Angelica managed a wan smile, her feelings warring between hope of reconciliation between her father and the earl, and sickly guilt for her potential role in dashing those hopes when she ran away.
They alighted from the carriage and the butler escorted them to the drawing room. Angelica beheld the grandfather she only saw once a year. Was she mistaken, or were his blue eyes icier, his posture even more ramrod straight, his silver hair more impeccable, and were his weathered features harder and more unyielding? She felt a twinge of pity for her mother. It was hard to imagine her as a little girl, growing up under the stern eye of this cold, implacable widower.
“Margaret,” he said, his voice stern and gravelly. “You are looking well.”
Angelica’s mother dropped into a curtsy more suited to the throne room than a country manor. “Thank you, Father. I trust that you are in good health?”
He grunted in what seemed to be assent then turned to Angelica, the ice melting from his eyes and the ghost of a smile hovering on his thin lips. “Ah, here is my lovely granddaughter. I hear your beauty has taken London by storm. I cannot say I am surprised. You are the very image of your sainted grandmother.”
“Thank you, Grandfather,” she murmured and curtsied, hiding her ire that he refused to acknowledge that she looked like her father.
This time his smile was unmistakable, and his blue eyes twinkled down at her. “I have also heard that you are to be the Duchess of Burnrath. I am proud of you, my dear. You bring honor to the Pendlebur name. Come, give your grandfather a kiss, and we shall have tea and refreshments once you’ve changed out of your traveling costumes.”
Her knees shook as she pressed her lips to his parchment cheek. She had never seen the strict Earl of Pendlebur in such good spirits before and found it to be almost unnerving.
As they dined, Angelica wanted to squirm in discomfort as her grandfather regaled them with details of the Duke of Burnrath’s lavish estates and vast wealth. “They say he is as rich as Croesus. Everyone expected him to wed outside the country as all the previous dukes of Burnrath have. How ever did you nab him, my dear?”
“I-I do not really know, Grandfather,” she murmured weakly.
“What a pleasing display of modesty, Angelica,” her mother said with a tight smile. She then gave a vastly edited account of the past few weeks’ events.
The earl laughed and pounded his cane on the floor. “Whoever would have thought that the Duke of Burnrath would have such a weakness for a damsel in distress? Good show, my dear! Good show!”
Angelica wished she could sink through the floor as she watched her mother and grandfather speaking more companionably than they had in years. For the first time, she could see the girl Margaret used to be, rather than the strict, yet fearful woman who had raised her.
“May I choose one of your horses and take a short ride, Father?” her mother asked after tea. Horses were one of Margaret’s passions… yet another difference that widened the chasm between her and Angelica.
“Of course, my dear. I just purchased the most beautiful sorrel mare that I am sure will take your fancy. You may name her, if you wish.” He cleared his throat. “And while you are gone, Angelica and I can have a pleasant little chat about her new beau.”
Her mother and grandfather exchanged a conspiratorial glance before Margaret departed for the stables. The back of Angelica’s neck prickled with suspicion. They had planned something. She had no idea how this could be, but somehow they had planned something.
The earl turned to her. “I will wait for you in the library.” He bowed and walked away with brisk strides before she could reply.
Angelica wondered what the earl wanted to “chat” about. She could think of nothing except that perhaps he would lecture her about getting thrown out of Almack’s. Oh well, she thought. I may as well endure this ordeal now. She straightened her shoulders and went to the library, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Her grandfather was seated in a plush burgundy wingback chair by the fireplace, with another chair set companionably near his.
“Come in, my dearest,” he said cheerfully, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It has been so long since we visited, but that is soon to change.”
“Whatever do you mean, Grandfather?” she said, looking at the gorgeous array of books adorning the shelves, which, at any other time, she would be perusing with the excitement of a child in a sweet shop on Bond Street.
He followed her gaze. “I am leaving you my entire collection, you know.”