Читать книгу Regency Society Collection Part 2 - Хелен Диксон, Ann Lethbridge, Хелен Диксон - Страница 42

‘Come here, my dear, and let me look at you,’ said Patience with a gracious smile when Angelina entered. ‘I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.’

Angelina moved towards her and found herself enfolded in a sweet smelling embrace. ‘I am happy to meet you, Lady Fortesque. Uncle Henry has told me so much about you that I feel I know you already.’

Patience stood back and smiled, approving of what she saw. Her features were delicate and pretty like Lydia’s, but there was something untamed and quite unique about this lovely young woman.

‘Your mother and I were close, Angelina. I was so distressed to hear of her death—and your father’s, my dear. Come and sit by me, and please call me Aunt Patience. We are related, after all.’

At that moment the door opened and Alex strode in. He was dressed in riding clothes, his crop still clasped in his hand. Angelina noticed how fiercely elegant he was in his immaculate coat and polished brown boots, and the way his breeches fit his thighs like his coat fit the breadth of his shoulders, without a wrinkle—and, if they were inclined to do so, they wouldn’t dare on so formidable an owner.

Closing the door and advancing into the room with ground-devouring strides, his cool gaze swept over the three occupants, pausing a little longer on Angelina before moving on to his aunt.

‘Why, Alex, how lovely to see you,’ said Patience, her face shining with adoration as she looked up at her handsome nephew.

Bending his tall frame, Alex lightly kissed her offered cheek, and as his head passed close to Angelina she caught the spicy aroma of his cologne mingled with leather and horses. As he was about to stand up straight he turned his head and looked at her, his eyes on a level with her own and no more than a foot away. Finding herself in such close proximity to him brought an indignant flush to her cheeks, which Alex observed and brought a slight smile to his lips, his silver eyes gleaming with knowing amusement.

Her contempt met him face to face until he straightened, looking down at her from his daunting height, seeing turbulent animosity burning in her dark eyes. She looked serene and almost coy, and yet he had the feeling that it was a charade, and that the environment forced upon her was too restricting for her ebullient nature. She made him feel alert and alive, and curiously stimulated.

‘I really should scold you,’ Patience went on, her eyes following her nephew as he strolled towards the fireplace, where he took up an infuriatingly arrogant stance beside Henry’s chair, resting an arm on the marble mantelpiece and crossing one booted foot casually over the other, looking every inch the master of the house. ‘You did promise to visit me at Richmond while Henry was away.’

‘Forgive me, Aunt. I had pressing matters to take care of.’

‘So I understand,’ Patience replied with a note of reproof, having heard all about his affair with Amelia Fairhurst. ‘I had hoped that with all your years of experience you would have learned to conduct your affairs with a little more discretion, Alex.’

‘The pressing matters I spoke of were purely business, Aunt. And if you are referring to my friendship with Lady Amelia Fairhurst, I assure you it was nothing more than a harmless flirtation and was blown out of all proportion. I did not think you paid any attention to gossip.’

‘I don’t, as a rule, and I’m certainly not going to become embroiled in your personal life. Next you will be telling me that you took pity on her and were trying to console her in her marital unhappiness. But what may seem amusing and harmless to you, dear boy, others may find offensive and insulting—which was the case with Lady Fairhurst’s husband by all accounts, when he demanded satisfaction and challenged you to a duel.’

Chagrin and irritation flickered across Alex’s face. ‘And no doubt you heard that the old fool died of an apoplexy the night before. Amelia Fairhurst is a proficient flirt. You should know by now not to worry about my reputation, Aunt. You must know that most of what you hear is nothing but gossip and wishful exaggeration.’

‘Are you telling us that you have been unfairly maligned, Lord Montgomery?’ Angelina asked, gazing at him with an amazingly innocent smile on her lips, and an insolent light in her eyes. ‘That what people say about you dishonouring every woman who is foolish enough to fall for your golden tongue is not true?’

Content to sit back and listen to the interchange in an amused silence, Henry met his sister’s smiling, conspiratorial gaze, each admiring Angelina’s courage for daring to speak out, while Alex favoured her with an icy stare that was meant to put her firmly in her place. But she merely held his gaze with open defiance, which told him that her proud nature knew nothing of compliance or submission.

‘Not entirely,’ he replied tersely, his jaw rigid. ‘I see you have met our colonial cousin, Aunt.’

‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at Angelina and taking her hand in an affectionate clasp. ‘I came just as soon as I received Henry’s note telling me he had arrived back in London with Angelina.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Is she all you expected her to be?’

‘Yes, she is. Angelina is very much dear Lydia’s daughter.’

‘Tell me, Uncle Henry—was your nephew obnoxious as a boy, too?’ Angelina asked boldly.

Her question earned her a broad smile of admiration from Henry. ‘Why—I do believe he was.’

She frowned, feigning sympathy. ‘How distressing for you all.’

‘So distressing that both Uncle Henry and Aunt Patience have complained bitterly over the years and threatened to disown me,’ Alex retaliated calmly, ‘but as you see, Miss Hamilton, as a family we have a way of sticking together.’

Angelina sensed there was a hidden message for her in his words, which she prudently ignored. Looking at Patience, she smiled shyly. ‘I can see Lord Montgomery’s affairs both concern and embarrass you, Aunt Patience—so you must be relieved to know that he is considering marriage.’

‘So Henry was telling me just before you came in. Is this true, Alex?’

‘That is so, Aunt,’ he replied, tapping his boot with his riding crop, sorely tempted to use it on the softest part of the chit’s anatomy. ‘I am considering it.’

‘Lavinia Howard?’

‘That is the young lady I have in mind.’

‘A sensible choice. The title and position she will acquire if she marries you will delight her family—especially her mother,’ she said with a faint trace of irony, ‘for she has long been desiring a match between you. However, I’m glad to know you are thinking of settling down at last, Alex.’

‘Thank you, Aunt,’ he replied drily. His smile was sardonic. ‘I shall endeavour to do my duty and produce an heir.’

‘Nevertheless, it will hardly be a love match,’ retorted his aunt with a note of disapproval in her tone.

‘No, but I have a high regard for Lavinia.’

‘Poor Miss Howard,’ murmured Angelina. ‘I doubt she knows what a cold and cruel fate awaits her if she takes you for a husband.’

Alex looked at her coldly. ‘There are very few men who love their wives, Miss Hamilton.’

‘Or women who love their husbands, it would seem. If Miss Howard will not be hurt by your indifference, she must be very unhappy or very cold.’

‘She is neither,’ Alex countered.

‘Henry tells me you are to give a small weekend party at Arlington to which she is invited,’ Patience put in quickly in an attempt to relieve the situation. ‘I shall look forward to meeting her again. In the meantime, I am so looking forward to getting to know Angelina better—which is why I shall be staying here until it is time for us to leave for Arlington next week.’

‘You are?’ Alex asked with some surprise.

‘Of course. Angelina cannot remain in this house with you and Henry alone. Her reputation would be beyond recall if it gets out.’

‘Then the obvious solution to that is for you to take her to Richmond. The park is lovely at this time of year. I’m sure the air will be more conducive to Miss Hamilton’s health and temper than it is here in town.’

‘There is nothing wrong with my health or my temper that a distance away from you would not cure, my lord,’ Angelina countered.

The bright silver eyes considered Angelina without a hint of expression, then with slow deliberation. Had it not been for the coldness that came into them, his reply might have passed as a flippant remark. ‘Then I shall have to take that into consideration and adjust my affairs accordingly to assist you in your cure, Miss Hamilton.’

Patience looked from Angelina to Alex crossly. ‘Good heavens! What is this nonsense? Why so formal? You must address one another by your given names if you are to get on.’

Both Angelina and Alex disagreed. Formal address conveyed neither affection nor intimacy, which suited them both.

‘Come, now, what do you say?’ Patience persisted.

Unwillingly, Alex conceded. ‘Very well, Aunt.’

‘Thank you. Now, in answer to your question, I did consider taking Angelina to Richmond, until Henry told me he is to visit Lord Boothroyd in Cornwall shortly. He has been away so long that I would like to spend some time with him before he goes. Besides, I would like to take Angelina shopping before we leave for Arlington. The clothes Henry had you fitted out with in Boston were adequate for the voyage, my dear, but I shall see you have some more day dresses for Arlington. When we return to London my dressmaker will fit you out for a whole new wardrobe. However, I shall ask her to call before we leave for Arlington and take your measurements so she can make a start.’

Alarm bells began ringing in Angelina’s head and she could see the excited gleam of future arrangements in the older woman’s eyes. ‘Oh! But I—I explained to Uncle Henry that I—’

‘Have no wish to be introduced into society.’ Patience smiled. ‘I know. Henry told me,’ she said, glancing meaningfully at her brother. ‘Tell me, have you not considered having a Season just for the fun of it, Angelina?’

Angelina’s expression became grave. ‘It’s a long time since I did anything for the fun of it, Aunt Patience.’

‘Launching a young woman into society is a serious and expensive business, Aunt,’ Alex stated sternly. ‘I dare say it can be “fun”, but one must not forget that all that time and effort is taken for the sole purpose of procuring a husband.’

Angelina glared at him. ‘I know that, which is precisely why I told you yesterday that it would be a waste of both time and money.’

‘Well—whether you have a Season or not is immaterial, my dear,’ said Patience lightly, attempting to defuse a situation that threatened to become explosive. ‘As the ward of the Duke of Mowbray you cannot hide yourself away indefinitely. It is imperative that you have a fashionable wardrobe.’

‘To pass her off in society, Aunt, she will need more than a fashionable wardrobe to be accepted,’ Alex said curtly. ‘She will also need instruction on manners and breeding, which, in my opinion, will take some considerable time.’

Patience studied her nephew’s stony countenance with something akin to surprise. ‘I disagree. Henry and I intend to employ a tutor to instruct her on all she needs to know. She is highly intelligent and cultured—which is more than can be said of some of the vain henwits who are turned out year after year for the Season, so it will take no time at all. What do you think, Angelina?’

Angelina knew Lord Montgomery was jeering at her, but refused to let him see how much the intended rudeness of his remark had hurt her. Glancing up at him, something in his look challenged her spirit and increased her courage in a surge of dislike. She managed to force her lips into a smile.

‘I think that is an excellent idea, Aunt Patience. Perhaps your nephew would care to sit in on my lessons. Unfortunately, it may take him a good while longer since he has more to learn than I. He is a man of high birth but low manners.’

Alex’s eyes narrowed and took on a most humorous glint, which Angelina took pains to ignore. She suddenly smiled radiantly, her soft lips parting to reveal her small, sparkling white teeth that dazzled her adversary. ‘If you have an aversion to joining me at my lessons, you could take them by yourself,’ she generously suggested, her expression serious but her dark eyes dancing with intended mischief, ‘if you can find the time between your many amorous affairs and business commitments.’

Alex stared at her, caught somewhere between fury, astonishment and admiration for her defiant courage. It was the first time he had seen her really smile and the effect was startling. It started in her eyes, warming them, before drifting to her generous lips, stretching them, parting them, her teeth small, perfect and white. In danger of becoming entrapped by his baser instincts, he straightened abruptly from his stance by the fireplace and walked forward, ignoring Angelina as he glanced from his aunt to his uncle, who was enjoying himself immensely.

‘Excuse me. I must go and change. I must also leave before I relinquish my carefully held temper and do something to your ward that will embarrass you both—something I would not regret, I might add,’ he snapped, clenching his crop between both his hands and leaving Angelina in no doubt what he would like to do with it.

When he reached the door he turned and looked back at Angelina, fixing her with a hard stare. ‘If there is anything I can do to make your stay in this house more pleasant, please don’t ask. I should hate to show discourtesy by refusing. But if you want to win my approval, you are going to have to change your attitude and make yourself more agreeable to me. That should be your first concern.’

Angelina’s ire at his condescending superiority was almost more than she could contain, but she gazed at him with a cool hauteur that belied her agitation and managed to speak calmly. ‘Why on earth should I want your approval? And as for my attitude, no one else finds it a problem. Perhaps it is your own attitude that is at fault.’

Alex glared at her before turning to leave. ‘I’ll see you all at dinner.’

‘Of course, my lord,’ Angelina quipped.

He swung round in the open doorway, his face glacial. ‘My name is Alex. We agreed to dispense with formalities.’

‘No. You did,’ she replied, turning her head away, having told him she did not want the intimacy of addressing him by his given name.

When the door had closed behind him she relaxed, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Looking from Henry to Patience, who were watching her calmly, not in the least put out by the heated interchange between her and their nephew, a little impish smile tugged at her lips. ‘Oh, dear. I don’t think your nephew likes me very much, does he?’

For most of the journey to Arlington, Angelina stared out of the window, uncomfortable beneath Lord Montgomery’s watchful gaze. He sat across from her next to a sleeping Patience, with his long legs stretched out in the luxurious conveyance, studying her imperturbably.

He had discarded his coat and his pristine white shirt and neckcloth contrasted sharply with his black hair and dark countenance. His body, a perfect harmony of form and strength, was like a work of Grecian art and most unsettling to Angelina’s virgin heart. To rid herself of his studied gaze she closed her eyes, but even then the vision persisted and she could see and feel those piercing eyes boring holes into her. Unable to endure his scrutiny a moment longer, she snapped her eyes open and locked them on his.

‘Well? Have you had an edifying look?’ she demanded irately.

Quite unexpectedly he smiled, a white, buccaneer smile, and his eyes danced with devilish humour. ‘You don’t have to look so angry to find yourself the object of my attention. As a matter of fact I was admiring you.’

Unaccustomed as she was to any kind of compliment from him, the unfamiliar warmth in his tone brought heat creeping into her cheeks. In fact, she decided that she liked this softer side she was seeing even less than the one she was accustomed to. This other Alex Montgomery was beyond her sphere and she didn’t know how to deal with him.

‘If you think to use flattery as a new tactic to subdue me, it won’t work.’

‘I was merely thinking that when you aren’t scowling you really are quite pretty.’

‘And how many women have you said that to?’ Angelina asked, raising her nose to a lofty elevation.

‘Several. And it’s always the truth.’

‘Oh dear,’ Patience said, fighting a sneeze, which brought her back to awareness. ‘I do hope the two of you aren’t going to argue again. If so, kindly wait until we reach Arlington. I don’t think my nerves will stand it.’

Angelina was concerned about Patience, who had been suffering a chill for the past twenty-four hours. Unfortunately it seemed to be getting worse. Her eyes were bright and feverish, her nose streaming.

‘I’m sorry, Aunt, we didn’t mean to wake you. As soon as we reach the house you must go straight to bed. Lord Montgomery will send for the doctor.’ Leaning forward, she tucked the rug over her aunt’s knees.

Wiping her streaming eyes Patience looked too poorly to argue. ‘I shall not be sorry to get to bed. I do hope I am in my old room, Alex, and away from the noise of the workmen.’

Reaching out, Alex gently touched his aunt’s cheek with long caressing fingers, causing Angelina to stare in astonishment at the smiling, tender expression on his face, which was not in keeping with the man she knew.

‘You are,’ he said in reply to his aunt’s question. ‘As yet work hasn’t started on the west wing. And Angelina is right. You must go to bed the instant we arrive.’

‘Where have you put Angelina?’

‘I hope you have accorded me the same consideration and I’m away from the noise too,’ Angelina retorted quickly.

‘The carpenters and masons do not work around the clock. They go home at night, so you will not be disturbed—unless you are in the habit of sleeping through the day,’ Alex said with a hint of sarcasm.

Angelina threw him a wrathful look, but refrained from answering when Patience gave way to another fit of sneezing.

Nothing had prepared Angelina for the exquisite splendour that was Arlington Hall in the heart of the Hertfordshire countryside. She saw it from a distance sitting like a grand old lady on the crest of a hill, timeless and brooding, its elegant beauty expressing power and pride.

‘Oh, my,’ she breathed, with a growing sense of unreality. Her mother had told her about the grand houses the English nobility lived in, but never had she envisaged anything as lovely as this. Arlington Hall was certainly not a house of modest proportions. ‘Why—it’s beautiful. Is it very old?’

Alex smiled at the dazed expression of disbelief on her face, well satisfied with her reaction. ‘I’m afraid it is,’ he replied, folding his arms across his chest, preferring to watch a myriad of expressions on Angelina’s face rather than the approaching house. ‘Built during Queen Elizabeth’s reign about two hundred and fifty years ago, the main structure survives relatively unaltered.’

‘It must have taken years to build.’

‘Actually, it rose at amazing speed.’

‘And all those windows,’ she murmured, watching as the evening sun caught the three stories of huge windows, lighting them up like a wall of flame, contrasting beautifully with the green and yellow tints and fiery shades of the finest, early autumn foliage.

‘People were enthusiastic for enormous windows in those days. Glass was very expensive, so it became a status symbol. People used it in large quantities to show how rich they were.’

Angelina looked at Alex with large eyes, her animosity forgotten for the moment. ‘Your ancestors must have been very rich.’

‘They were. The first Earl of Arlington was a powerful politician and a trusted adviser of Queen Elizabeth.’

‘And did Queen Elizabeth ever come to Arlington?’

‘Frequently. She liked living at her subjects’ expense. I’m having considerable alterations and improvements made just now—woodwork has to be renewed, rooms redecorated, and I’m having the modern convenience of running water installed. It’s being done in stages and at the moment it’s the east wing that’s being renovated. Needless to say there’s an army of workmen tramping all over the place so you’ll just have to bear with it.’

‘Is Uncle Henry’s house anything like Arlington Hall?’

‘No. Mowbray Park was built at a later time and is quite different. It was designed on a much larger scale and is very grand. But you’ll see it for yourself before too long.’

‘And will you inherit Mowbray Park one day?’

‘Yes.’

She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Then—who will live at Arlington?’ It was a simple question, one she regretted asking when she saw his jaw tense and his eyes cloud over. ‘Will you sell it? After all, you can’t very well live here and at Mowbray Park.’

Alex hesitated, and for a moment Angelina thought she saw pain in his eyes. ‘No, I don’t suppose I can,’ he answered quietly. ‘But I will never sell Arlington. If I marry, I will pass it on to my heirs.’

Angelina shook her head and sighed with sympathy for their mutual plight. ‘So you don’t have any family either—apart from Aunt Patience and Uncle Henry. You say your mother’s ancestors built Arlington Hall. Does she still live here?’ she asked, recalling Uncle Henry telling her that Lord Montgomery’s father was dead. Immediately she sensed his withdrawal. It was as if a veil had come over his features. Her eyes saw the changing expression on his face, a look that at once seemed to warn her not to pry and to shut her out.

Again Alex hesitated. When he replied to her question his tone was harsher than he intended. ‘I would prefer it if you did not mention my mother to me, Angelina. I cannot imagine that she would interest you.’

‘I—I just wondered—’

‘Then don’t,’ he said coldly. ‘My parents are both dead.’

There was so much finality and suppressed anger and bitterness in his voice that she refrained from asking any further questions.

The four bay mounts pulling the crested coach at last danced to a stop in front of the house and Alex got out, gallantly extending his hand to help his aunt and Angelina. Just for a moment Angelina’s fingers touched his, and she felt as if the warm grasp of his hand scorched her own. The two following coaches carrying staff and baggage drew to a halt.

Scarlet-and-gold-liveried footmen appeared out of the house and descended on the coaches to strip them of the mountain of baggage. In a hurry to be inside the house, Patience went ahead of them. Alex turned to Angelina.

‘Welcome to Arlington Hall.’

Side by side they climbed the steps and entered the house.

At a glance Angelina became aware of the rich trappings of the interior, the sumptuous carpets and wainscoted panelled walls and great beams crossing the ceiling. An ornately carved oak staircase opposite the entrance cantilevered up to the floors above. The butler, Jenkins, a lean dignified man with dark brown hair and rather austere features, stood aside as they entered, keeping a keen eye on the footmen to remind them of their duties as their eyes kept straying with frank approval to the young woman who stood beside the Earl. Angelina turned when Patience patted her arm.

‘Forgive me, Angelina, but I really must go to my room. Mrs Morrisey, who is the housekeeper at Arlington Hall, will show you to your room,’ she said, looking quite distressed and turning to a middle-aged woman who came towards them with a rustle of stiff black skirts. ‘Go and settle in and refresh yourself before dinner.’

‘Angelina, wait,’ Alex commanded brusquely when she was about to follow Mrs Morrisey across the hall to the stairs.

Angelina’s spine stiffened and she turned to him. Taking her arm he drew her aside. Gazing up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes, she met his piercing eyes. Inwardly she shivered, seeing something ruthless in that controlled, hard silver gaze. She stood perfectly still and tense, waiting for him to speak.

‘I will see you at dinner?’

‘If you don’t mind, I think I will eat with Aunt Patience in her room,’ she replied stiffly, averting her eyes.

‘I do mind,’ he told her quietly. ‘Your opinion of me matters not at all, but I refuse to have the servants see my guest has an aversion to me. I would appreciate it if you would try to practise a little courtesy while you are in my house. Is that too much to ask of you?’

Angelina heaved a heavy sigh. It would be difficult to do as he asked, but she saw no reason why they should not at least be cordial to one another. ‘No, of course not,’ she conceded.

‘Thank you. Dinner is at half past seven.’

Abruptly he turned and strode away, leaving Angelina to follow Mrs Morrisey up the stairs. The opulence and elegance of the blue and white room into which she was shown took her breath away.

‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ she enthused with delight.

‘Lord Montgomery instructed me to have this particular one prepared for you because it offers such a splendid view of the garden. It also faces south and has an abundant supply of sunshine—especially during the summer months.’

‘How considerate of Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina replied, strangely touched to discover he had spared the time to think of her comfort.

Later, she joined Lord Montgomery in a small candlelit dining room off the main hall. Presenting a pleasing appearance, having donned one of the gowns Patience had purchased for her in London—a violet silk which complemented her figure and her eyes—she managed to maintain an outward show of calm, despite the tumult raging inside her.

Lord Montgomery was standing by the sideboard, pouring red wine into two glasses. Angelina was struck by his stern profile outlined against the golden glow of the candles. She saw a kind of beauty in it, but quickly dismissed the thought. It was totally out of keeping with her opinion of him. He turned when she entered and moved towards her, his narrow gaze sweeping over her with approval.

‘I hope I’m not late. I went to look in on Aunt Patience.’

‘How is she?’ Alex handed her a glass of wine. Having lost all desire to quarrel with her tonight, he was relieved to hear she sounded more calm than aggressive.

‘Sleeping—but she really does look quite poorly.’

‘Then you will be relieved to know the doctor has seen her and has left some medication that should help relieve her discomfort. Is your room to your liking?’ he asked, pulling out her chair at the damask-covered table decorated with orchids.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Angelina replied, slipping into it and taking a sip of wine, hoping the meal would be over quickly so she could escape.

‘I’m glad you decided to join me for dinner,’ Alex said, seating himself across from her. ‘I hoped you would.’

‘I could hardly ignore a royal command, could I?’ Angelina replied, unable to resist taking a gentle stab at him, the impish curve to her lips softening the tartness of her reply.

His glance darted across the table. ‘It was not a royal command.’

‘No? That’s how it sounded.’

Reining in his mounting irritation, Alex stirred impatiently. ‘Angelina, don’t be aggressive,’ he told her quietly. ‘I am in no mood for a quarrel.’

Angelina laughed shortly, a mischievous light twinkling in her eyes. ‘Why, what kind of miracle is this! To what do we owe it?’ When he shot her an annoying look she sighed in capitulation, though in the light of his previous animosity towards her during their brief acquaintance, she remained suspicious of this softening to his attitude. ‘No. Neither am I,’ she answered, smiling at an aloof-looking footman who was standing to attention like a soldier close to a large dresser containing platters of food.

‘Good. Now that is settled, perhaps we can enjoy our dinner in peace.’

‘I shall endeavour to do so.’

‘As long as you don’t upset my cook by not eating. Mrs Hall is very efficient—and, being a woman, she is extremely temperamental and takes it as a personal criticism if anyone refuses to eat.’

‘What! Even you?’ Her eyes sparked with laughter.

‘Even me.’ He smiled in response, spreading a napkin over his knees.

It was a simple, lovely meal, excellently cooked and served by the aloof footman who came and went. Alex talked amiably about Arlington Hall and the surrounding countryside, giving Angelina a brief insight of the people who lived and worked in and around the village of Arlington, just one mile from the hall.

‘Do you often go to London?’ she asked, wondering how he could bear to leave such a lovely place for the hurly-burly of London.

‘I have to take my seat in the House of Lords occasionally—more so at this present time with Europe in a state of turmoil and the war with the United States.’ A faint smile touched his lips when he observed Angelina’s expression of bewilderment, and realised that, coming from America, she would know very little about English politics.

‘You are a politician?’

‘No—at least not in the professional sense. It is simply that I, and all peers of the realm, have been trained to regard it as our right and duty to participate in governing the country. We enter Parliament as we do university and gentlemen’s clubs—such as White’s or Brooks’s.’

Angelina was impressed. ‘It all sounds very grand to me. And what do you debate in the House of Lords?’

‘The issues at this time are many and varied—and of an extremely serious nature. Fortunately we have managed to stand against Napoleon, despite his attempts to throttle our trade. The present economic crisis is foremost in the debates, and the textile trade, which is getting worse. Following two bad harvests, there is general unrest in this country—especially in the north and the Midlands. And on top of all this comes the need to pay out gold to support the war in Portugal and Spain and our naval battle with America.’

‘Dear me. What a muddle it all is. I wonder at you having time to leave London and come to Arlington.’

‘I’m not required to spend all my time in the House of Lords, and much of my business can be taken care of here.’ He went on to explain the basics of British politics and the English Court, telling her that King George III had lapsed into incurable madness and his son, the Prince of Wales, had been made Regent the previous year. ‘There are times when I have to go to Carlton House and other haunts of the Prince Regent and the beau monde. But I must point out that political exigencies take me there, rather than personal tastes.’

‘Uncle Henry told me that George III and his Queen set a standard of decorum and domestic virtue, but that their court was a very dull place to be—much different to that of their son.’

Alex smiled broadly. ‘Uncle Henry was right. As soon as the old King was struck down with madness and fastened into his strait-waistcoat, the Prince of Wales took to wearing corsets and the ladies to shedding their petticoats. There are those who say the country is falling into a decline in moral standards—if not the onset of national decadence.’

‘I was of the opinion that the English aristocracy has always been a profligate lot, who has indulged in loose living and has never ceased to do what it likes and cares only for its own whims. Why—I know you enjoy a certain reputation yourself, my lord,’ she said softly, glancing across at him obliquely.

Alex looked at her sharply. ‘Correction,’ he defended curtly. ‘I may have acquired a certain reputation, but I did not look for it and certainly do not enjoy it.’

Angelina shrugged, swallowing a juicy baby carrot. ‘Whatever the case, it is no secret that you are something of a womaniser and that you keep a mistress—a notorious beauty by all accounts.’

Alex’s gaze narrowed and slid to her seemingly innocent face. ‘Really,’ he said drily. ‘You are well informed, Angelina. Did Uncle Henry tell you that too?’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘Of course not. Uncle Henry is too much of a gentleman to indulge in tittle-tattle. But I do have ears—and servants talk. What’s she like?’ Angelina asked, popping another baby carrot into her mouth whilst lowering her eyes to hide their mischievous intent, secretly delighting in his discomfort.

Alex’s jaw tensed and a flash of annoyance darkened his eyes. ‘Who?’

Calmly Angelina met his gaze. ‘Your mistress.’ As he arrogantly raised one brow a dangerous glitter entered his eyes, which warned her that his temper was not far from surfacing.

‘She’s very sweet, as a matter of fact,’ he drawled.

‘Then instead of marrying Miss Howard, why not marry your mistress?’

‘Gentlemen do not marry their mistresses, Angelina.’

‘Why—I cannot for the life of me see why not. If a man considers a woman suitable to take to his bed, why not marry her?’

Alex’s grey eyes observed her with ill-concealed displeasure from beneath dark brows. ‘I think we will drop this particular subject. It is pointless and leading nowhere.’

Restraining the urge to giggle, Angelina shrugged flippantly. ‘As you like.’

When he turned the conversation back round to his home, she listened with a good deal of interest, and mostly in silence when she realised just how much Arlington and its people meant to him. It brought to mind her own home and all she had left behind. Memory clouded her eyes and Alex seemed to sense her despondency.

‘Tell me, are you homesick for America?’ he asked suddenly, correctly guessing the cause of her dejected attitude.

Angelina raised her eyes and looked at him sharply. His question was unexpected. ‘Very much,’ she admitted, unsure whether she wanted his sympathy, but comforted by it nevertheless.

‘And you miss Mr Boone and your friend Will, I suppose.’

‘Yes, I do miss Will. He was a part of my life for a long time.’

‘And now? What do you think he is doing?’

‘Trapping beaver somewhere among the Great Lakes of North America, I suppose,’ she murmured, unable to conceal the yearning she still felt for her homeland.

‘What made your father go out west?’

‘He was bitten by the bug that bit everyone else. The lure of the west changed him and eventually he became hungry to see it for himself.’

‘He wasn’t the only man lured by the Promised Land.’

‘It was a dream shared by many. Thousands of men all seeking a better life, a different life, to raise their children—all the time pushing further west in a valiant attempt to tame the land and carve themselves a niche. Hundreds perished in the migration, becoming victims of the elements or at the hands of the many tribes of hostile Indians.’

‘And your mother? Did the lure of the west attract her also?’

‘No, not really. She tried telling my father that homesteading was best left to those who know how to work the land, but Father was determined to go west.’

‘And how did your father fare as a farmer?’

‘Being unskilled in agriculture, he did not fare well. The weather became his mortal enemy—and then there were the Indian raids, when livestock would disappear overnight. Lack of money was a constant problem. The prosperity he’d dreamed of always eluded him. He possessed a grim determination to survive despite the odds stacked against him—but in the end he was defeated,’ she finished quietly. ‘The Shawnee saw to that.’

‘Uncle Henry told me he was killed in an Indian raid, and that your mother was wounded,’ Alex said gently.

The light in Angelina’s eyes hardened. She seemed to withdraw into herself and her body tensed. ‘Yes. Will looked after me and took me back to Boston with my mother—but I hate to remember. On the night of the raid I believe I faced the worst that could happen to me,’ she whispered.

Having some comprehension and understanding of how desperate her plight must have been at that time, his own unhappy days as a child and the dreadful visions of his father’s final moments returned to him vividly. Alex looked at her for a long moment, his eyes soft and filled with compassion. Whatever it was that had happened to her, she still saw her ghosts—just as he did. His voice when he spoke was kind, kinder than Angelina had ever heard him use in addressing her.

‘Then we won’t speak of it again. But if you truly believe you have faced the worst that can happen to you, nothing can really be that bad again.’

Angelina raised her pain-filled eyes to his, wanting so much to believe him. ‘Do you really think so?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’

The footman returned to serve them with a lemon pudding and they continued to eat in silence until he left them alone once more. Alex watched Angelina’s unconscious grace as she ate. She looked so prim in her violet gown. Apart from her face and slender hands not an inch of flesh was exposed, and not a single hair escaped that severe plait.

In the soft light her face was like a cameo, all hollows and shadows. There was a purity about her, something so endearingly young and innocent that reminded him of a sparrow. He tried to envisage what she would look like if the little sparrow changed her plumage and became a swan, and the image that took shape in his mind was pleasing. Feeling compelled and at liberty to look his fill, he felt his heart contract, not having grasped the full reality of her beauty until that moment. She must have sensed his perusal because she suddenly raised her eyes, hot, embarrassed colour staining her cheeks as he met her gaze with a querying, uplifted brow.

‘I would be obliged if you would please stop looking at me in that way. Your critical eye pares and inspects me as if I was a body on a dissecting slab.’

‘Does it?’ Alex murmured absently, continuing to look at her, at the soft fullness of her mouth and glorious eyes.

Her flush deepened. ‘I have imperfections enough without you looking for more. Please stop it,’ she demanded quietly. ‘You are being rude.’

‘Am I?’ he said, his attention momentarily diverted from her fascinating face.

‘Yes. And if you persist I shall be forced to leave the table.’

Her words brought a slow, teasing smile to his lips and his strongly marked brows were slightly raised, his eyes suddenly glowing with humour. ‘I apologise. You cannot leave before you’ve finished your dinner. But I cannot help looking at you when you are sitting directly in my sights.’

Hot faced and perplexed, Angelina almost retorted that she was not a rabbit in the sights of his gun, but she halted herself in time. She had never known a man to be so provoking. She was suddenly shy of him. There was something in his eyes tonight that made her feel it was impossible to look at him. There was also something in his voice that brought so many new and conflicting themes in her heart and mind that she did not know how to speak to him.

The effect was a combination of fright and excitement and she must put an end to it. She was in danger of becoming hypnotised by that silken voice and those mesmerising grey eyes; the fact that he knew it, that he was deliberately using his charm to dismantle her determination to stand against him, infuriated her. As soon as she had finished her dessert she stood up.

‘Please excuse me,’ she said stiffly, making a display of folding her napkin in order to avoid his eyes. ‘I want to look in on Aunt Patience before I go to bed.’

‘Of course,’ Alex replied, rising and slowly walking round the table to stand beside her. ‘Would you like some coffee before you leave? Or perhaps you would like to stay a while longer and play a game of cards—or chess, maybe? Uncle Henry did say you play a pretty mean game.’

Meeting his gaze, Angelina felt her flesh grow warm. His nearness and the look in his eyes, which had grown darker and was far too bold to allow even a small measure of comfort, washed away any feeling of confidence. The impact of his closeness and potent masculine virility was making her feel altogether too vulnerable.

‘No—thank you. Perhaps another night.’

‘As you wish.’ Alex’s voice was as soft as silk. There were the uncertainties of innocence about her, telling him that the sudden panic in her eyes was not in the least feigned. He accompanied her to the door, opening it for her. ‘I hope you sleep well. I must warn you that the old timbers creak and groan, so don’t be alarmed if you hear anything untoward during the night. Tomorrow I will ask Mrs Morrisey to show you the house.’

Angelina felt a sudden quiver run through her as she slipped away from him, a sudden quickening within as if something came to life, something that had been asleep before. She went up the stairs in awed bewilderment, feeling his eyes burning holes into her back as she went.