Burke coughed, practically cringing in discomfort. “I am afraid that Her Grace is entertaining guests in that location.”
As if on cue, Angelica’s musical laughter trilled from the direction of the library. Ian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. She used to laugh like that for him. “Very well, I’ll read them in the blue salon, then.”
On his way to the salon, maids and footmen alike paled and darted from his path as if he were a dragon set on terrorizing a village. This bothered him only slightly less than the subtle glares of accusation the servants cast his way when they thought he wasn’t looking. As if he were the one who was in the wrong! Two of the upstairs maids had quit after he and Angelica had their terrible row. He was surprised that his wife had found time to hire replacements but couldn’t answer her mail.
Burke brought a decanter of brandy with an enormous stack of correspondence. Ian frowned at the pile. Likely she ran up a mountain of bills for dresses and frippery in a girlish pique. If she thinks that trying to spend all of my money will get a rise out of me, she is in for a long wait.
“Thank you, Burke,” Ian said, despising the way the butler’s hands shook as he poured a glass from the decanter. “You have been invaluable to me.”
Ian tossed back a swig of brandy, reveling in the heat blooming in his belly. He wished that he could enjoy more than a few swallows without becoming ill. Then, at least, he could numb the pain his bride had caused. He retrieved the first envelope from the stack and broke the wax seal with his thumbnail. The correspondence was an invitation to a ball held more than three weeks ago. The next envelope also contained an invitation, as did the next, and the next after that.
Ian’s brow creased. He knew she was spending a lot of time at home, but he had no idea that she was leaving important invitations unanswered, an act which would surely offend many of the ton’s most influential members. Angelica was dangerously close to committing social suicide. He took a small sip of brandy and wondered if she was unaware of the consequences of her actions, and why he should care either way.
A few of the letters were not invitations. The envelopes were shabbier, and the contents gave him pause.
Your Grace, The Duchess of Burnrath:
You have our heartfelt thanks for your miraculous donation. Because of your kindness, the children are now able to have meat every day. There was even enough money left to purchase a few toys. I am certain that there is a special place in heaven reserved just for you.
Sincerely,
Adam Westland
Overseer of St. Jude’s Orphan Asylum
The next one read:
Your Grace, The Duchess of Burnrath:
Thank you for your generous donation. The new women’s wing should be completed next spring, God willing, and we hope you will attend the opening ceremony. We have also taken into consideration your recommendation of opening a school for nursing and midwifery. I am pleased to inform you that we have found two qualified candidates to serve as instructors. We will inform you of our progress.
Regards,
James Everson
Altherbury Hospital
Ian opened the next one with a sigh. Apparently his wife had become quite the philanthropist. This wasn’t at all what he had expected, and for some reason, her actions unnerved him.
Dearest Duchess of Burnrath,
I am pleased to inform you that I have made good use of your contribution and have heeded your recommendations. I have now been able to hire two more men to assist me in the heavy task of combating crime in the city. You have my eternal gratitude.
Sincerely,
Constable Frederick Nelson
Ian set down the last letter and took another swig of brandy, wincing as his stomach protested. Angelica must have been affected deeply when those men attacked her in Soho. He cursed as guilt once again washed over him for leaving her unprotected that night, though she had taken matters into her own hands and fought off her attackers like a rampant lioness. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Now she was taking charge with her sponsorship of women, orphans, and the city’s feeble attempt at law enforcement.
As he neared the library, he heard Angelica’s voice. “If you don’t mind, Anderson, I would much prefer it if you smoked outside. I have just recently quit the habit, you see, and I would like to avoid temptation, if possible. Thank you.”
How terribly ironic, he thought bitterly. I had longed to encourage her to cease such a loathsome practice, and here she has done so on her own. Reluctant admiration surged through him, along with a tinge of regret. Perhaps she would be just fine without him.
The cheerful atmosphere of the gathering evaporated the moment he stepped into the library. The shabby, genteel company looked at him with wide eyes and whispered nervously to each other.
“Is there something you require, Your Grace?” Angelica asked with an accusing frown.