Angelina

by Janet Woods

  “She encouraged you to expose yourself to disease?” Her mother sounded horrified.

  Angelina gave her a level look. “No, mama, Lady Alexandra would never have allowed me to do that. Those suspected of carrying infection were kept in isolation. I was merely encouraged to show compassion to those less fortunate than myself.”

  Elizabeth realised she’d heard the woman’s name mentioned without once flinching. That she’d not encouraged Angelina to talk of her childhood had been wrong. If she was to know and understand her daughter she had to put her anger and jealousy aside. What did it matter now? Lady Alexandra was dead; she poised no threat.

  “Tell me, child.” She hesitated, not really knowing whether she wanted to hear the truth. “Were you happy living with Lady Alexandra?”

  “I seldom saw her.” Her daughter looked troubled. “When I did she was not affectionate, yet...”

  “Yet what?” She encouraged.

  There was an uncertain expression in Angelina’s eyes. “Although I worked hard to earn her approval I could never capture her affection, nor could I find love in myself for her. That made me unhappy.”

  Immense satisfaction flowed into Elizabeth’s body. She drew her daughter close, tenderly stroking a tendril of hair back from her face. “Love must be nurtured to make it grow, yet lack of it can make you vulnerable. That’s why I do not encourage your familiarity with Lord Lynnbury. He’s a handsome and charming man who has a way with women. I do not wish to see you hurt.”

  “Rafe has no interest in me as a woman.” She smiled wistfully. “Besides, he might decide to offer for Rosabelle?”

  Elizabeth’s breath hissed in her throat as she took a step back. “He told you that?”

  “No, of course not. Rafe would not discuss such an intimate subject with me. Rosabelle - “

  Elizabeth gazed sharply about her. “Where is Rosabelle?” she hissed. “I understood she was with you.”

  “She left just before you arrived.” Angelina averted her face to hide the tell tale blush rising beneath her skin.

  Lying did not come easily to the girl, Elizabeth thought.

  “I cannot say where she has got to,” she stammered.

  “Cannot, or will not?” Expelling her breath in aggravation as the sound of several horses came to their ears, Elizabeth made swiftly for the door. “The earl is meeting with the men of the district to discuss ways and means of catching the highway robber. It will not do for Rosabelle to make a display of herself. I want you to stay in your chamber until they’ve all departed. Do not show yourself at the window again.”

  “No, mama.” Angelina went back to her embroidery, knowing Rosabelle would blame her for the dressing down she would most surely get.

  Half an hour later she was surprised, and a little dismayed, when her mother informed her that her presence was required in the study. “Your father wishes you to answer questions about the incident regarding the highwayman.” Elizabeth fetched a shawl, draping it modestly around Angelina’s shoulders. “Do not speak unless directly spoken to, and keep a modest demeanour at all times.”

  “You will come with me, mama?” Her voice quavered at the thought of being questioned by several men whom she did not know.

  “Of course I will.” Slanting her head to one side her mother regarded her with a smile. “Do not look as though I’m about to throw you to the wolves. I’m sure it will not be the ordeal you imagine.”

  Disinclined to believe her mother, Angelina clung to her arm when they entered the study. The room was thick with smoke, and glasses containing port were being handed around by a manservant. The babble of male voices became a hush when the men became aware of their presence. Although Angelina kept her eyes lowered, she sensed curious glances cast her way.

  Then the earl was by her side, his voice gruff. “My daughter, gentlemen.” There were murmured greetings and a general clearing of throats before the earl returned to his seat. “I’ve familiarised the company of the unfortunate incident concerning the highwayman, my dear. As you’re the only person who has seen him unmasked, the gentlemen wish to question you on his appearance.

  “Indeed, sir,” she said, stammering a little. “I’m afraid I did not see much at all. It was nearly dark.”

  “Can you remember what colour his eyes were, Lady Angelina?” This from a handsome, middle aged-man who stood with his legs apart in front of the fireplace.

  “Dark.”

  “Dark blue, or dark brown?”

  “Almost black.”

  “Hair?”

  “He wore a hat that came down over his face. It was black. The kerchief he wore as a mask was also black.”

  “Coat?”

  “Black...black boots...black breeches...black crop.” And so it went on. She described a perfectly anonymous man dressed in black with no distinguishing marks, then described him all over again.

  “Horse?”

  “Black.” She smiled as a sense of the ridiculous took hold of her. “The horse was black all over, shining black, as though the rider loved it well and took pride in its comfort. I hope I did not harm him when I brought the cane down upon its back.”

  When Rafe chuckled she dared to send him a smile.

  “Was it a stallion or a gelding?” someone asked.

  “My sister is not aware of the difference,” William said as the room became embarrassingly quiet.

  “My pardon.”

  Certainly aware of the difference, Angelina coloured. She was grateful when William crossed to her side and gazed into her eyes. “You mustn’t worry. We have a good description from the Marquis of Northbridge.”

  “Nice nag that,” the man at the fireplace said admiringly. “Black as the devil’s soul. I’d know it if I saw it again.”

  “Think carefully, Angelina.” William’s eyes narrowed in on her. “Can you remember anything at all about the highwayman’s face?”

  Something nibbled at the back of Angelina’s mind, then frustratingly slipped away. Regretfully, she shook her head. “As I mentioned before, he was young. It was nearly dark and it all happened so quickly.”

  “Then you wouldn’t recognise him if you saw him again?”

  Why was William pressing her on this? Asperity came into her voice. “It’s possible, but I cannot be sure.” Forgetting she was not supposed to offer an opinion she gazed round the room. “I suggest you seek the horse. Once you’ve found it the rider will be within your grasp.”

  “This is men’s business,” her father said, his annoyance barely disguised. “Your opinion was not solicited, nor is it welcome. I suggest you apologise before you depart.”

  The shock of the earl’s public censorship brought a hasty retort to her lips. Her mother’s fingers tightened in warning on her arm and she practically bit her tongue. She gazed upon the earl’s stern countenance with displeasure, encountering an equal measure in return.

  Her father did not approve of her any more than she approved of him at this moment. She gave a tiny shrug and lifted her chin, saying silkily as she gazed into the darkness of his eyes. “I’m sorry if my words offended. In the past I lacked your guidance and was encouraged to express an opinion freely. I acknowledge your censorship and accede to your superior wisdom.”

  Tension suddenly filled the room. Keeping her chin high, she bobbed a curtsy and saw colour mottle her father’s cheeks as he gave a stiff, assenting nod. His eyes slid guiltily away from hers in dismissal.

  The Marquis of Northbridge, sensing nothing untoward spoke from his position against the fireplace. “Damned fine idea though, eh Thomas? Look for the horse to find the rider. Why didn’t I think of that? I’d know that nag anywhere. I wager young William here would too if he but saw it once. He’s a damned fine judge of horseflesh, your William...damned fine. Black as the devil’s throat that nag was. It must have been sixteen hands high.”

  The Marquis was still waxing lyrical about the horse when Angelina and Elizabeth left the room. She gave one last glance in Rafe’s direct
ion as the door closed. His gaze was fixed thoughtfully upon her, the faintly cynical curve of his grin applauding her courage.

  She expected her mother to chastise her again. Instead, there was a quizzical look in her eyes. “It was a damned fine nag, that,” she said, keeping her expression completely under control.

  “Damned fine,” Angelina agreed, mimicking the Marquis to perfection. Her eyes joined her mother’s in complete understanding.

  Elizabeth smiled. At first it was almost tentative, then a gurgle of laughter left her lips. “If I hadn’t enjoyed that so much I’d be tempted to punish you. Your father was at his most pompous and you took advantage of it.”

  “He does not like me, I think.”

  “As I told you, he’s not a demonstrative man. You must reconcile yourself to that.”

  “Forgive me for saying so, mama, but I do not think I’ll ever grow fond of the earl.”

  “When we were first married I thought that too. There are worse husbands.”

  “You did not love him when you married, then?”

  “The marriage was arranged by my father just before he died.” She looked pensive. “I grew to love and respect Thomas, as you will grow to love and respect your husband when you wed.”

  “I do not intend to wed unless it’s to a man I already love.”

  “What nonsense is this?” A vexed frown creased Elizabeth’s forehead. “A daughter has very little say in whom she will marry.”

  “James has promised not to force me into an arranged marriage against my wishes.”

  “James is not your father.” Angelina was the recipient of a rueful smile. “I keep forgetting, he’s your guardian. And of course, James would understand your dreams perfectly.”

  “He and Celine are so happy together,” she whispered. “To love the person one marries must be wonderful.”

  “But have you considered, Angelina? Your dowry will allow you to pick and choose a husband. Every invitation we sent out for the ball has been accepted since your eligibility has become known, even those we issued for appearances sake. There are bound to be offers.”

  “It’s demeaning to be considered eligible because of one’s wealth.”

  “If money were the only consideration, Caroline Pallister would not still be a spinster.” Her mother’s smile held satisfaction. “You have beauty and intelligence, and will make a brilliant match.”

  “I’d marry a peasant if I truly loved him,” Angelina said bluntly.

  Elizabeth shuddered. “It’s just as easy to love an aristocrat, my dear. You’re fond of Lord Lynnbury, are you not?”

  “Of course I’m fond of Rafe. He’s my friend...” She blushed to the roots of her hair when the meaning of her mother’s words sank in. Tentatively, she asked. “Rafe has not made an offer for me, surely?”

  “Indeed, he has not. Rafe’s not the type to rush heedlessly into marriage. He’s too sensitive about his circumstances.”

  “Then Rosabelle - “

  “Will be encouraged to wed the Marquis of Northbridge, who’s already made an offer for her hand.”

  “That old man?” she said in a shocked voice. “Rosabelle despises him.”

  “Age is irrelevant. George Northbridge will make Rosabelle a fine husband.”

  Angelina suddenly felt sorry for her sister. “It must be awful to love one man

  and forced to marry another. Rosabelle has set her heart on Rafe.”

  ‘Encouraged is a better choice of word than forced.’ Elizabeth turned her round to face her. “Would you rather see Rosabelle wed to Rafe?”

  “No,” she said truthfully. “I do not think Rafe is fond enough of Rosabelle to offer for her, even if he did have the means. But sometimes he looks at her in a certain way that I cannot explain...?”

  “As all men do. Rosabelle’s appearance inspires men, but it is not spiritual, and many a man has been ensnared by his own desire.” She sounded bitter. “When desire is spent there’s nothing left unless friendship and respect exists between a couple. Sometimes that’s all a woman has, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “I do not understand, mama.”

  Tenderly, Elizabeth took her face between her hands and kissed her. “I pray you never do understand,” she whispered. “I pray you never do.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Willam and Rosabelle had reined in their mounts at the top of the hill, and were gazing down on Wrey House, set in the mathematical neatness of its grounds.

  “That mealy-mouthed, whimpering, snippet was responsible for me being locked in my room for most of the day.”

  William laughed. “Angelina has hidden depths,” he said, admiration colouring his voice. “She took father to task today and he didn’t realise until it was all over. He’s been in a foul mood ever since.”

  “How did the prodigal daughter manage to do that?”

  “She reminded him he hadn’t raised her. That girl has a tendency to discover weakness in people and turn it against them. You’d better be on your guard, Rosie.”

  “I’m more than a match for her,” she boasted, tossing her head. “If she thinks she’ll put me in the shade, she can think again.” Her laugh had a malicious undertone. “Today, I ruined her ball gown.”

  William fought the rush of anger her words triggered. “That was mean of you, Rosie. She hasn’t the time to get another made.”

  Her shrug was indifferent. “Why should you care? She has a room full of gowns she can choose from.”

  Odd, but he did care. Not that he particularly liked Angelina, he told himself, it was just...? She intrigued him. Her vulnerable air made him feel protective towards her, even though she’d proved perfectly capable of standing up for herself in the most difficult of circumstance.

  Rafe Daventry had been amused by his father’s discomfort, and William suspected he harboured more than an ephemeral interest in Angelina.

  His glance went to Rosabelle, smugly malicious because she’d ruined Angelina’s gown. For the first time in his life he experienced dislike for her.

  “Pettiness is never very pleasant. Your envy ill-becomes you, Rosie.”

  Her face flamed red as she accused. “She’s won you to her side. How could you prefer her to me?”

  “Stop being tedious,” he drawled, knowing it wouldn’t serve to make an enemy of her. “I have no side, and I didn’t say I preferred her to you. You’re beyond compare.”

  Nevertheless, he did compare. Rosabelle was a full blown rose whose charms would be gone in a few, short years. Her lush lips would droop with discontent, her magnificent bosom sag with her first child. She also had the makings a nag. Her one redeeming feature was her sensuality. She’d keep a man’s bed warm long after her charms had faded, and provide him with countless heirs. Whether she liked it or not, she would be a perfect mate for the lecherous Marquis.

  Angelina was an elegant wild flower, her delicacy threaded through with a tenacity that would make her bloom year after year. Once her roots had buried themselves in the soil she’d endure against anything the elements threw at her.

  Like her mother, he thought, surprising himself. Hadn’t Elizabeth survived against the odds? Her roots were buried in Wrey House, and despite his father’s infidelity she still flourished. She was more than his father deserved.

  He experienced an unexpected sense of regard for his step-mother. She was a stayer, and sometimes stayers found an extra burst of speed towards the end of the race. There had been a change in her since Angelina had come into her life. She no longer accepted his father’s dictates as law and became quite animated on occasion. There was a quiet determination about her these days, and it would bear watching.

  He came out of his reverie when Rosie’s hand slid on to his thigh. He flicked it aside. “You’re disgustingly amoral, Rosie. I’ll be glad when you’re wed.”

  “You won’t forget you promised to help me win Rafe?”

  He sighed. “We’ll use your plan at the ball. I’ll pass a note for him to meet you
in the garden pavilion.” He shrugged. “I doubt if Rafe will fall for such a trick. He’s not stupid.”

  Rosabelle’s eyes hardened. “If he doesn’t come, I’ll tell father exactly what has passed between us.”

  “And exactly what is that?” You teased me and went to far, and I kissed you on the mouth. Nothing has passed between us since, just the normal expression of affection of one sibling for another.” His fingers closed tightly about her wrist. “Think on, you’ve got much more to lose than I. You’d be sent to a convent for the rest of your life.”

  “Sometimes I hate you,” she whispered, jerking her wrist free.

  “It was you who pursued me,” he reminded her, ashamed of encouraging such familiarity from his sister. You like to tease, Rosie. It’s part of your nature, and one day it will get you into trouble if you’re not careful.

  He set his horse in motion, heading towards the forest deep in thought. His agreement with George to help consolidate his claim on Rosabelle would provide him with the means to establish himself in America, once the betrothal was announced. Rosabelle’s plan to trap Rafe could easily be turned against her.

  He began to whistle as his strong, independent streak surfaced. He intended to establish the biggest horse stud in America, and become rich in the process. He’d been toying with the idea for some time. Now his mind was made up nothing was going to stand in the way, not even Rosabelle.

  William was quite happy with his lot, even though he wasn’t a comfortable match with his father. He had Ellen to warm his bed. William grinned. He might even offer the girl’s services to a real connoisseur for a price. George Northbridge had an unerring nose for a good whore. Why else had he offered for Rosabelle?

  * * * *

  James brought Celine to Wrey House two days before the ball was due to take place. There was a great deal of excitement in the air as they entered the hall. The house had undergone a thorough cleaning and was redolent of polish and lavender soap. Maids bustled about with arms full of linen to furnish the guest chambers, and gardeners were moving large tubs containing plants into the house.