A Guardians Angel (24 page)

“What did he tell you?”

Stepping forward, he cupped her elbow and said, “I think it would be for the best if we spoke where no one else can overhear.”

“Yes.” She put her fingers over his on her arm, unable to keep from touching him.

He glanced at her and then quickly away. As she sat on the small settee by the hearth, he took the chair where he had been reading the first time she called here.

Sorrow washed over her like an icy wave slapping her to the sand. This was not the way she had imagined her final visit to Harrington Grange would be.
Final!
She did not want to believe that, but finding a way to persuade the duke to see the good sense of allowing the children to play together might be impossible now.

“I suppose,” Justin said, picking up a glass of brandy that had been on the table beside him, “I should inquire first about Oslington.”

“He is better. He regained his senses a few days ago, and now he has managed to leave his bed for short periods of time to take the air.”

“I assumed he was awake. Otherwise, he could not have given the order that keeps the Sutton children imprisoned in Oslington Court.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

“And he has sent you to bring Thomas back with orders not to come here again, I assume as well.”

“Yes, Justin.”

“What of you?”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “It has been made very clear to me that continued calls here would mean the termination of my employment at Oslington Court.”

“Good.”

“Good?” She sat straighter. “How can you say that? If I am banished from here, I would have to return to London and live on the scant generosity of my brother and sister-in-law, who have begrudged me every morsel I ate and every inch I took up when I was under their roof.”

His hard expression eased, and he set the glass back on the table. Leaning forward, he grasped her hands. “Angela, I had no idea.”

“Do you think I would have endured the duchess’s scolds the day the duke took ill if I had had any choice?”

“I have to own that I gave it no thought.” His smile was crooked. “I was so angry at Her Grace’s lack of appreciation for what you had done that I could think of nothing else.”

“And her lack of appreciation for what you did for her son.”

“I had you defending me on that matter.” Lifting her hands to his lips, he kissed one and then the other. “You are quite the virago when you fly up to the boughs, Angela. That is a fact I would be wise to keep in mind for the future.”

She extracted her hands from his. Rising, she said, “I thought you had understood that I cannot call again, either.”

“You are a resourceful woman.” He set himself on his feet and chuckled. “I trust that you will find a way to give me another look-in.”

“You
trust?
” She blinked rapidly because her eyes were heavy with tears. “That is the whole of it, Justin. Leonia
trusts
me to teach her what is right. How can I do that if I skulk here as Thomas does?”

“Oslington’s edict is wrong.”

“I agree, but that changes nothing.”

His brows rose before dropping in a fierce frown. “Do not cause me to think that you are no different from him, that you cannot see past rules and regulations.”

“There are rules, Justin. Rules of the
ton
, and rules of that household. I am obligated to follow all of them while I live at Oslington Court.” She reached for the bellpull and tugged.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked.

“I was given the task of bringing Thomas back to Oslington Court, and that is what I should do.”

Mrs. Graves appeared in the door. “My lord?”

“Bring Thomas,” Justin said, but he continued to stare at Angela. Could he have been so mistaken when he had believed she was a way to bring fresh air to the musty halls of Oslington’s estate?

“Yes, my lord.” His housekeeper rushed away, an unsettled frown on her face.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

Angela clasped her hands before her like a disobedient child. “Why are you being so rude?”

“Because I had hoped that you would be sensible.”

“Me? I
am
being sensible. Thomas must obey the rules set forth by his guardian.”

“More rules!”

“That is how the world runs, Justin.”

He shook his head. “Not mine. Not any longer. I will not be constrained by other people’s expectations or their assumptions that I will act in a certain way simply because someone decreed some rule so many years ago that no one remembers why any longer.”

“So you will just collect your butterflies and care not a tuppence what anyone else thinks?”

“Yes, I will do that.” He seized her shoulders and pulled her up against him. Ignoring the amazement in her eyes, he stared at her soft mouth. “And I will do this.”

Enveloping her with his arms, he savored her softness against him as he slanted his lips across hers. Her bonnet fell back when he deepened the kiss, wanting to hold her ever closer. When her breath pulsed, uneven and undeniable, into his mouth, he threaded his fingers through her tawny hair. This was almost everything he wanted—this woman in his arms, her mouth on his and her soft curves offering the very invitation that plagued him through sleepless nights. Everything that he wanted would include her beside him during those starlit hours when she would glow next to him more brightly than the moon.

“What is it, Justin?” Thomas’s gulp of astonishment was like a crash of thunder through the room, nearly drowning out the fevered pulse of Justin’s heartbeat.

She started to pull away; Justin refused to release her until he saw the unmistakable dismay in her volatile eyes that still burned with the passion he yearned to unleash. Slowly he let his hands fall back, his fingers aching to touch her again. As she drew on her bonnet, trying to tuck her hair beneath it, he noticed how her hands quivered. He did not need to ask if she yearned to be back in his arms again. Her kiss had told him that truth.

Angela gave up with her hair that refused to be restrained under her bonnet. As she braided it down her back, she said, “Thomas, go and gather your sketches together.”

“But—” He swallowed with difficulty, revealing his embarrassment at interrupting.

What would he say—what would
Justin
say—if she whispered that she was grateful that Thomas had intruded when he did? A moment longer … she was unsure if she could resist Justin’s masterful seduction that enticed her to toss aside all good sense and surrender to the passion they shared.

“Please, Thomas! Please do as I ask.”

Again he looked to Justin. Some signal she could not comprehend must have passed between them, because the boy nodded and, head down, went out of the room.

“It will take him some time to gather his sketches together,” Justin said. “Do you wish to sit or are you proscribed from doing that?”

“Do not be hateful, too.”

“Too?” Justin swore as she turned away. “Forgive me, Angela. I know what you must be enduring in that great block of a house. As overbearing as Rodney Abernathy can be, his mother is worse. I heard that she dared to speak back to the king when she was younger.”

“She probably instructed him in the proper way to behave.”

“I do not like to hear bitterness in your voice.”

She faced him, wishing she could revel in that smile she saw in the moment before he kissed her. “What else do you expect to hear? Joy? I cannot call here again, and you are prohibited from entering Oslington Court. The duchess is even more unwilling to compromise than the duke.”

He laughed shortly. “Like mother, like son. None of the Oslingtons will ever forgive or forget when they believe they have been wronged.”

“Wronged?” Her knees folded, and she sat again. “What happened between you and the duke?”

“Something that happened almost a decade ago.”

“A decade? You have been enemies for a decade, but you were friends before that.”

“Yes.”

“What happened? Why won’t you tell me?”

He picked up his brandy and downed it in a single gulp. “I do not speak of it.”

“Why not?”

“Because the pain remains too fresh.”

“After so many years?”

His mouth twisted into an ironic smile. “It has not been that many years. As I told you, during the years we were growing up, Oslington and I were friends. Even when he went away to serve in India, he often gave me a look-in during his leaves here in England.” He went to a cupboard and opened it. Pulling out a bottle, he started to put more brandy into his glass.

She came to her feet and put her hand on his arm to halt him. “Drinking yourself into oblivion will not help anything.”

“It will help me forget how much I want you, Angela.”

A quiver raced through her, but she suppressed it. She could not let him change the subject, even when she longed to speak of her desire for his kisses. “Please do not shut me out on this.”

“It might be better that you do not know.” He glanced toward the window. “If you are living under Oslington’s roof, you should be blissfully ignorant of the darkness in that man’s soul.” He grimaced. “If he even has one left.”

“That is an appalling thing to say.”

“But ’tis the truth.” He ran his fingers along her cheek. “He vowed that he would trade his very soul to Old Nick in exchange for the chance to have Elizabeth for his own.”

Angela edged away again and stared at him. “Elizabeth? Your wife Elizabeth?”

“My late wife.” He put down the bottle and the glass, then closed the cupboard door. “He professed to love her, too.”

Sinking to his chair, she whispered, “You were best friends who fell in love with the same woman?”

“I tried not to. Oslington was my friend. I did not want to stand between him and happiness, but then Elizabeth revealed that she had a
tendre
for me, too. When I offered to tell Oslington, she warned me to take care. I was a fool. I thought our friendship was strong enough to survive, but Oslington did not agree. He was furious, and he cursed both me and Elizabeth.”

She stroked his arm. “It must have been horrible.”

“It was.” He shrugged. “But it was not as if there were a choice between my friendship with Oslington and my affection for Elizabeth. She told me that she did not love him, so I married her.”

“For which Oslington never forgave you?”

“Neither he nor Elizabeth.”

“What?” She was certain she must have heard him wrong. “But you said that she professed to love you.”

He picked up his pipe and lit it. The fragrant smoke oozed from its bowl as he took her hand and drew her to her feet and to the settee where he sat beside her. “You have a gentle heart, Angela. You are guileless in so many ways, for you see everyone as honest as you are.”

“Quite to the contrary. I learned that some smiles can hide alarming thoughts.”

“Did you learn that from your brother’s wife?”

She nodded.

“It was a lesson you could have learned from my wife as well.”

“But you never have spoken of her with anything but the greatest affection.”

“Which has been honest.” He puffed on the pipe, then lowered it. “Mine for her, although hers was not so sincere toward me once she learned that Oslington was going to be the heir.”

“He had an older brother?”

“Who was killed in France.”

She frowned. “France? Does that have anything to do with why you don’t want to take Delicia there?”

Before he could answer, Thomas returned, his arms filled with rolled papers and stacked canvases and a butterfly net stuck under one arm. “I have everything. Just as you requested, Angela.” He was scowling.

Justin replied, “Take your sketches out to the pony cart and wait there.”

“Angela?” asked the puzzled lad.

“I will be with you in just a moment.” She watched as he backed out of the room, balancing his artwork with care. Looking back at Justin, she said, “He will not wait for long.”

“So you want the quick version of a long story?”

“I want the truth.”

“The truth is that Elizabeth missed the pursuit of two men once she was wed to one of them.” He sighed. “I believe she had affection for me, but she quickly came to miss the thrill of the hunt. Then Oslington was named a hero.”

“For saving Colonel Sutton’s life?”

He did not try to hide his astonishment. “How did you know that?”

“’Tis an obvious guess, for that would explain why the colonel chose the duke as guardian for his children. A man who knows he can trust another man with his life will know he can trust that man with his children.” Leaning toward him, she put her hand on his arm. “Justin, what did this have to do with you and your wife?”

“She could not hide that she was having second thoughts about her choice. I thought she might regret marrying a man instead of the hero she could have had in Oslington, so I obtained a commission of my own.”

“Justin! How could you do something so foolish!”

“Because I was a fool. I can see that so readily now when I look back at the errors of the past.” He looked out of the room toward where his daughter was working with Mrs. Graves in the kitchen. “In my zeal to become a hero, I was sent to fight against Napoleon.”

“In France!”

“Now you understand.”

Folding his hand in hers, she whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me this when I spoke about the school for Delicia? I would have known why you reacted with such vehemence. No one wants to return to a place where they have been part of a battle.”

“That is not all of it.” He withdrew his hand. Leaning back, as if he wished to put as much space possible between them, he said, “I came home to discover I had come home too late. I had not known when I left that Elizabeth had conceived. Apparently she was unhappy with the restrictions that kept her from enjoying the Polite World, and she railed against them. She decided to go to London.”

“When she was in a delicate condition?”

“I did not have a monopoly on being foolish.” His words were jesting, but his voice was taut. “There was a message that she was in a difficult way, but I was on a mission, and I never received it. If I had, I might have been able to get home in time to get another doctor for Elizabeth and for Delicia.”