He touched her face. “If what we have is real, it will grow stronger, not weaker, with time. You have so little experience of society. I want you to be sure.”
“What does that mean?”
He took a deep breath. “For one thing, you cannot stay in my home without a chaperone or companion of some sort. Margaret was correct about that. It isn’t right. I see that now. When I made that decision...”
Angella tried to quell the hurt inside, even as she realized the truth of what he said. “You really didn’t care about a bedraggled, discarded, orphaned pastor’s daughter.”
A wry grin lit the earl’s face. “You have the right of it.”
“So what next?”
The earl paced the sitting room, before returning to where Angella awaited him. “In the spring, I propose to take you to London for the season.”
“But, I don’t want a season. I don’t need a season.” Angella tensed. “Do you fear I won’t show well beside the haute ton?” She tried to keep the hurt from her tone.
Sitting down beside her, the earl took her cold hands in his. “No. No. But you are young and I want you to be sure, before you commit yourself for life. Will you be amenable to a season?”
“You really don’t trust my feelings now?” Angella couldn’t hide the hurt on her face.
“Will waiting change them?” The earl released one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
What could she say? Would meeting other eligible young men change her feelings? She didn’t think so. Her pained expression was enough. The earl nodded. His voice low. “You’ll go, without tantrums or trying to run away?”
“I’ll go.” Her eyes widened as the thought crossed her mind. “You won’t leave me in London, will you?” Her hands grasped his.
“No. We’ll give you the season your mother would want you to have.”
Angella blinked tears. “I may not approve, but my mother would thank you,” she said. “Before then? There is much time until spring.”
The earl sucked in a breath. “I’ve already written to the Countess Winter about a visit. I was wrong in not allowing a chaperone, Angella.”
“Do I really need a season?” Angella could not hide her trepidation. “All I’ve known is the village and a few celebrations at Lucashire here. I’m not ready...”
“The Earl of Alistair and his wife will add consequence to your season. Plus, Lady Winter can help show you how to get on in society.” As though sensing her fear, he told her, “I watched how you comported yourself under the trial of Margaret’s ire. You, not she, acted like the lady your mother taught you to be. You’ll do fine, Angella.”
He released her hands. “Now, I need to find you a companion.” With that, he left her in the room, contemplating a totally different outcome to Margaret’s visit than she expected.
Part of her wanted to go to London, another part wanted to run. She sighed. Too late for that now. Besides, she was rather curious about Lady Winter.
Chapter 9
The day after breaking his engagement, the earl called Trowbridge into his office. “I have something I wish you to do.” He tented his fingers, wishing he hadn’t made so many mistakes where Angella was concerned. He had fences to mend.
If nothing else, Margaret made him aware of his responsibilities. It was lowering to realize his own selfishness had led to the situation. “Angella needs a chaperone. Someone respectable and old enough to keep her presence here from gossip.”
Trowbridge straightened. “Have anyone in mind?”
“I was wondering if, mayhap, I have some relative who needs a position. I do not know of any. You?”
The soldier shook his head. “However...” He hesitated.
“Out with it, man. I should have done this long past. If you have someone in mind, tell me.”
“I do have a cousin, Alice. She lost her husband recently and hasn’t the resources to support herself. In her late twenties. No children. He had a minor baron title, Lord Rathburn, and she was a lady from a good family.”
Spensor sat up. “Sounds just the thing for Angella. How soon can she be here?”
“I can have her here in a couple of days.”
Spensor nodded. “All right then. See if she’ll come.”
* * *
When Trowbridge introduced his cousin to Angella, they took to one another almost immediately. Alice added a quiet presence to meals and outings. Yet, she was allowed time alone to, as Angella told the earl, grieve for her husband and be treated as more friend than staff.
With that situation handled, the earl sent a letter to Alistair explaining the situation. Two weeks later, he handed Angella and Alice into a carriage, while he mounted a tall gelding, for a trip to visit Lord and Lady Alistair.
The earl sighed when he learned from Trowbridge, that Reverend Carter made much of their travel.
Once Angella had Alice to chaperone her, the earl did his best to keep their relationship friendly but not intimate. He didn’t like the question in Angella’s eyes whenever she looked at him. Didn’t like the fire that seemed to have gone from her. He was thankful she seemed to accept their arrangement to be little more than guardian and ward.
* * *
Despite Spensor’s sometimes strange behavior toward her, Angella enjoyed the time they spent with Alistair and Winter at their country home. She also enjoyed getting to know their rather rambunctious little boys. Winter made her feel at home and was more like a mother than an older sister. Lady Winter was not loathe to chide Spensor for not providing a chaperone immediately. She told them, “However, if Margaret will indeed keep her peace, we should be all right, especially since you are spending this time with us.”
Angella and Winter enjoyed long rides on the well-manicured parks of the large estate, where Winter shared with Angella her own story of losing her father and of Alistair forcing her into a London season. Alice, who did not care for riding, usually asked to be excused from such outings.
“You didn’t want a season, either?”
Winter smiled at her. “I was content with Renton Hall, my horse and my little dog. Or thought I was until Alistair showed up at my door thinking to make provisions for this poor girl with limitations. Instead, he found me and I read a peal over his head.”
Angella had noticed, but said nothing, of Winter’s somewhat misshapen hands and her slight limp. But once she got to know Winter, those things faded from her mind as though they didn’t exist. She did not know how to ask but ventured shyly, “Did you ever wonder about, well, if he really cared for you?”
Lady Alistair turned intense blue eyes toward her until Angella grew uncomfortable and gripped the reins more tightly. “I see,” she said, and Angella feared she saw too much indeed. “Yes, to your question. But it all came out right in the end.”
Angella sighed. “I hope so. I truly hope so.”
* * *
The earl strove to keep his growing feelings for Angella behind a mask of indifference. He tried to keep his feelings from Alistair, as well, but not so successfully. As they sat in the library with the women off visiting Alistair’s brother and sister-in-law at Renton Hall, Alistair broached the subject. “Winter is quite taken with your ward.”
“Angella can use friends.”
“Winter was once my ward, as well, and I married her.”
A muscle twitched in Spensor’s cheek. Alistair obviously knew. No sense to pretend elsewise. “She has little experience with men. I want her to know her mind on this.”
“Winter also had little experience. You might recall that bringing her to London almost got her killed.” Spensor heard the pain in the man’s voice even years later.
“I am no longer involved in the war effort like we were then.”
“True. Still and all, be careful with her heart
. London may not prove to be what you hope.” For a moment, both men remained silent before Alistair made a suggestion. “Let her have her season without the complication of your feelings.”
Later, after hearing his advice, Winter countered. “If her love is real, no one else will matter.” She also cautioned, “But you are opening up yourself and her to great misunderstanding. This can lead to disaster.” She clasped her hands.
Spensor wondered about her words and yet he settled for Alistair’s advice. He cared enough for Angella to give her a season. The only problem was what to do about his own heart in the meantime.
* * *
As December stormed into January, the earl brought Angella and Alice back to Lucashire. He often talked about her London season. One evening as they sat by the fire, Angella continued the embroidery in her hands for a few moments as though gathering her thoughts. Finally, she spoke. “Lady Alistair, Winter, said they’re opening Alistair House and would welcome us. But I... I’m still afraid of all that goes into a season.”
She turned to Alice. “What about your season?”
Lady Rathburn smiled a sad smile. “I’m afraid mine was short. I found Rathburn almost right away—or we found each other. We married and left London. I never regretted that.”
The earl cleared his throat. “Fear. I thought that might be a problem.” He sat back, “I have already invited my aunt Helga, Lady Carrington, to visit us. She’s popping off her daughter, Betsy, this season. I figured she could help you prepare, as well.” The earl thought he’d handled that right well.
“I don’t know.” Angella remained uncertain. “Mayhap...”
“You met her daughter, Betsy, years ago. She told me of your kindness during my birthday celebration when the other young people made fun of her.”
“Oh, yes, I remember your cousin. She was sweet.” Angella smiled. “I’d like to get to know her better.”
“Trust me, Angella. It will be all right. You and Betsy will be fast friends.”
“You are kind to arrange the visit. I’ll feel much better not going on alone.” She sighed.
The earl cleared his throat. Angella’s nearness was nearly his undoing. In truth, he did not want to take her to London, did not want her to meet other young men—gentlemen who might steal her heart. It was lowering to realize that the man who never concerned himself with his acceptability toward any woman was undone by one lovely young vicar’s daughter.
As Alistair explained, though, Angella needed an opportunity to experience life outside her small village.
As she surveyed him, Angella’s gaze held such tenderness. When she looked at him like that, he wanted to give her the moon. Instead, he must not think only of his own desires.
* * *
When not wrangling about the particulars of the London season, the earl and Angella spent time talking, discussing and arguing. They played games and deepened their understanding of one another. Most important, they began spending time each evening reading God’s Word.
Starting with Matthew, they began to read through the New Testament. When a question arose, they discussed the passage. At first, the earl deferred to her to understand. But as he became more familiar with the Bible, he sometimes questioned her point of view. At first, it almost angered Angella. After all, she was a vicar’s daughter and had been taught scripture since she was in leading strings. She kept her feelings inside, and slowly began to realize that Spensor’s walk with God was deep and sincere. His understanding of scripture was beginning to surpass her own. At times, she was awed by his insight.
“Spensor, I never saw that passage in that way before.” She shook her head. “I cannot wait for you to meet Edward.”
During those times of contemplation, Angella knew God’s love, but she also sensed the earl’s care for her. Maybe a London season wouldn’t be so bad—not if he was there along with his aunt, his cousin Betsy and Lady Winter.
Even though the earl no longer talked about a future together, he was a far different man from the cynical peer she first met on the road. He smiled more often these days—genuine smiles that reached his eyes.
* * *
Even with the visit to Lord and Lady Alistair, even with the presence of Alice with them constantly, the winter with Angella proved both restful and revitalizing for the earl. Not once did he miss the glitter and fast pace of the city, not once did he yearn for the late nights and shallowness of the beau monde.
Together, he and Angella rode, laughing as they raced along the hard-packed wood lawn paths. In the evenings after dinner, they often ended up in lively discussion such as he never envisioned having with other than his gentlemen friends. Alice seldom added much to the conversation, though on occasion she defended Angella’s opinion on a matter—much to his chagrin.
Though Angella had the keeping of the manor, he was not loathe to share with her the problems he ran into during the day on the estate even as she shared with him. Though she offered good advice and suggestions, she deferred to his final decisions. Through it all, though he kept it to himself, his love for Angella grew, as well as the realization that Margaret would never have been a true helpmate to him. Over and over, he gave thanks for the wonderful gift he’d been given.
Those times each night reading God’s Word were precious times, especially when they prayed for each other.
As the chill of winter eased, the earl told her, “Aunt Helga and Betsy will be here in a fortnight.”
Angella paced the floor. “The closer the time comes, the more I wish I hadn’t promised not to cause a problem over going to London for the season.”
“There is nothing to worry about, Angella.”
“Your aunt. What will she think of me? I have no polish and no desire to be paraded around London drawing rooms.”
“Aunt Helga is not like that. She’s a true lady and not all starched up like some ladies I can name—or won’t name.” Both knew he referred to Margaret. “You met my aunt before.”
“But only as the vicar’s daughter.” She frowned. “I also talked to her when your father held a reception for Edward when he was commissioned as a missionary.”
“You were kind to her daughter. She isn’t likely to forget.”
“What about Margaret?” Angella sucked in a breath before continuing. “Will she be in London?”
“I do not know.” He lifted her chin. “She will not hurt you. I still hold her brother’s debts—for now.”
Angella sighed. “Is this really necessary?”
Taking her hand, the earl drew her to his side. “Actually, yes. Though, for the moment, Margaret is biding her time in the country, she will eventually return to London. That we can count on. I want the ton to get to know you as you, before Margaret has her say.”
“But the debts...?” Angella’s eyes mirrored her uncertainty.
“For the time being they hold her in check, but I can’t hold on to those vouchers forever. Trust me, Harry’s debts are a heavy burden.” He sighed.
“Spensor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. Surely then we need to economize.”
“Nothing of the kind,” he growled. “’Tis best we bring you out now, before I tear up those bothersome vouchers. Once they know they’re free, Margaret, along with Harry, will return to London and to their old ways.”
“She’ll try to cause trouble.”
He nodded. “I know Margaret...all too well,” he added, his tone dry. He sensed Angella’s reluctance. Again and again he tried to reassure her, though he was hard put not to keep her from recognizing his own hesitations.
* * *
After Spensor told her stories of his visits to Lady Carrington, Angella began to look forward to seeing Spensor’s aunt and cousin. Maybe it wouldn’t be the nightmare she envisioned with a starched-up socialite turning up her nose at Angella and her situa
tion. In a better frame of mind, she worked with the housekeeper to ready the house for the arrival of Lady Carrington and Betsy.
But Lady Carrington did not arrive on the day specified. “They probably got delayed,” the earl told Angella. However, his aunt and her daughter did not arrive the next day, either. On the third day, Angella witnessed the tightness in the earl’s shoulders and the drawn appearance of his expression.
“I fear something is amiss,” he said. “I think I’ll ride out and see what has delayed them.”
“And I’ll pray.” Angella stepped closer to him. “I know she’s your favorite aunt and Betsy is your favorite cousin.”
The earl squeezed her shoulder in gratitude. “I appreciate the prayers. Reminds me to do some praying of my own.”
Before the long-legged gray stallion was brought around for him, a messenger arrived. Once the man had been sent on his way, Spensor stared at Angella, seeming almost afraid to open the note.
Angella led the way into the east parlor, where they both sat. With a deep sigh, Spensor opened the note and began to read. His shoulders relaxed and when he looked up, a slight smile sat on his lips.
Wrapping an arm around Angella’s shoulders, he told her. “They are both all right. A horse spooked during one of Betsy’s rides. Aunt Helga says Betsy ended up with a badly sprained arm. She is well enough, but Aunt Helga does not want to chance traveling now with Betsy.”
The earl’s gaze traced her lips. Angella’s heart pounded as he drew close. Abruptly, he pulled back and removed his arm. “I’m sorry.” Getting to his feet, he left the room.
Angella did not know whether to rage or cry. She did both. If Spensor was so loathe to be close to her here in his own home, what would he be like in London? Angella bowed her head and prayed.
* * *
They headed to London before the season even opened properly. Angella was glad for the presence of Alice in the carriage on the long, exhausting trip. For the most part, Spensor rode his magnificent chestnut gelding alongside their carriage. A couple of times, when the weather turned cold and windy, Spensor rode in the carriage with them. During those times he pointed out places of interest as they drove by. Still and all, his presence squeezed the space available and even Alice later mentioned the tension between the two of them when in close proximity.
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