Angelina

by Janet Woods

  “I understood you’d gone out with Elizabeth and Angelina.”

  “I had a headache this morning.” She bade him sit beside her, smiling at his concerned expression. “It’s quite gone now, but it offered Angelina and her mama the opportunity to spend time alone together.”

  “And me the opportunity to enjoy your exclusive company.”

  He knew he was regarded by his friends as slightly stuffy, and by women as dull. He wasn’t the adventurous type and pretty speeches didn’t trip easily from his tongue. He’d never considered himself the type of man who could make female hearts beat faster, so Celine’s blush surprised him. “I expect you think I’m a dull fellow, Celine,”

  “Not at all.” She glanced shyly at him. “We have much in common, I think,

  James. Your quiet nature encourages others to take you for granted. You must not think badly of yourself for a quality endearing to others.” She gazed down at the book in her lap and a smile flitted across her lips. It was a romantic novel, James saw, before her hands spread across the title, as if to hide it from him. “I think you are a very kind man, James.”

  “I try to be.” A light perfume surrounded her, like spring flowers. James breathed in her scent, experiencing an empathy with her he’d never felt with anyone else. How very nice it would be to be married to Celine, he thought. He gazed at her in bewildered surprise as warmth spread through him. How odd. He’d fallen in love without even realising it.

  “What is it, James?” she said. “You look as though something has astounded you.”

  “I was thinking how very fond I’ve become of you,” he stammered, wondering how she’d managed to become the object of his affection after such a short acquaintance. He experienced a dizzying happiness when she answered quietly.

  “And I you.”

  He thought his heart might burst. Taking her hand he lifted it to his lips. “My dearest, Celine.” Experiencing a moment of panic he gave her a shocked look. “I had no intention of declaring myself when I sought you out. My brain is acting quite illogically at the moment.”

  “Then I’ll forget you spoke.” She rose from the seat, eyes averted, her face pink with embarrassment. “I trust you are gentleman enough to forget the answer my heart gave you.”

  Feeling unusually agitated he watched her hurry away, then buried his head in his hands. What had come over him? Not only had he humiliated the sister of his best friend, he’d made a fool of himself into the bargain. Only an oaf would have acted as he just had. Celine was of gentle birth and needed to be courted. First, he must convey his intentions to Rafe and seek approval from her father.

  “I must consult with Rafe this instant,” he declared, the sound of his own voice consolidating the thought.

  Rafe was run to ground at the fencing academy. Dressed in breeches and a shirt, he and his opponent were warily circling each other. Using French foils with blunted tips, both wore padding and mesh masks. Rafe seemed to have the right of way. His thrust was easily parried however, and his opponent scored the next point. Five minutes of point scoring and the match was over.

  He waited whilst Rafe washed the perspiration from his torso and dressed. Rafe took as much care with his shabby suit as if it were new, and James was in a fever of impatience when they finally strolled towards their horses.

  Rafe gave him an easy smile. “Your business must be urgent if you were motivated to seek me out. Had you forgotten I intended to pay my respects to Lady Elizabeth later this afternoon?”

  “It’s about Celine I wish to see you,” James blurted out.

  “Has she been taken ill?” Anguish flared in Rafe’s eyes as he sprang into the saddle and urged his mount forward.

  James scrambled hastily on his horse, his superior mount quickly drawing level with Rafe. “Your sister is not ill,” he shouted. “It is myself.”

  Slowing to a walk, Rafe gazed at him. “You do appear flushed. What ails you?”

  “Nothing of a physical nature. I enjoy robust health, and as you know, drink only in moderation. I trust you regard me as a solid citizen and a man of honour and good sense. Not usually a man given to irrational impulse.”

  “That’s so.” Amusement filled Rafe’s eyes. “I hold your friendship in high esteem.”

  “Then I cannot understand why I risked your good opinion by declaring myself. I’ve given a lady cause to misunderstand my intentions, and stand to lose your much valued friendship.”

  Rafe’s eyebrows rose. “With your permission I’ll put the lady straight about your intentions.”

  “Thank you, Rafe.” Relief flooded him. “You’ll tell her my intentions are honourable, my feelings towards her profound. I did not seek to trifle with her affections.”

  Rafe gazed at James, feeling puzzled. Surely his friend didn’t intend to wed the widow he had the occasional dalliance with? “Your family would never countenance such a poor creature as your wife, you know.”

  “It matters not if Celine comes without dowry.” His friend’s eyes absorbed a faraway expression. “The fact that I’m in love with her came as a revelation, and I spoke too hastily to her. Forgive my presumption, Rafe. I should have sought your advice on the matter first.”

  “Celine?” he spluttered. “I thought?” He collected his scattered wits and regarded James with a sudden, relieved acuity. “Are you saying it’s my sister you intend to offer for?”

  “Of course. Haven”t I made that perfectly clear?”

  A faint grin played around Rafe’s lips. He’d been stupidly obtuse. Of course James wouldn’t wed the widow. What had he been thinking of?

  “May one ask if Celine reciprocates these feeling of yours?”

  “I’m led to believe she might.” Anxiety drained his face of colour. “I think I confounded the whole issue, causing her to withdraw her words.”

  Rafe grinned at the desperation in James’ eyes. Usually a man of logic, for once he seemed unable to form coherent thought. Rafe had despaired of his sister ever being offered the chance for happiness. Fate had brought together the two people he loved most.

  “I hope you don’t intend to ask permission of my father? He will not countenance it.”

  “I see no reason why he should dismiss my petition as unsuitable.”

  “He’s in debt for a fortune to the Reverend Matthew Locke. The man is a distant relative, is heir after me, and holds the deeds to the estate. He covets both the title and the estate. Matthew is wealthy, and he keeps my father well supplied with liquor whilst he fuels his fire of hate towards me.” His grin held no warmth.”My father will punish Celine by disinheriting me if she defies him. He’s promised her to Matthew Locke in exchange for Monkscroft’s deeds and a pension. He is in so much debt he’ll be ruined without this match. He’ll not give you Celine.”

  James’ heart sank like a stone. “If that be the case I’ll not press my suit. Monkscroft estate is your birthright.”

  “A birthright I cannot afford the upkeep of. As far as I’m concerned Matthew can keep the deeds. I have Ravenswood, and believe me, Celine’s happiness is far more important to me than Monkscroft.” Rafe gently smiled. “Believe it or not, so is yours. If Celine will accept you it’s with my blessing. You must wed privately and quickly, and before my father gets word of it. Matthew Locke is making enquiries as to her whereabouts.”

  “You’re encouraging me to ask her to elope?” He was shocked. “You think she’ll agree to such a marriage?”

  “The adventure of it might appeal to her. The heroines of the books she reads seem to enjoy being swept off their feet.”

  James grinned sheepishly at the thought of sweeping any woman off her feet. “I’ll expect you to act as witness if Celine agrees to this foolishness.”

  “That will bend Angelina’s nose firmly out of countenance.” Rafe was chuckling at the thought as they turned into James’ carriageway. His smile faded at the sight of a vehicle drawn up outside the house. “Talk of the Devil,” he muttered. “If I’m not very much mistaken
, that’s the carriage of Matthew Locke.”

  Entering the house they handed their hats to a footman. James instructed the man to stay within earshot and the pair hurried into the drawing room.

  “James my dear, and Lord Lynnbury.” Elizabeth’s smile was unruffled, Rafe thought, as she rose gracefully from the couch and glided towards him, both hands outstretched. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her hands trembled slightly when Rafe lightly kissed them. Close up, her eyes teemed with indignation.

  “Your arrival is fortuitous.” Smile fading, she looked as uncertain as Angelina did on the occasions he teased her. “I’m led to believe this gentleman is of your acquaintance.”

  “I’ve never set eyes on the fellow in my life,” Rafe growled.

  Elizabeth frowned and said. “How odd.” Her hand waved in a dismissive motion towards the figure of a stocky curate who stood with his back to the window. “The maid informed me he used your name as reference to gain admittance to the house. He says he’s Samuel Locke, and insists he’s the son of Lady Celine’s affianced. He bears a letter, which he says is from her father, demanding she be returned to Monkscroft at once.”

  Elizabeth turned, cutting the man in half with one glance before turning to James with a hint of what had gone before. “I’ve advised him Lady Celine is ill and cannot be moved. In return he offered me insult, insisting on examining her himself to determine if I’m telling him the truth.”

  “That’s not exactly what I said,” the curate protested.

  “The sentiment behind your sermonising was unmistakable, sir. You threatened me with the Lord’s wrath.” Her green eyes spat scorn at the man. “Take care, sir. The Lord may not regard you in such high esteem as you imagine. His wrath may fall upon your own head in the form of these two men here.”

  The friends exchanged a grin.

  “My words were not designed to caused you offence.”

  “You’ll excuse us, stepmother.” James kissed Elizabeth’s cheek and watched her go. He waited until the door closed before turning to Samuel Locke and engaging his eyes. “Explain your outrageous behaviour at once, sir.”

  “I’m curate to Reverend Matthew Locke, who is my father, and who is betrothed to Lady Celine Daventry.” Samuel Locke’s voice was cold as he held out a paper affixed with the Gillingborn seal. “The Marquis of Gillingborn has entrusted me with this missive, ordering Lady Celine to be placed in my care.”

  “The missive has no jurisdiction in my home.” James’ voice was deceptively mild and Rafe prepared to enjoy the encounter. He’d watched his friend in court at the Bailey on occasion and admired the way he was able to draw out a witness with his mild manner, then turn the prosecution on its head “You’ve been informed Lady Celine is indisposed so I suggest you leave forthwith.”

  “I’d sooner determine that for myself.” Samuel Locke’s truculent expression matched his bullying tone of voice. “If Lady Celine is too ill to be moved, I’ll question her to acquaint myself with the nature of her sickness.”

  “You are impudent, sir. I shall not allow you to submit my guest to such an indelicate interrogation.”

  Rafe relaxed against the mantelpiece when James tugged at a bell rope. To the manservant who instantly appeared to answer his summons, James instructed. “If this person does not remove himself from my house within the next few seconds you’ll hasten to fetch a Bow Street Patrol. Tell them to convey Samuel Locke to the watch-house where he’s to be charged with obtaining entry by false pretences, trespass, and failing to obey an order lawfully given by a peer of the realm.”

  Rafe chuckled when Samuel Locke’s face paled. His lips thinned as he hastily snatched up his hat and headed for the door.

  “Shall I relay your wishes for a speedy recovery to my sister?” Rafe asked, unable to resist a parting shot.

  “You’ve not heard the last of this, cousin,” Samuel Locke sneered. “I’ll be back with a warrant issued by the Archbishop of London himself. Lacking any means of support, you placed your sister in moral danger when you removed her from her father’s loving care. By the time this is over she’ll be grateful for the respectability my father’s name offers, for no other man of standing will honour her with such.”

  “Do not call me cousin again, you parsimonious snipe.” Samuel Locke backed through the door as Rafe straightened, cracking his knuckles. “Inform my father that Celine is of an age to chose whom she will wed. And as for moral danger, my sister is well chaperoned and her morals have never been safer.” As he stared into the mean little eyes of the parson’s son, he shuddered. God help Celine if she’s forced to wed into this family, he thought.

  Rafe turned his back on the man in dismissal, not trusting himself to turn again until the door banged shut. He smiled ruefully when James poured them both a brandy.

  “That man will never know how close he got to having his blood spilled all over your carpet. Can the charges be made to stick?”

  “I’m unaware if such charges even exist.” James’ eyes were troubled. “We’ve not heard the last of Samuel Locke. If he petitions the Archbishop on morals grounds...?”

  “I’ll counter petition on the grounds that my father drove my mother to suicide, cast Celine’s mother from the home without support and is not fit to have her in his care. When I took Celine she’d been locked in her room without food for two days.”

  “That has nothing to do with the corruption of her morals. She is subjected to your father’s will until she weds. A scandal of this type will ruin her prospects forever. She’ll be ostracised.”

  “Then so be it.” Neither of them had heard her enter the room. “I’d sooner be dead than marry Matthew Locke.” Tears gathered in her eyes as she convinced herself of the fact by tasting the words again. “Yes, I’d much rather be dead.”

  “Rafe and I have a plan,” James mumbled. “Actually, I think it was I who thought of it.” He fell on one knee before her. “If you’ll have me, we shall elope this very night.”

  “What an awkward oaf you are, James.” Unable to stop himself, Rafe laughed. “If I was Celine I’d refuse you right away.”

  “But you’re not me, Rafe. And didn’t I just hear you say I’m of an age to choose whom I shall wed?”

  Celine was blushing quite prettily, Rafe noticed. Her eyes were shining as she gazed at James with something akin to worship. His friend’s feelings were all to apparent. He gazed back at Celine with a hungry happiness Rafe envied. A look like that from a woman would be worth the wait, he mused, feeling decidedly superfluous as he edged towards the door, and a man should be afforded the luxury of proposing marriage in private.

  “Do not keep me in misery,” James was saying as Rafe swiftly slid backwards through the door.

  The next minute Rafe sprawled flat on his back as he tripped over Angelina’s foot. He gave a muffled curse as he scrambled to his feet. “You were eavesdropping,” he accused, when she laughed.

  “Such language is not fit for a lady’s ears, Rafe. You’ll apologise, I trust.”

  “Most humbly if that’s your desire.” Inhaling the piquant perfume she wore he began to grin. “Damn me if that perfume isn’t different from the one you usually wear.”

  “It’s French. Mama thought it was time I graduated from rose water, and took me to a perfumers. Being a woman is quite a business, Rafe.” Drawing him away from the door she said with a lilt of laughter in her voice. “I’ve discovered that perfume is the very essence of a woman.”

  “And here was I thinking you were mere flesh and blood.”

  “We’re of one mind on that.” Her voice assumed a slight shyness. “The perfumer said that a scent, when properly chosen, absorbs the spirit of the wearer, changing to reflect her personality and mood.”

  “You are the mistress of provocation then,” he accused, taking her hand to sniff the pulse where young ladies usually fragranced themselves. “His second sniff increased in volume. “Definitely provocative; it’s well chosen.”

  Her low, husk
y laugh sent a shiver up his spine. “If there’s a master of provocation it’s you, not I.”

  “Angelina, my dear. I thought I sent you to fetch my embroidery from the morning room.” Elizabeth gazed from one to the other when Angelina snatched her hand away from his.

  He took a step backwards, creating distance between them.

  “I hope that unpleasant business is cleared up,” Elizabeth said, crossing to Angelina’s side and giving her a penetrating glance. A faint blush surfaced on Angelina’s face. Elizabeth turned the same glance his way, making him prickle uncomfortably. “Lord Lynnbury. You should know better than encourage Angelina to linger in dim hallways.”

  Chastised, he bowed slightly. “You’re right, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “But it’s not his fault - “

  “Hush, child.” Elizabeth kept her voice gentle. “Lord Lynnbury is well aware of the impropriety of the situation. He’s accepted the rebuke and that’s the end of it. Is that not so, Rafe?”

  “It is.”

  Angelina appeared most indignant for the second or two it took to realise the rebuke had been for her rather than for him. Her face became downcast. “I’m sorry, mama,” she murmured. Her contrite words brought a smile of forgiveness to Elizabeth’s face and a glint of amusement to his own.

  Rafe exchanged a small understanding smile with Elizabeth when she turned back towards him. “You may think me indelicate, Rafe, but I wish to make myfeelings known, even though it is not my business. I consider that cleric’s family totally unsuitable for a gentle girl like Celine to marry into. As she’s unburdened her heart to me, I intend to offer her the protection of Wrey House. My patronage of her will attract no gossip to damage her reputation or status.”

  Angelina’s eyes began to dance with excitement. Before Rafe could stop her she whispered. “Do not worry about Celine. Something wonderful has happened. James is on his knees proposing mariage to her. They’re going to elope this very night.”