“No more drink, no more morphine. I am now firmly on the path of sobriety.”
He seemed to want something from her—some response, or words of encouragement. Angelica didn’t quite understand. He did not need her to validate what he’d done, or why. Surely, he hadn’t done it for her…
Surely, he wanted to be better for himself.
“You see, my girl? A clear head and a clean heart.” He kissed her squarely on the lips. “If there is a fire, I’ll save you. If there is a demon, I’ll fight him. You’re not alone anymore, Angelica. I’ll not be so impaired that you can’t rely on me.”
“You can rely on me, too, you know.”
“Oh, I know. And believe me, I will,” he told her. “Our life together won’t be easy.”
Together. She liked the sound of that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Brody…” She yawned and stretched, her hand searching for him between the covers.
It was morning, and he was gone. Of course, he couldn’t stay when the servants were up, and the family was moving about the house.
They took a great risk simply sharing a bed together. If they were found in each other’s arms, there would be hell to pay.
But Angelica was not alone in her room.
“It’s me, Miss,” Bessie said. A swish of heavy silk meant that the maid was opening the curtains.
Angelica rushed to straighten her nightdress. She had not made love with Captain Neill last night, but they had kissed and cuddled. For once, she hadn’t needed to give away her body to keep a man at her side. Still, she did not want to look tumbled in front of the maid.
“If you’d like to dress,” Bessie told her, cheerfully, “I can help you downstairs to breakfast.”
She sat up, yawning again, and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. Another day of being washed, dressed, and led. “I don’t want to be treated like an invalid.”
The maid slipped her nightdress over her head. “How would you like to be treated, Miss?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Angelica crossed her arms over her bare breasts. She’d dressed herself for nearly twenty years. She could cook for herself, and wash herself without any help. Now, she was expected to stand and submit while a strange woman saw her naked body. “You’re only here because they don’t trust me not to embarrass myself.”
She stood awkwardly while the maid pretended not to care that she was cross, and completely naked, or that she’d woken up expecting to find Captain Neill laying beside her.
“I think you should wear…this. Pear-green silk with a floral appliqué. The touch of blue in the flowers will bring out your eyes,” Bessie said, helping her into a pair of lacy step-ins. “You have some very fine things, Miss. I’ve never seen such lingerie in all me life.”
Angelica allowed her to slip on the frock. “That’s kind of you to say, but there’s no need to flatter me. I’m sure Mrs. Neill and Mary Rose have far lovelier things.”
“Oh, to be sure. But I only dress Miss Mary Rose, and she don’t have any need for silk drawers and lace nighties.”
“And I do?”
She stooped to slip one stocking onto Angelica’s leg. “You’re a few years older than her, I wager.”
“We both know that isn’t what you meant.” Angelica lifted her other leg, and Bessie rolled the stocking up to her thigh. “You and I will get on much better if you’re frank with me, Bessie.”
“You’ve got bruises on your backside as wide as a man’s hand, Miss. I saw them when I was dressing you last night.”
“I fell in the bathtub. That’s why Captain Neill doesn’t trust me to wash and dress alone.”
“Or sleep alone?”
There was no denying it. “Does the rest of the house know?”
“Oh, there’s speculation, but I haven’t said anything. It’s just that Captain Neill has never brought a lady home before. He’s a favorite of the staff, you see, and we all want to see him happy and settled.”
Captain Neill had never brought a woman to meet his parents. Angelica wanted to read more into that than was wise. They’d had a good night together, but nothing out of the ordinary for a man and his mistress. “There’s no ring on my finger, Bessie. And not likely to be one, either. It’s not that sort of arrangement.”
“I am sorry to hear you speak like that, Miss.” Bessie brushed her hair, and helped her slip on the silk, buckled shoes that best matched her frock.
“Does it change how you feel about me? I understand if you’d rather not dress me anymore…”