A fortnight later, Angella tore open a letter handed her by the majordomo, Davis, a permanent fixture of Alistair House. Angella stilled a giggle at the starched manner of the butler.
As the butler marched out the door, Spensor entered the room. “A letter? What is it, another invitation to some boring theatrical or rout?” He frowned. “From another silly coxcomb, I presume.”
The letter forgotten, Angella’s expression softened and she touched his cheek. “You have no call to be jealous, Spensor.” Her gaze narrowed. “Those coxcombs, as you call them, would not be trying to sit in my pocket if you had not decided to make known you are providing a substantial portion when I marry.”
The earl sucked in a breath. “Farnsworth has been most attentive.”
“Farnsworth is a twaddling idiot. As you well know.”
“The Viscount of Endenon danced three dances with you at the last rout. Not seemly for an unfledged chit and quite beyond the pale.”
“I fear he gave me little chance to say no.” Angella shook her head. “His stays creaked the entire time. He breathed so hard, I thought he was going to have an attack.”
“He is considered a good catch.” The earl wouldn’t let it go. “The Marquis of Avendan has been trying to sit in your pocket, as well.”
“He is too encroaching by half.” Angella gritted her teeth. The others who paid her attention, she could shrug off. The marquis, however, seemed particularly possessive.
She had met him the night she attended a ball at Chesterfield House. The white marble grand staircase was magnificent with the colorful and bejeweled ladies walking up the stairs beside their fashionable escorts. Angella had actually looked forward to the evening and hoped to tour some of the rooms.
Instead, the Marquis of Avendan approached and asked for a dance. Without another thought, Angella nodded and held out her hand. Unfortunately, the marquis drew her close and held her more tightly than manners dictated. Though she tried to move away, he acted as though he had no notion she was uncomfortable. Even after that dance, she found it difficult to escape his determination to stay near. Since that night, she’d been hard-pressed to discourage his interest. His presence quite spoiled several outings for her.
But Spensor wouldn’t listen to her protestations of disinterest. He’d been like this since they came to London. All she wanted to do was to have him tell her he still cared. Instead, he pushed her into meeting one eligible parti after another, then got angry when she treated the gentlemen with little more than gentle kindness or, in the marquis’s case, sought to avoid him at all cost.
She was glad for the support of Winter and glad Spensor had agreed to stay in London with Lady Alistair, her husband and their two young children.
Remembering the letter she held in her hand, Angella turned over the missive to read the address. Suddenly she tensed. “Spensor, look. It’s from Edward, my brother. He must have finally gotten my letter about...” She gulped. “Mother and Father.” The earl’s frown eased and he drew Angella close.
For a moment, she clung to him before he drew her toward the long brocade-covered sofa in the morning room. Smoothing down the long spring-green velvet skirt of her gown, she sat next to Spensor.
Opening the envelope addressed in an unfamiliar hand to her and the earl, she found a smaller envelope addressed to Miss Angella Denning, Little Cambrage. She wondered who had sent the letter on. Not that it mattered as long as she received it. Her hands shaking with anticipation, Angella unfolded the page and scanned it, then read through it more slowly. A radiant smile lit her face.
Hugging the earl, she cried, “He received my letter, Spensor! Edward is coming home!”
The earl took the letter from her trembling fingers. “Yes, but we have no idea when. But at least when he wrote this, he had booked passage on a ship to England.
“Besides,” the earl continued, “I’m sure he’ll wish to return to Little Cambrage first, since he has no notion you are here in London.” The earl checked the envelopes. “He cannot know our direction here in London at Alistair House.”
Angella bit her lip in excitement. “Oh, Spensor, I can’t wait to see him!” Her smile of excitement dimmed. “What if he wants to take me away? He is my guardian after all.”
“What would disturb you—” the earl ran a gentle finger against her cheek before continuing “—leaving all this...or me?”
Angella sensed pain in her erstwhile guardian.
* * *
The earl couldn’t help but wonder if bringing her to London had been a mistake. She seemed to like the attention, the teas, parties, balls and routs. All he wanted was to make sure Angella loved him for himself alone. So why did she have to enjoy the parties and routs so much? Did she hold feelings for those who flocked around her? She said no, but he struggled to keep jealousy at bay. The best he could manage was to absent himself on a regular basis.
Angella scrunched up her face. “Spensor? What’s wrong?” She leaned against him, but he pulled back as though burned. Hurt flashed on her face.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he growled. Again, he wished for those days when he had her all to himself. He was surprised Alice was not with Angella. She was usually nearby.
When it wasn’t Alice, it was Betsy, who’d figured out he had feelings for Angella. Still and all, Betsy’s attempts to push them together made for awkward moments, though he couldn’t fault his cousin. Betsy saw through his indifference to his heart and wanted only what was best for him. The minx was not loathe to meddle. He could only hope after the season ended, Angella would choose him.
Suddenly Angella straightened, drawing his attention back to the present. “Oh, no... Reverend Carter! Edward will go straight to the vicarage.”
“You’re right. I thought the bounder would be long gone by now. I half wish I hadn’t given him the choice to stay until he found another living. I wonder how hard he’s been looking.” The earl frowned, then said, “Mayhap I’d better write my manager to be on the lookout for your brother. I fear Reverend Carter has little love for either of us.”
Some of the happiness faded from Angella’s eyes. “That so-called minister has the whole village under his thumb.” She let out a long sigh. “The lies he tells them about us. How can such a man call himself a man of God?”
“Unfortunately, our clergy are not all called of God, not when the church is the repository of the younger sons of English peers.” The earl’s hold on Angella tightened. “I’ve waited far too long. Time I give him an ultimatum.”
“I’m glad.” She hid her face against his shoulder and he had little incentive to pull away. “He was so awful. First him, then Margaret and her brothers...” Angella sighed.
It seemed so long ago now since he sent away Lady Margaret and her brothers. They had not seen them since, much to his relief. If only they stayed away.
Chapter 11
Angella, looking ethereal, floated down the staircase in a gown that flattered her petite figure.
The white silk skirt and sleeves shimmered with pearls. The heart-shaped neckline dipped modestly to the white velvet bodice. The gently puffed sleeves shirred to the elbow, ending with white velvet bows. The silvery sash about her waist widened in the back into a mini train. The diamond tiara glittering in her hair matched the diamonds in her ears, around her neck and on her delicate wrist.
The earl, holding her arm, smiled down at her in admiration. “Top drawer. Quite up to snuff.”
They reached the ballroom and she grinned at him mischievously as she looked him up and down. “Up to snuff yourself.” Though she teased, there was no denying her heart beat faster at the sight of Spensor in his deep blue formal jacket, silver embroidered waistcoat and formal breeches.
Returning her grin, he touched the tip of her nose. “Better hope so, considering Prince Regent himself promised to make an
appearance this evening. Actually, Prinny said he might make this the first stop of his evening’s schedule. That should put you in high gig.”
“Put me in a proper spin, more like,” said Angella, rolling her eyes. A moment later she was distracted as the housekeeper hurried up to her, all aflutter.
“The cake is all to pieces, and the extra help hasn’t arrived and...” The woman all but moaned. “Why did Her Ladyship have to leave now?”
Angella wished, too, that Alistair and Winter were present for the ball given in her honor. Unfortunately, Alistair’s brother’s wife’s child was coming earlier than expected and there was concern for her welfare. Winter wanted to be with her sister-in-law and friend, Mary. Winter told stories to Angella that made her jaw drop. How brave Winter had been during her season to confront spies and more. Her sister-in-law had been undercover then as Winter’s abigail. There were still aspects of what went on during that time that could not be revealed—especially with the war still lingering on. Angella said a quick prayer for the safety of Mary and her baby.
Then, taking the housekeeper’s arm, Angella threw the earl a look of apology. She hated to leave him when they seemed in charity with one another. “Come. Let’s see what we can do about these problems,” she soothed the woman.
By the time Angella had calmed the housekeeper, suggested cutting the cake and offering it on separate plates, Davis, the majordomo, announced in his deep tones, “Lady Carrington and Lady Elizabeth.” Angella hugged them with relief.
“Thank you both for getting back early,” said Angella. “I know your work at the mission is important, but I am so glad you are back.”
“Lady Alistair is still gone?” Betsy glanced about.
Angella, took her arm. “It’s been almost a week now. I know they hoped to be back, but...”
“I am so sorry.” Lady Carrington gave her a quick hug. “But, my dear, you’ll be fine. Truly, you’ve done well. The decorations are all finished. We’ll help as needed. Now, I do not want you to concern yourself further.”
Angella’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you, but Aunt Helga, I have another desperate problem. The extra help His Lordship hired hasn’t arrived and the housekeeper is all in pieces as to how to deal with the crush without adequate staff.”
Lady Carrington patted her arm. “Now, don’t get in a taking, dear. I’ll see to it. Don’t worry, we’ll soon have all the help we need.”
True to her word, within the hour the Alistair House buzzed with the influx of staff, and the housekeeper hurried about, happily instructing each of his or her place for the evening.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Aunt Helga.” Angella gave her a hug. “Thank you.”
Coming into the room, the earl strode to her side. “Do I warrant one of those?”
As she pretended to consider, the earl grinned. Angella wished he truly cared. “Spensor, we have an audience.”
His smile wavered. “One of your flirts, no doubt.” He started to turn away. Angella felt her heart sink and her anger rise. Frustrating man!
The doorbell rang. “Come on, you two.” Lady Carrington straightened. “Time to look sharp.”
Before they took their places in line, Betsy whispered to Angella. “If Avendan bothers you tonight, stand by me. Together we’ll discourage him. All right?”
Angella hugged her, glad she’d confided in the younger woman. “Thanks. That helps.”
Lady Carrington took her place on the other side of Angella, with her daughter on the far side of the reception line.
Angella’s insides churned and she sucked in a deep breath to steady her nerves. Leaning over, Spensor whispered. “No matter what, Angella, remember...I am proud to be here with you.”
His words warmed something inside her. As Angella flashed him a grateful smile, Betsy asked, “Is it true, His Royal Highness is attending this evening’s affair?”
The earl laughed. “So he said, Betsy.”
The girl’s face whitened. “Oh, dear. I think I shall faint dead away when he takes my hand. He’s so charming, but I never know quite what to say to royalty.”
There was no more time for chatter as the guests began to arrive. They quickly filled the ballroom Angella, Betsy and the servants had meticulously decorated with flowers and silver, blue and red streamers. Before long, Angella’s fingers throbbed from shaking endless hands, and her smile seemed permanently locked in place on her aching face.
The cream of London’s society passed down the line. There was the Duke of York, Lord Alvanley, the Marquess of Hertford, Earl of Bradford.
There were political figures such as Lord Addington. Angella forced herself to respond to the panicky little man. She was much more effusive in welcoming Wilberforce. “Thank you,” she told him, “for all you’re doing to stop the inhumane practice of slavery.”
The pale man’s hand trembled in hers. “Thank you, m’lady. I understand you are the one to thank for Lucashire taking up my cause in chambers.”
“She and Alistair,” Spensor acknowledged. With a nod, the great man passed down the line with a word to Lady Carrington, whom he seemed to know quite well. Since Wilberforce was often ill, Angella was gratified by his presence.
Behind him was the Marquis of Avendan. His palms were damp and Angella had the desire to wipe her own on her gown. He held her hand so long, she tugged it away, flushing at the possessive look in his eyes.
The earl whispered, “Are you all right?”
Angella shrugged and quickly, too quickly, turned to the next person in line, a giggly young thing in a gossamer gown the color of amethyst that set off her eyes. Angella recalled meeting her a few times at different events. The girl glanced toward the marquis, then blushed with embarrassment when he all but ignored her. Moments later the line stalled. Glancing down the queue, Angella sighed.
But Lady Carrington kept the line moving along. Though they waited several minutes after all the other guests had been greeted, the prince regent did not arrive.
“One never knows about him,” said the earl, finally breaking line. Taking Angella’s arm, he whispered, “I’m sure he means no disrespect to you, Angella. Probably stuck somewhere else.”
Angella stifled a giggle. “I’m not going into decline over it, Spensor. To own the truth, I’m relieved.”
He squeezed her hand. “That a girl.”
He swung around as Davis’s tone deepened even further and mingled with awe as he announced the royal arrival. With the announcement, the earl stepped back in line, pulling Angella into line as Lady Carrington did her daughter. Graciously, the earl welcomed the regent and introduced Angella. “My ward, Angella Denning.”
Surveying her until she blushed, the regent bent to kiss Angella’s hand, holding it much longer than politeness dictated. His stays, meant to hold in his rotund middle, squeaked ominously, but Angella pretended not to notice.
At her blush, he chuckled. “Now, my dear, always good to make the man a trifle jealous,” he said, assuming his marked attentions, not his stays caused the flush in her cheeks. “Keeps him in line, you know.”
Angella flushed, wishing what the regent said was actually true—that Spensor cared about her.
“Angella needs not such tactics, Your Highness.”
Hearing the mild reproof, Angella glanced at him, then back at the prince, hoping the regent would not take offense. The next king merely laughed and moved on. He did, however, make a point to seek her out later, before he took his leave.
“Lovely evening, my dear. I’ll have to see you at Carlton House soon.”
To own the truth, Angella, busy with her duties, found the evening more relaxing once he had gone. She and the earl mingled with their guests. With the volatile mixture of political sentiments present, they were careful to keep their more explosive guests from one another. Though
several of the women eyed her speculatively, she sensed no overt animosity. It was lowering to realize they saw in her no threat.
When the earl bowed and took her hand for the opening dance, Angella blushed and tried to keep her feelings from showing in her expression. Dancing with Spensor was a dream come true, and she floated more than danced. The joy of that dance set the tone for the evening. Though she hoped for more, while the earl danced with other women in attendance, he never again sought her hand.
Determined not to let him dampen her enjoyment of her ball, Angella plastered on a smile and danced with the gentlemen who asked. As she whirled around the floor on the arms of one or another of the gentlemen, she was gratified to see that Betsy had her share of partners, as well. For all that, she did her best to avoid the Marquis of Avendan, though she often found his gaze upon her.
When she least expected it, the marquis took her arm. She jerked back in surprise.
A serious expression sat on his lips. “You have been avoiding me, my dear. Shall we?” He half bowed and indicated the dance floor.
What she wanted to do was turn her back. But he’d done nothing overtly to suffer a cut. Angella glanced around, hoping to see the earl, Betsy or Lady Carrington, but everyone was otherwise engaged.
“Surely the vicar’s daughter cannot think she’s above my touch.”
“Hardly.” His sarcasm stiffened her resolve. What could the man do in the sad crush? There were people everywhere. He surely could not propose marriage in the middle of a packed ballroom or act like the vicar. Surely she was safe here. With some trepidation, Angella put her hand in the marquis’s. The moment he closed his hand over hers and led her onto the floor, Angella realized she’d made the wrong choice, though she had no idea how she could have refused him without causing a stir. He was a marquis after all.
He pulled her closer than she preferred and she was glad when they parted in the dance. His gaze held hers and when he did hold her arm, his grip was firm. She started when he leaned close and whispered for her ears alone, “I mean to have you as my wife, Angella. Remember that.”
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