What a Reckless Rogue Needs Part 14

"Angeline, what news do you have from Charlotte?" the d.u.c.h.ess said.

She had to recover quickly, because she did not want Penny to hear the truth. All she could do was fabricate a story. "Charlotte is well and happy. She sent her regards and apologized for her lack of correspondence, but she was only just made aware of our return."

"How lovely to hear news from your friend," Margaret said.

Her mother's expression lit up. "This is wonderful news. I know how much you've missed Charlotte."

She would not be able to hide the truth for long. Her mother's remaining friends would send letters. Soon, everyone in the ton would know about Brentmoor's return.

Two years ago, she'd sealed her fate, but her worries were for her innocent sister. Angeline's chest ached. Because of her, Penny might never have a debut.

Colin rose from the table after an excellent port. He'd only half listened to his father and Wycoff discuss politics. Instead, he'd made a mental list of items he wanted to deal with at Sommerall tomorrow.

"I suppose we should join the ladies," Wycoff said.

"Go on ahead," Chadwick said. "I wish to have a word with Colin."

Colin faced his father. "I suppose you want a report of what I accomplished today."

The marquess sighed. "You can give me a report next week. I have a concern."

"About what?"

"I was taken aback by your appearance in the hall today."

Colin frowned. "I heard the knocker and escorted Angeline downstairs."

"You held your coat over your shoulder, your sleeves were rolled up, and your hair was disheveled." He knew it was forbidden to appear before a lady in such a casual manner, but he'd decided to be sensible while working.

"I was sorting items in the attic," he said. "It's dusty and crowded with all manner of items. What did you expect?" Of course he wouldn't mention the highly charged tension between him and Angeline. Why be concerned when nothing had happened?

"At the very least, you ought to have put on your coat in the presence of a lady."

"For G.o.d's sake, we were working."

"You ought to have donned it before coming downstairs. It is a mark of respect for Lady Angeline and for Wycoff."

Colin stiffened. "He took it as an insult?"

"No, he would not have mentioned it, but Wycoff is eaten alive with guilt over his daughter's misbegotten engagement. When I saw your cavalier manner with her, I grew concerned that he might misinterpret your familiarity."

Colin rubbed his temple. d.a.m.n it all. He had been familiar with her, and there had been that moment in which he'd felt the insistent tug of sensual awareness. "You approved of the two of us working together. If I did not treat her in an amiable manner, I believe she would take it as an insult."

"Son, I agree, but you are missing the point. The cloud of scandal hangs over Wycoff's entire family. It is very likely that Margaret will have to sponsor Penelope this spring. Lady Angeline's future is...uncertain. You never even questioned why I brought Wycoff to Sommerall."

He gritted his teeth. "If Wycoff was concerned, he should have spoken up beforehand."

"He did not express concern, but I brought him there to rea.s.sure him that all was well. As a father, I can only imagine how I would feel if it was one of your sisters."

Colin inhaled sharply. The very thought of a scoundrel even breathing near one of his sisters made his blood boil.

"I see you understand now."

He gripped the back of the chair. "I would kill any man who dared to trifle with one of my sisters."

"I sincerely hope not, since dueling is officially illegal and you are my heir. However, feel free to beat any man to a pulp who expresses even the slightest interest in the twins."

"Father, I do not want to treat Angeline differently because of what happened to her. I imagine she's faced too much of that already."

The marquess clapped his hand on Colin's shoulder. "You reaffirmed my belief in you. However, this does not mean you are off the hook."

He frowned. "What?"

"If you want Sommerall, you must find a bride. I tire of hearing about your many lightskirts and drunken escapades. A wife will cure that. You might want to consult Margaret. She has some distant cousins."

"After the house is in decent shape, I will make every effort to find a wife." In a year or two.

"I've managed to put off the buyer, but he won't wait forever. You will make an effort."

Colin figured his father was bluffing. He would manage to put it off as long as possible.

"There you are," Margaret said. "I was beginning to worry."

"It is my fault," Colin said. "I insisted upon discussing the renovations and delayed our return."

The marquess shrugged. "He is determined."

"You missed the news," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "Angeline received a letter from her friend Charlotte. She did not realize Angeline had returned home. Soon my daughter will be able to renew her acquaintances after a long absence."

Angeline's smile looked frozen.

"We are making plans for the spring season," Margaret said. "I believe a Venetian breakfast would be just the thing."

He saw the duke pouring a drink at the sideboard and joined him. Wycoff downed the brandy and poured another. His grim expression looked foreboding. Colin poured a finger and swirled the liquor. "Thank you for allowing Angeline to a.s.sist me. She's quite knowledgeable."

"They are making too much of that letter," he said under his breath.

Colin was at a loss to reply. He sipped his brandy and grew increasingly uncomfortable when Wycoff poured an exceeding amount of brandy. If he kept this up, he'd be foxed in no time.

Angeline approached. "Papa, will you play chess with me? It has been ages since you last trounced me."

"Not tonight," he said gruffly.

She winced.

"Excuse me." He set his gla.s.s down and quit the drawing room.

The devil. The man might feel guilty, but he ought to be kinder to her. Colin set his own gla.s.s aside. "Come, play backgammon with me."

She looked a bit shaken. "I fear I will have trouble concentrating."

"We will make it appear we are playing. It will give us a chance to talk."

"I can't," she said.

"You would do me a great favor. Otherwise, I will be called upon to turn the pages at the pianoforte, and you will have to listen to their plans."

She nodded. "Very well."

He seated her at the game table and sat across from her. "I will set the pieces out, and we will throw the dice and make our moves while we talk. Now, tell me what is awry."

"Everything, but that is hardly new."

"Angeline, your father said the ladies were making too much of the letter." He paused and handed her the dice. "Throw them to make it appear we're really playing."

She threw the dice and moved one of the backgammon stones. "I lied about Charlotte's letter."

He threw the dice and moved a stone. "Why?"

She picked up the dice and dropped them. "I didn't want Penny to hear. She knows nothing about the scandal."

"She knows something is wrong."

Angeline made her move. "I mean to keep it from her as long as possible."

He suspected Penny knew more than she let on, but he said nothing of that to Angeline. "Did your friend mention Brentmoor in her letter?"

She met his gaze. "He has returned and is married to the widowed Lady Cunningham."

"I see. She will regret it when he spends her entire fortune. Is she a friend?"

She listlessly dropped the dice. "No, a distant acquaintance."

"It's understandable that the news would discompose you, but you are well rid of him."

She met his gaze. "She is the one I found in bed with Brentmoor."

He winced. "I'd no idea."

"Adultery is hardly news in the ton."

She rolled and moved the stones. "Foolishly, I a.s.sumed he would never return because of his creditors. I did not count on him marrying an heiress."

Colin scooped up the dice and rolled, but her pale complexion worried him. "He is likely to spend himself into debt again. Men like him are their own worst enemies."

"You don't understand."

"Help me understand."

She rolled the dice. "I thought if he was gone forever, that others would forget. I foolishly held out hope that with time, I could repair my reputation. Now that he has returned, I must face the truth. I will always be a pariah."

"You may not believe me, but you did the right thing by crying off."

She moved a stone. "I knew something was wrong, and I ignored my instincts." She paused and said, "To my detriment."

The clock chimed.

"It is very late," Angeline said. "Shall we retire for the evening?"

He a.s.sisted her out of the chair and put away the game. As she quit the room, he wondered anew why she'd ever gotten involved with Brentmoor. The back of his neck p.r.i.c.kled. Something had gone terribly wrong. Why else would the d.u.c.h.ess have taken her to Paris? Multiple possibilities occurred to him. One made him pause. He'd heard stories about increasing women who fled to the continent to bear a secret child. More often he'd heard of elopements. But all of this was nothing more than conjecture. He hoped for her sake that it was merely betrayal.

The next day, Colin and Angeline traveled early in the morning to Sommerall. Colin wanted to ensure they arrived in a timely manner. The marquess had made arrangements for men to bring a wagon with coal, lanterns, fuel, and tinderboxes to the property along with footmen to move the heavier furnishings and remove the faded carpets.

Angeline put on an ap.r.o.n in preparation for working in the attic. She'd worn st.u.r.dy half boots and pulled a mobcap out of her ap.r.o.n pocket. When she stood before the foyer mirror, she slipped on the cap. Colin walked up behind her and s.n.a.t.c.hed it off.

Agnes tied her ap.r.o.n and couldn't quite hide her smile as she took the hamper and walked toward the breakfast parlor.

"Give the cap to me," Angeline said, reaching for it.

He stepped back and put the cap behind him.

She ran behind him and tried to grasp the cap, but he held it over his head.

"Give it to me," she said.

"You must ask politely."

She scowled. "Please return my cap," she muttered.

"Muttering is hardly polite."

She inhaled. "You...you are horrid."

"Take off that ap.r.o.n," he said.

She gaped at him. "I beg your pardon? You will not order me about."

"You will not dress like a maid."

"Be practical. The attic is bound to be dusty."

"I forbid it," he said. "You are a duke's daughter and a lady."

"You are ridiculous." She poked around in her other ap.r.o.n pocket and pulled out her old gardening gloves.

"You will not need them. You may supervise Agnes."

"I am not a wilting flower, and I most certainly am not afraid of a little dust in the attic. The gloves will protect my hands. I do mean to work. In case you've had a memory lapse in the last hour, let me remind you that we have very little time available to us."