Angelina

by Janet Woods

  Then she saw that he was watching a spider crawl up the pulpit. Her glance went from the spider to the parson’s wife. The woman’s eyes were intent upon the creature too, and her nose quivered like that of an eager bloodhound.

  Armed with previous knowledge, Angelina spread her fan across her lips and whispered. “I wager the spider will not reach the top before the testimonial is over and I’m obliged to leave the church.”

  James’ lips twitched . “How much?”

  “A guinea in the poor box.”

  “You have a guinea on you?”

  The eyes she turned his way danced with mischief. “No doubt you can provide me with one should I need it.”

  His eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Then I’m the loser either way.”

  “The money will go to a good cause, James.” She tried not to laugh when he took her hand, gently squeezing it in assent.

  The tribute to Alexandra Pakenham finished just as the spider reached the top of the pulpit. One of its legs delicately tested the air before moving over the edge. Angelina held her breath, releasing it with an audible sigh when the spider slipped back a little.

  The Reverend White beamed genially at the congregation as the spider made up lost ground again. Stepping from the pulpit he made his obeisance to the altar, then turned towards the aisle. The spider managed to get a second leg over the edge. She held her breath again.

  The reverend nodded to her as he walked towards the door. Time she joined him outside the church to receive the condolences. Reluctant to abandon the wager, she squeezed James’ hand when the parson’s wife rose to her feet. Propriety would keep the congregation in the pews until she left.

  The bible slapped against the pulpit, the loud explosion enough to make people jump in the quiet church. She cast a triumphant glance at James, who was gazing at the woman in disbelief. A wry grimace on his face, the bemused James dropped a guinea in the poor box on the way through the door.

  Fifteen minutes into the condolences and the congregation had thinned.”Thank you, Mrs Pendergast...Mr Pendergast. My late aunt would be most gratified.”

  “Lady Alexandra was a good woman.” A kiss brushed against her cheek, another set of curious eyes lit upon James.

  “My brother and guardian, Viscount Romsey.”

  No one had the ill grace to question the sudden appearance of a brother, though the curiosity displayed in the glances aimed at James was undisguised.

  She repeated the same response time and time again until finally, an aging gentleman supporting himself on his stick appeared in front of them.

  “May I present, The Marquis of Flaverley, James. My aunt’s good friend and adviser.” She curtsied. “Viscount Romsey, My Lord. My brother and guardian.”

  “Your servant,” James murmured, and found himself being thoroughly examined by hooded grey eyes.

  Lord Flaverley’s rank afforded certain privileges, and his loud interrogation brought ears and eyes turning in their direction.

  “You must be heir to Thomas Wrey. I haven’t seen the earl in London for some time. How is he? Well, I hope.”

  “My father’s in robust health, My Lord.”

  “Good, good.” The marquis lifted his wig to scratch his head, exposing a glimpse of gleaming bald pate before setting it back upon his head. Hearing Angelina catch in her breath, James prayed she wouldn’t laugh.

  “Rum business eh?” The marquis said. “I didn’t know Lady Alexandra was related to the Wrey family. Peculiar arrangement, what, having her bring up the girl here?”

  He pinched Angelina’s cheek familiarly between a finger and thumb. “Doesn’t do to pry too much into family, eh? Too many skeletons? Count on my complete discretion, my dear child...ahem. Condolences, what? G’day to you, sir. Lady Angelina? Give my regards to your father when next you meet. He won’t know you after all these years.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.” Angelina curtsied to the Marchioness, who hovered behind her husband like a pale grey wraith.

  “Dearest, child.” The Marchioness gave him a vague smile, then kissed the air by Angelina’s ear as she drifted away in a cloud of lavender water.

  How good Angelina is at this, James thought. Her countenance and demeanour were grave, and though her manner was warm in appreciation of the condolences, it was distant enough to discourage maudlin familiarity.

  During the service he’d had occasion to catch her eye. In their depths he’d encountered a soft desperation, as if she’d rather be running amongst the flowers in the meadow instead of performing such a sad duty.

  Admiration for her grew in him. She was little more than a child in her ways, possessing no worldliness. Alexandra Pakenham had made sure she’d been well trained in her duties. Life was unkind to those unprepared, he mused, but Angelina, although seemingly delicate, had an in-built toughness that surprised him.

  As he observed her old-fashioned mourning gown, James realised it would be unfair of him to introduce her to his family just yet. He’d never seen a woman of rank so badly outfitted. She’d make a bad impression on those who did not know her, and be disadvantaged wherever she went.

  His forehead furrowed in thought. Elizabeth was elegant, her taste impeccable in both dress and manners. She had a serene and gentle way with her on the whole, and was well liked in the district. He admired her lively wit on occasion, but when roused to anger she could be unexpectedly cutting, and sometimes cruel, especially towards Rosabelle, who was as selfish as she was vain.

  How would she treat this beautiful innocent daughter of hers, the child she’d never been given the chance to love? His frown deepened as he began to realise his guardianship of Angelina was more than just a duty. The girl’s appearance needed to be improved considerably before she was presented to her mother.

  It would be of advantage to Angelina if he took her London. With Celine and a new maid to advise her, she could be outfitted with the fashionable fripperies that gave a woman confidence. She also needed to learn the latest dances in time for the ball. Then he’d present her to the family.

  His frown disappeared when she glanced at him and smiled.

  “It’s time we left, James.”

  He’d have to make sure she was protected, made aware of the deceit practised by men as a means to an end. A lump came into his throat as he watched her eyes sparkle when he smiled back at her. He resolved to do everything in his power to make her happy.

  It was then he glanced up. Catching sight of Rafe leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a tree in the lane outside the church his face lit up. Rafe was travel-stained and dusty, his horse weary. He straightened up when James caught his eye, made an attempt to brush the dust from his coat with his hat.

  Rafe’s dark hair was roughly fashioned into a plait. Unable to afford a personal servant, he refused to wear a wig unless absolutely necessary. If James hadn’t known his friend to be scrupulously honest, he’d have judged his appearance to be disreputable. Unfortunately, that was exactly the impression he had on Angelina.

  “What took you so long in getting here, Rafe? You didn’t encounter trouble on the road, I hope.”

  “My horse was lamed, and we were obliged to take up lodgings for a while whilst the poor fellow recovered. I’ve left my sister at Chevonleigh to rest.” Lazily, his glance went to Angelina. His eyes widened. “Exquisite,” was the word that involuntarily left him. “The girl is a beauty, James.”

  “And you are impertinent, sir.”

  “An enchantingly unsophisticated child goddess,” Rafe went on, apparently intrigued by her. His smile widened. “Introduce us, James,” he drawled, “I’d prefer to be an impertinent friend than an impertinent stranger.”

  Angelina gazed frostily at The Earl of Lynnbury when she was introduced. Tall, powerfully built and dark-haired, the man had a direct and penetrating gaze which was disconcerting. She’d never seen eyes of such a deep green, and although she found their gold-flecked darkness beautiful, contrariness wouldn’t allow her to concede they were a
nything more than peculiar.

  Only a woman should have such dark and sweeping lashes, she thought a little scornfully, and his smile? His slow beautiful smile became wearily enigmatic when she didn’t respond to it.

  “I seem to be losing my touch.”

  Surprisingly, the Earl took her hand and bore it to his lips, whispering in a sardonic tone. “Lady Angelina Wrey, you are fairer than the angels.”

  Discomforted, she blushed and jerked her hand away.

  “Behave yourself, Rafe.” Her arm was drawn protectively through her brother’s. “Angelina has never been introduced into society, and is not used to such attention.”

  She was subjected to another uncomfortable scrutiny from the deckled green eyes. This time the Earl’s smile was a little less practised. One dark eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Of course she hasn’t. Angelina is a mere child.”

  “I most certainly am not!” She glared at this insulting stranger. “I’m almost eighteen.”

  The man had the effrontery to wink at James. “Heaven protect me from her wrath. The infant is nearly an old maid.”

  “I would be obliged if you kept a civil head in your tongue, My Lord.” Having learned from Lady Alexandra that rudeness must be firmly stamped on Angelina took a determined step forward. “You will apologise for being so...so forward, sir. And from now on you will treat me with respect.”

  “Rafe is teasing,” James said, trying not to laugh when an expression of incredulity flitted across his friend’s face. He’d never Rafe so completely routed before. “Lord Lynnbury is an old friend who considers the taking of liberties his right. His sister Celine has been kind enough to agree to act as a chaperone and companion to you.”

  “That does not give Lord Lynnbury the right to be overfamiliar.” Indignant green eyes met his.

  “Come, come,” James chided, aiming an apologetic glance at Rafe. “You mustn’t presume to teach the earl manners.”

  Reminded of her place, Angelina’s eyes widened with shock.

  “You mustn’t chastise Angelina for what is my fault.” The deckled eyes became slightly less teasing. “I most humbly beg your pardon, Lady Angelina. I beg you to forgive my impertinence?”

  Angelina’s blush started at her toes and worked its way up her body. She’d never forgive him for making her blush. Already incredibly hot in the black dress, a trickle of perspiration edged its way between her shoulder blades and set up an itch. She nodded, uncomfortable with the encounter, then turned her suspiciously glowing face towards James and pleaded.

  “Can we return to the house, James? I’m weary, and would like to rest before meeting Lord Lynnbury’s sister.”

  Though the walk to the house was not far, it seemed interminable to Angelina. Lord Lynnbury’s sophisticated worldliness made her aware of her inadequacies and pinpointed her lack of feminine attributes. She, who’d often been chided for her chattering, suddenly found herself tongue-tied.

  As soon as they reached the house she made her excuses, fleeing upstairs to the safety of her room. There, she pressed her over-heated face against the cool glass and stared out over the grounds of her inheritance.

  Angelina knew she’d been rude in not staying to be introduced to the Earl’s sister. Aunt Alexandra would have been furious at her lack of manners. But being taught manners was one thing, and putting them into practice when the recipient didn’t react in the way he was supposed to, was something different all together.

  Aunt Alexandra had not taught her to deal with that. It was something learned from interacting in a social sense, and that she’d not been encouraged to do. It was skill she’d have to master if she were to be mistress of her own estate. Aunt Alexandra was dead and her life would never be the same again. Apprehension shivered along her spine. What would become of her?

  You will face up to that which life brings you with honesty and courage, and count your blessings. The words came into her mind as loudly as if Aunt Alexandra was standing at the foot of her bed saying them to her. I will not have you snivelling every time something goes wrong. Do you understand, girl?

  “Yes, Aunt.” Rising from the bed she changed into her best blue gown, the one with the lace collar. She pinned a spray of forget-me-knots she’d picked from the garden that morning to the bodice, took a deep breath and left the room.

  Angelina discovered her guests on the terrace. Facing away from her, they were discussing the grounds.

  “The trout lake is in good condition,” the earl was saying. “It must be fed naturally, but I can’t see where the water comes from.”

  “The lake is artificial,” Angelina said quietly, not quite knowing if it was correct for a woman to admit to such knowledge. She gazed hesitatingly at James, moving to his side when she received a smile of encouragement. “Lord Pakenham discovered a lake of water in a cave and devised a series of sluices. The water is filtered through the chalk of the hills; which cleans impurity from it. When the sluice is open the water flows into the lake.”

  “Apart from natural evaporation how does the lake drain?” Lord Lynnbury’s question displayed no patronising humour, just interest.

  “In the same way. There is a sluice; the water drains underground until it joins the stream again. The system is very ingenious.” Head to one side she regarded her tall guest. “I do not pretend to understand it all, but Lord Pakenham’s plans and calculations are in the library if you are interested in studying them.”

  “You have studied them yourself, I see.” His mocking smile appeared, bringing an instant blush to her face. “An educated woman is a rarity, Lady Angelina.”

  “That’s because men will not allow them to be educated,” she rejoined. Noting his eyes widen in astonishment, she hastened to place the uttered wisdom back where it came from. “At least, that’s what Lady Alexandra used to say. Personally, I’m not schooled in what men do, or do not allow women to be, as I have known neither father brother nor husband. My maid thinks book learning gives me peculiar ideas.”

  “She could be right,” he murmured, his eyes dripping with amusement.

  “Stop teasing her, Rafe.” A shabbily dressed woman with blue eyes and a weary smile stepped forward. “Forgive my brother’s bad manners in not introducing us. I’m Celine Daventry. James said you’d overtired yourself. I trust you’re rested now?”

  Angelina took an instant liking to Celine, but the woman seemed in need of more sustenance and rest than herself by the look of her. She thought it best to get the niceties dispensed with as directly as possible, and said with her usual candour, “I owe both you and your brother an apology.” Her eyes flickered from James to Lord Lynnbury, then back to Celine. “It was unforgivable of me to neglect you because of a touch of the vapours. Please forgive me.”

  Celine’s face suddenly lost all colour and she swayed. Anxiously she placed a hand on her arm. “You’re feeling unwell. James? Lord Lynnbury?”

  It was James who caught Celine before she fell, Rafe who conveyed her to the chamber Angelina had prepared for her. He laid his burden gently on the bed. “My sister has not eaten properly for several days. She was locked in her room by my father and I should have made sure she had more sustenance on the journey here.”

  Poor Celine! The small amount of information told Angelina exactly what she suffered from. Although she wanted to know the reason why, the tone of her guest’s voice hadn’t invited the question.

  “It was not your fault, Rafe,” James murmured.

  Her fists clenched and she rounded on the two men. “Do not make excuses for Lord Lynnbury’s behaviour. It’s reprehensible of him to allow Celine to collapse from exhaustion and lack of food. He’s already admitted he was wrong, so why seek to exonerate him when the evidence is in front of your eyes?”

  Angrily, she jerked on a bell pull to summon a maid. That she sounded just like Lady Alexandra didn’t occur to Angelina.”Fetch some chicken broth and wafers of bread please,” she said to Agnes. Her glance was tender as she gazed down at Celine, her fi
ngers smoothed across her brow in comfort when she showed signs of recovery. “Send Bessie up to help me get Lady Celine into bed. She needs food and rest.”

  Angelina was right to put Celine’s welfare first, James mused, but she had reached the wrong conclusion. Besides the fact that his friend might not have had the price of a meal on him, she shouldn’t have disagreed with his own comment on the matter. It was not a woman’s prerogative to take a man to task, especially when the man was a guest in her home.

  He applauded Rafe’s forbearance on this occasion. Rafe could be proud to the point of arrogance sometimes and his laconic manner concealed a man of great passion. He had managed to avoid matrimony in the past, despite a surplus of suitable candidates and the need to restore Ravenswood. Women usually found Rafe attractive. His absolute discretion in matters of love ensured he was never without female companionship when the need arose.

  And that, thought James gazing at his sister’s delicate face, was the reason he couldn’t understand Angelina’s reaction to him. Nor for that matter Rafe’s reaction to her. Angelina seemed almost scornful of Rafe, and Rafe, far from retreating behind a barrier of hauteur, seemed to find her flashes of temper and lack of sophistication entertaining.

  James heard Rafe’s stomach growl when a tray of steaming broth was carried in. The sound must have reached Angelina’s ears, for her general demeanour softened when she glanced at them again.

  “James. Perhaps you’d send a maid to fetch some sustenance for Lord Lynnbury whilst Bessie and I administer to Celine’s needs. I doubt if he’s eaten either. Two invalids in one week are enough, and your friend does not look as though he’d make an agreeable patient.”

  “I’d be contented enough with you caring for me,” Rafe murmured. “Were I your patient, you might unbend enough to call me Rafe.”

  “It’s more likely I should not.” Angelina’s voice was tart despite the faint rush of colour that came to her cheeks. “I hardly know you, sir.”

  “But your brother and guardian does.” Rafe was gently teasing, extracting from Angelina a confusion of shyness and determination that was altogether charming.”Is that not recommendation enough?”