‘Not…exactly,’ said Angelica unsteadily, turning slightly away from Benoît.
She reached out and touched the rough bark of the tree trunk, almost as if she was seeking comfort from its solidity.
After a moment Benoît covered her hand with his. She felt the warm pressure of his fingers and looked up, blinking back her tears.
‘He hates his blindness,’ she said, her words tumbling over each other as she finally voiced her anguish. ‘He hates his helplessness, and he loathes being dependent on others. He has become cruel and vengeful. He lashes out at the slightest provocation. He’s had more than a dozen valets since his accident! Poor Mr Hargreaves—’ She broke off, her voice strangled by a sob.
‘We’ll worry about poor Mr Hargreaves later,’ said Benoît firmly. ‘Does he lash out at you?’
‘Sometimes. Never like today.’ Her voice caught on a sob as she struggled not to burst into tears. ‘Perhaps he’s right. I was a coward when I didn’t tell him myself I was coming—but I couldn’t face an argument with him.’
‘Harry’s safety was your priority,’ said Benoît reasonably. ‘You can’t blame yourself for putting his interests first. You’ve put your father first for a long time.’
‘He needed me,’ she said brokenly.
She looked up at Benoît, her pain and sense of betrayal nakedly exposed in her blue, tearfilled eyes.
She had tried so hard to take care of the Earl since his accident. She had turned her back on her own life and friends when he’d made it plain he didn’t want strangers around him. She had endured his impatience and lack of gratitude without complaint and in the end she had been desperate for Harry to return home to them.
Harry was always jolly and lively. Harry could cheer anyone up. She had pinned her hopes on the possibility that he might be able to conjure Lord Ellewood out of his black, despairing moods. She was miserably aware of her own failure to do so.
But now her love and devotion had been rewarded by anger and cruel recriminations. Her father’s rage had been out of all proportion with her offence. How could he have accused her of such dreadful things? He’d even said he was glad he could no longer see her!
She could hear still hear his grating voice as he heaped reproaches on her stricken head.
Liar… Coward… Not worthy of the name you bear.
Was that what he really believed?
‘How can he not know I did it for his sake, as well as Harry’s?’ she whispered bitterly. ‘I’ve never been disloyal to him. Never! I thought—if only Harry came home…I knew it couldn’t go on. It’s been so…killing!’
‘Yes, I see,’ said Benoît slowly. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘What do you mean?’ Angelica swung round to face him, a startled question in her eyes as she wondered if he was retracting his earlier words in the library. ‘You said…’
‘And I meant it,’ Benoît assured her softly. ‘Although I hadn’t intended to raise the subject in such a blunt way.’ He paused, looking down at her with quiet intensity and she felt her heart skip a beat. ‘Will you marry me, Angelica?’ he asked, his voice very deep.
She gazed up into his warm brown eyes, seeing in them the love and support which she needed so much. She had never dreamt that he would propose to her under such circumstances. The joy and excitement she had anticipated feeling at this moment were inevitably muted by the situation—but not her love for Benoît. The burden of anxiety she had been carrying for so long seemed to grow lighter as she realised how willing he was to share it with her. She sighed with deeply felt happiness.
‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘Oh, yes. I will.’
Benoît smiled, his usually guarded eyes blazing with triumphant love. He reached out to take her in his arms and she felt the tension leave his lean body. She suddenly realised how difficult he must have found the scene in the library. His debt to the Earl and his desire to protect her from Lord Ellewood’s anger must have torn him in two different directions—just as Lord Ellewood’s black moods had been tearing her apart for so long.
She put her arms around him and hugged him fiercely, thanking him wordlessly for his understanding, his love and his support. His hold on her tightened, and for a moment she was content to stand within the circle of his embrace—but she could not forget her father, still waiting in the house. Until she had achieved some kind of reconciliation with Lord Ellewood she could not truly contemplate the future.
‘What do you want to do?’ Benoît asked at last.
‘I don’t know.’ Angelica lifted her head and looked at him, seeing from his expression how well he understood her conflicting emotions. ‘I’m not sure if I can face talking to Papa again right now,’ she admitted with bleak honesty.
‘He travelled all the way from London to find you,’ Benoît reminded her gently. ‘You said yourself he’d never left the house before—’
‘Because he was angry with me!’ Angelica interrupted bitterly. ‘I’d hoped it wasn’t so, but—’
‘He was also afraid for you,’ Benoît reminded her. ‘His first words were to ask if you were safe. He’s had no choice but confront his handicap these past few days, mon aimée, and that can’t have been easy for him. I don’t imagine he’s had much sleep since you left either. When he’s had time to calm down, you may find he’s much more rational.’
‘Perhaps.’ Angelica bit her lip irresolutely.
She knew that there was probably a great deal of truth in what Benoît said; but she still felt hurt, betrayed and disappointed. There had been too many times when Lord Ellewood had spoken crossly to her when she’d only been trying to help. Too many times when he’d taken his frustration out on those around him, and she’d been helpless to intervene. Mr Hargreaves was only the last of a long line of people who’d suffered from the Earl’s lack of tolerance.
All the small, daily frustrations and disillusionments of the past eighteen months melded together to create a core of revolt in her heart. She didn’t want to go back to her father—to apologise, explain and try to make amends. She was tried of trying. It was his turn now.
She looked back at Benoît and he read her thoughts in her unguarded, almost defiant blue eyes.
She didn’t have to go back to see the Earl if she didn’t want to. She no longer had to explain anything to her father—and she could be as stubborn as Lord Ellewood when she chose.
Benoît smiled faintly.
‘I’ve noticed a distinct family resemblance between you before,’ he remarked dryly. ‘If I were in your shoes, mon amour, I would feel angry and resentful—and very hurt. But it may still be worth trying to talk to him.’
Angelica sighed, glancing towards the house, wondering what her father was doing now. She knew Benoît was right. She had to try to make peace with the Earl. If she didn’t, she would never forgive herself.
‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to him.’ There’d never really been any question that she would do so, but she’d needed a few minutes to collect her courage and her resolution. ‘I was so surprised and pleased when you told me he’d left London,’ she added, with resolute optimism. ‘Perhaps things will be different now.’
The Earl didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the library when he heard low voices in the hall. He had experienced a frightening kaleidoscope of emotions during his long, dark isolation, but now he was bored and impatient. He was used to being obeyed instantly—being ignored was a new experience.
He couldn’t leave the library because he wasn’t prepared to go stumbling around a strange house, his helplessness plain for everyone to see—but he hated not knowing what was going on. He didn’t know where Angelica was. He didn’t know what Benoît was doing and his volatile temper had begun to stir again.
He turned his head as the door opened.
‘Who’s there?’ he demanded fiercely.
‘Henry! Old friend!’ Sir William strode across the room and seized the Earl’s hand before Lord Ellewood could react. ‘I’m so
glad I haven’t missed you. I came as soon as I heard you were here!’
He shook the Earl’s hand warmly between both of his. The pleasure in his voice was unmistakable. If he was shocked by his old friend’s appearance his cordial tones didn’t betray it.
‘William?’ said Lord Ellewood, almost tentatively. He had forgotten Benoît’s reference to the magistrate and he was taken completely by surprise by Sir William’s arrival.
‘“Blunderbuss Billy”, more like!’ Sir William gave a crack of self-deprecating laughter. ‘Dammit! I was sorry to hear about Harry—though it sounds as if he’s more than a chip off the old block. Gave the Frogs a good run for their money by all accounts!’
He pulled up a chair beside the Earl and sat down.
‘How do you know about Harry?’ Lord Ellewood demanded, frowning.
‘Angelica told me. By George she’s turned into a fine young woman,’ said Sir William enthusiastically. ‘Gave me a rare dressing-down for trying to discuss family business in public. I had no idea you knew young Faulkener. If anyone can get Harry out of France, he can!’
The Earl bit back a hasty retort. He wanted to deny all knowledge of Benoît, but he had sufficient control of his temper to realise that it wouldn’t be wise. Whatever Angelica had been doing in Sussex over the past three days, she had been with Benoît Faulkener. It would not do her reputation any good if her father publicly denounced him.
‘I met him several years ago,’ he said shortly. ‘Where did you see Angelica?’
‘At the inn, in Littlehampton,’ Sir William replied, sounding surprised. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t send her to me, she would have been much more comfortable waiting for Adam at the Manor. That was a surprise, by God! I thought the boy was dead! You needn’t worry about him though. I’ve got him safe at the Manor—and no Froggie agents will have a chance to pig-stick him there.’
‘Adam?’ A variety of unreadable expressions chased each other across the Earl’s ravaged face.
‘Young Kennett.’ Sir William nodded vigorously. ‘An excellent choice to bring you that letter. I take it you know its contents by now? Of course, Angelica wouldn’t delay in telling you. But Adam’s led me some fine dances over the years,’ he continued almost indulgently. ‘Do you remember that night we went hunting for smugglers? Adam told me in the carriage only today that he’d been the fox who led me so far astray. And you came back without your horse that morning. You never did explain how that happened! What days those were!’
‘Yes.’ Despite himself, the Earl sighed.
‘Well, now that you’re in Sussex, I’ll be offended if you don’t come to stay with me at the Manor,’ said Sir William gruffly. ‘Been trying to get you down here again for years!’
‘You are very kind,’ said the Earl, his tone unintentionally cold. ‘But I’m afraid I must disappoint you. Angelica and I are returning to town immediately.’
‘Nonsense!’ Sir William exclaimed forcefully. ‘You’ve only just arrived. Besides, I’m sure you’ll want to talk to Adam. Get the news straight from the horse’s mouth as it were! I wonder what Faulkener’s got in mind? It’s a pity Adam’s so badly knocked up or they could have tackled it together.’
The Earl hesitated. He still felt extremely hostile to Benoît, and he was fiercely anxious to return to the security and familiarity of his own home. On the other hand, there was something unaccountably pleasant about the magistrate’s explosive company. Apart from anything else, he still retained his remarkable ability to supply both sides of the conversation.
Besides, it was becoming glaringly apparent to the Earl that Sir William was almost as much in the dark about recent events as he was.
The magistrate believed that Adam Kennett—whoever the devil he was—had brought James Corbett’s letter to England. Whereas Lord Ellewood knew for a fact that that was not the case—so who was Kennett? And why had he apparently been injured by the French?
The Earl’s hunting instincts were aroused. If Angelica wouldn’t tell him the truth—he blocked out the thought that he hadn’t given her much opportunity to do so—he would find it out for himself. They would see there was life in the blind old dog yet.
‘I’d hate to disappoint an old friend,’ he said, tacitly accepting Sir William’s invitation.
‘Good man!’ Sir William bounded to his feet, landing an exuberant buffet on the Earl’s shoulder.
‘I’ll have them prepare your gear at once. By heaven! This will be a day to remember!’
‘I believe it will,’ Lord Ellewood said, smiling for the first time in several days.
For the past eighteen months everyone he’d met had treated him as if he was not only blind, but also extremely frail. Sir William’s thoughtless ebullience was oddly gratifying.
‘Papa! How could you?’ Angelica burst into the library.
Her cheeks were burning with colour, her eyes blazing with fierce, uncompromising anger.
‘Angelica?’ Lord Ellewood hauled himself instinctively to his feet.
‘How could you dismiss Martha?’ she demanded, her voice throbbing with furious indignation. ‘How could you stoop to such a thing? To punish her for her loyalty! This morning you dismissed Mr Hargreaves for his disloyalty!’
‘She has shown no loyalty to me,’ said Lord Ellewood gratingly.
‘She’s my maid!’ Angelica explained passionately. ‘Would you have had any respect for her if she’d betrayed my trust?’
‘Respect?’ the Earl snarled. ‘She’s a damned servant! As long as I pay her wages she’ll obey my will! I will not tolerate defiance in any member of my household.’
Angelica stared at him, her chest rising and falling in quick, angry breaths. She could sense her father’s volcanic temper was about to erupt, but she no longer cared. His treatment of Martha had goaded her beyond caution. The small spark of revolt she had suppressed earlier had now been fanned into blazing flames of rebellion by what she’d just discovered.
She and Benoît had returned to the house to find that Sir William was sitting with the Earl. Angelica had immediately decided to delay speaking to her father until he was alone. Benoît had agreed, and she’d seized the opportunity to go up to her bedchamber for a few moments of quiet reflection.
But Martha had been waiting for her, and one glance at her maid’s face had been enough to tell Angelica that things were badly wrong.
Lord Ellewood had arrived at Holly House in the early hours of the morning, and he’d instantly had Martha hauled out of bed and dragged before him. He’d subjected her to an even worse ordeal than Angelica had suffered later—and it had culminated in the maid’s dismissal.
As far as Angelica could tell, Martha had remained stoically loyal to her mistress throughout, refusing to reveal more than the barest minimum of information. Angelica was bitterly aware of how much anxiety she had caused Martha, and she couldn’t forgive herself for putting the maid in such an impossible situation.
But nor could she forgive the Earl for venting his fury on such a powerless victim.
‘Then you may soon have no household left,’ she said bleakly, the white heat of her anger dying as she confronted her father across the library floor. ‘I understand you dismissed your valet before you left London. Today you have discharged Mr Hargreaves and Martha. You told me once I should judge a man’s character on the way he is viewed by his servants not his peers.’
She paused.
There was no sound in the room except Lord Ellewood’s rasping breath and the soft, measured tick of the clock. His head was flung up, his sightless eyes turned towards Angelica, but he did not speak. Though she did not know it, her words had struck a wounding blow. The Earl was already ashamed of his treatment of Martha, but he was far too angry to admit it.
Lord Ellewood had been alone when Angelica had thrown open the library door, but now she was dimly aware that there were people standing behind her. She ignored them. All her attention was concentrated on her father.
‘I’m sorry I le
ft London without telling you,’ she said steadily. ‘I’m sorry I exposed Mr Hargreaves and Martha to your wrath. I won’t forgive myself for that. But, Papa, if I’d thought you would listen or understand, I would have told you why I had to deliver your letter myself—and if you’d told me what you must have known about Benoît I wouldn’t have needed to.’
‘Told me?’ the Earl said harshly. ‘Who the devil do you think you’re talking to, girl?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Angelica flatly. ‘Certainly not the father I remember. Goodbye, Papa.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lord Ellewood’s expression darkened. He was breathing heavily.
‘I mean I will not be returning to London with you,’ she said, with wintry finality. ‘You will have to find someone else to sit in the dark and read to you while the rest of the world goes dancing by.’
She turned on her heel and walked out of the library without waiting for his reply. Benoît stepped crisply aside to let her pass. Sir William simply stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment.
‘Angelica!’ Lord Ellewood roared.
She put her foot on the first tread of the stairs and began to walk slowly upwards.
‘Angelica!’
She didn’t pause, or even look around. There was no colour left in her cheeks, but her lips were pressed resolutely together. She had made her decision and she would not be swayed—certainly not by Lord Ellewood’s unreasoning anger.
‘She will not come for such a summons,’ said Benoît quietly.
He closed the library door and turned to study the Earl thoughtfully. Sir William was still standing silently, staring from one to the other with a mixture of bewilderment and appalled disbelief on his face.
‘This is your doing!’ Lord Ellewood accused Benoît savagely. ‘You’ve polluted her mind with your insidious—’
‘I’ve never been called insidious before,’ Benoît interrupted coldly. ‘If you believe I’ve turned Angelica against you, then you are mistaken. You seem to be doing very well without my help!’
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