A Guardians Angel (3 page)

“She has been educated?”

His laugh was as sharp as the coachman’s whip. “Fort St. George was no wilderness. I think you would find yourself quite at home among the English in the compound.”

“Then you wish only for someone to ease her way into the Polite World?” Angela was disconcerted anew. This man was almost as bothersome as Lord Harrington. If the duke had been a bit more forthcoming in his letter about his expectations and his ward’s background, she would not be so awkwardly uneasy now.

“I wish, Miss Needham, to find her a husband.”

“That, no doubt, is the wish of any guardian who fires off his ward.”

His dark brows reached toward each other as he scowled. “I see you find the straightforward speech of a soldier disturbing. You need not worry. Leonia is far more pretty-mannered than I.” He gave another cold laugh. “And as I am not in need of a husband, you should concern yourself only with her.”

“If you wish to succeed in your quest, Your Grace,” Angela returned primly, “you shall see that a potential husband may have parents who concern themselves as much with you as with the bride-to-be.”

“True.” Leaning back, he pyramided his fingers in front of his nose. “I can see that we have much to learn from you. You shall find me appreciative of your hard work and dedication to your task.” He picked up the book. “Do you read Scott, Miss Needham?”

“I have,” she answered, startled at his abrupt question.

“This is one of his latest.
Rob Roy
. It is pleasing enough, but I preferred
Waverly
. I assume you have read the latter.” Without a pause, he asked, “Do you speak French?”

Angela stiffened her back as she answered in that language, “I have learned enough to allow me to converse with some skill.”

His expressive eyebrows arched before settling back into place. “As I can see. You seem to have had a satisfactory education, and your manners, in spite of every provocation I have made to unsettle them, are as excellent as my mother had led me to believe. I suspect you and I shall work well together in this enterprise.”

“I hope so, Your Grace.”

“Have you—?”

Angela was not certain what the duke might have asked her next, for he interrupted himself. She followed his gaze to see a young woman walking toward them. The sunlight caught fire on her red hair and accented her pert nose. A few freckles marked her porcelain skin, and, as she neared, Angela could see the young woman’s eyes were as blue as the ribbons on the bodice of her stylish gown. Angela was astonished to note that the young woman wore her hair loose along her back as if she were still a child.

“This is Leonia Sutton, your charge,” the duke said. “Leonia, please greet Miss Angela Needham, your new companion. I trust you will make her welcome at Oslington Court.”

Angela waited for the young woman’s reaction. It would be her first clue to the relationship she would have with the redhead. If Leonia Sutton was as bewildering as her guardian, this position might prove to be intolerable.

Her anxiety was groundless, for Miss Sutton rushed forward to take her hands. Squeezing them, she exclaimed, “Miss Needham, I am so glad you are here at last! Rodney has insisted that I stay in the nursery until you arrived. How I have tired of being treated like a child!”

“I am glad to be here.” The girl’s effusiveness contrasted with the bleak temper of her guardian. “You should ask His Grace’s pardon for your unthinking words, when I am sure he was thinking only of your comfort.”

Miss Sutton blinked, but proved she had had a good upbringing when she turned to the dark-haired duke and said, “I meant no offense with my words, Rodney.”

“You are forgiven.” His riveting gaze returned to Angela. “You can see the chore ahead of you, Miss Needham. My ward possesses an enthusiasm that I do not wish to have curbed, merely muted. To fire her off will require many lessons on your part and much attention on hers.”

Angela replied, “I have no doubts that both Miss Sutton and I shall be equal to the task.” She was rewarded with a brilliant smile from the young woman.

The duke reached for his book again and opened it. “Leonia, acquaint Miss Needham with the Court.”

“But, Rodney—”

“Do as you are told like a good child,” he said without looking at her, for his concentration had returned to his book.

Angela hoped that was the only reason he did not acknowledge Miss Sutton’s woeful expression. If he was being intentionally indifferent to his ward, Angela had traded a horrible existence at her brother’s home for worse at Oslington Court.

Again Miss Sutton’s reaction was reassuring. Her smile returned as she led Angela out of the room. As they walked along a dim passage, she glanced shyly at Angela. “I am pleased you are here. Rodney said that once you arrived, I could begin to make calls. Do you think we could visit one of the neighbors tomorrow? I do love to make a look-in on a neighbor, Miss Needham. At Fort St. George, I visited with one nearly every day. Do you suppose I could have some
cartes des visites
made? I know I should wait until I am part of the Season, but it would be so much fun.”

“I think the first thing we should do is get to know one another.” Angela could not keep from smiling back at the enthusiastic girl. She wondered if Miss Sutton was always such a prattle-box. If so, Angela must work on tempering that aspect of Miss Sutton’s warm personality.

“Oh, that would be glorious! And you shall get to know us.” She put her hand on the thick banister of the other set of stairs. “Do not let Rodney distress you. He does not mean to be cold. He simply is so busy thinking of important things now that he is a duke and has to tend to the welfare of Oslington Court.”

“You seem to understand him well.”

“I have known him since I was no more than a babe. When my mother died, Rodney was there to help Papa.” Tears filled her sapphire eyes. “Oh, forgive me, Miss Needham. I still think of Papa often.”

Angela patted her hand. “As I think of my mother who died last winter.”

“Oh, I am sorry.” Again she grasped Angela’s hands. “But now you are here with us. For that, I am very, very glad.”

Instead of answering, Angela followed her up stairs that were almost as wide as the ones by the main entrance. The stone walls and dark paneling would have been dreary if the floors had not been brightened with Oriental rugs. Hallways erupted in every direction from the top of the stairs, but Miss Sutton gave Angela no chance to peer down any as she walked to the right. All the doors were closed, and the window at the far end of the long corridor could not light the passage.

“If you get lost,” Miss Sutton said with a chuckle, “do not despair. I had to have the servants direct me back to the main wing twice during the first week after we arrived here.” Her smile broadened as she swung open a door. “Look!”

Angela could not silence her gasp of astonishment as she followed Miss Sutton into the elegant room. The chamber was as light as fairy’s wings, a contrast to the dreary corridors. Cream silk over the walls matched the coverlet on the cherry tester bed. A dressing table, an armoire, and a pair of settees and a chaise longue upholstered in gold-and-white stripes were arranged on a rug that was too large to fit in her brother’s parlor. Here, there was room to showcase the parquet edging the rug. A pair of windows, with gauzy lace beneath gold velvet draperies, swept from floor to ceiling. When Miss Sutton rushed to push them aside, Angela realized they were French windows that opened onto a balcony.

When Angela walked out onto the balcony, the evening breeze caressed her face. She smiled at the gardens vanishing into the twilight along the curve of the hill. Outbuildings were lumpy shadows, but the faint odor from the stables wafted to her. Beyond them, trees marked the edges of the fields. She could see little more, for the setting sun had vanished after painting the clouds a red as garish as Lord Harrington’s coat.

Angela’s fingers tightened on the iron railing at the edge of the balcony. She was being silly to let the peculiar viscount dally in her thoughts. She might have been able to forget him if he was not a puzzle that teased her to solve it.

Hearing Miss Sutton call, Angela went back inside.

Miss Sutton was sitting on the bed. It was so high her feet hung in the air. She ran her fingers along the coverlet and said, “This is one of my favorite rooms in the Court. That is why I chose it.”

“This is lovely,” Angela said. She considered asking Miss Sutton if she knew of the eccentric viscount and her opinion of him, but that would require explaining how Angela had chanced to encounter him. That she wanted to avoid doing.

Jumping down from the bed instead of using the steps, Miss Sutton nearly skipped to Angela. “So you like it?”

“Of course, and I can understand why you do. The ground floor is so dark. This is like emerging into the sky.”

Miss Sutton dropped to the chaise longue, her dress riding higher. When she saw Angela’s dismay, she rearranged her skirt. “The sky is still far above us. I have thought it a shame that there are so few windows in the attics. Shall I take you there? They have many interesting spaces. We can explore the storage rooms. I suspect there are trunks that have not been opened since before Rodney was born. Think what treasures we might find.”

“Another time.” Angela loosened her bonnet ribbons and lifted it off her head. She tried not to wince when she touched a lump near her right ear. No wonder her head continued to pound with pain.

“Are you unwell, Miss Needham?”

“I do not wish to be curt, Miss Sutton, but I am fatigued after my journey from Town. If you would be so kind as to show me to my room—”

Miss Sutton laughed. “
This
is your room!”

“This?” Angela’s voice came out in a squeak. If this grand chamber was set aside for a servant, she dared not imagine how magnificent the other bedrooms were.

“Oh, Miss Needham, you must not be such a straight stick. Esther will delight in taunting you.”

“Esther?”

“My little sister.” Her nose wrinkled, even as she smiled. “Esther is a trial, although she can be a dear when she wishes. She is almost twelve. When my brother was that age, I discovered it is a most intolerable period.”

Angela smiled at Miss Sutton’s attempt to make herself sound older than her years. “I had no idea that you had siblings. His Grace mentioned nothing of it in his letters.”

“Oh, yes.” Her martyr’s sigh was ruined by an assertive knock.

“Is Miss Needham here yet, Leonia?” came a whisper from the door.

“Do come in,” Angela said.

The door opened to reveal a girl, who must be Miss Esther Sutton. Her hair was a ghastly red, which Angela hoped would darken to the color of her sister’s. More freckles than could be counted pocked her plump cheeks, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief. The hem of her dress drooped on one side. Leaves tangled in her stockings and hair.

“Esther, you are filthy!” Miss Sutton cried with despair. “Have you been climbing trees again?”

The girl pointed an accusing finger at Angela. “She is as mussed as I.”

“Miss Needham has been traveling from London. You have been no farther than the fields.” Pressing her hand to her breast, she added, “Or have you?”

“Is
she
Miss Needham?”

Angela almost smiled at the child’s refusal to own to any wrongdoing. “I am, and may I assume you are Miss Esther Sutton?”

Instead of answering, Miss Esther turned around, and Angela saw another shadow by the door.

“You may as well come in,” Angela called. “Skulking about will do none of us any good.”

A lad edged into the room. His reddish-blond head was bowed so she could not see his face. He was thin from too much growth in too few months.

Angela stared as Miss Sutton asked, “Thomas, whatever is wrong?”

He looked up and whispered, “I am glad you are here and unhurt, Miss—” He flushed as red as his sister’s hair. “I mean—I am sorry, Miss Needham. I did not see you. I—”

“Thomas, what is this bibble-babble?” Miss Sutton asked, again assuming the tone she clearly hoped would make her sound more mature. “I do not understand.”

Angela understood. Even if she had not heard his name, Master Thomas’s flustered words identified him as the wielder of the butterfly net. Taking sympathy on the lad, who could be no more than two years older than Miss Esther, she said, “Miss Sutton, your brother and I have already met.”

“You have? Where?”

She smiled. “You can rest assured, Master Thomas, that neither I nor my bonnet were damaged badly by your enthusiastic sport.”

“What sport?” Miss Esther demanded. “Why are you always leaving me out of the fun?”

Master Thomas asked at the same time, “Will you tell Rodney?” He gulped, his Adam’s apple bouncing wildly.

Now Angela was bewildered. “Is there a reason why he should not know you were chasing butterflies?”

“Butterflies?” Miss Sutton gasped. “Thomas, were you with Lord Harrington again?” Shaking her finger at him, she said in a scandalized tone, “You know Rodney has forbidden you to go to Harrington Grange.”

“We were not at the Grange,” he returned, but lowered his head again. Poking his toe at the fringe on the rug, he sighed. “Leonia, I had told Justin that I would go with him before Rodney gave that order. Papa always said a man is only as good as his word. What good would I have been if I had left Justin waiting at the gate for me when I told him I would be there?”

“Justin?” asked Angela, as she sat on a chair next to the dressing table. “Is that Lord Harrington?”

“Yes,” Miss Sutton said softly, as if she feared being overheard. Angela understood when she added, “But please do not speak of him. Rodney wants no one in this house to have anything to do with him.” She fired a frown at her brother. “Ever!”

Three

The next morning, Angela woke, certain she would find the household much more ordinary. She dressed in her favorite green sprigged muslin gown. Fresh flowers had been left on her dressing table, so she pinned a single rose to the modest curve of her neckline. The pink flower matched the line of embroidery decorating her bodice.