Chapter Five
Angeline found a well with water and lye soap in the kitchen. She set Agnes to cleaning the marble floors. The maid advised against using sand, as it would scratch the marble.
“I hope you are able to clean the marks,” Angeline said.
“I’ll put my elbow into it, my lady.”
Afterward, Angeline returned upstairs and saw Colin. “What are you doing?”
“I’m off to the attic to search for buried treasure,” he said.
“Well, I hope you do not meet up with any pirates.”
He arched his brows. “Ahoy, my pretty one. Would you like to walk the plank with me?”
She shook her finger. “No shirking your duties. Back to digging for you.”
He made a ridiculous courtly bow and strode away.
Angeline inspected the other bedchambers. Most were similar and varied only in the colors of the bed hangings. Fortunately, the carpets in the bedchambers were in good condition as the heavy draperies kept out the sun. They were dusty, however, and Angeline made a note to instruct Agnes to beat the rugs and the stairwell runner when she finished cleaning the marble floors.
The few paintings in the bedchambers were predominately pastoral scenes. Thus far, she’d seen no family portraits. There were no personal items in any of the rooms. Servants must have moved all of it into the attic.
At a minimum, the bedchambers needed new paint or wall hangings. The draperies kept out the sun, but they were dusty as well. She already knew the drawing room needed new shutters, carpet, and draperies. Fortunately, she’d found no evidence of water damage to the ceilings or near the windows. However, they had very little time to resolve any problems they were likely to uncover. The best she could do in such a short time was to advise him.
Angeline went downstairs to check on Agnes’s progress. The maid was on her hands and knees scrubbing.
“Are you able to remove the marks, Agnes?”
“Yes, my lady. It just takes a bit of time.”
“Alert me when the floors are dry.”
Angeline returned to the drawing room and tried to imagine how the room would appear with paper hangings and new furnishings. The red walls seemed too dark for this small drawing room. Angeline envisioned a gold interior with bright yellow cushions for the furnishings. Gold festooned draperies across the south wall would give the room a dramatic appearance.
Angeline sat on a chair and took out the notebook and pencil. She quickly sketched her ideas in the notebook. Later, she would show it to Colin. Of course, he did not own the property, but at least she could give him an idea of how the drawing room could be transformed. The current carpets must go, but the new ones would have to be purchased in London. All, however, was contingent upon Colin inheriting Sommerall, and that matter was far from resolved.
She ascended the next flight of stairs and opened the middle door. A rocking chair sat in front of the window. This must have been a nursery. In the corner, something was covered by a sheet. When she lifted it, she drew in a sharp, visceral breath.
It was a cradle.
His mother had died while giving birth to a stillborn infant.
Her heart hammered. No wonder the marquess had departed Sommerall in a hurry. The tragic reminders would have been too hard to bear.
Angeline backed away and quit the room immediately. She eased the door shut, but her heart was thumping hard as she pressed her back and hands against the door.
She didn’t want Colin to see the cradle.
Agnes walked down the corridor. “My lady, do you want me to clean these rooms?”
“Not today, Agnes. Dust the drawing room, please. The sideboard and furnishings need attention.”
After she left, Angeline released her breath. Colin would discover the nursery soon enough, but she didn’t want him to see the grim reminder on this first visit. She couldn’t imagine the heartache he’d experienced as a child. It struck her that it must have been terrifying for him.
She mustn’t let him see her guarding the door. With a deep sigh, she went to the last bedchamber and hoped she would find the miniature.
Ten minutes later, she closed the last bedchamber door and walked down the long corridor. She’d not expected to find the miniature in one of the bedchambers, but she’d not counted on her own disappointment. If he had the miniature in his possession, he would find a measure of peace, because he would be able to see his mother’s features.
Was it possible to heal a wound that had left scars after so many years? She needed to believe it was possible—or perhaps more important, he needed to believe it.
“Angeline, wait.”
She halted and turned toward him. He’d shed his coat and carried it over his shoulder. His cravat was wrinkled and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and somehow he managed to appear more devilishly handsome than any man ought.
“Did you make any progress?” she asked.
“I went through the contents of one trunk. Nothing is organized. It appears the servants stuffed whatever they found into the trunks as quickly as possible.”
The servants must have found the task distressing. “What did you find?”
“Books with crumbling and missing pages, old letters, quills, handkerchiefs, vases, and skeins of yarn all tumbled together.”
Evidently, the servants had been left to their own devices.
“It will be a tremendous chore to sort through,” he said.
If the frame for his mother’s miniature was made of gold or silver, there was a possibility of theft. She would not broach the distasteful subject to him. If it did not turn up, he would be better off believing it was simply lost.
“We should take time each day to go through the contents,” she said. “Whatever you do not wish to keep, we will give away to the servants and tenants.”
He put his hands on his hips. “This is a monumental undertaking. How am I to make any headway with the time constraints?”
“Divide and conquer?” she said.
“It’s an overwhelming task,” he said.
“We will accomplish as much as we are able. I’m confident you will manage it all very well, even after I’ve departed.”
“If this is an attempt to cheer me up, it isn’t working.”
His cynical fa?ade was no mask. He expected the worst, because he’d experienced a terrible loss at a young age.
“When did you become so optimistic?” he said.
“Since arriving here.”
He arched his brows.
She’d meant it, but he looked taken aback. “It was a joke,” she said. Truthfully, she’d become a cynic her first year out in society. She’d learned the art of studied ennui, but she’d grown truly bored with the fashion for self-proclaimed misanthropists. All during those years, she’d depended on her sarcastic wit and her father’s title as a shield. But in the end, none of it had helped. Now she no longer felt like that woman who found everything and everyone boring. It had been nothing but an invisible mask. But her pretense had failed to protect her from wounds. She did not want to remember any of it now, because it reminded her too much of her mistakes, and dwelling on the past would change nothing.
He regarded her with an unnerving expression that made her uncomfortable. She opened the notebook. “What is next on the agenda?” she said with her pencil poised.
“I need to have coal and a tinderbox delivered tomorrow so that I can check the chimneys.”
Thank goodness, she’d diverted him. “Perhaps the cook at Deerfield can spare a bit of time to look over the kitchen. I’ll speak to Margaret about it.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Once I determine for certain that the basic structure of the house is sound, I’ll see about painting.”
“You may wish to consult the architect who drew the plans and hired the workers when we made over the principle rooms at Worthington Abbey. Mr. Rotherby is highly praised for his designs and innovation.”
“I suspect his services are beyond my financial means,” Colin said.
“There’s no harm in listening to his suggestions and getting an estimate for the work. You will not be obliged.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I fear this will be a waste of time.”
Her mouth twitched.
He frowned. “What do you find so amusing?”
“Come with me,” she said, opening the door to the bedchamber that she assumed had belonged to his father years ago.
“Angeline, what are you about?”
“There is no need to worry. I’ve no intention of seducing you.”
He sighed theatrically. “What a pity.”
“You will have to look elsewhere for sympathy.” She took him over to the shaving stand. “Have a look in the glass.”
“My hair is even more of a disheveled, curly mess than usual.” He met her gaze in the mirror. “When I was a lad, I used to spit in my hands and try to wet down the curls.”
She laughed. “Eww.”
“I’m tempted now.”
“For whose benefit? I do not care if your hair is standing on end.” Liar.
He turned and clutched his hands to his heart. “Woe is me.”
She would never tell him that his unruly curls only added to his masculine appeal.
A slow smile tugged at his mouth. It was a knee-weakening, toe-curling rake’s smile meant to disarm a lady. She was, of course, impervious to him. Well, maybe not completely.
“You’re a bit disheveled, too,” he said.
“What?” She walked over to the shaving mirror.
“Got you,” he said, laughing.
She spun around. “You’re as horrid as a little boy.”
“I may be horrid, but I’m no boy.”
“You’re in luck. I find you mildly tolerable today.”
“Lucky me,” he said, beginning to close the distance between them.
She tried to ignore the husky note in his voice, but the deep sound hummed inside her. Tension hung in the air, and unbidden, she recalled the way his muscles had strained while he’d wielded that ax. She dared not let him know how he’d affected her.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
Now she couldn’t breathe, because he was too close and the scent of him swirled all around her.
“I find you charming today.”
She took a step back and lifted her chin. “It will wear off quickly.”
He took another step. There was a languorous expression in his eyes. She might have noticed the amber hues in them, but only because she was perceptive by nature. Drat it all. Why couldn’t he have a long nose, pointed chin, and no muscles at all? And why after all these years did she find him irresistible?
He advanced again. Now his boots were inches away from the toes of her slippers.
She took two more steps back and bumped against the mattress.
He closed his big hand around the bedpost and his gaze flickered briefly to her décolletage. Her breasts felt heavier, and her nipples tightened. The sound of his breath was faster and a little rough. She was drawn to his full lower lip. Something inside of her gave way to desire. She wanted to be closer to him.
As if he could read her thoughts, he closed the scant distance between them. He angled his head and looked into her eyes. “Is this surrender?”
The sensual haze cleared, and she glared at him. Outrageous man. How dare he look at her bosom? Angeline straightened her spine. “Do you think I am intimidated by you?”
“Not at all.” He wagged his brows. “Those two steps back were merely dance steps. Am I correct?”
She closed the distance between them in an effort to assert herself, but she realized the disadvantage immediately. While she was tall for a lady, he was easily half a head taller and much too close. He filled her senses and belatedly she realized she’d invited a rake into a bedchamber. Had she lost her wits?
“You are a shameless libertine.”
His chest shook with laughter. “Not entirely shameless. I’ve had one or two guilt-ridden moments, but fortunately they dissipated quickly.” His gaze slid over her body. “I suspect you’ve been told many times how very beautiful you are.”
She knew it was a rake’s trick to murmur sweet words and tempt a lady to loosen her morals, but he looked at her with intent. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and that drew his attention. She’d inadvertently signaled she wanted a kiss, but of course she would rather kiss a snake.
Tension vibrated between them. Now was the moment to step away, but she stood rooted to the spot as if her feet were mired in a bog.
He reached for her nape, just as the knocker downstairs rapped repeatedly.
She gasped, and they sprang apart.
Rake that he was, he winked and said, “Saved by the knocker.”
Her face flamed. “Nothing happened,” she said under her breath as he shut the bedchamber door.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“You did not—”
He put his finger over her lips.
She pulled his hand away. “If Agnes were to walk by, she would conclude we are having an assignation,” she said under her breath.
“I’m amenable if you are.” His eyes were full of merriment. “When shall we begin?”
“When Satan ice skates in Hades,” she muttered. Oh, God, she was so embarrassed. How could she fall under Colin’s spell of all people? They had always despised each other. Her face was still hot with mortification.
The marquess’s voice echoed in the great hall. “Where the devil are they?”
“That is your father,” Angeline said under her breath. “We must hurry.”
“Calm yourself first or they’ll know something is afoot.”
She fanned herself with her hand to cool her face. “Do not be ridiculous. Nothing happened.” But what would have happened if not for the timely interruption? Nothing, absolutely nothing would have transpired. The last thing she needed was to let another rake sully what was left of her tattered reputation.
But he was not just another rake. He was a friend of her family. That definitely put a damper on matters. Cold water would do as well, but there was none at hand.
She inhaled and exhaled on a shaky breath.
“Ready?” he said, offering his arm.
She took it. “There will not be a repeat performance.”
“Of what? Nothing happened.”
“Exactly,” she said, lifting her chin.
He led her down the stairs and spoke overly loud about the sorry state of the carpets and the need for more internal shutters. Clearly it was a performance. He was as cool as an ice at Gunthers.
“Father, Wycoff, this is a surprise,” he said. “Are you here to give us advice about our renovation efforts?”
The marquess narrowed his eyes. “We came to ensure the pair of you haven’t engaged in fisticuffs.”
Angeline released Colin’s arm and forced herself to smile. “Nothing of the kind,” she said. “We are taking the divide-and-conquer approach.”
Wycoff frowned. “What?”
Chadwick leaned toward him. “I think she means they’re working in separate rooms. It’s for the best. Less chance of blood being shed this way.”
Colin clasped his hands behind his back. “We made progress today.”
While Colin spoke to his father, Angeline approached her father with more than a little trepidation. “Did you enjoy shooting today, Papa?”
“I did, Daughter, but I am mortally humiliated. Chadwick shot a pheasant, and I bagged nothing.”
“Did you enjoy tramping about the property? You always said it was the best part.”
Her father’s eyes softened. “You remembered.”
I remember all the times we spent together, and I miss you. “I hope you shoot a bird tomorrow,” she said.
“Maybe not tomorrow, but I intend to before the house party concludes.”
“We mustn’t speak of the bird I shot earlier today,” the marquess said. “The twins will be overset.”
Angeline turned to the marquess. “Oh, I suppose they are tenderhearted about all creatures.”
The marquess snorted. “Nothing of the kind. They wanted to come along with us today and insisted that ugly dog could fetch for us.”
“Well, Wycoff, I suppose we should be off. Perhaps you wish your daughter to travel with you?” the marquess said.
“We’re both covered in mud. I don’t want to inadvertently muss your gown, Angeline,” Wycoff said.
“It’s only mud, Papa.” I love you and hope you have forgiven me.
“Your mother would not be pleased if I dirtied your skirts.”
“Well, we’ll go on ahead,” the marquess said. “Colin, you will take the maid up in the carriage, of course. Do not dally. Your stepmother will have a good dinner waiting.”
Colin joined Angeline at the door. She bit her lip as the marquess’s carriage rolled away, but her eyes welled.
“Angeline, I hope I did not discompose you earlier.”
“Of course n-not.” The catch in her voice troubled him.
He feared he was responsible, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong.
The sound of horse hooves alerted him. “There’s John now,” he said.
Agnes appeared from the direction of the servant’s stairs and bobbed a curtsy. “I left the feather duster and broom in the kitchen, my lady.”
“Thank you, Agnes,” Angeline said. “We are ready to depart.”
Colin locked the door and turned to her. “Is all well with you?” He knew something was amiss, but he’d never understood women.
“Yes, I’m gratified to see my father in such good spirits.”
She’d implied that her father had been in poor spirits. Obviously the events surrounding Angeline’s broken engagement had been difficult for the entire family. She probably felt guilty, but in his opinion, she’d made the right decision to call off the engagement.
The only thing he didn’t understand was why her father had approved the engagement. Brentmoor was well known for his ruinous gambling and indiscreet liaisons. That begged the question as to how she’d ever gotten involved with the man in the first place.
Angeline had her faults, but she’d never been anybody’s fool. Until, apparently, Brentmoor.
He escorted her to the carriage and helped her negotiate the steps. He sat across from her with his back to the horses and knocked his cane on the ceiling. Minutes later the carriage rolled off. He looked out the window and knew he’d made a mistake today. While he’d only intended to tease her, his blood had definitely heated more than a few degrees.
Nothing of import had happened. Granted, he’d felt a stirring of desire, but he’d not acted upon it.
He tried telling himself he was making too much of it, but she’d been through an ordeal with her former fiancé. The gossip had spread far and wide. Her mother had felt the need to take her abroad because of it. Her father must have taken it hard.
Hell. She’d offered her expertise, and he’d come very close to kissing her, but he had not. He’d teased her, but there was no harm in that. The trouble was he’d wanted more, but that would prove disastrous if he were ever foolish enough to act upon it.
He had no idea what had happened between her and Brentmoor, but he knew the man had ruinous gaming debts and bragged about the numerous married ladies he’d bagged. Colin thought the man disgusting.
There had been countless women in his life, but they had all been fleeting encounters. None of them had meant anything more to him than a tumble between the sheets, but he’d never misled them. He’d never felt an ounce of remorse, because they had all been more than willing. Not once had he considered he might have wounded them. He’d never stayed long enough to know. He wouldn’t even let himself think about the courtesans.
Angeline was a lady, and their families were close. The last thing he needed was to unintentionally set up expectations. He needn’t worry. She’d made no secret of her low opinion of him. There was nothing to worry about. She’d agreed to assist him only because she was bored witless with needlework and apparently enjoyed making over rooms. He need not worry about taking advantage of her talent. She wanted to be involved.
All the same, he vowed to keep their encounters focused on the renovations and avoid flirting with her. She had enough troubles, and he couldn’t afford the distraction.
That evening after dinner
After the desserts, the marchioness rose and all of the ladies followed her to the drawing room while the gentlemen drank their port. Angeline was anxious for their return and hoped to persuade her father to play chess with her. They had not played since her return from Paris. Today, her father had seemed his old self again. She’d worried so much and blamed herself for his melancholy. While she’d not wanted to attend this house party, she was so grateful, because it had enlivened her father.
The twins sang while Penny played the pianoforte. Angeline was proud of her sister. Penny had a natural talent, but she blushed and lowered her eyes the entire time she played.
When she finished, Angeline’s protective instincts rose up. She sat on the bench beside Penny. “I’ll turn the pages while you play.”
Penny smiled. “Thank you, Angie. I always feel braver when you sit beside me while I play.”
“You will practice playing before others at the house party, and if you concentrate on the music, that will help. If you think too much about others watching, it will make you nervous.
“Remember that all the other girls are as nervous as you are. Keep your eyes on the music sheets and shut out everything else.”
“I will remember,” Penny said, and started to play again.
Penny had to overcome her fear of exhibiting before a crowd. It was important, because she would be called upon to play next spring at her debut. Angeline bit her lip and hoped that her scandal would not affect Penny’s come-out. She’d discovered that she could withstand horrible gossip and humiliation, but she could not bear it if her mistakes prevented her little sister from making her debut.
Margaret stood. “Angeline, I must apologize. You received a letter today. How could I have forgotten?”
“Thank you, Margaret.” Angeline whispered to her sister, “Keep playing.”
She walked over to the window seat, broke the seal, and turned the paper. “It’s from Charlotte.” She’d not had a letter from her friend in all the time she’d been abroad. She’d missed her and thought she would never hear from her again. Her emotions rose up, but she had learned how to keep it all buried inside by imagining a steaming kettle. Take if off the fire just before the steam reaches the boiling point.
Out of the corner of her eye, Angeline saw her mother watching. In need of privacy, she rose, and as she walked to the window seat, she overheard Margaret say the letter seemed like a good omen. Angeline could not imagine it. With a deep breath, she started reading.
Dearest Angeline,
It is my greatest hope that this letter finds you well. Please forgive me for my lapse in correspondence. It was not of my choice, and now I must not tarry. My husband would be displeased if he knew. Please know that not a day has gone by that I haven’t missed you.
In the interval since she’d returned home from Paris, she’d been isolated with her family. It was one thing to know her reputation was damaged in the abstract, but it was quite another when it was poor enough that a friend’s husband forbade contact. She knew the reason and still felt guilty because Charlotte’s husband had been furious.
I confess I was torn whether to inform you or not, and I had no one I felt comfortable asking for advice. After a great deal of contemplation, I realized if it were me, I would prefer to hear the news from a trusted friend. It pains me to inform you that Brentmoor has returned to England.
She felt as if a broadsword had pierced her heart.
Oh, God, he’d returned.
Her fingers trembled, and she had to smooth the letter on her lap so that no one would see her vexation. At all costs she mustn’t let on, because she didn’t want Penny to ever know what had happened. She took a deep breath and continued reading.
As I write this letter, I know it is bound to wound you. The events have incited renewed gossip. Others have unfairly painted you as a jilt and intimated worse.
Deep down, she’d always held out a thread of hope that she could recover from the scandal, but Brentmoor’s return was a staggering blow.
Her stomach felt a bit queasy. An engaged couple was allowed to be alone, once consent was given and the contracts were signed. She’d cried off a fortnight after the contracts had been drawn up, and Brentmoor had made matters far worse by spreading filthy lies about her.
Her spirits sagged. She’d held on to the hope that he would never return and that the gossip would subside. She’d hoped to repair her reputation with time. Now that Brentmoor had returned, there was no hope.
You will likely wonder how he ever managed such a feat, given his timely escape from his creditors, but he is married to a woman with thirty thousand pounds, and she is the same shameless woman you discovered with Brentmoor that awful night at the ball. After less than a year, Lady Cunningham has left off her mourning and married Brentmoor, fool that she is, for he will surely spend her entire fortune. They now have an estate at Woodham Hall.
That was the property Mrs. Quimby had mentioned. Clearly the reverend’s wife had not known his name or his circumstances. But the ton would know.
A fog enveloped her, but she caught her mother’s eye and managed to fold the letter perfunctorily.
“Angeline, what news do you have from Charlotte?” the duchess said.
She had to recover quickly, because she did not want Penny to hear the truth. All she could do was fabricate a story. “Charlotte is well and happy. She sent her regards and apologized for her lack of correspondence, but she was only just made aware of our return.”
“How lovely to hear news from your friend,” Margaret said.
Her mother’s expression lit up. “This is wonderful news. I know how much you’ve missed Charlotte.”
She would not be able to hide the truth for long. Her mother’s remaining friends would send letters. Soon, everyone in the ton would know about Brentmoor’s return.
Two years ago, she’d sealed her fate, but her worries were for her innocent sister. Angeline’s chest ached. Because of her, Penny might never have a debut.
Colin rose from the table after an excellent port. He’d only half listened to his father and Wycoff discuss politics. Instead, he’d made a mental list of items he wanted to deal with at Sommerall tomorrow.
“I suppose we should join the ladies,” Wycoff said.
“Go on ahead,” Chadwick said. “I wish to have a word with Colin.”
Colin faced his father. “I suppose you want a report of what I accomplished today.”
The marquess sighed. “You can give me a report next week. I have a concern.”
“About what?”
“I was taken aback by your appearance in the hall today.”
Colin frowned. “I heard the knocker and escorted Angeline downstairs.”
“You held your coat over your shoulder, your sleeves were rolled up, and your hair was disheveled.” He knew it was forbidden to appear before a lady in such a casual manner, but he’d decided to be sensible while working.
“I was sorting items in the attic,” he said. “It’s dusty and crowded with all manner of items. What did you expect?” Of course he wouldn’t mention the highly charged tension between him and Angeline. Why be concerned when nothing had happened?
“At the very least, you ought to have put on your coat in the presence of a lady.”
“For God’s sake, we were working.”
“You ought to have donned it before coming downstairs. It is a mark of respect for Lady Angeline and for Wycoff.”
Colin stiffened. “He took it as an insult?”
“No, he would not have mentioned it, but Wycoff is eaten alive with guilt over his daughter’s misbegotten engagement. When I saw your cavalier manner with her, I grew concerned that he might misinterpret your familiarity.”
Colin rubbed his temple. Damn it all. He had been familiar with her, and there had been that moment in which he’d felt the insistent tug of sensual awareness. “You approved of the two of us working together. If I did not treat her in an amiable manner, I believe she would take it as an insult.”
“Son, I agree, but you are missing the point. The cloud of scandal hangs over Wycoff’s entire family. It is very likely that Margaret will have to sponsor Penelope this spring. Lady Angeline’s future is…uncertain. You never even questioned why I brought Wycoff to Sommerall.”
He gritted his teeth. “If Wycoff was concerned, he should have spoken up beforehand.”
“He did not express concern, but I brought him there to reassure him that all was well. As a father, I can only imagine how I would feel if it was one of your sisters.”
Colin inhaled sharply. The very thought of a scoundrel even breathing near one of his sisters made his blood boil.
“I see you understand now.”
He gripped the back of the chair. “I would kill any man who dared to trifle with one of my sisters.”
“I sincerely hope not, since dueling is officially illegal and you are my heir. However, feel free to beat any man to a pulp who expresses even the slightest interest in the twins.”
“Father, I do not want to treat Angeline differently because of what happened to her. I imagine she’s faced too much of that already.”
The marquess clapped his hand on Colin’s shoulder. “You reaffirmed my belief in you. However, this does not mean you are off the hook.”
He frowned. “What?”
“If you want Sommerall, you must find a bride. I tire of hearing about your many lightskirts and drunken escapades. A wife will cure that. You might want to consult Margaret. She has some distant cousins.”
“After the house is in decent shape, I will make every effort to find a wife.” In a year or two.
“I’ve managed to put off the buyer, but he won’t wait forever. You will make an effort.”
Colin figured his father was bluffing. He would manage to put it off as long as possible.
“There you are,” Margaret said. “I was beginning to worry.”
“It is my fault,” Colin said. “I insisted upon discussing the renovations and delayed our return.”
The marquess shrugged. “He is determined.”
“You missed the news,” the duchess said. “Angeline received a letter from her friend Charlotte. She did not realize Angeline had returned home. Soon my daughter will be able to renew her acquaintances after a long absence.”
Angeline’s smile looked frozen.
“We are making plans for the spring season,” Margaret said. “I believe a Venetian breakfast would be just the thing.”
He saw the duke pouring a drink at the sideboard and joined him. Wycoff downed the brandy and poured another. His grim expression looked foreboding. Colin poured a finger and swirled the liquor. “Thank you for allowing Angeline to assist me. She’s quite knowledgeable.”
“They are making too much of that letter,” he said under his breath.
Colin was at a loss to reply. He sipped his brandy and grew increasingly uncomfortable when Wycoff poured an exceeding amount of brandy. If he kept this up, he’d be foxed in no time.
Angeline approached. “Papa, will you play chess with me? It has been ages since you last trounced me.”
“Not tonight,” he said gruffly.
She winced.
“Excuse me.” He set his glass down and quit the drawing room.
The devil. The man might feel guilty, but he ought to be kinder to her. Colin set his own glass aside. “Come, play backgammon with me.”
She looked a bit shaken. “I fear I will have trouble concentrating.”
“We will make it appear we are playing. It will give us a chance to talk.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“You would do me a great favor. Otherwise, I will be called upon to turn the pages at the pianoforte, and you will have to listen to their plans.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
He seated her at the game table and sat across from her. “I will set the pieces out, and we will throw the dice and make our moves while we talk. Now, tell me what is awry.”
“Everything, but that is hardly new.”
“Angeline, your father said the ladies were making too much of the letter.” He paused and handed her the dice. “Throw them to make it appear we’re really playing.”
She threw the dice and moved one of the backgammon stones. “I lied about Charlotte’s letter.”
He threw the dice and moved a stone. “Why?”
She picked up the dice and dropped them. “I didn’t want Penny to hear. She knows nothing about the scandal.”
“She knows something is wrong.”
Angeline made her move. “I mean to keep it from her as long as possible.”
He suspected Penny knew more than she let on, but he said nothing of that to Angeline. “Did your friend mention Brentmoor in her letter?”
She met his gaze. “He has returned and is married to the widowed Lady Cunningham.”
“I see. She will regret it when he spends her entire fortune. Is she a friend?”
She listlessly dropped the dice. “No, a distant acquaintance.”
“It’s understandable that the news would discompose you, but you are well rid of him.”
She met his gaze. “She is the one I found in bed with Brentmoor.”
He winced. “I’d no idea.”
“Adultery is hardly news in the ton.”
She rolled and moved the stones. “Foolishly, I assumed he would never return because of his creditors. I did not count on him marrying an heiress.”
Colin scooped up the dice and rolled, but her pale complexion worried him. “He is likely to spend himself into debt again. Men like him are their own worst enemies.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Help me understand.”
She rolled the dice. “I thought if he was gone forever, that others would forget. I foolishly held out hope that with time, I could repair my reputation. Now that he has returned, I must face the truth. I will always be a pariah.”
“You may not believe me, but you did the right thing by crying off.”
She moved a stone. “I knew something was wrong, and I ignored my instincts.” She paused and said, “To my detriment.”
The clock chimed.
“It is very late,” Angeline said. “Shall we retire for the evening?”
He assisted her out of the chair and put away the game. As she quit the room, he wondered anew why she’d ever gotten involved with Brentmoor. The back of his neck prickled. Something had gone terribly wrong. Why else would the duchess have taken her to Paris? Multiple possibilities occurred to him. One made him pause. He’d heard stories about increasing women who fled to the continent to bear a secret child. More often he’d heard of elopements. But all of this was nothing more than conjecture. He hoped for her sake that it was merely betrayal.
The next day, Colin and Angeline traveled early in the morning to Sommerall. Colin wanted to ensure they arrived in a timely manner. The marquess had made arrangements for men to bring a wagon with coal, lanterns, fuel, and tinderboxes to the property along with footmen to move the heavier furnishings and remove the faded carpets.
Angeline put on an apron in preparation for working in the attic. She’d worn sturdy half boots and pulled a mobcap out of her apron pocket. When she stood before the foyer mirror, she slipped on the cap. Colin walked up behind her and snatched it off.
Agnes tied her apron and couldn’t quite hide her smile as she took the hamper and walked toward the breakfast parlor.
“Give the cap to me,” Angeline said, reaching for it.
He stepped back and put the cap behind him.
She ran behind him and tried to grasp the cap, but he held it over his head.
“Give it to me,” she said.
“You must ask politely.”
She scowled. “Please return my cap,” she muttered.
“Muttering is hardly polite.”
She inhaled. “You…you are horrid.”
“Take off that apron,” he said.
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon? You will not order me about.”
“You will not dress like a maid.”
“Be practical. The attic is bound to be dusty.”
“I forbid it,” he said. “You are a duke’s daughter and a lady.”
“You are ridiculous.” She poked around in her other apron pocket and pulled out her old gardening gloves.
“You will not need them. You may supervise Agnes.”
“I am not a wilting flower, and I most certainly am not afraid of a little dust in the attic. The gloves will protect my hands. I do mean to work. In case you’ve had a memory lapse in the last hour, let me remind you that we have very little time available to us.”
When the clatter of hooves sounded, Colin opened the door and stuffed her ugly cap in his inner coat pocket. “The coal has arrived.”
“I’ll set Agnes to cleaning out the ashes in the hearth.” She hurried up the stairs.
He turned around and admired her bottom as she ascended the steps. What red-blooded man wouldn’t have a look?
The footmen brought in the coals along with lanterns and two tinderboxes. He led them to the drawing room where Agnes finished sweeping and stepped back.
Two other footmen moved the heavy tables and took the carpets to the wagon. The marquess’s steward would ensure the carpets found good homes.
“Agnes, help me put the covers over the furniture,” Angeline said.
Colin shrugged out of his coat and strode over to her. “Take my coat please.” He rolled up his sleeves and noticed Angeline watching him.
He tossed the covers over the furniture, smiled, and took her arm. “Step out into the corridor in the event the flue isn’t working and smoke billows out.”
“You had better come along,” she said. “You don’t want to get your shirt and cravat dirty.”
He leaned down and said under his breath, “I’m a man. We like dirty things.”
She narrowed her eyes and marched out into the corridor. His shoulders shook, and he figured she’d give him a tongue-lashing after the footmen left.
A few minutes later, a weak fire started. Colin held his breath, hoping smoke wouldn’t fill the room. He didn’t even want to consider the damage to the painted ceiling.
With the application of the bellows, a fire crackled and no smoke billowed out into the drawing room. He exhaled. “Success.”
When the footmen stepped back, Angeline instructed Agnes to dust the interior shutters.
Colin made sure she wasn’t paying attention and tossed her ugly cap into the fire. Then he directed the footmen to dump the coal ashes.
Angeline faced him. “I am coming with you to the attic. There is much to be done there, and we will not waste time arguing over the matter.”
Her brows knitted. “Where is my cap?”
He shrugged. “Did you lose it?”
Her eyes narrowed and she held out her palm. “Give it to me.”
“I can’t. It’s gone.”
“What do you mean it’s gone?”
He shrugged.
“You will pay for this.”
He grinned. “I look forward to your punishment.”
She regarded him suspiciously, as well she should. “No doubt it has something to do with dirt.”
Her saucy reply tickled him, but he’d better focus on the work. He lit one of the lanterns and escorted her up two flights of steps to the attic. The dormer window was grimy, but he set the lantern on a scarred table. He put his hands on his hips and looked around. Then he made his way past several trunks. “Ah, just what we need.”
When he returned to her, he held carpet pieces. “We can kneel on these.”
“Very handy,” she said.
He pointed at one trunk in the corner. “That is the one I went through yesterday. The strap is broken, and there’s nothing of value to me.”
“I imagine the servants or tenants would appreciate the yarn, quills, and handkerchiefs.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re here, because I was ready to toss it all in the rubbish bin.”
He pushed a heavy trunk forward. The muscles in his upper arms strained. She placed one of the carpets before a trunk and knelt, but her eyes kept returning to his bulging biceps. She fumbled with the straps, mostly because she couldn’t take her gaze off him.
He interrupted her ogling and strode over to her. “Let me unbuckle them.”
She stood just as he took a step, and she bumped into him. He caught her shoulders, and there could not have been more than a few inches between them. The moment suspended as their gazes met. His big hands were warm and strong. Her toes curled in her slippers.
“Pardon me,” he said, stepping aside.
She released her pent-up breath. Dear God, did he rub a secret bait salve on himself to lure unsuspecting females? While she continued to recover from their physical encounter, he worked on the straps of a trunk as if he were completely oblivious to her.
When he tried to open the trunk, he muttered something under his breath, likely a curse. “It’s locked.” He straightened his tall frame. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if there is anything I can use as a lever.”
He left the attic door open as he strode down the corridor. She released a ragged breath. Sanity returned slowly. She was not attracted to him. Not at all. Liar. Granted, she would have to be dead not to notice the bulging muscles in his arms and his incredibly muscular thighs. But she could not, would not allow her attraction to him to bloom. It would be madness. She’d fallen under one rake’s spell, and she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
God help her. Angeline thought a few prayers might be in order for her salvation.
She needed distraction from thoughts of Colin’s all-too-enticing athletic body. Angeline walked through the crowded attic to force her thoughts elsewhere. There was an old bookcase with scratches in the wood—a tenant might find that useful. She located a pair of scales, a flask, and a sword propped up against the far wall. There was a bust, too. She removed her gloves and fingered the smooth marble. Was it his grandfather?
When she turned, she happened upon a tall wig in a box. It reminded her of her late great-grandmother. Why in the world did the ladies back then wear those horrendous wigs? They were truly hideous and probably hot as well. What a lark it would be to don the wig and surprise Colin. She would no doubt startle a laugh out of him when she pranced around in a ridiculously high wig.
She started to reach inside the box to extract the wig. Then something moved. A mouse poked its beady nose out. She jumped back and screamed.
Colin walked up the stairs with a big mallet. He figured he could break the lock with it. He reached the second landing, and a scream sent him running. His heart stampeded as he ran. The devil. What if Angeline had fallen and gotten hurt?
She turned the corner and ran toward him. Relief flooded his veins. He dropped the mallet and caught her in his arms. “Are you hurt?”
She was shaking uncontrollably. “N-no. The-there w-was a m-mouse in the w-wig.”
“Oh, Lord.” He held her tightly, relieved to find her unharmed. “You scared me.”
She clutched him. “Stupid m-mouse.”
“Hush now. You’ve had a fright.” She shivered again, and without thought, he caressed her spine. Eventually her trembling subsided, and he was all too aware of her soft, feminine body pressed against him. When his groin tightened, he knew he’d better put distance between them, and he reluctantly released her.
“I’m so mortified,” she said, looking up at him.
“You needn’t be.”
She looked at the mallet. “What in heaven’s name were you planning to do with that?”
“Break the lock on the trunk.”
“Oh.” She frowned and worried her hands. “I suppose we should return to the attic.”
He laughed and picked up the mallet. “Angeline, I’m fairly certain the attic is the last place you wish to go. Tomorrow I’ll bring a mousetrap or two.”
“There’s so much to do,” she said. “I feel badly for slowing our progress.”
“One day will not make that much difference,” he said. “By the way, did you find anything of value in the bedchambers yesterday?”
She hesitated. “I went through all the rooms.”
“Why are you hedging?”
“There’s a nursery,” she said.
His neck prickled. “Where is it?”
“Colin, don’t go in there.”
He set the mallet down and started opening doors. She followed him. “I’m sorry. I should have told you yesterday.”
When he opened the door to the nursery, he strode inside and immediately tore the covers off the rocker. He went over to a shelf where a tin box sat. When he opened it, a look of wonder crossed his face. “My tin soldiers. I always wondered what became of them.”
“I didn’t notice them yesterday.”
He frowned at her. “It is in plain view. Something is amiss. You might as well tell me.”
She sighed. “There is a cradle underneath the cover.”
He whipped it off. Inside was padded bedding. He felt no shock or melancholy. Only numbness.
She slipped her hand through his arm. “I hope you will forgive me. I thought to spare you.”
He patted her hand. “I understand, but I prefer to confront things.”
“Yes, I think it is for the best. Shall we return to the attic? If the mouse decides to make another appearance, I’ll let you confront it.”
He smiled a little. “Very well.”
By late afternoon, they had sorted items from five trunks. He’d found an old bagwig he was certain had belonged to his grandfather and a pair of men’s buckled shoes with heels. He thought the bust probably was his grandfather.
They put all of the items he didn’t want in crates. He planned to make them available to the tenants and servants. The mouse had evidently disappeared.
They had not discussed the miniature, but it had yet to turn up.
After he carried a crate downstairs, she looked through some correspondence she’d found. One set was tied with a blue ribbon. She pulled a letter out and saw the address to Lady Elizabeth Montleigh. She wanted very much to read it, but she ought not pry. She folded the letter, set it aside, and retrieved another from the others tied with the blue ribbon. This one was also addressed to the same woman. When she started to fold it, she saw the last line.
My darling Elizabeth, you are my heart and my love forever more.
She yearned to be loved, truly loved, but it seemed that was not to be her destiny.
Colin returned. His shirtsleeves were wrinkled and his cravat looked a bit wilted. Somehow he managed to look every bit the handsome rogue.
“You found correspondence?”
“A letter from your father to Lady Elizabeth Montleigh.”
“My mother,” he said.
She lifted her eyes to him. “I read only the last line.”
He took it and walked over to the table where the lantern burned. “I would never have guessed my father was so sentimental.”
“The letter indicates he loved her deeply,” she said. “Do you think he would want the letter?”
Colin frowned. “I’ve no idea. All I know for certain is that he left Sommerall after her funeral. I don’t remember anything except leaving here for Deerfield.” He folded the letter and set it on the table. “Two years later, he made a marriage of convenience with Margaret.”
“It may have started out that way, but I believe he loves her now.”
“He is fond of her, but I’m sure he wanted a spare heir.”
His blunt words stunned her. “Perhaps he was lonely and wanted a second chance at love.”
He considered her with a patronizing expression. “There are practicalities, including the contracts, as you are fully aware. I assure you my father’s primary concerns dealt with the marriage contracts. She brought a considerable fortune into the marriage.”
She bristled. “So do many women.”
“I’m only stating the facts, Angeline. You know the realities of aristocratic marriages, and to be frank, her father was a merchant and saw an opportunity to better his family.”
“Margaret was educated as a lady.”
“Yes, I know, but you cannot be unaware that your mother’s influence paved the way for Margaret in society.”
Angeline was breathing hard. “Do you think I give a damn?”
His eyes widened at her words.
“Margaret was one of the few ladies who came to support my mother and me during one of the worst times of our lives. Everyone else stayed away from fear of contamination from my scandal.” Angeline wiped tears from her face. “She is one of the kindest ladies I have ever had the pleasure to call friend. And she deserves far more credit than you give her. She wants only to please others and believes herself undeserving because her father was in trade. She is your father’s wife and the mother of your sisters. You should respect her.”
“I do not disrespect her,” he said testily. “I only stated the truth.”
“You just did.”
“Angeline, you are unreasonable.”
“Well, we cannot all be as perfect as you,” she said.
“The sarcasm is unwarranted.”
Her face heated. She marched out of the attic. How dare he speak so coldly about Margaret? He was a rake and yet he thought himself above everyone. She thought him a hypocrite and wouldn’t be surprised if he had notches on his bedpost. Horrid man.
His rapid footsteps echoed behind her. She hurried her step, but he caught her arm. “Stop,” he said.
She glared at him. “I agreed to help you because I thought you deserved the opportunity to prove yourself, but I will not aid and abet you when you have so little respect for your family.”
He opened a bedchamber door. “Come inside. Agnes is cleaning the banister, and I don’t want her to hear us.”
She followed him inside and turned to him. “You are judgmental.”
His nostrils flared. “I am judgmental? You judge me unfairly, my lady. All I did was state the facts, but you presume to know my feelings about my own family.”
“What was I to think when you spoke in such a cold manner about Margaret? The circumstances of your father’s second marriage do not matter. Your father adores her, as well he should. She brought happiness and light into your father’s life after your mother’s death. But for reasons I do not understand, you hold yourself aloof from your own family.”
“You know nothing about it.”
He’d said he was selfish, and she certainly believed it now. “You have not been home since last Easter. Your sisters are growing up without even knowing their brother, and I suspect you resent Margaret.”
“I don’t resent her, but we are not close and never have been.”
How could he be so unfeeling? “Whose fault is that? You make no effort.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe she was the one who didn’t make the effort?”
She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I think it is ridiculous to expect it of an eight-year-old.”
“What?” He’d shocked her.
“My father started a second family while I was away at school. I did not even know about it until he brought me home from Eton for Christmas holidays. He told me I had a new mother, but I was eight years old and didn’t even know how to address her. Was I to call her Stepmama or Margaret? No one ever thought to tell me for days.”
“I cannot believe it of her or your father.”
“I have no reason to lie about it. I lived it—you didn’t.”
“How could it be possible? Margaret is too kind to ignore a child.”
“She didn’t ignore me, but she was not my mother, and I wasn’t her son.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“It happened long ago, but it is clear to me now why it was so awkward. She was educated as a lady, but there is a big difference between that education and learning the distinctions of society. I can imagine how difficult it was for her to assimilate. She had to have been terrified. Have you never stopped to think about why she relies so much on your mother?”
“They are friends.”
“Yes, but that friendship likely came about because your mother saw the need to help her. In those early days, she was much younger and probably overwhelmed and intimidated.”
“You were a child. How could you know?” she asked.
“I remember when several ladies called when we were in London. I was probably eight or nine years old. After they left, I saw Margaret sitting in the drawing room weeping.”
Angeline smoothed her skirt. “I had no idea.”
“We were born into this world, but she had to learn. On top of it all, she had to deal with an unhappy stepson.”
Angeline winced, realizing she’d made assumptions without knowing all the particulars. “Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. It was just circumstances. I spent most of my time at school and half my summers with Harry at his uncle’s pig farm,” he said. “I was happy there and for the most part at school as well, but over time, my relationship with my family grew increasingly distant. I adore my sisters, but they are half my age. I’m glad my father found happiness with Margaret, but their lives went on and so did mine. No one is to blame. It was just the situation.”
Angeline felt awful. “I’m sorry for misjudging you.”
He scuffed his boot on the carpet. “You weren’t wrong. I was resentful for many years. I felt as if I did not belong. Undoubtedly it was an erroneous perception on my part.”
“I think it would be difficult for all involved when there are such drastic changes to a family,” she said.
“When I arrived at Deerfield, I was shocked at how much my sisters had grown.” He paused and said, “I should make more of an effort.”
“I am sorry. I have no right to judge anyone when I’ve made grievous mistakes.”
“Regardless, you didn’t deserve to be treated so ill.”
“I am responsible.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself,” he said.
She deserved no sympathy. From the beginning, she’d been suspicious of Brentmoor, as any sane and virtuous woman would be, but she’d let vanity and pride overcome her judgment. All because she knew others were whispering about her single status at the ripe age of thirty. She’d not heeded her mother’s warnings about waiting too long to marry, and she’d paid dearly for it.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
If she’d married sooner, she could have avoided her mistakes. “I take responsibility, but it is not enough,” she said. “There is nothing I can do to change it.”
“No, but you can go forward. Don’t let him ruin your life.”
He didn’t understand. She could never reconcile what she’d done to her family.