Читать книгу Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante - Хелен Диксон, Хелен Диксон, Helen Dickson - Страница 8

The sky was overcast as the carriage ventured north towards Mayfair. Angelina devoured the sights and sounds of what her mother had told her was the most exciting city in the world. On reaching Brook Street she gaped in awe when the door of one of the impressive houses was opened by a servant meticulously garbed in white wig, mulberry coat edged in gold and white breeches. His face was impassive as he stepped aside to let them enter.

‘Welcome to Brook Street,’ Henry said, smiling as he watched his ward’s reaction.

Angelina was completely overwhelmed by the beauty and wealth of the house. Standing in the centre of the white marble floor she looked dazedly about her, wondering if she had not been brought to some royal palace by mistake. She wasn’t to know that compared to Mowbray Park, Henry’s home in Sussex, this house on Brook Street was considered to be of moderate proportions. Craning her neck and looking upward, she was almost dazzled by the huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling, dripping with hundreds of tiny crystal pieces.

A superior-looking man with a dignified bearing and dressed all in black stepped forward. ‘Welcome back, your Grace. You are expected. I trust you had a pleasant crossing from America.’

‘Yes, thank you, Bramwell. Is my nephew at home?’

The butler replied, ‘No, your Grace. He’s out of town for a few days, staying with Sir Nathan and his wife in Surrey.’

‘I see.’ Henry smiled at Angelina, who looked visibly relieved by the reprieve. ‘Perhaps you would like to see your room and freshen up before dinner, my dear. Show Miss Hamilton to her room, will you, Bramwell.’

‘Certainly, your Grace. The green room has been prepared. I’m certain it will meet with Miss Hamilton’s approval. It’s quiet and overlooks the garden,’ he told Angelina, before leading her up the elegant staircase.

Entering a large room on the first floor, Angelina blinked at the extravagance and unaccustomed luxury. The walls were lined with mirrors and pictures depicting placid rural scenes, and the bed hangings were in the same pale green brocade embroidered with ivory silk as the windows.

‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ she gasped.

‘I thought you’d like it.’ Bramwell directed his gaze towards the dressing room when a fresh-faced young maid emerged, her arms full of linen. ‘This is Miss Bates, Miss Hamilton. She has been appointed your personal maid.’

When Bramwell had departed Angelina smiled warmly at her maid, who bobbed a curtsy. Two or three years older than Angelina, she was quite pretty, small and rather plump, with the majority of her dark brown hair concealed beneath a modest white cap.

‘I’ve never had a personal maid before,’ Angelina confessed. ‘What does it mean?’ She saw surprise register on Miss Bates’s face, which was replaced by an indulgent little smile. No doubt she had decided that, as she was from America, her new mistress’s ignorance could be excused, that perhaps people over there weren’t as civilised or refined as they were in England.

‘Why—I see to all your personal needs—take care of your clothes—everything, really,’ she explained cheerfully.

‘Well, it seems you will have to teach me—and I have much to learn. Where I come from, unless you are very rich, one doesn’t have personal maids.’

Miss Bates seemed to be lost for words at this candid admission. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon get used to having me do things for you.’

‘Perhaps, but I simply refuse to call you Miss Bates. What is your Christian name?’

‘Pauline, miss.’

‘Then since we are to spend a good deal of time together, I shall address you as Pauline,’ she said, as two footmen entered with her trunk.

The following afternoon while her uncle was resting, and feeling hemmed in and restless at having to remain indoors because of the rain that continued to pour down, Angelina wandered through the house. Her uneducated eye was unable to place a value on the things she saw, but she was able to appreciate and admire the quality of the beautifully furnished rooms.

The library, with its highly polished floor and vividly coloured oriental carpets, was like an Aladdin’s cave—a treasure trove of precious leatherbound tomes. It was a room which, to Angelina, encapsulated every culture and civilisation of the universe, where bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, broken only by a huge white marble fireplace and long windows. Happily she browsed along the shelves, looking for a book to suit her mood, eventually finding just what she was looking for.

Unaccustomed to being indoors for such a long period, she placed her books on the desk and went to the window, leaning her shoulder against the window frame, gazing in a somewhat disconsolate manner at the garden, glad to see it had stopped raining and envying the gardener pottering about among the flower beds. Unable to resist the temptation to join him, but not wishing to dirty her dainty slippers, she dashed to her room and donned an old pair of stout boots she had brought with her.

She entered the garden by the long French windows in the library, and spent half an hour chatting to the gardener and helping him debud some of the sodden roses—which Jarvis thought highly irregular considering who she was. Then the rain came down again and the wind rose with a vengeance, so she made a dash for the house. On entering the library she was unable to prevent the sudden gust that sent some loose papers blowing off the desk all over the place and a tiny figurine from crashing to the floor.

‘You stupid, reckless little fool. Do you have to enter the house like a bloody whirlwind?’ a voice thundered.

Angelina’s face was a frozen mask. In her struggle to keep the door from blowing off its hinges, she hadn’t seen the man sitting at the desk with damp, unruly locks of raven black hair tumbling wildly over his head. Scraping his chair back, he stood up and strode towards her, his face livid.

Like an animal on the defensive, Angelina’s eyes narrowed and flashed. ‘You are just about the rudest man I have ever come across and you have a foul mouth for such a well-bred gentleman—I assume you are Lord Montgomery.’

‘Precisely, and I know who you are—Miss Hamilton.’ He seemed to lose control of his expression momentarily as his gaze passed over her, from the top of her shining head to her boots, where it froze.

Angelina followed his gaze and saw her mud-caked boots dirtying the parquet flooring. Soil clung to the front of her skirt, resisting all her efforts to brush it away. Despairing, she groaned inwardly with frustration. For two days dressed like a lady, she had waited for the master of the house to appear, and what good had it done her? Having no intention of apologising for the way she looked, ignoring the irate nobleman, she bent down and eased off her boots, placing them by the door. She then further astounded his lordship by going down on her knees and beginning to pick up the pieces of the broken figurine.

‘Leave it,’ he snapped. ‘The servants will clean it up.’

‘I made the mess so I will do it. I don’t wish to put anyone to any trouble.’

‘I said leave it. The servants are here for your convenience as well as mine.’ When she took no notice he reached out and grasped her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. There was a loud crack as Angelina slapped his hand away. Momentarily startled, he drew back. ‘Why—you hot-headed little savage,’ he barked. ‘What the hell are you trying to do?’

His scowl bore into her as Angelina rubbed her smarting hand. ‘That will teach you not to touch me,’ she snapped, hotly irate. ‘It’s your own fault. Keep your hands to yourself in future.’

Alex’s lean cheeks flexed tensely and his grey eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have any idea how exasperating you are?’ he gritted. ‘And do you have to appear looking like a labourer?’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ she snapped testily.

‘I imagine you’re not, but you will find that here you will do things differently.’

The pieces gathered up, Angelina got to her stockinged feet and placed them on the desk. ‘I’m sorry I broke it,’ she said, unaware of the streak of mud on her cheek as she faced him squarely, two fiercely indomitable wills meeting head on and each refusing to step aside to allow the other to pass. His face was as cold and hard as the stone from which his fine house was built. ‘I didn’t mean to. I suppose it was valuable.’

‘Priceless.’

‘If I had some money of my own I would offer to pay for it, but I don’t.’ Angelina recognised authority when she saw it. Everything about this illustrious lord bespoke power, control and command. The hard set of his darkly handsome face did not suggest much tolerance or forgiveness. ‘No doubt you have already made up your mind where to bury me?’

‘Not yet. But I dare say I will.’ His voice was of a rich, deep timbre. He watched as she flexed her arm. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘You hurt my arm,’ she said crossly, her dark eyes narrowing and accusing.

‘I apologise for that—if you will apologise for appearing like a field hand.’ He waited, his grey eyes penetrating.

‘I suppose so,’ was all Angelina was prepared to relent.

Dressed in snug-fitting, calf-coloured trousers tucked into highly polished tan boots, and a fine white lawn shirt open at the throat, his body well honed and muscular, Angelina could see there was something purposeful and inaccessible about Alex Montgomery, and those grey eyes, which penetrated her own, were as cold and hard as newly forged steel. There was no warmth in them, no humour to soften those granite features.

She sensed his amazement that she had the effrontery to face him as an equal. Clearly this wasn’t what he’d expected—and certainly not what she’d intended. She knew better than to be rude to a man in his own house, but after suffering the indignity of being spoken to so rudely and manhandled, she had mentally drawn the battle lines and moved her guns into position. They looked at each other hard, suspicion and mistrust on both sides.

His expression became suddenly thoughtful and he inspected her upturned face as if something puzzled him.

‘Do you always subject people to such close scrutiny when you meet them for the first time?’ she asked directly. ‘I am not used to being looked at like that and find it extremely disagreeable. Is there something wrong with my face that makes you examine it so thoroughly?’

‘When I look at you I think unaccountably of fairies and imps and things, and have half a mind to demand whether you have bewitched Uncle Henry and my servants—according to my uncle, every one of them seems to be under your spell.’

‘I will not argue the point, but I assure you, Lord Montgomery, that it is not my intention to disrupt your household.’

With a look that betrayed a mild degree of surprise, he nodded. ‘Thank you. I respect your frankness.’ Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked to the window, standing with his back to her while he gazed out. His body was tense, his shoulders squared. ‘I hope the servants are looking after you,’ he said at length.

Angelina was uncomfortable, but she was relieved to hear civility in his tone. ‘Yes—thank you,’ she replied, imitating his politeness. ‘Everyone is being very kind.’

‘And you like the house?’

‘Very much. But then, who wouldn’t?’ she said, warm in her admiration. ‘Have you spoken to Uncle Henry since you arrived home?’

He turned and looked at her. ‘Briefly.’

‘And did he tell you anything about me?’

Alex nodded. ‘He told me that when your mother died he did the Christian thing by making you his ward and giving you a home. He assures me you are a charming, delightful and remarkably intelligent young woman who, for the short time he has known you, has made him extremely happy. In short, you are an absolute treasure.’

Angelina was stung by the irony of his words. ‘But you don’t believe him.’

‘Not if the past few minutes are anything to go by. I am more astute than my uncle. I prefer to reserve judgment.’

Lifting her chin proudly, Angelina met his gaze, not with defiance but a quiet resolve. ‘You don’t want me here, do you, Lord Montgomery?’

‘I love and hold my uncle in the highest esteem, Miss Hamilton. I may not be happy about what he did, but whether I like it or not you are here now and a member of this family. As such, that is how you will be treated and how you will behave.’

‘I realise that my presence in your house is an inconvenience, but taking everything into account, you must see that I have been more inconvenienced than you.’

‘In which case, since we have no choice in the matter, the obvious solution is that we should both try to make the best of things and be cordial to each other. Don’t you agree?’

‘Yes. I have no wish to upset Uncle Henry,’ she said.

Absently she tucked a stray lock of silky hair behind her ear that had dared escape her tight braid. The unconscious gesture caused Alex to study her properly for the first time, and he was amazed by what he saw. Her hair was the colour of rich mahogany with highlights of red and gold, making him think of harvest corn, chestnuts and autumn fires. Parted at the center, it was drawn back and woven together in one long thick braid that reached her waist. Accustomed to seeing women with neatly arranged curls and ringlets, he found this style unusual, but strangely attractive on this young woman. He had the absurd desire to reach out and set her hair free and let it spill about her shoulders, convinced it would glow with the glorious vibrancy of autumn leaves.

Her eyes, surrounded by thick, curling sooty lashes, were captivating. At first they looked so dark to be almost black, but on closer inspection they were seen to be not black at all, but the colour of two glorious purple velvet-soft pansies. Her skin was flushed with warmth like that of a ripe peach, and she had an enigmatic mouth, ripe and full of wonderful promise. The daffodil-yellow gown she wore revealed a female form that was faultless, slim and strong, with long legs and curves in all the right places. With angular cheekbones her face was alluring, interesting, and overall there was an innocence and vulnerability about her that would put a practised seducer like him beyond the realm of her experience.

‘You are not at all what I expected.’

‘What did you expect?’ she retorted sharply. ‘A creature from the wilds who is half-savage, with brown skin and feathers in her hair?’

Alex smiled tightly. Nathan had said something along those lines. ‘Heaven forbid! I certainly didn’t expect to find someone with an interest in fine literature.’

‘Education has reached America, you know. We are civilised.’

‘Looking as you do just now, Miss Hamilton, I would say you have some way to go before you reach that status,’ he said with an ironic curl of his lips. ‘However, it’s apparent to me that you are extremely clever.’

Angelina’s eyes narrowed. She could feel her ire returning. ‘Something tells me that it is not my interest in fine literature that you speak of,’ she said, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious. ‘It is plain to me that you are displeased about something

Alex crossed to his desk and perched his hip on the edge, crossing his arms with a casualness that aggravated Angelina’s temper still further. His imperturbable gaze studied her stormy eyes. ‘Miss Hamilton, when I read my uncle’s letter informing me he had gone to America, everything about you displeased me at the time,’ he told her firmly.

Angelina’s temper flared at this open affront. ‘I thought it might. And I sense your displeasure has increased since. Is it so very strange for people to look after relatives who find themselves destitute?’

‘It is, when the parties concerned live on opposite sides of the world and there has been no contact between them for some time. I find it strange that after all these years, when not a word or a letter has passed between them, your mother should suddenly write to my uncle and beg him to make you his ward.’

‘You’re mistaken, Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina answered, stung to the quick by his remark about her mother. ‘My mother never begged for anything in her life. She wrote to Uncle Henry because he was her next of kin and she had no one else to turn to.’

Alex knew this not to be the case, but, having been warned by his uncle of the need for secrecy relating to this young woman’s grandmother, he respected the request for silence.

‘If you must know, I opposed it,’ Angelina went on. ‘I had no wish to leave America, but it was my mother’s wish.’

‘A woman with colossal aspirations where her daughter is concerned,’ Alex said coldly. ‘Do not think me ignorant of your situation in Boston, Miss Hamilton, and that your mother sent you to my uncle as a poor relation, seeking to save you from poverty.’

Alex caught the flare of anger his words about her mother brought to her face, but he also saw something that resembled pain and hurt in the depths of her eyes. For a split second her young face looked defenceless and exposed, and already he was beginning to regret his unjustifiable and unpardonable attack.

His cutting remark directed at her mother erupted inside Angelina like a volcano and she longed to lash out at him. Feeling the nightmare of the Indian attack closing around her again, she could see her mother’s face as she lay on the ground after the knife had ripped into her, digging deep, and the rich, proud colour of her blood as it had poured from her wound to be soaked up by the dry earth.

‘You cold-hearted, overbearing, arrogant beast. How dare you? You insult my mother, and I will not allow anyone to besmirch her memory. She was the kindest, gentlest of women ever to draw breath, but that is something a man as conceited and disgustingly rude as yourself would never understand.’ Furiously she turned and marched to the door, her fists clenched by her sides.

For a split second a flicker of amused respect replaced Alex’s anger as he gazed after the young American girl. ‘Have you nothing else to say?’

She turned and glowered at him, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes. Furiously she blinked them away. If she broke down and cried, he would have the mastery over her. She would not grant him that. ‘Not to you. Might I suggest that in future you mind your own business and I will mind mine.’

Alex’s black brows snapped together and his eyes narrowed, but his voice was carefully controlled when he spoke. ‘You may suggest anything you like, but since you have raised the matter, you ought to know that I have full control over all my uncle’s affairs.’

His words were insulting and their meaning cut Angelina like a knife. ‘His business affairs, not his personal affairs,’ Angelina corrected acidly. She should have withered beneath his icy glare, but she was too enraged to be intimidated by him. ‘I should tell you that I have a streak to my nature that fiercely rebels against being ordered what to do.’

‘I have a formidable temper myself,’ he told her with icy calm.

‘I do not come under the category of property, Lord Montgomery, and I am not asking you for anything. In the eyes of the law Uncle Henry is my legal guardian, and if you wish to challenge that then you are free to do so.’

‘I have no intention of doing any such thing.’ His words were like a whiplash, his eyes glacial. ‘My uncle has taken you in and does not need to justify his actions to me or anyone else. What matters is that you are in this house under his guardianship and a member of this family, and because I care a great deal for his happiness, I will do nothing about it. But in time I suspect you will show your true colours without any help from me—so I advise you to take care, unless you want to be shipped back to America, lock, stock and barrel.’

Angelina glared at him, two bright spots of colour burning on her cheeks. She refused to look away, but there was little she could say in her defence. This man had already made up his mind about her, and anything she might say would be futile. He was convinced she was a clever, scheming opportunist out to rid his uncle of his last shilling, and nothing she said was going to change his mind.

‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

‘What’s the point? There is no argument against a closed mind. You made up your mind about me before I set foot on English soil.’

Alex contemplated her with a half-smile. ‘It may surprise you to learn that before I met you I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt.’

‘And now?’

‘That still applies. You accuse me of making up my mind about you before I met you. I accuse you of doing likewise. You also summed up your opinion of me,’ Alex stated. ‘From the moment you entered this house, no doubt you have listened to gossip from below stairs, but whatever you have heard, forget it. You don’t know me.’

Angelina could not look away from him—in fact, unconsciously her feet took her slowly back to where he still perched on the edge of the desk, her rebellious eyes holding his. She stood close, her face on a level with his, her skirts brushing his tan boots.

‘You’re wrong. I may only have been in your presence a few minutes,’ she countered, ‘but I have made a very accurate assessment of your character.’

‘Do you normally form an opinion of a person after so short a time?’ he asked, trying to ignore the delectable attributes that stood just within his easy reach. Instantly, his whole body began to hum an ardent, familiar song that clashed with what he should be feeling.

‘In your case it was not difficult,’ she provided. ‘You are rude, overbearing and dictatorial, and you have the manners of a barbarian.’

Alex arched his brows, faint amusement and a stirring of respect in the icy depths of his eyes. ‘That bad?’

‘Worse. You are cold and heartless and I cannot abide your superior male attitude—your insufferable arrogance and conceit.’

He looked at her with condescending amusement that in time she would come to detest. ‘And you, madam, with a tongue on you that would put a viper to shame, can hardly be called a paragon of perfection.’

‘Go to hell,’ she blazed, which was most uncharacteristic of her. But at that moment she was sorely tempted to fling more than abuse at Alex Montgomery and inflict physical damage. No doubt this infuriating man was already telling himself that she was showing her ‘true colours’. She cast a look of pure loathing at him, noting that her words had brought a satisfied smile to his arrogant mouth.

His dark brows rose and he gave her a lofty, superior look. ‘I shall, but I shall go in my own way and in my own good time.’

‘It cannot be too soon for me.’

Afraid that she was going to crack completely and make a fool of herself, Angelina raised her chin and turned. With all the dignity she could muster she picked up her boots and left the room, her slender hips swaying graciously. She didn’t see the admiring light in Alex’s eyes, or the indefinable smile lurking at the corner of his lips as he observed her less than dignified progress through the hall, for as she stormed towards the stairs she almost knocked over an elderly manservant who was carrying a silver platter.

The poor man halted in his progress and turned and watched her go halfway up the stairs, wondering what could have happened to wipe away her sweet expression and replace it with one of black thunder. His answer came when he glanced through the open door into the library and saw Lord Montgomery still perched on the edge of the desk. Shaking his head, he chuckled. His lordship was home, which explained everything.

Alex couldn’t think of anyone, male or female, who would have stood up to him the way Angelina had just done, verbally attack him and walk away as regal as any queen. The girl had spirit, a fiery spirit that challenged him. Her arrogance was tantamount to disrespect, yet in spite of himself he admired her style. Nor was she afraid of him. That was the intriguing part about her.

He allowed himself to remember her face, an alluring face, captivating and expressive, he decided. Her chin was small and round, with an adorable, tiny little cleft in the centre. But it was her eyes he remembered most—enormous, liquid bright—the kind of eyes a man wanted to see looking up at him when he was about to make love.

Idly he picked up the books she had selected to read and left behind. On opening them he stared, so taken aback that he almost laughed out loud. Alex had a familiarity with the ways of the female sex, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Ornithology! Horses!

When all the women of his acquaintance read romantic poetry and cheap, insipid novelettes that had a deleterious effect on their impressionable minds, Angelina Hamilton preferred reading about birds and horses. He chuckled, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. The girl was a phenomenon.

Setting his jaw, with purposeful strides he left the library and climbed the stairs to her room, rapping sharply on the door. Angelina opened it herself, glowering when she saw who it was.

‘Well? What do you want?’ she snapped, fully prepared for another angry confrontation. ‘Have you come to tell me that the war is over and I’ve won?’

‘No. In view of my former rudeness, I’ve come to make amends,’ he told her, standing in the doorway in a misleading, indolent manner.

Angelina eyed him warily. ‘Have you? You seem unsure.’

Alex raised his eyebrows quizzically. Without being invited to do so he stepped past her, as bold as may be, his eyes settling like a winter chill on her terrified maid. ‘Leave us.’

Pauline looked nervously at Angelina, who nodded. ‘It’s all right, Pauline. I don’t think Lord Montgomery intends to ravish me,’ she said, her voice dripping sarcasm, ‘since the only emotion I seem to rouse in him is a desire to strangle me. Not wishing to be hanged for my murder, I think we can safely assume he will keep his hands to himself.’

Alex’s face was set in an almost smiling challenge. ‘Don’t be so certain. I am sorely tempted. I could break you in half like a twig if I so wished and to hell with the consequences.’

‘Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina retorted sharply, dark eyes locking on grey ones, ‘if you plan another battle, you can leave right this minute.’

‘Nothing so dramatic—merely a mild skirmish.’

Pauline gaped, amazed at her mistress’s courage. No one ever spoke to Lord Montgomery in that tone. Bobbing a hurried curtsy she scuttled out.

‘Well?’ said Angelina, feeling strangely threatened now the closed door separated her from Pauline.

‘You left your books,’ he said, holding them out to her.

Disarmed, she was completely taken aback. ‘Oh! Thank you,’ Taking them from him, she placed them on a chair. ‘Why did you dismiss Pauline?’

‘I do not like my conversations being listened to by servants.’

‘And are we going to have a conversation, Lord Montgomery? Do you mean to tell me that you sought me out in my room for a reason other than to bring me the books I selected from the library—which I could have collected myself?’

‘Miss Hamilton, in common agreement, can we not strive to portray ourselves as being both gracious and mannerly for our uncle’s sake?’

‘A truce, you mean?’

‘Something like that.’

At first she seemed to consider his offer, but then her expression changed and she was on the defensive. ‘No. There will be no concessions. In the first place, I don’t like you.’

Alex arched his eyebrows at her frank admission. ‘And the second?’

‘Until I have an apology from you.’

‘An apology? What are you talking about?’ he asked with infuriating calm.

‘You insulted and degraded my mother. I cannot let it pass. If I were a man, I’d demand satisfaction and call you out. Believe me, I’m sorely tempted to do that anyway, but since your demise would cause Uncle Henry extreme distress, I suppose I shall just have to make do with an apology.’

Alex looked at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. The chit truly was incredible. ‘You? Shoot me?’

‘Yes. And I never miss my target.’

‘Then, faced with determination such as this, you leave me with little choice. Very well. I apologise. It was wrong of me to say what I did.’

Angelina was astonished. She hadn’t expected it would be that easy to extricate an apology from him. ‘You apologise?’

‘Of course. And consider yourself fortunate. Apologies don’t come easily to me.’

‘I gathered that.’

‘You accept it, then?’

‘Providing it isn’t lukewarm and you mean it, I will,’ Angelina replied stonily.

‘Thank you.’

‘Now you may leave,’ she told him firmly, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious.

Alex calmly ignored her and looked about him for a moment, his eyes caught by Will’s skilful carving of Mr Boone, which Angelina had placed on a table beside the bed. Every night since leaving Boston it was the last thing she looked at, and as she closed her eyes and went to sleep it made her feel less wretched and alone. With genuine interest Alex moved towards it, looking at it with admiration and the eye of a connoisseur.

‘This is a fine, interesting piece of craftsmanship—lovingly carved. Yours, I presume?’ he asked, looking at her.

‘Of course it’s mine,’ she snapped, annoyed because he showed no inclination to leave. ‘I haven’t stolen it, if that’s what you mean.’

‘That was not what I meant. I was asking you if the dog was yours—a pet, perhaps.’

Angelina felt foolish for having misunderstood his meaning. ‘Yes. A very dear friend of mine carved his likeness. He carves animals and birds and sells them to make a living—along with his beaver pelts,’ she explained, captivated by Lord Montgomery’s strong, lean fingers as they caressed the wooden object. ‘He presented me with it before I left Boston.’

‘Do you miss him?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend.’

‘Why—yes. Very much.’

‘What was the name of your friend?’

‘Will. Will Casper.’

‘And your dog?’

‘Mr Boone.’

A lazy smile spread over his face, which seemed softer now. ‘So named after Daniel Boone, the intrepid pioneer.’

Angelina was pleasantly surprised to learn that he knew something of America’s history. ‘Yes. You’ve heard of him.’

Alex nodded. ‘I’m a businessman. I make a point of keeping abreast of world news. It proves advantageous where investments are concerned. And did your dog live up to his namesake?’

‘Does. He’s a brave little thing with a heart as big as a lion.’

‘Is?’ Alex’s eyebrows snapped together as a sudden, decidedly unpleasant thought occurred to him. ‘You are not going to tell me you brought him with you—that the animal is here, in this house?’

Alex looked so horrified at the prospect of Mr Boone capering through his stately rooms that Angelina’s composure slipped a notch closer to laughter. She bit her lower lip to still the trembling as she caught his eyes. ‘You needn’t glower in that ferocious fashion, my lord. You will be relieved when I tell you that I left him in Boston with Will.’

His relief was evident. ‘Thank the Lord for that. The last thing I need right now is a dog disrupting the routine of things.’

Angelina made a pretence of looking offended. ‘I will have you know that Mr Boone is extremely well behaved and never disgraces himself. Have you an aversion to dogs, Lord Montgomery?’

‘I keep several of my own at Arlington. But they are used for hunting and well disciplined by their handlers. They are also kept outside in kennels where they belong.’

‘Yes, I expect they are,’ Angelina replied, with a cheeky impudence that Alex found utterly exhilarating. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face as his eyes locked on to hers in silent, amused communication, and he was quite entranced by the idea of sharing her humour.

He walked towards the fire where he stood, hands behind his back, staring down at the glowing heat. ‘How long did you live in Boston?’

‘About two years. We left Ohio when the Shawnee raided our settlement. They—they killed everyone—including my father,’ she told him softly, ‘and wounding my mother.’

Alex moved closer, looking down into the sensitive face before him, but, unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head.

‘And you?’ he asked, placing a finger gently under her chin and tipping her face up to his, his eyes searching, probing, seeing something flicker in those dark, appealing depths: a secret grief, perhaps.

‘As you can see, I was more fortunate. I am alive and I’m grateful.’

Alex saw her eyes register an anguish and horror he couldn’t begin to comprehend, and observed the gallant struggle she made to bring herself under control.

There was silence, inhabited by the living presence of the fire. In spite of herself Angelina found her eyes captured and held by Lord Montgomery’s silver gaze. Then, aware of Lord Montgomery’s finger still poised beneath her chin, she suddenly recollected herself and recoiled with an instinctive fear that he might get too close.

‘Lord Montgomery,’ she said, her voice tight, ‘I have known you long enough to realise that you didn’t consider your manner towards me earlier as warranting an apology. Will you please come to the point and tell me the real reason for coming to my room? I am not so dim-witted as to believe it was your interest in my dog or my life before coming to England. I may have accepted your apology, but it doesn’t change anything, does it? You still don’t approve of me and think I’m out to hurt your uncle in some way.’

His eyes became as hard as granite. ‘Contrary to what you may think, I sought you out because I could see that some form of atonement for my earlier behaviour was in order. However, since you are determined to harp on about it, I will remind you I am concerned about Uncle Henry’s happiness and well being. As you will know, having spent the past few weeks in his company, he does not always enjoy the best of health.’

‘That I do know, having seen how he is often plagued with rheumatic pains.’

‘Correct. So naturally I was concerned when I returned to London after an absence of several weeks in the country and discovered he’d taken off for America without discussing the matter with me first.’

‘I cannot for the life of me see why he should. Your uncle is of an age to act without your permission.’

As he rested his hands on his hips and looking down into her stormy eyes, Alex’s own were so cold that Angelina was sure they could annihilate a man.

‘My uncle is the finest, most generous man I have ever known, Miss Hamilton. What my opinions are concerning you has no bearing on the case, but because he and your mother were once close, and, as you correctly pointed out earlier, he is your next of kin, he will take his responsibilities where you are concerned seriously. If you hurt him in any way, I will personally make your life hell. Do you understand me?’

The look that passed between them crackled with hidden fire. Just for a moment Alex saw something savage and raw stir in the depths of Angelina’s eyes, before they blazed with outrage.

‘Perfectly,’ she replied. With her fists clenched and her chin raised, she faced Alex like a raging hurricane, while he took a step back before the onslaught of her fury. ‘Allow me to tell you a little about my background, Lord Montgomery. In Boston I was living with my mother in a two-roomed shack. Everything I owned I sold to pay for the doctor and her medicine. We had no money and the food we ate I provided. I do all manner of things a young lady ought not to do. I shoot, I fish, and I skin and gut whatever I kill. I dare say the properly reared young ladies of your acquaintance would be horrified and fall into a swoon at such behaviour and liken me to the savage you obviously think I am. I may seem gauche to you and lacking in social graces, but I am not ashamed of the way we lived.

‘When your uncle came to Boston he was courtesy and kindness itself—and I give you my word that I shall not abuse his kindness. When my mother died it was a great comfort to me having him there. In the short time we have been together I have come to love him dearly and would sooner end my life than cause him pain. Despite what you believe, I haven’t asked him for anything and I do not expect anything. I am simply grateful for a roof over my head wherever that happens to be. For this and his support at a time when I had nothing, I owe him much—much more than I can repay. Your uncle knows this and now you know it too, so if it’s not a problem for him it needn’t be a problem for you.’

Alex stared at the proud, tempestuous young woman in silent, icy composure. Her words reverberated round the room, ricocheting off the walls and hitting him with all the brutal impact of a battering ram, but it failed to pierce the armour of his wrath and not a flicker of emotion registered on his impassive features.

‘That, Miss Hamilton, was quite an outburst. Have you finished?’

Pausing to take an infuriated breath, Angelina finally said, ‘Far from it. You may have been born with blue blood in your veins and all the advantages that come with it, but you have a lot to learn. It isn’t where a person comes from that matters. It’s what a person is that counts. You are being vindictive without just cause, but if you want to carry on hating me then please do so. It does not matter one jot to me.’

Their minds and their eyes clashed in a battle of wills.

‘I do not hate you.’

‘No? Well, I hate you,’ she told him, glaring at him wrathfully.

‘I know you do,’ he replied quietly. Not only had he heard, but also he sensed it. Cool and remote, Alex studied her for a moment, as though trying to discern something, and then crossed towards the door and went out.

Angelina stood looking blindly at the closed door for a long time, her heart palpitating with a raging fury. A whole array of confusing emotions washed over her—anger, humiliation, and a piercing, agonizing loneliness she had not felt since she was fifteen years old in Ohio.