What a Reckless Rogue Needs Part 8

After a nudging from the marchioness, the marquess invited Reverend Quimby and his wife to dine at Deerfield that evening. Colin escorted Angeline and sat between her and Mrs. Quimby. That lady continually t.i.ttered about her good fortune to be seated next to such a handsome gentleman as Lord Ravenshire. Angeline reminded herself not to roll her eyes, but it was difficult when Mrs. Quimby monopolized all of Colin's attention. Meanwhile, Angeline was stuck making polite conversation with Reverend Quimby, who spoke at length and in minute detail about his plans for a spring garden. By the time the trifle arrived, Angeline was fighting the urge to yawn.

At long last, the marchioness led the ladies to the drawing room while the gentlemen enjoyed their port. Angeline smiled when Bianca persuaded Penny to play a duet with her on the pianoforte while Bernadette turned the pages.

Mrs. Quimby approached with clasped hands. "Lady Angeline, we have yet to have a coze. Shall we repair to the window seat?"

"Of course."

After they were seated, Angeline turned to Mrs. Quimby. "I understand you are new to the neighborhood. I a.s.sume Mr. Quimby came into the living recently."

"Yes, we have been here only three months," she said. "We were in Hampshire previously. Mr. Quimby's second cousin has a lovely property there. Are you acquainted with Baron Overton?"

Clearly Mrs. Quimby wished to brag about her connections. "No, I am not," Angeline said, tapping the toe of her slipper.

"Harwell is a very fine property, indeed," Mrs. Quimby continued. "In fact, I just had a letter from Lady Overton this week."

Now would be a good time to excuse herself, but when she attempted to speak, Mrs. Quimby interrupted her. "There is another property near Harwell, though not as grand. Do you know Woodham Hall?"

"No, I do not." The woman's conversation was boring in the extreme.

"A young man has inherited the property. Lady Overton said he is quite handsome or so I have heard. Oh, dear, his name is escaping me. How could I forget?"

"There is no need to fret," Angeline said. "I'm sure it will come to you."

The marchioness hurried to the window seat. "Angeline, will you play for us?"

"Of course." She would do anything to escape Mrs. Quimby's dull conversation, but she must be polite. "Thank you for the coze, Mrs. Quimby."

As Angeline walked away, she looked at Margaret. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Mrs. Quimby means well, but she has a tendency to prattle," Margaret said.

Angeline thought that an understatement as she sat at the pianoforte. Tonight she was relaxed, and as a result, she made fewer mistakes. She'd never had the discipline to practice and had never concerned herself about it. Ladies were expected to have accomplishments such as playing, singing, sewing, and dancing. She'd never taken any of it seriously. Instead, she'd delighted her father by playing chess with him and discussing philosophy, but those days were over. Each time she thought of it, another little piece of her heart crumbled. She wished there were a way she could redeem herself, but she held little hope of that.

At least in one respect, she'd proved her mother wrong. No amount of strict adherence to proper womanly behavior would ever land her a husband. Her mother would swoon for the first time in her life if she knew Angeline's plans for the future, but a spinster existence was preferable to becoming dependent upon her parents or her brother and his wife. She could well imagine her family's reaction, but it was her life. Eventually, they would reconcile themselves to her decision.

When the gentlemen joined the ladies, Angeline willingly abandoned the pianoforte. She grew a bit alarmed upon seeing Mrs. Quimby hurrying in her direction. Once again, Margaret intervened by inviting Mrs. Quimby to exhibit her musical skills. The reverend's wife exclaimed at some length over the great compliment the marchioness had bestowed upon her by asking her to play. "Of course I will oblige and hope that my meager talent is satisfactory," Mrs. Quimby said, her voice overly loud.

Glad to be free of Mrs. Quimby, Angeline decided to join Colin. He was leaning against the sideboard, looking every inch the bored aristocrat, with snowy white cravat and brandy in hand. His tight trousers were molded to his thighs and other manly attributes no lady should ever notice-or admit to noticing.

Angeline noticed. Heaven above.

She had better direct her eyes elsewhere. "Why are you looking so glum?" she said.

"You will find far more congenial company than me this evening."

He meant to warn her off, but she wanted to know what had transpired when he'd spoken to his father.

Colin poured another brandy and gulped it down.

Angeline wrinkled her nose. "Isn't brandy meant to be savored?"

"So is a victory, but alas, I am defeated."

She stepped closer. "Your father refused?"

"How very perceptive of you." He set the gla.s.s aside.

"He still insists you marry."

"Yes. However, I met with Margaret. She agreed to speak to my father, but I am far from encouraged."

"You mustn't give up," she said. "He will capitulate after Margaret tells him to be sensible."

"Perhaps you're correct. I am not, however, holding my breath."

"Did your father disapprove of my involvement?"

"No, he thought it generous of you, but he dismissed my offer to check out the interior of the house. Unless Margaret can persuade him, I'm doomed to lose Sommerall."

"I think Margaret will turn the tide," Angeline said. "For what it is worth, I am anxious as well to get started. I need a real occupation for a change."

He smiled a little. "As opposed to your feigned ones?"

"I have never been content to bask in quiet contemplation while busying myself with a needle. To be honest, I am going mad after only a few days."

"You prefer to walk and be active," he said.

She preferred to use the brain in her head. "It is the one time I am unconstrained by society's expectations of females."

"When have you ever followed rules, Angeline?"

Her face burned. "Excuse me."

He caught her arm. "It was meant as a compliment. You are unconventional, and a rarity among women because of it."

"You cannot be unaware of what that cost me."

He closed the distance between them. "I have every confidence you can rise above it," he said under his breath.

A complimentary sentiment, but it would change nothing.

When he searched her face, she was drawn to his golden brown eyes and felt the pull of his will. She wet her dry lips and only succeeded in drawing his gaze to her mouth. The music and the voices in the drawing room receded. She felt as if he were mesmerizing her. When his thick black lashes lowered to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she felt as if he'd managed to touch her with his gaze. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt breathless.

This was madness. She was caught up in a rake's seductive game in a drawing room where both of their families and the local vicar all sat in plain view. She had to break this spell he'd cast over her. G.o.d help her, she could not afford this madness, and yet, when he took her arm, she acquiesced because something inside of her yearned to be closer to him, to let the masculine scents of sandalwood and something unique to him envelope her. In that moment, she had more than an inkling of what she would be giving up if she chose independence. But she knew it would be highly unlikely she would have a choice. She would revel in this stolen moment and allow herself the pleasure of Colin's escort.

He led her to the window seat and lowered his head. "Unless something changes in the next few days, I'll likely depart."

"Why?" she said.

He shook his head. "I can't bear to stay and watch my father sell Sommerall. It's better if I go before matters erupt. I have my faults, Angeline, but I won't make a scene or disrupt the house party. I never should have come in the first place." He blew out his breath. "I knew it would come to this, but I held out hope anyway."

"No," she said under her breath. "You mustn't give up."

"He said no more than once. I won't beg, Angeline. It is an insult to me, and frankly, if he does sell Sommerall, I won't be returning again. I can't bear it."

"But what of your family?"

"I don't know. I just know that I won't let any man, not even my father, dictate my life."

"I beg you to reconsider. You will regret not fighting for what is rightfully yours and for your family."

"Thank you for agreeing to help me. I'll slip out now."

When he strode out of the room, she was tempted to follow and encourage him. But to what end? All she had were empty words, and she knew firsthand there was no comfort in them. She couldn't change yesterday, but she could attempt to influence the marquess through Margaret. Yes, she did want to help him transform Sommerall because it excited her, but she also felt badly for Colin, even though she probably shouldn't. She would not care under any other circ.u.mstances, but his mother was buried at Sommerall. It clearly wounded him to think of strangers possessing the land where she was laid to rest.

Angeline approached Margaret and took her aside. "I understand the marquess is hesitant to allow Colin to make a survey of the interior of Sommerall House. You know that I have some expertise, and it occurred to me that it would not be in anyone's best interest if it was ignored much longer."

"To be honest, I have worried about it, too," Margaret said. "He can't bear to return there. I know it would be very distressing for him, but you are right. Something needs to be done."

"There is a catch," Angeline said.

Margaret rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes. Chadwick is convinced he can reform Colin by forcing him to marry. I asked him if he thought I could conjure up a bride. He laughed, and then I got angry. What foolishness."

"If there is a structural defect such as with the chimney or the roof, the damage could potentially cost a fortune," Angeline said. "The house has been unoccupied a very long time. I recommend looking into it straightaway, especially since the marquess is considering selling it. We all have seen estates that crumbled due to neglect."

"I'm so glad you came," Margaret said. "You have convinced me. I will talk to Chadwick tonight. It is past time something be done about Sommerall, and really he should not try to force Colin into marriage."

"For now, I suggest keeping the focus on the survey of the house," Angeline said. "Let him consider one issue at a time."

"Yes, that should work. You know men can only think in a straight line," Margaret said. "They are easily confused by related topics. We have to introduce them one at a time and then explain the various relationships." She paused and looked thoughtful. "I've often been tempted to draw pictures for Chadwick."

"Well, it's probably best that we continue to allow the gentlemen to believe they are the stronger of the s.e.xes because of their brawn," Angeline said. "We had better keep our superior intellect a secret."

"Yes, but they are far more malleable than you might realize, but you'll discover that after you're married." Margaret patted her hand. "Thank you, dear. You've been more helpful than you know."

Angeline crossed her fingers in her skirts. "I hope so." She paused a moment and said, "Chadwick is a very lucky man to have you for his wife."

Margaret visibly swallowed. "Thank you, dear. I daresay I do not deserve such a compliment, but I will cherish your words all the same."

Angeline knew a bit about Margaret's background. It could not have been easy for a woman whose father had been a shopkeeper to marry into the world of the ton and to be a stepmother to an eight-year-old child, but Margaret was a special lady.

Chapter Four.

Colin meant to instruct his valet to pack his trunks after breakfast. There was no point in staying any longer. He would briefly explain his reasons to his father and begin the journey back to London today.

He sipped his tea and heard an odd chewing sound under the table. Then he noted that the sausages on his sisters' plates had somehow disappeared. When he lifted his brows, Bianca and Bernadette regarded him with innocent expressions. No doubt they had been feeding the dog beneath the table.

When breakfast concluded, the marquess cleared his throat. "I have an announcement to make."

Everyone regarded him quizzically, with the exception of the marchioness.

"After much contemplation, I have decided that it is time to make an inventory of the repairs needed for Sommerall House."

Colin stared at his father. All around him voices buzzed. What had precipitated his father's sudden change of mind? Then he realized that Margaret did not appear the least bit surprised.

She must have intervened on his behalf. Why did that make him feel guilty? She had been kind to do it, and he had never done her a kindness. If anything, he'd kept his distance. He should thank her, but he suspected she neither sought nor wanted grat.i.tude from the likes of him. Her motivation for helping likely had less to do with his wishes and more to do with keeping the peace at the house party.

The marquess held up his hand. "I have not finished. My son wishes to manage the work. After consulting with Wycoff, he and I agreed that Lady Angeline's expertise would prove helpful. To ensure that the proprieties are observed, a maid will accompany them."

Margaret cleared her throat. "We cannot spare Marie or Betty, so I am promoting Agnes to chaperone. She is the newest of three scullery maids and can be spared. She will busy herself dusting and helping to clear away any items that are beyond use or repair."

"Can we help?" Bianca asked.

The marquess frowned at his daughter over his spectacles. "No, you may not. I have another task in mind for you. That task is to walk your ugly dog and make sure he stays below stairs-"

"Papa, please do not say Hercules is ugly," Bernadette said. "You will hurt his feelings."

The marquess snorted. "As I was saying before I was interrupted, that dog is only allowed in the kitchen. Either you abide by my edict or the dog goes in the dustbin."

"Chadwick, do not overset the girls," Margaret said. "They are fond of Hercules."

The marquess shook his head. "I expect-"

A pitiful animal whine sounded beneath the table.

The marquess's eyes bulged as Hercules trotted out and sat next to his chair. The pug lifted his snout and whined again.

"Papa, Hercules is showing you his affection," Bernadette said.

"Who let this ugly dog out of the kitchen?" the marquess demanded.

Hercules promptly ran back under the table.

The marquess leaped to his feet and lifted the tablecloth. Hercules scampered out and the twins gave chase.

"Come back here, you sorry excuse for a dog," the marquess shouted.

Hercules kept running, apparently thinking it was a game.

The marchioness rose. "Chadwick, the girls will catch him...eventually."

Bianca and Bernadette were giggling as they chased the dog.