Читать книгу Regency Society Collection Part 2 - Хелен Диксон, Ann Lethbridge, Хелен Диксон - Страница 46

As Pauline was about to pull back the curtains Angelina grimaced, in no condition to endure the brightness of daylight, feeling as tired and ill as she did.

‘Please don’t pull the curtains back, Pauline. My head aches so.’

Pauline stopped when she observed her mistress’s pale face in the dim light. Her wan face and puffy eyes surrounded by mauve shadows bore mute evidence of her sleepless night.

‘Oh, Miss Angelina, you do look poorly. You stay right where you are. I’ll go down to the kitchen and have Mrs Hall make you up a breakfast tray.’

Angelina’s eyelids, feeling like lead weights, closed, and when she opened them again it was to find Verity beside the bed. Trying to clear the fog from her mind, she struggled to sit up, but Verity put out a hand and pressed her back into the pillows.

‘Don’t get up,’ she said softly. ‘You’re not well.’

Angelina sighed, unresisting, amazed at how weak she felt. ‘It’s nothing, Verity. Truly. I’m just tired, that’s all.’

‘Does your head still ache?’

‘No—at least not like it did earlier. I’ll get up shortly. Alex’s guests are arriving today.’

‘You’re not to think about getting up. With rest you’ll be as right as rain in no time.’

Alex’s head snapped up and alarm brought him to his feet when Verity told him that Angelina was indisposed. His face taut, his eyes narrowed, he sharply demanded to know what was wrong with her, his reaction causing everyone round the table to look at him in amazement.

Ever since he had left Angelina’s room in the early hours, Alex had tried not to think of her and to concentrate on the arrival of his guests, but now he became consumed with anxiety and unable to think of anything other than Angelina.

After a full night’s sleep Angelina awakened, feeling much better. Wrapping herself in a warm cloak, she ventured outside to walk in the deserted gardens. Reluctant to bump into any of Alex’s guests, she left the house by one of the many passageways.

The air was cold, the heavy clouds loitering overhead heralding more rain. From the terrace she was about to descend a flight of steps when quite unexpectedly she came face to face with Alex. She was aware of the elegant presence of the woman by his side, but in that moment of meeting there was no room in her vision, her heart or her mind for anyone else but Alex.

As surprised by her appearance as Angelina was by his, a world of feelings flashed for an instant across Alex’s set features when their eyes locked, but it was the expression of immense concern she saw that touched Angelina the most, replaced at once by one of polite inquiry.

Tenderness welled in her heart as she remembered how he had comforted her in her moment of need, and she remembered how desolate she had felt when he’d left her.

‘Angelina,’ he said with polite formality, giving no indication how her pale features and the mauve shadows beneath her eyes wrenched his heart. He stood beside Lavinia Howard with all the tenderness of a lover, but his eyes never once left Angelina’s. ‘You are recovered, I hope?’

‘Thank you, yes. I am much better. Feeling the need for some fresh air, I thought I’d take a turn around the garden before it comes on to rain.’

Alex turned to the haughty woman by his side. ‘Lavinia, allow me to introduce Angelina Hamilton—my uncle…the Duke of Mowbray’s ward. She is staying at Arlington until he returns from Cornwall, where he’s visiting a friend.’

Lavinia’s austere gaze settled on Angelina in a cool and exacting way. Impersonally her eyes raked her from head to foot in a single withering glance. She had heard all about the Duke of Mowbray’s ward—gossip travelled like a forest fire among the ton—and it was rumoured that this untutored American girl was nothing but a poor relation and had no social credentials to recommend her. Nevertheless, having sensed that she might have a rival for Alex, she resented the American girl’s presence here at Arlington. With a practised smile she looked at Angelina.

‘Why, Miss Hamilton, how delighted I am that you are able to join us at last. How do you like Arlington?’

Protected from the cold by an immaculately cut, full-length dark green coat with a black fur trim, Miss Howard was a striking looking woman, secure in her own strength and sure of her own incomparable worth. Sadly, Lavinia Howard’s appearance at Arlington on Alex’s arm had stepped in to shatter Angelina’s newfound happiness. Angelina smiled, seemingly oblivious to Lavinia’s animosity, and because it was so elegantly done, and because Alex was looking at Angelina, he appeared not to notice.

‘I like it very well,’ Angelina said in reply to Lavinia’s question. ‘It is so very different from my own home.’

‘You are American, I believe,’ Lavinia said, her tone lightly contemptuous. She touched a perfumed handkerchief to her nostrils and sniffed delicately, as if Angelina carried a bad smell. Angelina felt her hackles rise and a faint surge of anger momentarily diverted her thoughts from her own disappointment at seeing her with Alex, her kid-gloved hand placed in a possessive manner on his arm.

‘Yes—although my parents were from England,’ Angelina informed her, in full possession of herself, the hard light of battle gleaming in her eyes. She had taken an instant dislike to Lavinia Howard and had no intention of letting the woman bait her. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to protect her from the cold, the fur trim brushing her cheeks and framing her exquisite face in the most charming manner. ‘If you will excuse me, I will continue on my walk. It is far too cold to be standing about.’

Smiling frostily, Lavinia stepped aside to let her pass. ‘Shall we have the pleasure of your company at dinner this evening, Miss Hamilton?’

‘Yes, you will,’ Angelina answered, having no intention of hiding herself away in her room any longer. She had decided that she would show all the Lavinia Howards of fashionable London society what being an American girl was all about.

‘Verity, I have decided not to hide myself away any longer,’ Angelina announced when Verity came to her room later. ‘I shall have some fun for a change.’

Verity was pleasantly astounded, though cautious, as she asked, ‘And a Season?’

‘That too.’

‘Oh, Angelina, I am absolutely delighted—and I know Mama will be over the moon. As for Uncle Henry—well—it is what he wants, for you to become a proper lady and take your place in society, which was what your mother wanted too.’

‘I know, although I am certain I shall encounter many difficulties.’

‘You are bound to—and you cannot be blamed if you get it wrong occasionally, for you cannot assume a way of life utterly foreign to you overnight. But you are clever and will learn quickly. I have not known you very long, but I do know you have the strength of character that will survive in any kind of society.

‘And now,’ she said, holding Angelina at arm’s length, ‘we have the important task of making sure you look your best for dinner this evening. I swear you will not recognise yourself by the time I have finished.’

The forty or so guests assembled in the hall were about to go into dinner. With Lavinia by his side Alex was talking to Lord Asquith, an old friend, who was bemoaning his poor harvest, but when Angelina appeared on the stairs he heard not a word. For the first time in his life Alex was rendered speechless as his eyes fastened on the young woman wearing a high-waisted white gauze dress flecked with gold descending the stairs. Her lustrous hair was drawn from her face with a thin strand of white ribbon, leaving the heavy tresses to tumble freely down her back to her waist. Angelina possessed the grace and beauty of a Grecian goddess and the regal bearing of a queen. Her presence reacted on everyone assembled like a rare sunburst.

In a shifting blur of people, of colour and flashing jewels that moved beneath her eyes, Angelina saw Alex. Magnificent in an olive green coat and white breeches, he was striding towards the stairs to meet her. Angelina’s gaze went to the woman he had left standing, and she saw a face ice cold, the eyes glowering up at her. Steeling herself, she looked nonchalantly away.

When she reached the bottom step Alex took her hand. There was a twinkle in his eyes, and a slow, appreciative smile worked its way across his face as his eyes leisurely roamed over her body. The unspoken compliment made her blood run warm.

‘You look entrancing,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘I’m delighted you were able to join us—if tardily.’

‘I’m sorry. Am I late?’ The look she gave him was one of unadulterated innocence.

‘You know you are. What were you trying to do? Hold out to make a grand entrance?’

‘What? Me? Really, Alex—you know me better than that,’ she murmured quietly, meaningfully.

He glanced down at her with a hooded gaze. ‘Do I?’

She smiled impishly. ‘No one knows me better,’ she breathed.

‘Minx,’ he replied. ‘Come and meet my guests before you say something that might embarrass us both.’

‘You, my lord? Embarrassed? Never.’

Blind to the satisfied, conspiratorial smiles Patience and Verity exchanged, Alex’s manner was that of pride as he calmly presented Angelina to his house guests—a polite, friendly gathering, and some of the more sedate members of London’s haut monde.

Lavinia, who cleverly contrived to place herself on Alex’s right-hand side at the end of the long dining table, gave Angelina a cool glance and then directed all her attention on their host.

Seated at the head of the table, Alex found his eyes drawn to Angelina like a magnet, where she sat halfway down the table, sandwiched between Nathan and Lord Asquith. She lit up the room simply by being present. Looking for unease on her face, he found nothing but calm and the soft glow of light in her velvet-dark eyes. Despite her inexperience in social repartee, she was extremely popular. She became lively, amiable, a laughing, beautiful young woman in possession of a natural wit and intelligence.

The following morning found a large complement of guests out for the ride into Arlington village. The stable yard was a hive of colourful activity, the atmosphere jovial and relaxed as people mounted Alex’s splendid horses—some having brought their own, all champing at their bits, eager for the ride.

Looking extremely fetching in a ruby-red riding dress, with a matching hat cocked at an impudent angle atop bunches of delectable ringlets that bounced delightfully when she moved her head, Angelina appeared among them. With his noble head leaning over the stable door, Forest Shadow whickered on seeing her, stretching out its nose and shaking its mane vigorously.

‘Poor thing,’ she whispered, removing her glove and rubbing his velvety nose affectionately. ‘What an infuriating tyrant your master is. How awful for you having to stay behind while all your friends ride out without you.’

At that moment Alex appeared by her side. ‘Tyrant I may be, lady, but that horse is staying here.’ Taking her elbow, he propelled her away towards a snowy white mare Trimble was holding. ‘Let me introduce you to Sheba. Sheba is to be your mount for today.’ He scowled when he saw her cast a regretful glance over her shoulder at Forest Shadow. ‘Forget it, Angelina,’ he said firmly, taking the reins from Trimble and leading Sheba to a quiet corner of the yard.

Angelina followed, looking at Alex admiringly, thinking how attractive he was, with his darkly handsome face and the breeze lightly ruffling his shiny black hair. He was resplendent in an impeccably tailored dark-brown riding coat. His gleaming white neckcloth was perfectly tied, and snug-fitting buckskin breeches disappeared into highly polished tan riding boots. But there was still an aggressive virility about him, an uncompromising authority and infuriating arrogance that was not to her liking.

When he brought the horse to a halt he turned, the heat of his gaze travelling the full length of her in a slow, appreciative perusal, before making a leisurely inspection of her face upturned to his.

‘I’m pleased to see you are appropriately dressed for the ride.’

‘Why—did you think I wouldn’t be?’ she asked, smiling provocatively at him out of the corners of her eyes.

‘Thank God you didn’t decide to wear those disgusting breeches. I half-expected you to turn up in them just to antagonise me,’ he remarked, curious as to whether her maid had told her he’d ordered her to burn them—and knowing how she would react when she realised he had. Her reply told him she hadn’t.

‘Why, Alex! As if I would,’ she gasped, feigning innocence, but inwardly goaded by the mocking amusement in his eyes. Then her cheeks dimpled as her lips suddenly curved in a vengeful smile. ‘Although I must confess that I did consider it. However, to save you from embarrassment and disgrace, not to mention the scandal it would cause, I decided against it.’

‘Then I suppose I must be thankful for small mercies,’ Alex jibed lightly. ‘Now—give me your opinion of Sheba.’

‘I’ll be able to do that better when I’ve ridden her.’ The mare rubbed her head against her, her soft dark eyes alive with intelligence. Angelina wrinkled her nose at the saddle with distaste, having forgotten she would be required to ride side-saddle. ‘How on earth can anyone be expected to communicate with the horse on that contraption—let alone stay on! I shall probably become unseated at the first obstacle and break my neck—which I am sure will fill your lordship with morbid delight,’ she retorted tartly.

Alex grinned. ‘Heaven forbid! All the other ladies seem to manage it. You do ride side-saddle, I hope?’

‘Not since I was a girl—and I didn’t like it then. I love to ride, but this stupid saddle will take all the pleasure out of it. Still…’ she sighed out loud ‘…it’s a serious handicap, I confess, but because I have no wish to drive you to murderous fury today by insisting that the saddle be changed, I suppose I have no alternative but to get used to it.’

‘Very sensible. I’m happy that you are beginning to see things my way,’ Alex said with a wicked grin.

‘Don’t count on it.’

‘If you’re afraid to ride Sheba side-saddle—if it’s more than you can handle—simply say so,’ he suggested generously, a lazy, challenging, taunting smile tugging at his firm lips.

Angelina merely glowered at him, affronted that he should dare suggest such a thing.

‘No lady rides like I saw you riding Forest Shadow the other day. Had anyone seen you, you would be ostracised from society before you’ve had a chance to enter it.’

Running her hand over Sheba’s glossy flank, Angelina tossed her head, indifferent to his words. ‘That doesn’t concern me in the slightest.’

‘No,’ he chuckled, ‘I did not imagine for one moment that it would.’

‘Does Sheba have any peculiarities that I should know about before I risk life and limb?’

Alex lifted one eyebrow lazily. ‘She’s as docile as a lamb.’

‘Not too docile, I hope. Although, should the horse balk, I shall be straight over her head.’ She scowled at Alex. ‘If I am, no doubt you will blame my poor horsemanship and not the saddle. I know that it would please you enormously if I were to make a spectacle of myself, my lord, but I am determined not to gratify your wish to see me take an undignified tumble—so come, help me into this monstrous instrument of torture before I change my mind and retire to one of the carriages.’

Placing his hands on her waist, Alex lifted her effortlessly into the offending saddle, watching as she hooked one knee around the pommel and placed her foot in the stirrup before settling her skirts. ‘Take her out into the park and have a trot round. Get used to her before we set off.’

Taking the reins as Sheba moved restlessly, Angelina controlled the horse effortlessly and slanted Alex a querying glance. ‘I don’t see Miss Howard here. Shouldn’t you go and find her and ensure she is properly mounted?’

‘Lavinia isn’t riding. She dislikes horses and has no fondness for riding. She is to follow on in one of the curricles with some of the other ladies. We’ll meet up with them at the Wild Boar in the village.’

Angelina smiled inwardly, secretly suspecting this was because Miss Howard was an indifferent horsewoman and had no wish to be shown up, but she prudently kept her suspicion to herself.

Alex’s expression suddenly became serious. ‘There is one thing I should mention before we depart, Angelina. We won’t be riding to Arlington directly and will more than likely pass the place on the other side of the woods where you encountered the gypsies.’

Angelina paled, her eyes locked on his.

‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he told her gently. ‘They moved on yesterday so you are in no danger of confronting them again.’

She nodded, her relief evident, glad that they had gone and were no longer a threat to her peace of mind. But how long would it be before something else came along to remind her?

When the party set off a biting wind had risen. Out in the park whips cracked and they were off at full gallop down the hill towards the lake. Angelina was happy that Sheba turned out to be a spirited little horse, certainly less docile than she had first thought. Several hounds bounded on ahead. Followed by a sea of horses—Alex and Nathan out in front setting the route—they poured over the land with a fluidity reminiscent of a river in full flow.

After a time they slowed their horses to a leisurely walk. Turning in his saddle, Alex looked back at Angelina, reining in his horse to wait for her to draw level.

‘My compliments, Angelina. I know few men who ride as well as you,’ he told her, falling in beside her. ‘I am certain that the huntress Diana could not rival you.’

‘That is a compliment indeed—coming from you.’ The genuine warmth and admiration in his voice and in his eyes flooded her heart with joy.

‘Is Sheba to your liking?’

‘She most certainly is, but she does not perform as well as Forest Shadow. She’s an ambler in comparison—but we get on well enough.’ She laughed, leaning forward and stroking Sheba’s neck when she saw the mare prick her ears back, as if aware of what she was saying. ‘She’s a beautiful horse.’

‘I’m glad you like her. She’s yours.’

Angelina stared at him, almost speechless with pleasure. ‘Mine? Oh, Alex. No one has ever given me such a wonderful gift. I can’t possibly accept it.’

‘Yes, you can—unless you wish to offend me.’

She smiled a little shyly. ‘I wouldn’t dare. I don’t know what to say.’

‘Thank you will do.’ He’d decided to make her a gift of the horse days ago, but because of her disobedience over Forest Shadow and the arrival of his guests, somehow he’d never got around to it.

‘Thank you. But what will happen to her when I return to London? Will I have to leave her here?’

‘You can take her with you if you like.’

‘Really? Oh, that would be wonderful.’

Alex studied her in silence for a moment before saying, ‘You’re a strange young woman, Angelina Hamilton. Has there been no young man in your life? Before you came to England.’

Angelina sighed, a wistfulness entering her eyes. ‘There was once,’ she confessed, remembering Stuart Thackery, her childhood sweetheart.

‘Tell me about him?’

‘There’s nothing to tell really.’

‘Was he handsome?’

‘Oh, yes—very. To my romantic imagination he was Apollo and Lancelot all rolled into one—a thousand times more wonderful than all the knights of King Arthur’s Round Table. No legendary hero could compare.’

Alex found himself resenting and thinking jealously of that young man. ‘He sounds like the answer to every maiden’s prayer. And what happened to this prince among men?’ he asked carelessly, unaware how deeply his cruel sarcasm hurt Angelina.

The question seemed to discomfit her. As if stalling for time she looked straight ahead, fighting a sudden mistiness in her eyes. She waited a moment before answering, and when she did her voice was low, almost a whisper. ‘He—he was killed by the Shawnee.’ Suddenly she urged her horse on.

Alex cursed his thoughtlessness. With a heavy guilt and his words eating away at him, he rode after her, catching Sheba’s rein and bringing her to a halt. Angelina’s expression was so wretched that it drove a piercing pain through his heart. At that moment he wanted all the other riders to disappear into thin air so he could drag her from her horse on to his own and kiss away her pain. She averted her eyes, looking anywhere but at him.

‘Angelina, I apologise for my thoughtlessness.’ Leaning across, he tipped her chin. ‘Look at me and tell me you forgive my insensitive, thoughtless blunder.’

Her face broke in a teary smile and she looked directly into his eyes, seeing they were soft and yearning as they rested on her. ‘Of course I do. How could you know anything about Stuart when I’ve never mentioned him? Along with many other things, I have several reasons for not wanting to talk about him.’

‘I think there are a lot of things you don’t speak of. Maybe you should. Quite often when one talks of what is troubling them, it helps relieve inner pain.’

‘I can’t. I will not confide in you or anyone else to share my misery.’

Alex looked into the moist depths of her eyes for a lengthy moment before nodding slowly, hesitant to press her further on an issue that clearly caused her extreme distress. ‘I won’t mention it again. Now, dry your eyes and we’ll join the others.’ Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he handed it to her, realising how far they had lagged behind the rest when he looked ahead. ‘We are in danger of being left behind and becoming the subject of a good deal of senseless gossip and conjecture.’

Angelina wiped her eyes and handed the handkerchief back to him.

‘Are you ready to ride on?’

She nodded, a faint smile on her lips.

‘Good girl,’ he murmured, angry with himself for hurting her, and grateful to her for accepting his apology so graciously.

It was a merry group that arrived back at Arlington in the late afternoon. Everyone dispersed to their respective rooms to make themselves presentable for dinner. Jenkins approached Alex, slightly agitated.

‘There is someone to see you, my lord.’

‘Who is it?’

‘A gentleman by the name of Mr Monkton. He arrived just a few minutes ago and has been shown into the library. He has come from Spain.’

Alex’s face hardened, his gaze shifting from the butler’s face to the closed library door. Angelina saw his jaw clench and his hands ball into tight fists as, in frigid silence, he strode towards the library and went inside. Her instinct told her that Mr Monkton’s arrival boded ill.

She was proved right. Her aunt’s expression was grim as they went in to dinner.

‘Alex’s mother has died, Angelina—some kind of seizure, I believe. Her death followed that of her husband, who died of his wounds following a military engagement in July.’

Not having known Alex’s mother, Angelina had no feelings on the matter, her only concern being how Alex was affected by this news. ‘Have you seen Alex?’

‘Yes—an hour ago.’

‘How has he taken it?’

‘Very much as I expected he would. He is unmoved, coldly indifferent and without any emotion. I told you Margaret had a zest for hurting people—especially Alex. The damage that woman did to him makes me furious.’ She sighed, distressed by all that had happened. ‘I don’t know why Alex’s attitude should upset me, but it does.’

Throughout dinner Alex presided over the meal with his usual calm composure. He was politely courteous and attentive to his guests, giving no hint of his feelings.

Afterwards, guests found their way up to the long gallery, where they gathered in intimate little groups to amuse themselves. Angelina heard Alex excuse himself to Lavinia, telling her he was to join a group of gentlemen to play a game of billiards.

It was to the music room that Angelina was drawn, but not before she had observed Alex walk the length of the long gallery, bypassing the billiard room, and disappear through a door that led to the east wing. In the music room Patience was already ensconced on a sofa. The older woman’s face brightened when she saw her and she patted the space beside her invitingly.

‘Sit by me, Angelina. Miss Asquith is about to play for us on the pianoforte.’

Angelina excused herself on the pretext that she was to fetch her fan. Reaching Alex’s suite of rooms, she knocked gently on the door she knew opened into a small anteroom that led into his office, without the visitor having to pass through his bedroom. When there was no response, she opened it and stepped inside, moving slowly towards the open study door.

Having removed his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, Alex was standing by the window, a drink in his hand. Angelina’s heart twisted with remorse when she saw the pain etched on his unguarded face. He sensed her presence his shoulders stiffened and he turned, his expression stony and preoccupied.

‘If you want me to go away, I will, Alex. You only have to say.’ She was relieved when she saw his granite features relax a little.

‘No—please stay.’

Angelina moved towards him, feeling momentarily at a loss to know what to say, how to comfort this suffering man.

‘What made you seek me out?’

‘I saw you leave. I was worried…’

His sudden sweeping smile was disarming and confounded her. ‘What better way to lure you into my chamber.’

She gasped, thinking how absolutely unpredictable he was. ‘I thought you were upset—because of the news Mr Monkton brought you…’

His smile faded abruptly and his expression became guarded, his eyes as brittle and cold as glass. Moving away from her towards the fire, he braced his foot on the brass fender. Leaning his shoulder against the mantelpiece, he folded his arms over his chest and looked at her coldly. ‘So, you know about that?’

‘Yes. Aunt Patience told me.’

‘What did she tell you? How much?’ he demanded tightly.

Drawing a long breath, Angelina knew she had come too far to stop now. ‘That your mother has died and—’

‘How my father shot himself?’

She did not lower her gaze. ‘Yes. That too. Alex, what happened is no secret. Aunt Patience did not betray a confidence. When I came to see you, I hoped that you would have had time to come to terms with the news and I—thought—’

‘What? That now my fury has abated I would be crying into my cups?’ His lips twisted with irony. ‘If you thought that, you do not know me.’

‘No. I don’t think I do,’ she said quietly, refusing to back away from this hard, cynical man. ‘Does anyone?’

‘No. That’s the way I like it. Angelina, I appreciate your concern, but do not involve yourself in something you know nothing about. I’m dealing with this in my own way. I don’t need your help.’

Angelina stiffened, but she managed to keep the hurt out of her voice. ‘That’s all right. You don’t have to accept it. I don’t mind.’ She looked towards the door and turned away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.’

Alex reached out and placed a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Stay. I admire you for having the courage to seek me out at this time. But as you see, you were correct in assuming I’ve had time to come to terms with the news Mr Monkton brought me. I never loved my mother—I loved neither her inconstancy nor her heartlessness.’

Angelina looked at his proud, lean face, moved by the pain that edged his voice. ‘And you are still tortured by what she did to you, I can see that.’

‘That woman inspired me with nothing but disgust and loathing. As long as I live I shall never forget that day when I watched my father kill himself—the horror-sickening shock, the feeling of helplessness, the overwhelming despair, betrayal—and the hatred I felt when I realized that my mother alone was responsible. My father was weak—some might have called him spineless—and my mother, who considered male superiority a myth, mocked him for it. She should never have married him. It was Uncle Henry she wanted—but he—’ Aware of who it was he was talking to Alex suddenly stopped and looked at Angelina. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this.’

‘I think you were about to say that Uncle Henry wouldn’t marry her because he was in love with someone else. Is that not so?’

He nodded slowly, meeting her candid gaze, wondering just how much Angelina knew about the feelings Uncle Henry cherished for her mother to this day. ‘Yes.’

‘Did your father do nothing to stand up to her?’

‘His continual submissiveness to her amoral behaviour was something I was never able to understand. It infuriated me when he tried to make excuses for her. I wanted him to berate her, to stand up for himself. She humiliated him, spurned and shamed him before his friends, flaunting her lovers in front of him—and instead of teaching her a lesson, my father sought oblivion in drink before shooting himself.’

‘And you still carry your hurt and bitterness around your neck like a millstone.’

Alex’s smile was one of cynicism. ‘Does it show all that much?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘There are some things, Angelina, that cannot easily be put aside. You, more than any other person I know, should understand that.’ He stopped his pacing and looked down at her. ‘You said you came because you were worried. About me?’

She nodded.

‘So, you came—even though you knew I might send you away.’

‘I anticipated that—and I must confess to feeling how Daniel must have felt when he entered the lion’s den.’

‘Were you not afraid of my anger?’

‘I don’t fear you, Alex,’ she replied, calmly looking into his clear eyes. ‘You should know that by now. Among the many emotions you must be feeling I knew you would be angry and hurt, but seeing you at dinner, so composed, so…’

‘Anaesthetised,’ Alex suggested wryly when she hesitated for want of an appropriate word.

‘If you like.’

Alex’s gaze searched her face with something like wonder in his silver eyes. There were depths to Angelina that every other woman he knew lacked, and she never ceased to amaze him. ‘You confound me—do you know that? You try my patience like no other, you shoot rabbits like a barbarian and ride a horse like a gypsy, and yet what an amazingly sensitive, perceptive, wise little thing you’ve become, Angelina Hamilton.’

‘If I were wise, I would have come to terms with everything that happened to me in Ohio and put it behind me, but I can’t. That is still a millstone around my neck I have to bear. I, too, was fifteen when I saw my father die—brutally—so I know how you must have felt when you witnessed your father’s suicide. I also saw my mother run to his side only to be brought down by an Indian’s knife thrust into her back. I laid their ghosts to rest before I came to England. Perhaps you will be able to do the same now you know your mother is dead.’

Alex picked up a decanter from his desk to replenish his glass. Finding it devoid of liquor, he uttered a soft curse and strode towards the door to his bedroom. Holding it open with his arm, he indicated that she follow. ‘Come, you already know your way around my apartment,’ he grinned. ‘Will you join me in a glass of wine?’

Seeing her hesitate, he said, ‘You can’t leave. You came to comfort me in my hour of need. Remember? I’m still in need.’ He smiled lazily when she jerked her head in alarm. ‘Why—you’re not afraid to enter my bedroom, are you, Angelina?’ he murmured with a sardonic tilt to his dark brows, his eyes compelling, flashing with that particularly silver light that was a herald to trouble.

Angelina was amazed at his ability to push his worries into the background so effortlessly. ‘Yes—no, of course not.’

‘You were brave enough to enter it on a previous occasion as I recall. Remember?’

His voice held a quiet challenge, and when she saw he would not take no for an answer, she relented. ‘Well—perhaps just for a minute. I told Aunt Patience I was going to my room to fetch my fan. I also told her I would not be long,’ she said, throwing him a meaningful glance.

‘I’m sure Aunt Patience will not mind if you don’t return immediately. Before I left, I observed her settling down in the music room to listen to Miss Asquith perform on the pianoforte. She may not even notice your absence,’ he said, standing aside to let her sweep past. ‘Welcome to my parlour.’

‘Said the spider to the fly,’ Angelina couldn’t help retorting drily.

Alex grinned. ‘In no way do you resemble a fly, Angelina. You are far too nimble and sensible to become entrapped in any kind of web—especially one of my weaving.’