Chapter Eight
The next morning after breakfast, the marquess cleared his throat. “Bianca, Bernadette, your mother reported to me that the maid found bones in your room. Clearly that ugly dog has taken up residence with you. I made it clear that Hercules must stay in the kitchen until such time as a servant walks him. You have disobeyed me.”
Colin noted his sisters’ sorrowful expressions.
“Oh, Papa,” Bianca said. “Hercules is scared of the banging pots. He made a puddle in the kitchen.”
“Better the kitchen than the water closet,” the marquess said.
Colin thought his sisters were talented enough to tread the boards onstage, but of course, ladies did not flaunt themselves. Nevertheless the twins were experts at manipulating their father. Colin ought to take lessons from his wily sisters.
“I am not finished,” the marquess said. “I have noticed bite marks on the legs of the furniture. That dog is teething on chairs that cost a fortune. Either you teach that dog not to chew the furniture or he goes out in the rubbish bin.”
“Your father is jesting,” the marchioness said. Her attention turned to Bernadette. “Do not feed scraps to Hercules from the table. You are teaching him to be an unmannerly dog.”
“That begs the question as to what constitutes a mannerly dog,” the marquess said.
“One that can shake hands like Hercules,” Bernadette said. “Shake, Hercules.”
On command the dog put his paw in her hand, and the marquess rolled his eyes.
Everyone laughed, with the exception of Wycoff.
Cook brought out a hamper and set it on the sideboard.
The marquess frowned. “Colin, is it really necessary to spend every single day at Sommerall? I’m sure Angeline would prefer entertainment to working every day like a servant.”
Colin regarded her. “I do apologize. Of course you wish to enjoy walks and drawing.”
“No, I want to help at Sommerall,” she said. “Today I will begin a series of sketches of how I envision the drawing room.”
“Lady Angeline,” the marquess said, “I’m sure you are only being polite, but it is unnecessary.”
“I am committed,” she said, “and it is something I enjoy. I insist.”
“Angeline,” the duchess said in shocked tones.
“It is quite all right,” Margaret said. “I’ve seen some of her sketches. Angeline is very talented.”
“I must admit the architect who came to Worthington Abbey was very impressed,” the duchess said.
“Mama, I’m sure he was only being polite,” Angeline said.
“I’m sure he was being honest,” Colin said. “You are talented.”
Her face grew warm. “I enjoy it very much, and I’m looking forward to sketching my visions of the drawing room at Sommerall.”
The marquess turned to his son. “While Lady Angeline is slaving away with her sketches, what will you do? Nap on the sofa?”
Everyone laughed.
“John brought a ladder from the barn,” Colin said. “I plan to check the outside blinds. If I’m not mistaken, some of them are tangled or broken.”
Margaret rose. “The hamper is ready and Agnes is waiting. We will have our walk, and Chadwick and Wycoff will take their mud baths.”
“Very funny, Margaret,” the marquess said. “By the by, could you manage to lose that ugly dog during your walk?”
“Papa, no,” Bianca cried.
“Your father is only teasing,” Margaret said. “Chadwick, that is enough.”
The marquess laughed. “We will discuss this in more detail later, Margaret.”
“Wycoff, it’s about time you bagged a bird. I can’t kill them all by myself,” the marquess said.
“I’m not up for it.”
The duchess laid her hand on his. “Go along, dear. It will do you good.”
An uncomfortable moment passed. Finally, Wycoff assented. “Very well.”
Colin met Angeline’s gaze. Her father was in a very bad way. He hoped another day out shooting would help. Perhaps his father would press Wycoff to make more of an effort after all. Whether it would do any good was questionable.
After they boarded the carriage and it rolled off, Colin moved over to Angeline’s bench. “Give me a kiss.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We’re affianced now. Well, secretly.” He plucked her sketchbook out of her hand and set it aside.
“It is only a trial engagement to see if we suit,” she said.
Devilment showed in his eyes. “Well, since it is a trial, we should practice so that we can perfect our kisses.”
“You need no practice. You are clearly an expert.”
His smile stretched across his face. “Like my kisses, do you?”
“They are…tolerable.”
He pulled her onto his lap and she shrieked.
“Good thing it’s so noisy on the road. Otherwise, John and Agnes might suspect I’m having my wicked way with you.”
“I might point out that there is plenty of room on the seat,” she said. “So I’ll avail myself of the space.”
He clamped his arms around her. “Please, can I have a kiss? Just one?”
“Very well.” She pecked him on the mouth, thinking to escape, but she’d underestimated him. He plucked at her lips and she opened for him without a thought in her head. The sweep of his tongue mesmerized her. She grew a little bolder and experimented touching her tongue to his, and when he groaned, she knew he liked it. She wanted so much more from him, but their wraps and gloves prevented them from going farther. It was probably for the best. Then his hands burrowed inside her cape. “We must not,” she said.
“I know, but I yearn to touch you and for you to touch me.”
Beneath her bottom, she could feel the evidence of his desire.
“I beg your pardon. Have I shocked you?” he said.
Her face grew hot. “A little.”
He wrapped his arms around her again. “I am undone.”
When he captured her lips again, she opened for him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but in truth, she could not deny that his erotic kisses and strong arms made her feel wanted and wonderful.
Their combined breaths frosted in the carriage. “Are you too cold?” he asked.
“Only a little.”
He rubbed his nose against hers. When he kissed her again, she opened her mouth for him, and he slid his tongue inside. She suspected he was imitating what he really wanted. He was so hard against her, and she understood his need, but they weren’t really engaged. “Colin? We had better stop.”
He tore his mouth away. “God almighty, I want you badly.”
“We can’t. Not here.”
“I know. I would not,” he said. “I am a gentleman, and it is cold.”
“I am a lady—well not so much in the carriage.”
“How do you feel about a trip to Gretna Green?”
She laughed. “I think you have lost what few wits you have,” she said. “I know you are jesting, but we agreed to three weeks. It’s so little time for us to learn more about each other. We should not waste it.”
“I know.” He paused. “If we marry, we will probably set the house on fire.”
She laughed. “I like that you make me laugh.”
“Kiss me instead.”
She opened her mouth for him, and she was lost in the sensation of his lips and tongue and the sweep of his hand over her breast.
“We have to stop,” she said. “We should talk about things that matter.”
His breathing was as labored as hers. “Can we get married now? I don’t want to wait.”
“You just want to bed me,” she said.
“So do you,” he said. “Angeline, this part is important.”
“That is why we have to stop,” she said, “because I’ve never wanted a man more.”
He set his forehead against hers. “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”
“Tell me,” she said. Her breathing sounded labored to her own ears.
He captured her hand and guided it to his chest. “I want your hands all over me.”
Had she just stopped breathing? “Do not tempt me.”
“I have too many layers of clothes, and so do you,” he said.
“That may be for the best; otherwise, we’re liable to do bad things in the carriage.”
“We could do that,” he said, “but you’re a virgin.”
“How do you know?”
“You aren’t?”
She pushed him. “Of course I am.”
He laughed and hugged her tightly. “It is too cold anyway.”
She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.
“Is it always like this?” she said.
“Like how?” he said, his voice rough.
“Like a craving, one that is forbidden and so hard to resist.”
“No, it isn’t always this strong.” He cupped her cheek. “This is special.”
“Are you just saying that so I will touch you again?”
He looked into her eyes and his expression was solemn. “No.”
Eventually, their breathing slowed.
When the carriage rolled around the drive, she adjusted her bodice and closed her cape over her gown. “Now we must behave.”
“Drat,” he said.
She gave him an exasperated look. “Go find the ladder. I’ll have Agnes clean kitchen utensils. “I’ll be in the drawing room making sketches. When you get hungry, come find me and we’ll have luncheon.”
She watched him move the ladder along the house. John stayed with him. Angeline walked upstairs with her sketchbook and sat on the sofa. She envisioned a gold-framed mirror above the sideboard. Then she walked to the windows where Colin was hammering something. She smiled. He was no dandy, and clearly not afraid to get his hands dirty. Standing there, she realized that a long balcony just below the French windows would make the perfect place for flowers and maybe chairs for guests to look at the stars in summertime. She sat cross-legged on the floor and drew her design quickly so that she wouldn’t lose the idea. Then she rose and walked to the stairwell and ascended it to the highest point. She imagined a three-tiered chandelier suspended before a series of Palladian windows. It would look very dramatic at night. She thought guests arriving for a dinner party would be impressed. When she made a quick sketch, she drew figures of gentlemen and ladies looking upward.
Her heartbeat quickened as she hurried down the stairs to the dining table. Fortunately, it was well covered and the chairs had no cushions. The chairs and table were mahogany and elegant. They would not need to replace them, but the walls did nothing for the space. She had a daring idea. Rather than walls, she could set off the dining room with four ionic columns and a beautiful Axminster carpet for color. Mind, she would need to consult and review samples in design books. She ascended the stairs, sat on the sofa, and started drawing her idea for the dining room.
Angeline had no idea how much time had passed when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Her excitement mounted, and she met Colin at the door. “Come, I wish to show you my sketches.”
“Very well.” He sat beside her on the sofa.
“This is my favorite. Do you see how dramatic the Palladian windows will be at night with the light of a chandelier?”
“I imagine so,” he said.
“I have so many ideas, but this one is my favorite.”
“There are no walls.”
“Exactly. Is it not daring and yet elegant? I know without color it is probably difficult to envision. Oh, and I thought of something else I’m sure you will like. It is a balcony built all along the south fa?ade. Guests could sit in chairs with small tables to watch the stars. What do you think?”
“I think it is fantastic and fanciful,” he said. “I would never be able to imagine something like this.”
“I’ve no idea of the cost, but I could write to the architect, Mr. Rotherby, or perhaps you…” She trailed off, realizing her mistake. “I am sorry. Obviously, you cannot move forward, but I do believe you will inherit.”
He cleared his throat. “Angeline, you are very talented.” He met her gaze and she could see the discomfort in his eyes. “It is still my father’s house, and I’m in danger of losing the property.”
“Do forgive me,” she said, closing the sketchbook. “I always get carried away with my sketches and ideas. I just wanted to show them to you.” She rose and shook out her skirts, and naturally he stood as well.
She pasted on her society smile. “Shall we eat luncheon in the breakfast parlor?”
“Yes, I’m hungry, thank you.”
He offered his arm and escorted her downstairs. Her arms were chilled. Their easy camaraderie had disappeared, because she had all but spoken on the assumption that the marriage would take place. She had not made a conscious decision and certainly had not thought it through before speaking. Instead, she’d allowed her enthusiasm to bubble up, and now she worried he would feel obliged to propose.
She felt foolish and realized the difficulty of their decision to have a trial engagement. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect solution. The problem was that they were in a constant state of uncertainty. Yet, they had succumbed to desire. She had willingly sat on his lap, let him touch her, and touched him in return just as if they were married or truly affianced. But nothing was decided. Everything was contingent on something else. His father might sell the property when the house party ended. All of their clearing and sorting in the attic would help the servants and tenants, but there was a chance neither of them would ever benefit from the work they had done.
By the end of the house party, either one of them might decide they would not suit. They had both agreed they could easily part without rancor or wounded feelings. Now she realized they must have been daft to think such a plan would work.
There was nothing for it except to brazen it out and pretend that nothing was awry. She served their usual luncheon on the plates while Colin opened a bottle of claret. He sat beside her, and it struck her how quickly they had already formed habits here. But like their trial engagement, it was nothing more than an illusion.
When he handed her a glass of wine, she sipped, but she only nibbled at the chicken, because she felt anxious. Because of her incautious words, their comfortable friendship had suddenly become awkward. She hated that it had because she was beginning to have feelings for him, and he surely had no strong attachment to her. It was her responsibility to say something to break this chilled atmosphere.
“I do apologize for my foolish enthusiasm. I’m generally a very practical person, but when it comes to my designs, my imagination runs away with me, and I start to prattle. I’m sure you were amused by it.”
“I was impressed with your ideas. They are unique. You should not feel badly about your enthusiasm.”
“It is so impractical,” she said. “I can’t very well make over the drawing room at Deerfield every year.” Please do not think I meant to urge you to propose.
He set his glass aside. “If you enjoy it, your designs need not be practical or have a specific purpose.”
She released a relieved breath and changed the subject. “Are the blinds outside in bad shape?”
He nodded. “They all need to be replaced. John said it shouldn’t cost a fortune and advised me to be wary of anyone trying to charge me more because I’m a ‘nob.’”
She laughed a little and started putting the food away. “I haven’t even checked on Agnes.”
“It probably isn’t necessary. She’s not the type who needs constant instruction.”
Angeline nodded. “She sees what needs to be done and makes recommendations. I’ll go check on her progress just in case.”
“If she is finished, we can return to Deerfield,” he said.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Excuse me.”
Colin rubbed his temples. She’d taken him by surprise. Clearly she’d been inspired and thrilled with her ideas. She was very talented, but when she’d mentioned writing to the architect, he’d been shocked. It was as if she’d completely forgotten he didn’t own Sommerall.
Perhaps she’d expected him to propose today, but she’d said that she wanted to use the time left to them to learn more about each other before making a final decision. It occurred to him that he ought to make the offer regardless, but if he did it today, she would think he felt obliged, and then everything would get bloody complicated. He didn’t want that to happen.
He rose and walked to the kitchen. When he pushed the door open, Agnes gasped, immediately lowered her eyes, and bobbed a curtsy. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lord.”
“It’s not necessary, Agnes, and I’m sorry for startling you. Angeline, if you are finished here, would you please accompany me to the drawing room?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes, of course.”
He noted her resolute expression and figured she was embarrassed. While he’d known her all of his life, he’d not really known her until they had begun work at Sommerall. He’d discovered she was proud and very sensitive, something she hid beneath a haughty mien.
Angeline said nothing as he led her up the stairs to the drawing room. When she started to sit in a chair, he shook his head. “Please, sit with me.”
“Very well.”
He took her hand in his. “I feel awful for dampening your enthusiasm.”
She did not look at him. “There is no reason for you to feel awful.”
“It’s embarrassing. I’ve asked you for a trial engagement, and yet all I have to offer is a house in need of repair that isn’t in my possession and may never be.”
She was silent for a long space of time. “I’ve wanted to be positive for your sake all this time, but I became so enthused and sure that you would inherit.” She looked at him. “I beg your pardon for making matters uncomfortable, but I think we are making a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re doing this for all the wrong reasons.”
“It wasn’t so very long ago that you defended my father’s and stepmother’s marriage of convenience. Will you abandon our agreement to a trial engagement before it barely starts?”
“How can a marriage based on a property and restoring my reputation work?”
“Angeline, most marriages are based on convenience. You know it to be true, but you are looking for reasons to halt it. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I think you’re afraid. After what you’ve been through, it is perfectly understandable.
“I don’t want to rush into this, even though we are clearly compatible in at least one respect,” he said, smiling a little. “We’ve known each other all of our lives, but there is much we don’t know. I want you to be honest with me, and I’ll be honest with you. If at any point you decide that you do not want to move forward, you must tell me. This should not be about obligation, because it is a lifetime decision. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she said.
“If Agnes has completed her chores and you are ready, we should probably return to Deerfield.”
Her silence on the drive back exasperated him. “Angeline, I would much rather you tell me what is troubling you than have you refuse to speak to me. It is frustrating. If I have offended you, then tell me.”
“You haven’t offended me.”
“Then tell me what troubles you,” he said.
“I know the reality of my situation, and still I find myself wishing I could change what happened.”
He gathered her in his arms. She tried to push him away, but he hushed her. “Angeline, I won’t deny that your circumstances were difficult, but the worst is over. All will be well.”
“How can you say that to me? You asked for honesty, well, so do I. Don’t tell me things will be fine when they clearly are not. My mother is deluded enough to think a party will restore my poor reputation, my father won’t speak to me, and my little sister may not have a come-out ball because of me. Do not tell me that all will be well when you know what I face. At least respect me enough to do that.”
“I do respect you,” he said. “I respect you for refusing that bastard who tried to coerce you into intimacies. I respect you for holding your head up high at that ball where that bastard betrayed you, and I respect you for being a clever and caring woman. Every word is my honest opinion of you. If I think so highly of you, and I know Margaret does as well, then believe that you deserve happiness.”
“Be honest. Do you feel obliged to make our temporary engagement a real one?” she asked. “Please don’t lie to me.”
“No, I do not feel obliged, and I hope you do not, either,” he said. “To be honest, I think all of this is about your embarrassment, but there is no reason for it. We agreed to a three-week courtship, one that is known only to us,” he said. “It will be awkward if one or both of us decides at the end of three weeks that we don’t suit, but that is the chance we take. You are free at any time to end it, and so am I. If that isn’t acceptable, we should end it now. I am willing to go forward, but are you?”
“Yes, I am.” Even though it worried her. What would happen after they married? They would not even be considering marriage if not for his father’s decree and her need to restore her good reputation.
Angeline was afraid of what the future held in such a marriage, but she knew it would be the right thing to do for her family. She had only two choices: spinsterhood or a marriage of convenience. At least the latter afforded her a measure of respectability.
There were still three weeks for them to make this decision. She could not imagine that she would change her mind, because she owed it to her family and she wasn’t likely to get another chance.
But it wasn’t her decision alone. How would she feel if he told her that he had reconsidered and could not marry her? Dear God, what had they gotten themselves into?