come with a price as it did for me, but no price is too great if you find your soul mate, the other half of your heart. You and William are my only family, as Cordova is lost to me. Perhaps one day you will find your birthright, but true love, my darling daughter, is worth far more than silver and gold.

  Your loving mother, Franchesca Elaina Cordova

  Adrian’s gaze swept from the letter to the sleeping woman in the bed. His heart twisted. What he felt for her was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He could no longer picture his life without her.

  He’d hurt her terribly, taken her naiveté and destroyed her romantic dreams. Now it was up to him to replace some of her heart’s desire. If it meant finding the family lost to her, he would do it.

  Taking up his clothes, he dressed quickly. With a last glance at Angeline, he quietly exited the room.

  The window began to gray with the first light of dawn. Feigning sleep, Angeline observed Adrian slip out the door. His innate kindness had drawn her to him many years ago. Although he’d changed during his absence from England, had become harder and less tolerant, he was still a deeply caring man.

  She ran her hand over the indentation in the pillow where his head had lain.

  He’d taken her slowly, kissed and caressed her until she was almost frantic to feel him inside her, then made certain she’d found her release, before taking his own. Afterward, she’d pretended to sleep, not wanting to discuss what had transpired between them.

  Adrian had held her throughout the night. She’d felt the kiss he’d pressed to her forehead and temple, and his hand as he’d lightly stroked her back.

  Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes. She’d placed him on a pedestal, one of her own design, one no mortal man could possibly occupy. When he’d fallen short of her expectations, she’d lashed out at him. She’d been angry and hurt, disillusioned. What he’d done was deceitful, but was it unforgivable? If Adrian was to be believed, and she did believe him, his motives had been based on worthy intentions. His need to protect her had caused him to act in a less than honorable way and Angeline realized it had wounded him as well.

  She knew he found physical pleasure with her, and freely admitted that she, too, enjoyed their lovemaking. In finding her handkerchief in his desk drawer, she suspected Adrian did love her, perhaps not yet fully, nor might he acknowledge such love. After saying many things in anger, which she suspected he regretted, Adrian had asked they seek a way to make a life together. For them to have a chance at happiness, she would need to try as well.

  Tossing back the heavy quilt, she rose from the bed and crossed the room to the water closet. After using the necessary, she poured water into the washbasin and quickly performed her morning ablutions.

  Once dressed, Angeline went in search of the others. She found them at breakfast in the morning room.

  “Good morning, my sweet.” Adrian pulled a chair out for her beside his. “You’re up rather early.”

  “I’ve never been one to sleep late.”

  One gla
nce at Michael’s concerned expression, and she smiled reassuringly.

  “If you’ll pardon my asking, was there anything helpful in the letter Thornby gave you?” Michael held the plate of pastries while she made a selection.

  After choosing a blueberry scone, she replied, “The letter was from my mother and written at my birth. It was only a wish for my happiness, but she signed it with the last name Cordova instead of Ashley, which I don’t understand. It appears her marriage to my father caused a rift between her and her family. In this, I don’t believe I’m wrong.”

  Michael shrugged. “Well, that’s more than we knew yesterday.”

  “Excuse me, sir. This has just arrived for you. The footman was asked to wait for a reply.” Mansfield held out a salver containing a cream-colored envelope.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mansfield.” Adrian examined the seal before breaking it. After a quick examination of the contents, he regarded the others. “It’s from my uncle. We’ve been invited to Newbrook for dinner tonight. Should I accept?”

  Angeline’s gaze encompassed both Frank and Michael. “You’ll both come, won’t you?”

  At their affirmative nods, Adrian left to pen a short acceptance.

  As soon as Adrian retook his seat, he glanced at Frank. “What was the word on the next ship from America?”

  “One’s due in shortly, Boss. It’s a freighter, but I suspect Malcolm will be on it.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Across the table, Michael forked a piece of sausage into his mouth. “Where is Newbrook? We shouldn’t assume someone isn’t already looking for us in London.”

  “Not far.” Adrian frowned. “But you’re right.”

  Shifting in his seat, Michael lowered his voice and leaned forward. “There isn’t one among us I don’t trust, but I feel as if our every move is observed. How else would they keep appearing as they do?”

  The ships crossing back to England had revealed at least one man hired by Malcolm. Caught lurking outside their compartment door, there was no reason to believe he’d acted alone.