Broken Angel

by Nona Mae King

  Rachel softly chuckled. Robert laughed and gave his friend a shove.

  ~~~

  Robert steadied Rachel’s descent from the carriage and then bid Damon good-bye. Once the carriage had disappeared from sight, Robert and Rachel both turned to view the large plantation-style home and all the possible challenges that lurked within. Robert released a deep breath, which drew Rachel’s focus.

  “Secrets have been confessed and accepted, Robert,” she told him. “There’s no reason for your stand against him, thereby negating the reason for dread.”

  Robert absently nodded. “Yes. I know.”

  “Then why the hesitation?”

  “Though this particular demand has been accepted, I know other futures might not.”

  “Other futures? Such as what?”

  Robert focused on Rachel’s dark expression of intrigue. “Such as your own.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m still determined to give you the freedoms you deserve, Rachel. That decision includes allowing you the option of following a different professional course than the one you tread now.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  Robert slightly smiled. “Your future is yours, Angel, and should that mean handing the position of Chairman to another soul - perhaps even one trained at your hand - that is what I will stand behind. The only one who should control your future is you and the God whom loves you.” He touched her softly beneath the chin. “Seek out your own passion, Ange. I will follow.”

  Jade grew to emerald as she watched him, the expression of surprise softening to such calm that her loveliness nearly took his breath away.

  Robert caressed her cheek with a single finger. “Pitié, Ange. Pitié,” he said, voice low.

  “S’il-vous-plaît, monsieur.”

  Quietly chuckling, and very aware of the passing carriages and pedestrians that curiously regarded the pair, Robert breathed the whisper of a kiss on each closed eye before touching her lips with his and drawing away. Lips parted and breath smelling of honey, it was all Robert could do to prevent himself from drawing her close yet again. “Mon Dieu, ma chéri,” he whispered gruffly.

  Rachel softly laughed, opening her emerald eyes as she straightened away from him. Those passers-by who had clearly spied the couple’s taboo display of public affection were pleasantly ignored as Rachel gathered his arm and drew him up the two flights of steps toward the front entry.

  “This playful aspect of Miss Rachel Byron Samson is liable to have me exiled from future visits, Dearest One,” he warned, fully enjoying this side of her persona.

  She laughed again. “Nonsense. We’re engaged, such being the truth for… twenty-three years? I’m allowed a public display once at least to make atonement for lost years.”

  “Have mercy on my control, though,” he pressed while intercepting her… vivacious? smile. “I might have been raised a gentleman, but even they have limits to their power.”

  “I will keep that in mind upon our next tete-a-tete,” she acknowledged, expression dutiful and chastised the same as her emerald eyes laughed at him.

  His own smile widened. She’s fun! “That’s all I require.”

  Then the pair was greeted by the middle-aged butler, tall and rather nondescript in appearance, and escorted down the hall toward a study/office on the right, up a flight of stairs. Robert felt so overwhelmed by Rachel’s sudden playful mood and expression that he only vaguely heard and responded to his father’s simple greeting of “Robert.” before being ‘called to attention’ by Rachel’s soft pressure on his arm as she curtseyed to Mr. Trent.

  Rob! Robert cleared his throat and focused on his father.

  Bernard Leonard Trent stood as tall as Robert himself, muscular in build still at the age of 60 due mostly to his love for horses and riding. Many of the widow ladies Robert had met had classified his father as ‘handsome’ and ‘dramatic’ in looks with a firm jaw, dark brown hair, and sparkling eyes of hazel that cut to the heart of a person’s character. His tone, deep bass, had a tendency of overwhelming a person’s senses if they were at all timid in nature.

  Seeing the determination in his father’s eyes now, as well as in the set of his jaw, had Robert praying, All right, Lord. How would You have me handle this? “Good afternoon, Father,” Robert intoned, dutifully remorseful. “I apologize for not arriving before. Damon, Rachel, and I stopped for breakfast. Then we visited over coffee with an old school chum of Damon’s.”

  “That’s fine,” Mr. Trent said, crossing his arms. “I knew better than to expect you immediately after your arrival, and the matter wasn’t pressing enough to warrant sacrificing breakfast.”

  Robert’s lips twitched, but he fought it back. Especially at the still-determined expression on his father’s face.

  Finally, Mr. Trent released a quick breath and said “Robert…”

  “I know, Father.”

  “Do you?” Mr. Trent adjusted his crossed arms. “Contracts and arrangements aren’t to be taken likely, son. Yet you ushered aside the responsibility of fulfilling this particular contract as it has been laid out since you were but a boy.”

  “I understand about contracts and arrangements, Father. That’s the very reason I couldn’t go through with it.”

  “That is what I don’t understand, Robert,” Mr. Trent pressed. “You explained in your letter that you did not intend to follow-through with the contracted betrothal. Instead, you intended to court and allow--” Mr. Trent focused on Rachel, slightly clenching his jaw before giving a very small bow and saying “I apologize, Miss Samson, but I’m liable to talk of you in the third person during this conversation. Please don’t take offense.”

  Rachel inclined her head, hand still resting calmly within the nook of Robert’s arm.

  “I thank you.” Mr. Trent looked again to Robert. “What difference did the short-lived courtship and exchanging of favors make to the end result? This same time and effort could have been done during the preparations for the wedding while saving Hank and myself a lot of grief and worry.”

  “Father, this ‘grief and worry’ could have been saved altogether if Rachel had been made aware of the contract from the first. Instead, she was kept unaware and separate. Not even allowed to exchange letters with me so that we could invite a friendship that would make the betrothal and future marriage easier to acclimate to. From the first I haven’t understood the decision, and it has always troubled my calm in the… agreement to the betrothal.”

  “Granted, I myself didn’t understand why Hank pressed that point, but it doesn’t matter. The betrothal was accepted and you should--”

  “I should have done my best in fulfilling the contract. Yes. I know. But a contract of marriage is more important than a contract of business, Father. I couldn’t allow it to be treated as nothing more than a transference of property or responsibility. Every human being, male or female, should be offered respect and honor enough to make their own decision regarding their future. There are certain obligations due to family position, et cetera. Yes. But marriage? That is a lifelong commitment that I refused to minimize.”

  “We didn’t expect you to minimize it, son, only to follow-through and do your best in the situation presented.”

  “This was my best, Father. I couldn’t rationalize myself out of the position of offering her the choice. She deserved that much trust and… assurance in her abilities. If she couldn’t be trusted with that, why trust her with any decision at all, save that of which color of dress to wear in the evening?”

  Rachel quickly lifted her fan to hide the smirk.

  “Don’t be flippant, Robert,” Mr. Trent warned.

  “I apologize, Father. I don’t intend disrespect. I simply don’t understand what was so horrible in wanting this opportunity to encourage a friendship and attraction rather than forcing a union. Our marriage isn’t a business merger; it’s two people agreeing to spend the rest of their lives together. I want it to be as painless as possible for her. Is that so wrong?”


  Mr. Trent rested a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Hank and I have things planned for your best interests, son.”

  “I understand that, as well. Yet it was unfair of you to manipulate the situation as you have. You trust us with the business and the family name, but only so far? How is that an example to others?”

  Mr. Trent sighed deeply. “Robert, you don’t know the entire story, so it’s impossible for you to see the big picture. I wish I could ask you to trust me.”

  “And I wish I could make you trust me,” Robert countered, stretching his hand out toward him. “I bypassed pacifiers for pipes long ago, Father, yet you don’t seem to notice. Why is it so hard for you to entrust me to your training and my intelligence?”

  “My experiences make it difficult for me to do so, son. You haven’t lived my life, so I don’t expect you to understand it.”

  “Father, I’m trying to understand. You’ve but to talk to me of your experience,” Robert pressed, feeling a gentle increase in the touch of Rachel’s hand on his arm.

  “I know,” Mr. Trent said, nodding as he lowered his gaze. Then he again focused on Robert to give him a squeeze of the shoulder and a small smile. “I’ve been proud of you thus far, son, though I don’t suppose you will believe me. I’ve always respected your determination. Hence the reason I didn’t understand your sudden rebellion against our carefully laid plans. You had set yourself to follow them years ago; at least, that’s what I had thought.”

  Robert nodded, his father’s vocal acceptance and encouragement catching him unawares. “I had, Father, until I met Rachel on the train to Boston.”

  Mr. Trent’s eyebrow twitched as he lowered his hand from Robert’s shoulder. Then he motioned to the chairs across from his desk. “I have a feeling this is to be a long story.”

  This time Robert allowed the smirk, which softened to a smile when Rachel’s gentle pressure of fingers on arm increased. “Not too long, Father. I’ll pick and choose the information given.”

  Mr. Trent sounded a soft grunt as he sat within his desk chair and watched the two approach. “I don’t doubt that it would be better for you to do just that. I know how much of your mother’s romantic heart you’ve taken upon yourself.” He shook his head, but Robert could see the slight smirk. “Business, law, and romance. What a trio.”

  Robert chuckled as he lowered himself into the leather chair to Rachel’s left once he had escorted her to her own. “I apologize that I’m so different than what you intended, Father.”

  “Nonsense. I suppose it’s been more fun. Gads, I wouldn’t want you to be one of those boring blockheads I have working for me at the office now.”

  Rachel deftly hid a smirk behind her raised fan.

  “Now. To this meeting on the train…?”

  “Ah. Yes. Quite.” Robert cleared his throat, altering his position in the chair and tapping his finger on the chair arm before continuing. “I took a later train than what I had intended, due mostly to Damon strong-arming me into attending a party--”

  “Robert. Relevant details, please,” Mr. Trent prompted.

  Robert smirked. “Relevant. Dear me. You take all my fun.”

  “Robert…” Rachel cast a whispered side-long scold muffled by her fan.

  Robert’s lips twitched. “All right. The meeting on the train was purely accidental, Father. I didn’t plot nor plan it. Should I have had an image of her while growing, I would have recognized her and excused myself.”

  “This is where confusion and irritation comes, son,” Mr. Trent interjected. “You knew of your betrothal and yet you stopped to… converse with an unescorted lady. It simply isn’t done, Robert. Even you know this.”

  “I do, Father, but I couldn’t withstand the urging I felt on my heart. Twice I tried to turn ‘round and leave the coach, and twice I turned back and took another step. The final turn leading me entirely up to her and doing my best to usher myself into her good graces. I don’t understand why, except for the fact that a decision to talk to Mr. Samson about the betrothal had been even more to the forefront of my mind that week, but…” Robert gave a slight shrug. “I didn’t intend any harm.”

  Mr. Trent regarded his son a moment before motioning with his hand. “Go on.”

  Robert sent Rachel a sidelong glance, which paused on her face as she met it. “My time with that young woman was thoroughly enjoyable, Father.” He forced himself to focus again on his father, noting his reaction to the exchanged glance between himself and Rachel. “The choice to pursue a friendship with her was a breath of fresh air outside what had come to be seen as a suffocating box. I’m afraid I became a little drunk with the freedom and spent the entire day, evening, and next morning with her. Discussing business, cultures, news, politics… Everything that I had been trained to discuss with a betrothed I hadn’t ever met. Then, when she introduced herself as ‘Rachel Samson’…”

  “You realized just how much of an ass you’d made of yourself?” Mr. Trent sent Rachel a glance. “I apologize, Miss Samson.”

  Rachel smirked. “No need, sir.”

  Mr. Trent focused again on Robert. “Go on.”

  Robert unobtrusively nudged Rachel’s arm with his elbow. Her fan didn’t halt its almost hypnotic rhythm as she regarded Mr. Trent and himself in turn.

  “Being introduced to her in such a way reaffirmed my belief that the betrothal would do more harm than good. I had to act, and the only action I could conceive was refusing the betrothal and offering to court her instead. As I’ve said before, she deserved the choice. The freedom. The opportunity to be wooed for her person and not for her fortune. Who better to give her that opportunity than the man who had her freedom within his grasp? I only wanted to do my best to… encourage trust. She had already suffered the loss of so many freedoms; I didn’t want to be responsible for allowing yet another to be robbed from her.”

  “I see,” Mr. Trent said, tone thoughtful as he regarded his son. Then he motioned toward first Robert and then Rachel. “So you never intended to fully distance yourself from the match? Only allow her the opportunity to make the decision herself?”

  “Of course, Father.”

  “Should that decision have rested other than in acceptance… What then?”

  “I would have allowed that decision,” Robert admitted carefully. “She deserved it.” Rachel cast him a sidelong glance. “She still does.”

  “I see.” Mr. Trent sat back in his chair, crossing his arms as he first regarded his son and then his son’s fiancée. When he fully focused on Rachel, Robert felt a hint of dread. “What are your thoughts on the betrothal, Miss Samson?”

  “My thoughts, Mr. Trent?” she repeated calmly. “The contract had been made without my knowledge, my father not once seeking to inform me of the future. When I attempted to refuse this contract, he threatened to write me out of my rightful inheritance. What thoughts could I have but those of betrayal and rage?”

  Mr. Trent pursed his lips to one side as he continued to study her, Robert praying for Rachel’s continued calm.

  “Betrayal because…?” his father pressed.

  Grip slightly tightening on her fan as she lowered it, her outward expression continued to show carefully controlled calm. “Betrayal because I was not entrusted with this end. I was not made to understand a secondary requirement on my person, which has consequently caused me to be unprepared for your son’s attentions and the direct result expected: marriage.”

  Mr. Trent thoughtfully nodded. “And rage because, though you did your best to succeed, Hank cut you off at the knees when you returned.”

  Rachel only minutely lifted her chin, hands now white-knuckled upon the fan.

  He nodded again. “I told the fool…” Mr. Trent released a quick breath as he leaned forward, resting his arms upon the desk top. He looked to his son. “When did you tell her?”

  “Last night.”

  Mr. Trent absently inclined his head as he focused a surprisingly understanding gaze on Rachel. “You’ve ta
ken it better than he thought you would, I imagine. Good for you. He can be an arrogant yob, my boy can.”

  Robert blinked and then laughed, feeling Rachel’s surprised glance focused first on him and then his father. “I’m sorry, Father. God Almighty is still attempting to curb that side of myself.” He sent Rachel a boyish smile. “She’s done quite the duty herself upon several occasions, you’ll be happy to know.”

  Mr. Trent chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. She reminds me of Hank more than Marie. Though you’re the essence of Marie’s loveliness and sophistication, I grant you that.”

  Rachel’s cheeks flushed, and she deftly hid it with a motion of her fan. “Thank you, sir.”

  Curtly nodding, Mr. Trent leaned back in his chair. “Have you asked your father for details as to why he handled the betrothal the way he has?”

  Eyes sparking with irritation, the fan ceased its motion and was closed, lowering to her lap to be firmly gripped in her other hand. “Father did not want to risk I would marry one not capable of protecting our legacy.”

  Mr. Trent pressed his lips together. “Good heavens, Hank…” he muttered. Then he immediately motioned to Rachel. “I suppose there’s a bit of truth in that, fathers have a tendency of being over-protective of only daughters, but there was a secondary reason. Do you wish to know? Or do you wish to continue on as you have, wondering and immediately assuming it is because he doesn’t believe in you or your training?”

  Robert shot his father a frown before looking to Rachel and reaching out to cover her trembling hands with his. She didn’t focus on him. She only tightly clenched the fan and calmly said “I would like to know,” in a tone that sounded smooth and even.

  Mr. Trent gave a brief nod, examining both his friend’s daughter and his son before focusing dark hazel eyes on Rachel and informing, “Your father is dying.”

  Sixteen

  The Pot & The Kettle

  Henry Samson accepted the coachman's help from the carriage. He hesitated at the base of the steps of the imposing brick structure, frowning at the massive double doors of walnut. The sun glinted off the brass nameplate with a painful flash. With a grumble he scaled each step, struggling to quiet his labored breathing at the crest. A hand rubbed at his chest, his features twisting though he fought against any outward display.