Undeterred, Mr. Lawton only laughed. “Ah, right. Well, forgive me, old bean, if I prefer something that will keep me jazzing all night, not nodding off with my trousers open.”
Angelica was beginning to hate that laugh. She wondered what Cynthia, Mary Rose, or even Mrs. Neill thought of Mr. Lawton’s rude behavior. But, it seemed everyone was off in their own conversations. Marcus and his father discussed some business matter, while Mary Rose told Cynthia about her party plans for the hundredth time. Truly, was that all those girls thought of—parties, frocks, and men? Even Mrs. Neill seemed to delight in the girlish gossip when she could get a word in.
Suddenly, Captain Neill stood up. “I think I’ll show Angelica the gardens. According to you, Peter, I had better start walking off some of this bulk.”
“What’s the point of showing the girl the gardens?” Mr. Lawton asked, cruelly. “She cannot see them.”
“No, but I can smell, and touch, and listen. There is more to the world than what one can see.”
Captain Neill helped her to her feet. “Well said, Angelica.” To the others, he added, “Don’t wait for us. I think we’ll do the full circuit. I cannot remember the last time I walked it.”
With that, they set off into the gardens. They walked for a long time, talking quietly about nothing in particular. They were in some sort of ornamental orchard. The fragrant trees had been planted in neat rows, and Angelica felt certain they looked breathtaking in bloom. Many of them she knew from home—plum, apple, cherry, and pear. Others, Captain Neill identified for her. Some of the trees had even been imported from faraway lands, and planted a hundred years ago.
“I am sorry about Peter,” he finally said. “He’s an absolute ass.”
Though she agreed, Angelica shrugged it off. “But he’s your friend…”
“He was my friend, but, today, I think I outgrew him. I cannot tolerate someone who treats you unkindly. And, honestly, it’s for the best that I stay away from people who still live like I used to.”
“You’ve gone a long time without your morphine,” she said. “Are you worried you’ll always be tempted?”
He warned her of a low-hanging branch, and then explained, “I don’t trust myself. There are times when I feel that my own mind—my own body—is my enemy. I’ve learned to distract myself from thoughts of taking drugs, but I’m afraid that one day it won’t be enough, and I’ll be right back to where I started.”
“But you cannot live your life isolated from all temptation. It isn’t healthy.”
“So says the girl who never stepped foot outside her property for fear of being carted off.”
Angelica stopped walking. “Perhaps that was irrational. I tested that fear, and am no longer afraid.”
“Yes, well, I’m still afraid. Every morning. Every night.”
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “And for that, you are the bravest, strongest man I know.”
“God, Angelica, where were you seven years ago? We wouldn’t have had to suffer through any of this.”
“We would have suffered in other ways. Perhaps you weren’t ready for me all those years ago. I know I wouldn’t have been ready for you,” she said. “I have to believe that everything happens for a reason, and every terrible thing is only preparing us for something greater. Now, we know what we’ve got. We know it’s special. We’re willing to fight for it, when maybe we wouldn’t have before.”
For a long moment, there was only the humming of bees, and the calling of birds overhead. The curtain of fragrant blossoms made Angelica feel dizzy. She wanted to laugh and cry, all at the same time. Mostly, she wanted Captain Neill to say something so she didn’t feel quite so foolish.
Finally, he took her in his arms, and whispered, “I will never, ever stop fighting for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
She truly was an angel. His father simply didn’t understand. What was money, when one had the true love of a good woman? If the old man ever cared for him at all, he would see that her lack of fortune did not matter. Brody was happy, healthy, and in love for the first time. Angelica Grey was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Surely, saving him from a life spent slowly killing himself was worth a ring on her finger and a livable allowance.
He and Angelica stood in the walled garden. They’d passed the orchards, the lily pond, and the sloping hills full of hundreds of yellow daffodils. As a boy, he’d escaped here often when his parents’ misery bubbled over into the nursery, or the schoolroom, or wherever he and Marcus happened to be.
Mother and Father had never been happy. They’d married for money, and looked for love elsewhere. Because they placed no importance on marital love, they did not expect their children to, either. But, surely, no parent would wish their offspring to make the same mistakes they did…