Angelina

by Janet Woods

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “What happened aint none of my business, nor yours either.”

  Two strides brought him back to her side. “Like hell it isn’t! You were there at the infirmary at the time.” His hands clamped around her arms to stop her turning away. “I’m not so stupid that I don’t know the earl’s been giving you regular payments all these years. Everyone knows I’m his bastard so it isn’t that. He’s paying you to keep your mouth shut about something. You can’t tell me he pays you that amount of money for the odd tumble. He could buy something younger for less.”

  She bridled at the sting of his insult. “You watch your lip, Frey Mellor,” she

  snapped. “I’m not so old that I’ve forgotten how to make a man happy.” Her eyes lit up when the sound of a horse snickering came from the back meadow. “There’s my Rosabelle,” she cried out, trying to struggle free from his grip.

  Frey jerked her back to face him. “So that’s it,” he breathed. “Rosabelle Wrey is your child. She was substituted at birth for the other one.” His mother’s eyes flew open in shock. “That’s it, isn’t it, ma? That’s what keeps the earl paying up. Your silence.” He dropped her arms and turned towards the door.

  Desperately she ran after him, and grabbing his sleeve held on tight when he tried to shake her free. “Rosabelle’s not mine, I swear. I hadn’t even met the earl when she was born. She was an orphan child he took a fancy too when he thought his own was dying. He wanted the infant for his wife. He wanted her to have a child.”

  “Then why didn’t he give her one in the normal way?” he said harshly.

  “The countess nearly died when she delivered that child. He loves his wife. He couldn’t bear the thought he might lose her in childbirth, so he left her alone and turned to me.”

  Frey was prepared to believe her. “And you took advantage of him.”

  “It wasn’t like that.” Tears came to her eyes. “Oh, it was at first. Then when you were born he was good to us and I grew fond of him. I know he’s not a generous man, but he’s honourable. He’s looked after us and has given you a good education. I’m grateful to him for that.”

  “And what about Elizabeth Wrey? Did you give no thought to what she might be suffering?”

  “You’re not going to tell her, are you Frey.”

  “Tell her. A lady like her wouldn’t give the likes of me the time of day.”

  His mother lowered her voice to a whisper when they heard a light tap at the back door. “Everyone thinks them girls is twins now, including the countess. If you tell anyone the truth, the earl will kick us out of this cottage and out of the county.” She gazed at him in mute appeal. “Think what it would do to Rosabelle.”

  “Ah yes...Lady Rosabelle.” Frey gave an ironic grin as the girl he’d always thought as his half-sister came into the cottage. She looked flushed from her ride, her dark eyes were shining with excitement as she gazed at his mother.

  “Walk my horse while I talk to your mother, Frey,” she said imperiously. “I rode her too hard and she’s lathered.”

  “Walk her yourself,” he said quietly. “I’ve got business of my own to see to.”

  An astonished expression crossed Rosabelle’s face and her eyes jerked up to his. Frey smiled when her mouth opened slightly. She was the same as him, a lowborn bastard. No, she was less. At least he knew who his parents were.

  Taking the hat from his head he swept it across his body, giving a parody of a bow before sauntering from the cottage and closing the door firmly behind him.

  * * * *

  It was almost midnight. A horse picked its way through the leaf litter on the forest floor. Its glossy sable hide was unrelieved by markings. Its rider, clad in a black voluminous coat despite the warmth of the evening, was in no hurry.

  Now and again, the narrow gap between the low brimmed hat and the black cloth covering the lower part of the rider’s face, revealed a glimpse of dark eyes. Those eyes watched the track off to the right, where another horse and rider ambled aimlessly along. The object of the felon’s attention was singing lewd verses at the top of his voice.

  Presently, the highwayman turned the horse to the left, spurring it into a canter. Swiftly, the black covered the ground until the junction branching towards the stables of the Marquis of Northbridge was reached. There, where the track curved, the highwayman took up position in the middle of the track.

  “Whoa, nag.” George peered owlishly at the figure baring his way. “Stand aside fellow, or I’ll shoot you.” He fumbled for his pistol, then realising he wasn’t wearing one roared with false bravado. “Damn and blast you for a knave. You have the advantage over me. I am unarmed.”

  A scarf muffled the highwayman’s voice. “I’m relieved, sir, I have no desire to kill you.”

  “You don’t eh? If it’s money you’re after I have none. A man must pay for his pleasures and I enjoyed the company of a couple of Winchester harlots.’

  “And won a small fortune at the gaming house afterwards if your reputation does you justice.” The highwayman indicated with the pistol. “Throw me your purse, My Lord.”

  Reluctantly, George did as he was asked. Rapidly sobering, he was embarrassed by the indignity of being caught without a weapon to see this rogue off with. It was the first time he’d heard of a highwayman operating in these parts, and he’d make damned sure he never ventured abroad without a loaded pistol again. He scowled as he watched his winnings disappear inside the thief’s coat.

  “Empty your pockets.”

  “Damn it man, isn’t that enough?” His hands tightened on the reins. “Out of my way...God’s truth!”

  The pistol jerked, a ball cut through his reins and he tumbled over his mount’s rear to sprawl in the dust. Spooked by the shot, his horse bucked a few times then trotted off up the track. It stopped at a patch of succulent grass and quietly started to graze.

  The highwayman brought his horse under control as George scrambled to his feet. A second weapon appeared in his hand. “Your pockets, sir. Empty them into your kerchief then hand it all to me.”

  George scrambled to obey. The highwayman sifted through the contents. He removed a silver snuffbox and a jewellery case. The rest was tossed to the ground. Flipping open the jewellery case, the felon whistled. Within seconds, an exquisite ruby pendant dangled from a black-gloved finger. “A handsome bauble.”

  ‘Now look here, my man,” George bristled. “That’s a gift for a lady. Take my horse instead.”

  The highwayman chuckled. “Your horse is a noble beast, but doubtless, he knows his way home. I’d not have him long. Tell me about this lady-love of yours. She’s your mistress, sir?”

  “No, damn it! She’s a maid of barely eighteen years, and I intend to wed her.”

  “Her name?”

  “Lady Rosabelle Wrey.” The Marquis’s face burned when the highwayman gave a high-pitched laugh.

  “Perhaps this bauble will tip the scales in your direction, but I doubt it.” The outlaw threw the pendant back. “Lady Rosabelle will keep you dancing attendance on her only while it pleases her.”

  “I’ll thank you not to speak of the lady thus,” George growled.

  “Take my word for it, she will be hard to catch.” He wheeled the stallion around. “Word has it that she’s set her sights on the Earl of Lynnbury.”

  “Rafe Daventry hasn’t a penny to his name,” the Marquis sneered. “Nor ever will have.”

  “I’ve heard the earl is sought after by the ladies and his prowess in the bed-chamber is equalled only by his discretion in matters of love.”

  “I’m not without expertise in that area myself,” the Marquis muttered. “And her dowry will not be enough to catch the earl.”

  “One hears Lady Rosabelle has lost her heart to the earl. And it’s said he is not immune to her charms.’

  “The devil take him!” George said. “That snippet of information is worth the loss of my purse. I’m indebted to you.”

  “Glad to be of service,
My Lord.” The highwayman gave a mocking half-bow before touching heels to his mount and melting into the darkness of the undergrowth.

  “Rum fellow,” George muttered to himself, and his brow furrowed in thought. He’d been well spoken for a felon, and young from the pitch of his voice. He knew the forest well, and the local gossip.

  His nerve ends twitched when an owl hooted nearby. A mist rose from the ground, darkness pressed in on him. Picking his goods up from the dirt, he set off after his horse at as brisk a pace as he could muster.

  Chapter Six

  “James, you must come and help us decide.” Angelina started when Rafe Daventry uncoiled from the chair nearest to her.

  “Oh!” She cursed the colour that suddenly bloomed in her cheeks. “I didn’t realise you had company. Please forgive the intrusion, My Lord.”

  Rafe’s sardonic good looks relegated anything else to the shadows. She’d forgotten how large he was, how dark, how powerful of body and feature. Most of all she’d forgotten his grace, until he covered the space between them in two lithe strides.

  He took her hand to lightly brush his lips across her fingers. “I thought we agreed you would call me Rafe the last time we met. You’re looking well, little Angelina. Having James for a brother obviously suits you.”

  “James is kindness itself.” The pressure of Rafe’s fingers stopped her from sliding her hand from his. She darted James a nervous glance. He was smiling, seemingly not at all bothered by the small impropriety. She gave him a loving smile. “In truth, James spoils me.”

  “Beautiful women are meant to be spoiled.” With every show of reluctance, Rafe allowed her to slide her hand away. “What would men do without ladies to spoil?”

  “I hope you do not expect me to seriously apply myself to that question?”

  Rafe’s grin had a mischievous edge to it. “I’d be curious to hear your opinion of men.”

  Sensing an ulterior motive she gazed at him with wary eyes. “Why?”

  “In all seriousness?” His mouth quirked. “Disregarding the fact that men are naturally superior, and therefore more assertive, any information a lady could impart with regards to his shortcomings would only serve to improve him.”

  Did he think she was a fool? She ignored the glint of amusement in his eyes and regarded him. “If we are to disregard the fact of a man’s supposed superiority, why did you see fit to mention it, Rafe? A man cannot regard himself as superior and admit to needing improvement in the same breath. You are being illogical to goad me into debate, thus to amuse yourself at my expense.”

  “You are wrong, Angel.” Rafe didn’t look at all put out by her charge. “I find your reasoning a refreshing change from the conversation of most women. It amuses me, yes, but it does not bore me. So, dear heart, pray tell. What can a man do do keep himself out of mischief?”

  “Now let me see,” she pondered, her voice as mocking as his had been. “Perhaps you could be employed dreaming up further taxes to impose on the American colonies. Surely England needs the revenue. The country is in so much debt parliament is beginning to disintegrate with Lord North at the helm.”

  “No doubt the Rockingham Whigs will reorganise it once they are in power,” Rafe murmured.

  “They must reorganise Ireland too. Men, women and children are being persecuted because of religious differences there. Your Whigs can feel at their most superior whilst they bury our starving Irish cousins, Rafe.”

  Rafe’s smile was gently goading. “An emotional basis for the politics of parliament. Lady Alexandra was well-known for her outspokenness on such matters, and redoubtable as she was, you must not let her opinions dissuade you from forming your own.”

  “I cannot be less than emotional when I see the effects of poverty all around me. Everywhere I go there are crippled beggars in the streets, and women forced to sell their bodies to feed their children.” The heat of her argument left no room for caution. “Children die in abject poverty and people starve to death on the street.”

  “Enough, Angelina.” James’ took her elbow and gently turned her to face him.”Although your concerns are pertinent, it’s an unseemly topic for a young lady to pursue in company.”

  Mortified by the put down, she stammered. “I beg your pardon if I have crossed the bounds of propriety, Lord Lynnbury.” She would have fled if James had not restrained her.

  Rafe laid a hand on James’ arm. “You must not chastise Angelina for what was my fault. It was unforgivable of me to invoke such passion in her.”

  “I know, and as soon as Angelina has left the room I intend to call you out for such disgraceful behaviour.”

  Alarm speared through her. “You must not! Rafe is your friend. I would never forgive myself if you...” She gazed from one man to the other in uncertainty. Both had difficulty in hiding their smiles. “Oh, you!” she choked out. “I cannot turn a moment of censure into one of levity at a whim.”

  In an instant James’ arm came round her. “All was spoken in jest, Angelina. Come, let me see you smile.”

  A tentative smile edged across her mouth. “I doubt if I shall speak to either of you ever again.”

  “Then you’re not going to say why you needed me so urgently?”

  “Celine!” She pressed her hand against her mouth. “I had almost forgotten. We are having an argument over whether she should wear a cap with her new blue gown, or a hat trimmed with feathers and ribbons. You’ve been appointed adjudicator.”

  He darted Rafe a look of long suffering. “Let it be the hat.”

  She sensed an opportunity to get a little of her own back. “But you’ve not seen either,” she coaxed. “Please indulge us by coming to inspect them. Celine intends to wear the gown when we attend Lady Snelling’s assembly this afternoon. We understand she’s the most sought after hostess. Although you’ve declined her invitation, we are determined to go and make an impression.”

  “There’s no need to be intimidated by Constance,” Rafe drawled. “She learned her superior manners in the theatre.”

  “She was an actress! How exciting.” Angelina’s eyes flew open in shock.

  “A good actress, and a woman of great wit and beauty. She married old Snelling when he was practically on his deathbed. He doted on her.”

  “She married him for his money?”

  “And the title. A common enough occurrence.” Rafe’s expression became bland. “In return, Constance produced an heir for the estate before her husband died. That son came of age recently. Lady Constance is selecting candidates for a wife for him at these assemblies.”

  “She intends to choose a wife for her son?” Angelina gave a delicate shudder. “How dreadful. I refuse to be screened for such a purpose and shall cancel the visit.”

  “What a prissy miss you are,” Rafe said with a smile. “Did I detect a nuance of snobbery in your manner?”

  “If you did your imagination must be severely strained.” She sighed. Was society full of irritating men such as Rafe. “It was revulsion. I’d prefer to have been invited because my hostess wished to spend time in my company, not because she views me as a likely daughter-in-law.”

  “You are young and wealthy, Angelina.” He gave a weary smile. “You must expect to be regarded as prey by the enterprising mamas of this world.”

  She felt a little nauseated at the thought. “Is this true, James? Am I to be regarded as a commodity?”

  His smile reassured her. “That’s not exactly how I’d describe the marriage market, Angelina.”

  “Then why do you call it a market? I will never marry a man I have no regard for,” she said with determination, and stepped away from him. “If you have ideas to the contrary I beg you to change them now.”

  “Forcing you into marriage against your will is the last thing I’d do. But how do you expect to meet suitable men if you do not accept social invitations?”

  Her heart sank. Why did things have to change? It seemed like only yesterday she’d been a child, with all the freedom of a chil
d. She hated London with its dirty streets and its beggars, and didn’t know how to handle worldly men like Rafe. Alexandra Pakenham had kept her ignorant of society ways, and now she was being forced into it without knowing how to cope.

  “I’m scared of meeting men,” she admitted. “I’ll not know which are suitable and which are not.” Her voice rose. “I do not want to attend Lady Constance Snelling’s assembly and be looked over as though I was some mare she might buy for her son. And most of all...” Her eyes sparkled with imagined affront. “I do not wish to suffer the indignity of being told I’m not a suitable wife, if the woman decides she doesn’t like me.”

  Rafe burst into laughter. “No fear of that, my vain little angel. Any enterprising mama will covet a prize such as you for her son. The young lordling will do exactly as his mama says, and will, no doubt, carry you off to the altar with as little delay as possible.”

  She met Rafe’s laughter with scornful toss of her head. “I am not vain.” “Enough of this,” James said. “If it worries you so much, I shall escort you and Celine to the assembly myself.”

  “But, you’ll find such duty tedious in the extreme.”

  “No doubt,” he said wryly. “But if the price of your peace of mind is the loss of mine, I’ll gladly pay it.”

  “Put thus, you make me feel horribly indebted to you.” Standing on her toes she kissed her brother soundly on the cheek. “I would not suffer your reluctant patronage when you would rather dip your nose into your law books. Celine and I will manage without you. If either of us return married to this mama’s boy Rafe describes, you will only have yourself to blame.”

  Strolling to the door she turned, bestowing on her brother a cherubic smile. “I shall tell Celine you said the cap, shall I?”

  “You will not.” James glanced at the grinning Rafe. “Tell Celine Rafe and I will inspect her by the by, and we shall all attend the assembly together. The carriage will be brought round, allowing Rafe the chance to show off his driving skills. The young lordling shall be inspected by us all and it will be us who shall decide whether or not he’s a good enough suitor for Lady Angelina Wrey.”