A Guardians Angel (4 page)

She checked the glass. Last night upon her arrival at Oslington Court, she had looked as bedraggled as Miss Esther. No wonder His Grace had questioned her ability to serve as Miss Sutton’s companion. Now her hair was curled around her face beneath her lacy cap, and the green ribbons on her gown showed no sign of the days they had spent in her box while she traveled north.

Angela sighed. By the end of her first day at Oslington Court, she must be termed a success. She had created a poor first impression, which she must rectify at her earliest opportunity. Although she had befriended Miss Sutton, neither Miss Sutton nor her siblings would explain why the duke insisted upon them staying away from Harrington Grange.

That puzzled her. Lord Harrington might be bizarre in his interest in capturing butterflies, but his defense of Master Thomas had been heartfelt and logical. She hoped today would bring answers instead of more questions.

Angela smiled as, picking up her lace-edged parasol, she wandered out onto a broad stone terrace. She heard a distant clip-clop of horses’ hoofs. Taking a deep breath of the dew that still clung to the grass, she smiled more broadly when she saw her hired chaise driving away from the house. Its leaving severed her last connection with London, and she could not be sorry about that.

She saw a form, long and slender as a cat. That must be Master Thomas Sutton. He was walking toward the gate and the road leading past Oslington Court.

Hurrying from the raised terrace, she set her parasol on her shoulder as she crossed the neatly trimmed yard. She did not pause to admire the shrubs or the fruit budding in the trees. Master Thomas was just the person she needed to talk with. She hoped he would be able to answer the questions taunting her. Miss Esther was too young, and Miss Sutton had resisted explaining why she was so distressed by a mere glance from her guardian. There were too many mysteries in this huge house, and she wanted to have some of them resolved so she could do her best to guide Miss Sutton.

Angela reached the gate exactly at the same moment Master Thomas did. Her smile became a frown when she saw the butterfly net he was carrying propped on his shoulder and the stubborn set of his jaw. Miss Sutton had been mistaken. Her brother had not set aside his propensity for trouble-making with his adolescence.

“I thought your guardian requested that you refrain from calling on Lord Harrington,” Angela said with a sigh. She did not want to give him a dressing-down, but she had a responsibility, as did everyone in Oslington Court, to see that the children obeyed the duke’s rules.

Master Thomas kicked one pebble toward the gate, then another. He stuck his hand into the pockets of his dark breeches, causing his short coat to hang at an odd angle. Reluctantly he answered, “Rodney said Justin was not to come chasing after his ‘blasted butterflies’—his words, Miss Needham, not mine—on Oslington land. As you can see, I am meeting Justin on the other side of the gate. On the public road. Off Oslington land.”

She plucked the butterfly net from his hand, surprising him. “If His Grace gave you such an order, you know he intended you to keep it both on Oslington property and off. Did you tell him that you would obey him?”

“Not exactly. I said—”

“That your father told you a man was only as good as his word. If you gave His Grace your word, in any form, then you should recall both that and your father’s advice.”

He snatched the net back. His chin jutted defiantly. “I never said anything about meeting Justin on the road.”

“Master Thomas—”

“Why are you chasing after me? You were hired to watch over my sister.” He grinned. “You are watching over her like a guardian angel, aren’t you?” He laughed, clearly delighted with his own
bon mots
as he continued, “You are my guardian’s Angela. Go and bother Leonia. She is your charge, not me!”

Taken aback by the venom in his voice, Angela knew she must not yield at this point. “Master Thomas, if you would explain to me why His Grace has—” When she realized he was not listening, but looking past her with a sudden grin, she turned and gasped as she bumped into Lord Harrington.

“Miss Needham.” He tipped his tall hat to her. As when she had seen him the previous day, he was dressed well. He wore a russet coat over his light brown leather breeches that accented the subtle strength of his body. In one hand, he carried a small basket, which Angela suspected had something to do with the butterflies he hoped to snare with Master Thomas’s help.

“Lord Harrington,” she said as coolly as the last time they had spoken.

He smiled, setting his eyes to twinkling again with the humor that had both infuriated and charmed her the previous day. “I see I have no need to atone for the discourtesy of failing to introduce myself properly yesterday. My reputation precedes me, as they say.”

“Do they?”

His green eyes narrowed as he set the basket on a low section of the wall by the gate. “Are you always so imperturbable, Miss Needham? Or do I rate a special condescension from you?” Not giving her a chance to answer, he continued, “No doubt, by this time, Oslington has filled your head with all kinds of pap about me.”

“You flatter yourself, my lord,” she answered. Tilting her parasol, she watched his face tighten into stern lines as she added, “His Grace has said nothing of you in my hearing.”

“And beyond it?”

She heard a muffled laugh and tensed. Not only was he exhorting a child to disobey, he was teaching Master Thomas to be disrespectful of his guardian. She must put a halt to this posthaste. “Master Thomas, I have asked you to return to the Court. Please do so.”

The lad hesitated, then glanced at Lord Harrington. Angela’s hand clenched on the parasol. No matter what the viscount thought of his neighbor, he must realize that the duke expected that his wards would obey his rules.

“Go along, lad,” the viscount said, but his eyes refused to release Angela’s gaze. “I wish to speak to Miss Needham now. There will be other days we can spend in the meadows.”

“There will be no more,” Angela said as Master Thomas walked past her, his head down, his whole pose filled with disgust. “His Grace wishes to put an end to Master Thomas’s association with you. The duke shall not be half pleased to discover Master Thomas has gainsaid his orders.”

“And that is that?” Lord Harrington demanded, the heat in his voice matching the fierce fire in his eyes. “He has trained you quickly if you fall in line like one of his sepoys. I had thought you to be a woman of some strength of will.”

“It is not my place to countermand the duke’s rules for his wards. I am sure His Grace has a reason for his rules.”

Lord Harrington held out his arm. “I am sure, too.”

“Then—”

“Shall we discuss this while we walk?”

“I should not.”

“Are you subject to his rules as well?”

Angela glanced at the huge house beyond the stone walls as guilt flooded over her. “I should be spending time with Miss Sutton. After all, that is why I am here.”

He drew her hand within his arm, his smile returning. “My dear Miss Needham, if you are here to teach Miss Sutton how to deport herself in the company of Town, you would be wise to be an example for her of how to listen politely to someone who wishes to ask of your welfare. Such as now, when I want nothing but to ask you how you fare after yesterday. May I say you look no worse for the experience, although I must own to missing that smudge of dirt you had on your cheek then. It accented your guinea-gold hair.”

Angela drew her hand back with a gasp. This man was as unmannered as a conveyancer plying his horrible trade along the road. If Lord Harrington thought he could ply her with compliments in order to convince her to be an ally in whatever battle he was waging against the duke, he was wrong.

“Come now, Miss Needham,” he continued when she was otherwise silent, “surely you enjoy adulation as much as the rest of us.”

She hesitated on her answer, and the viscount took her hand again and settled it on his arm. As if she had agreed enthusiastically to his offer, he led her on a lazy stroll along the road. He began to whistle, startling her. The tune was cheerful and jaunty and the perfect tempo for a walk, but she guessed it was his way of keeping her from asking the questions she must. If he thought she could be halted like this from asking those questions, he must be shown how mistaken he was.

“Lord Harrington, I wish to speak with you of this serious matter,” Angela said.

“And are you always serious?”

“Are you ever?” she retorted with abrupt heat.

Pausing beneath the shade of a large oak, he did not release her arm. His fingers brushed her hand, and she fought to silence her gasp at the unexpected pleasure wafting up her arm. When his lips tilted in a genuine smile, she knew she had not concealed her response to his touch. She was ready to remonstrate with him at his boldness, but her words melted, unspoken, when she was captured by the uncompromising flame in his eyes.

Slowly he raised her fingers toward his lips. He bent, but did not kiss them. When he looked past her hand to her wide eyes, she saw the challenge in his smile.

She should pull away. She knew that, but she continued to stare up at him, caught as utterly as she had been in the net yesterday. Lord Harrington was not handsome when compared to the duke’s classic features. His smile was a bit crooked, and there were lines about his eyes that suggested he smiled often. Yet there was something in his face that drew her as butterflies were lured to a fragrant flower. Something so alive, something so restrained, something that urged her to discover more.

“An apology,” he murmured, the deep, rough sound of his voice caressing her ears.

“For what?”

“For teasing you yesterday when you clearly were not yourself.” His eyes glittered with mischief as he added, in his normal voice, “You are more yourself today, I would wager, and I see you are not the shy flower you seemed upon our first meeting.”

Angela pulled her hand out of his. He was hoaxing her yet again. What an addle-cove she was to be taken in by his glib prattle! Lifting her parasol off her shoulder, she turned to walk back to the gate. His laughter followed her, but she was shocked when his hand settled on her arm.

“Lord Harrington!”

“I was not finished apologizing to you. You do not wish to leave until I am finished, do you?”

She hated the blush that burned on her cheeks as she answered, “Say what you must.”

“I shall.” His hand curved around her elbow to steer her hand back onto his arm. “I trust Thomas has apologized for entangling you in his net yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“Probably nicer than I did … yesterday.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Ah, honesty!” He laughed. “That is a charming change, Miss Needham. I own that I thought you would cut me quite to the quick yesterday with your cold comments.”

She dared to meet his eyes again. “My lord, you must own as well that I had a reason for being distressed yesterday.”

“Why?” he asked in the same infuriatingly reasonable tone. “If your life is so boring that such an incident upsets it past repair, you need to do something to create a bit of excitement in it.”

“My life is none of your bread-and-butter.”

“True, but I hate seeing anyone moldering away in ennui, especially when that someone is a lovely young lady who has fled the excitement of Town for a reason she keeps hidden behind a cool smile and beguiling blue eyes.”

Angela pulled her hand away. Lord Harrington was impossible! His comments were impertinent. This walk and this conversation must come to an end.

Her exasperation faltered when she was caught again by his eyes that were as cool and mysterious as polished jade. Around her, the silence was filled with the buzz of summer bees seducing pollen from the flowers and the distant song of a lazy bird. The breeze touched her cheek, teasing her hair from beneath her bonnet. Everything was just as it should be, save for how each breath seemed to catch on her swiftly beating heart.

A dozen questions battered her lips, but she could not voice a single one. She wished to know why the Duke of Oslington despised his neighbor. Yet, most of all, she yearned to find out why Justin Harrington fascinated her so completely that he had plagued her thoughts for the past day.

When Lord Harrington took a step toward her, her breath refused to escape. She could not free it, any more than she could free herself from his compelling gaze.

“Look,” he whispered as he pointed past her.

Angela turned, but saw nothing between the road and the wall surrounding Oslington Court. The field was as empty.

“There,” he said in the same low tone, but his voice was tinged with a fervor she had not heard before. His warm breath brushed her nape as delicately as would have the wings of the butterfly, which was sitting on a flower. The butterfly opened and closed its golden feathers as if it wished to give her the chance to admire the dark specks across them. “Miss Needham, that is a pearl-bordered fritillary, the
Argynnis euphrosyne
, if you prefer the Latin name. It is one of my favorite species, for it was the first one I captured and studied when I was no older than Thomas.”

The mention of the lad’s name broke the bewitching spell he was spinning around her. Stepping away, Angela faced him. “You were free to study butterflies in your youth, my lord, but Master Thomas is not. I must ask you to refrain from convincing him to ignore his guardian’s dictates.”

“I have left that to Thomas to decide, as you and Oslington should.” Lord Harrington’s eyes sparkled, but not with the amusement she had seen before. As hard as faceted stones, they became slits when he added, “The lad is nearly a man. It is time for him to decide what rules he will or will not follow.”

“
That
is for His Grace, as his guardian, to decide.”

Striding past her, Lord Harrington grabbed his basket from the wall. “I thought you would be different, Miss Needham, when you snarled at me yesterday, but you are like everyone in that stone mausoleum. Not an ounce of spirit in you. No wonder Oslington obtained you as his ward’s companion. You can teach her to be as bland as the rest of you.”