Broken Angel

by Nona Mae King

  Maggie met Rachel’s gaze with a mischievous expression. “Fine, so I stretched the truth a bit, but not much more than a baker’s dozen have I met the gentleman, Rach. There isn’t much to confess that he won’t tell you himself if you ask, and I’m more than a little certain he’d rather you ask than have me confess it.”

  Rachel smirked. “Yes, I do believe you are right.” There sounded a knock. “Enter.”

  “Excuse me, Miss,” Oliver said as he entered. “The carriage is waiting.”

  “Ah. Thank you, Oliver. I shall be there presently.”

  “Carriage?” Maggie prompted. “Where you be off to?”

  “I’ve dedicated myself to discovering why a second attempt at coffee hasn’t been made,” Rachel informed as she gathered her gloves from her vanity.

  Maggie chuckled. “Don’t be too hard on him. As I said, he’s a nice man.”

  Smirking, Rachel made her way from the room and down the stairs to the front hall. She accepted help into her coat and hat from Oliver, wondering to herself why she felt the need to seek the gentleman out. Unable to answer, Rachel could only arch an eyebrow at herself as she made her way outside and then accepted the coachman’s help into the carriage. However, once the carriage had progressed barely a half-mile from the front gates of the Samson estate, Rachel snapped her fan closed and ordered the driver to stop the carriage.

  “Yes, Miss,” came the muffled reply, and the carriage immediately rumbled to a halt.

  Yet the thought of returning to the house to share coffee with no one save a grousing father didn’t appeal. I’m not so desperate for the gentleman’s company that I must venture out for it, am I? Rachel exhaled an exasperated sigh and whipped open her fan only to immediately close it again. “Blast,” she muttered under her breath. Louder she ordered, “Help me out,” as she reached out to open the door.

  The driver scrambled down from the carriage and did as commanded, carefully steadying her step as she alighted. Gauging the area, Rachel recognized her surroundings as being just past Boston Commons and gave the driver a dismissive nod before stepping forward down the sidewalk. The driver was left to blink and stare after her for several moments before Rachel heard the tell-tale sign of slow-moving horse hooves and the slight jingle of bit and bridle as the driver urged the horses to follow.

  A smirk caressed the corners of her lips, but at the deeper thought and impression of the action the smile disappeared. Her father trained all his staff well; to do what was expected as well as what wasn’t. To interpret the situation and react appropriately. To always follow orders and never question. Rachel’s grip tightened on her fan. I am not an employee to be used as you see fit, Father. I’ve my own mind and wishes, and I’ll be my own woman! She had been trained well, her childhood the sacrifice, so how could she not follow her new instincts?

  Rachel’s frown darkened, but when the sharp sound of horse hooves approached fast behind she turned to see a lathered dapple-gray gelding mounted by the familiar physique of “Robert!”

  Robert pulled up on the horse’s bit and bridle, setting the horse practically back on its haunches while giving it barely enough time to adjust itself. Then he looked down to her, his brown eyes dark and lips pressed into a thin line. The action and the attitude teased Rachel’s eyebrow into its usual curve.

  “Miss Samson,” he greeted in a tight voice, his frown moving to focus ahead of him. “I’m not in the best of moods.”

  At the formal title, Rachel’s intrigue soared. “I see.”

  Clenching his jaw, Robert simply adjusted his grip on the reins.

  Still no eye contact. No embellishments on his greeting. No well-wishings or smiles. How odd. Rachel regarded him a moment more before inquiring. “Robert.”

  His jaw muscle twitched. “Yes?”

  “My apologies for missing your visit yesterday morning,” she began, gauging his reactions to see if that could be the reason for his attitude. When his frown darkened and his hold tightened on the reins, Rachel was hard-pressed to think that it wasn’t. Such a change in demeanor at my non-availability is absurd! “I did not realize the visit with my friend would take as long as it did. If you had but waited–”

  Robert’s hard frown focused on her, the obvious spark of temper within their depths heightened by a secondary expression she couldn’t read. “Miss Samson,” he barked, “I told you my mood is foul. I haven’t time nor tolerance for your excuses.” And with that he prodded the horse quickly away.

  Both of Rachel’s eyebrows rose as she watched the horse speed away down the busy thoroughfare. The only other time she had seen him lose his temper in such a way had been with her father. Though she had pushed and prodded and goaded him on the train, always had he shown patience and a quirk of lip that had hinted at a deeply-seeded air of mischief. How interesting. But…why?

  Rachel didn’t have time enough to answer, however, for her mind immediately focused on the fact that he again pulled the horse to a sudden and complete stop. In fact, horse and rider didn’t move for several moments. When he finally turned the beast and headed again to her location, she delicately crossed her arms to watch his approach.

  This time he stiffly dismounted. “I apologize,” he said through clenched teeth as he glared at the ground. “That was uncalled for.”

  She regarded him for a long moment, doing her best to categorize the hardness to his expression and the darkness to his eyes before responding. “Accepted.” She continued to scrutinize his expression as his glower remained focused on the ground at their feet, one hand firmly gripping the reins of his lathered dapple-gray gelding while the other tightly held his riding crop. “Robe–”

  “You don’t want to know,” he interrupted in a black tone.

  “You’re in a mood as dark as death and you believe that?”

  This time he met her gaze, his handsome face still a stony mask. “Do not ask.”

  One finger absently tapped upon her upper arm as she regarded him. “Why?”

  “Rachel,” he warned, his jaw once again beginning its rhythmic pulsing.

  “If your mood has nothing to do with my person, then I accept the request and will no longer inquire. If not….” Rachel gave a delicate shrug, not looking away from his dangerously black-brown eyes. “I believe I deserve to know.”

  Robert fisted his hands so tightly the knuckles popped. “Not now,” he warned again.

  Rachel released a quick breath, her irritation sparking into existence. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t wish to lose my temper and ask questions that are none of my business,” Robert pressed, each word enunciated and spoken with extreme calm, “thereby putting you into a rage and making each one of us angry at the other. This is my issue and I will deal with it, only do not ask!”

  Rachel opened her mouth to vocalize another press; however, the expression in his eyes and the way he fisted his hands halted the words and had her inclining her head. “Very well.”

  “Thank you,” he responded, and his tone was as tight as before. Then he looked away and tapped his riding crop against his thigh.

  She couldn’t help but watch him, categorizing his expressions while being amazed at how… real they were when in comparison to the practiced responses and manipulations of those other men of her acquaintance.

  “How was your visit with your friend?” he finally asked, his tone firmly controlled though his jaw muscle twitched and jumped.

  Guilt reared and Rachel looked away. “Enjoyable.” Out of the corner of her eye she noted a cringe. “I have invited him for dinner at a later date if you would care to attend.”

  “No,” he denied almost too curtly to be polite. “Thank you.”

  That denial drew her entire focus. Still, only the firmly controlled calm that shouted irritation and… something more. “I see.” Rachel tapped another rhythm upon her upper arms, gauging him as he frowned at the carriage that still waited for her presence. Finally, Rachel released an exasperated breath and lowered her
arms to her sides. “I do not understand this attitude of such extreme irritation, Robert. There was no standing appointment between us–”

  “ ‘Appointment’,” Robert repeated harshly as he faced her. “ ‘Appointment’?” The secondary repeat sounded suspiciously close to a hiss.

  She momentarily clenched her jaw before correcting, “Engagement.”

  Robert held her gaze, fists clenching and unclenching as his breathing whistled in her ears. “Miss Samson,” he began, his voice overly calm, “you offered me your favor and accepted my intention to court. If you have other plans for your favor, inform me now so that I might give it back again.”

  “ ‘Other pla–’ ” Rachel blinked. “What on earth do you mean by ‘other plans’?” She motioned toward him. “I have accepted your offer. There are no other plans.”

  “And what of your childhood sweetheart?”

  Confusion darkened her eyes and lowered her brows to a frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”

  Robert scoffed, which raised Rachel’s eyebrow yet again but didn’t inflate her temper, much to her surprise. “My meaning is that I am under the impression you might prefer to have your ‘friend’ as your beau rather than myself. Heaven knows I would not wish to come between you and a previous romantic entanglement.”

  Rachel regarded his black expression while attempting to reason how he could have discovered the truth of her past with Todd and why it would make any differe– “La--you were jealous?” And it horrified her that the thought brought a bit of warmth within.

  Robert scoffed again and looked away, but he didn’t vocalize a denial.

  “Do you truly believe I would pursue another’s affections after encouraging your courtship?” While Rachel couldn’t hide the irritation and annoyance, neither could she restrain the smattering of guilt. She had known very well that her action in visiting Todd could have been construed as a pursuit.

  The tapping of the crop against his leg began again, paused, and then restarted.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, briefly looking away. When she faced him once more, his eyes were momentarily there to meet hers. “Come to a future dinner with him and you will see the true showing of my affection for him. Todd Richards is a close friend, yes, but more a link to a past I had stolen from me, if you will. Nothing more. Nothing less.” And that confession surprised her more than she cared to admit.

  Then she reluctantly smirked, ignoring the shifting of the numbness within. “While I appreciate the jealousy and what it signifies for my supposed desirability,” the seriousness returned and she pointed toward him with her closed fan, “I do not appreciate how this jealousy implies a lack of trust on the… resolve of my decision. If you are indeed sincere in your offer to court in order to present me a supposed ‘less painful option’, then you will kindly give me the courtesy of trusting the sincerity in my acceptance.”

  To Rachel’s surprise, the darkness within his gaze and the hardness of his face melted to reveal the boyish smirk and smile she remembered. Then he chuckled and very slightly shook his head. “You’re right, Rachel, and I apologize. I suppose I’ve a bit too much ego to spare.”

  She arched an eyebrow while voicing a simple, “Hm,” and slowly crossing her arms.

  His smirk twitched. “Thank you for calling me to the carpet so… eloquently. God has been attempting to teach me the same lesson for years. Unfortunately, I don’t listen very well at all.”

  Rachel fought the smile and only allowed her arched eyebrow to twitch.

  He laughed this time and reached out to gently touch her arm. “So… coffee? We aren’t too far from where I’m staying, as you likely know.”

  The same reluctance rose within, even making her politely withdraw her arm from his touch. “Yes, of course,” she forced. She didn’t understand the emotion, especially considering her appreciation of his company so far. In fact, even Robert looked as if he would ask a question, but then he only smiled before moving to offer the reins of his dapple to her carriage’s driver.

  Once the two moved down the walk, he settled into step beside her. “Mr. Richards seems a… pleasant sort.”

  Rachel looked over at him in mild surprise. “Have you met him? I found myself wondering how you could have been presented with enough information to feed your jealousy.”

  Robert cleared his throat. “I’ve met him once, by accident, while I groused that you had other friends besides myself.”

  “Certainly you have friends other than my person,” Rachel countered.

  “Yes, but I’m a man and you’re a woman. You aren’t allowed any other companions save the one courting you.”

  If it hadn’t been for the fact that his tone was clearly sarcastic and his brown eyes so glittered with mischief as to be unmistakable, Rachel would have likely done her best to cut him to the quick, likely slapping him in the process. Instead, she smirked. “I see.”

  “You don’t particularly care for following the simplest of rules, do you?” he continued, eyes still laughing at her.

  “No.” She focused ahead and delicately opened her fan to gently stir the air by her face.

  “How….”

  Rachel cast him a sidelong glance.

  “…modern of you.”

  A slight lift of her fan hid her smile.

  “Definitely one of your most beguiling features,” he complimented, his voice low as his elbow and arm slightly brushed and nudged hers. “One that, I imagine, is so often unappreciated.”

  The smile melted to a frown as her action of fan quickened slightly. “In a society led by close-minded men afraid of women who can wield power and authority with as much tenacity and skill as they?” She scoffed. “More likely ignored or branded forward than appreciated.”

  Robert regarded her profile and then voiced a cautious, “On behalf of my close-minded gender, I apologize.”

  She scoffed again, but only to hide the smirk. His actions and respect toward her had already been considered an apology, of sorts, for the statements and views she had witnessed and endured to that point in her life experience.

  “I know,” he acknowledged. “It isn’t nearly enough.”

  “Good night,” she protested, sending him a frown. “I’m not so lily-soft and delicate that I need an apology for what I’ve already come to accept as the popular view.”

  The boyish mischief returned to his expression. “Of course not, but it’s– Well, never mind.”

  She arched an eyebrow, and he chuckled as he looked away. “An instinct tells me you say it to see the reaction.”

  “I?” he asked, his voice shocked and eyes wide as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Say something simply for a reaction? How… predictable.”

  Rachel allowed the smirk this time. “Hm.”

  Robert laughed and then offered her his arm, which she accepted. “Be careful, my dear. You interpret and predict my reactions too soon and you’re likely to grow tired of my company before you grow fond of it.”

  “Doubtful, as you and Todd are the only men of my acquaintance who don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “Yes, well, why would I insult that which I find the most entrancing?”

  She examined his profile as they walked, the admittance causing another shift within. Yes, she had been told she was entrancing and beautiful and desirable, but her hidden persona being titled as such? No. That hadn’t ever been the subject of conversation with men. They had always spouted poems and partial sonnets of her hair and eyes and lips. Robert Trent complimented her on those aspects that had never been appreciated, save by Todd and Maggie, and each time he did so she could feel an inner balance being… toppled.

  Rachel shifted her scrutiny to the sidewalk, but this was drawn back again when Robert covered her hand upon his arm. She moved her focus to the action with an arched eyebrow, doing her best, and failing, to categorize her response to the outward showing of… affection? When she lifted her eyes to an examination of his face,
he still focused ahead and his expression appeared to be simple enjoyment.

  “I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to forgo coffee and share luncheon with me?” he inquired. He glanced toward her, smiling. “I have it on good authority that the weather is to be clear and that the view from the restaurant at my hotel is… divine.”

  “Father had an appointment, so he likely threatened the heavens with harm had it been different,” she informed coolly.

  Robert chuckled. “While I don’t believe your father has that much authority, I do appreciate the fact the good Lord listened to his suggestion. It has been quite a while since I had a stay from my studies, and these past few days have been very enjoyable to say the least.”

  Rachel examined his profile, holding his gaze when he met her scrutiny. “Studies? But certainly you’ve finished schooling as I have.”

  “Unfortunately, the study of life in business never ends. So, relentless task-master that my father is, I am always involved in the study of it.”

  “The study of life in business?” Rachel repeated, eyebrow arching upward. “That sounds intriguing.” Then she halted and faced him, motioning toward him with her closed fan. “Give an example, pray.”

  Holding her gaze with that same slight smile of expression, Robert rubbed lightly at his chin. “Of course. Let me think–Ah. Rightly so.” Then he presented his hand as in greeting or introduction. “While this is the simplest of instances, I believe it will admirably serve… Rachel?”

  Rachel, who had simply stared at his presented hand while studying its position, finally looked up to meet his mildly amused expression. “You have presented the hand as if I were a man,” she observed.

  He nodded. “I understand, but it goes to prove a point.” Lowering her focus yet again to his presented hand, she regarded the possibilities of point and necessity before clasping it. Robert smiled. “You have a firm clasp, Rachel. Good for you. Determined and yet not so tenacious as to feel threatening. Only assured. Now, what of mine?”