A Guardians Angel (9 page)

“Behind the palm,” Master Thomas replied, peeking out from behind a large bush.

Although Angela was not sure which plant was a palm, for the leaves were so tangled she could not tell where one began and the next ended, she followed Miss Sutton’s finger that pointed to the left corner.

“Do come away, Seth,” the duke said in a resigned voice. “Your shouts are sending the poor beast up to the highest boughs.”

Miss Sutton giggled, but stifled the sound when the duke gave her the same glare he had shot at Angela. She blinked sudden tears, and Angela was astounded. She had not thought the vivacious young woman would be so cowed by her guardian. Then she realized how little, even after more than a week here, she knew about any of these people.

Seth ran to the duke and flung his arms around his guardian’s legs while Miss Esther babbled about how the monkey had escaped from the nursery when she had been sure the door was shut. Hushing Miss Esther, the duke plucked the child from his legs. “Young man, there is no need to race after Wallah as if you are both being chased by a
bagh.
” Glancing at Angela, he added as if an afterthought, “A tiger.”

Angela’s answer was silenced when the duke strode toward the tangled vines where the monkey could be seen at the top of the branches near the glass roof. He held up his hands and said something in a language she could not understand.

“Wallah always listens to him because Rodney speaks to him in Tamil,” Miss Esther whispered. “Wallah misses India.”

Putting her arm around the child’s slim shoulders, Angela said, “I am sure the duke will persuade your pet to heed him today, too.”

Miss Esther fired a vexed frown at her, then tugged away. She gave a joyous cry as she ran to where her guardian had coaxed her pet down. Taking the creature, she cradled it in her arms as if it were a baby. She turned to Angela while she cooed to the beast.

“Some people say he is ugly, but I think Wallah is pretty.” She looked up at Angela, her large, blue eyes sparkling with the remnants of her fearful tears. “You think he is pretty, don’t you, Miss Needham?”

“I doubt if there could be a prettier monkey,” she said, not wanting to hurt the child’s feelings by speaking the truth. The creature’s face reminded her of a dried fig and its coat was matted with something that looked suspiciously like strawberry jam.

Angela put her fingers out to pat its head. When it spat, she leapt back. The children laughed. Mortified, she looked at the duke. He merely arched an eyebrow and started to walk out of the conservatory.

“Remember when the colonel came to visit and Wallah stole his quizzing glass?” Master Seth asked with a low chuckle. He tugged on Angela’s skirt. “Do you wear blinkers, Miss—?” A perplexed expression crossed his face that still resembled the baby he must have been such a short time before.

“Needham,” whispered Miss Esther.

“No, I do not wear glasses,” she answered.

“Wallah does not like strangers,” Miss Esther said unnecessarily.

“So Miss Needham can see, Esther,” the duke replied. Without even a pause, he added, “Miss Needham, your comments about Thomas’s artwork leads me to believe that
you
have seen his work.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Why had he chosen this time when the children were listening to broach this subject?

“Where?”

“At Harrington Grange.” She refused to be false. That would be a bad example for Miss Sutton and the others.

The duke glanced at Master Thomas, then turned back to Angela. “Your words, Miss Needham, suggest that you believe Thomas has skill in this direction.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Under Harrington’s tutelage?” He looked again at the boy.

Master Thomas nodded.

“I see.” The duke clasped his hands behind his back. “It seems that you have chosen, Thomas, to disregard my request that you not go to Harrington Grange. I see that, like your father, you insist on discovering the truth for yourself. Very well. If Miss Needham is willing, you may pay a call to Harrington Grange for two hours each week.” He tapped his chin. “On Thursdays.”

“Why that day?” Master Thomas asked.

“It fits well with your schedule and Mr. Weare’s.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Will you give me your word on this, Thomas?”

Angela wanted to put her arm around the boy, who seemed to be torn between relief and despair. He looked at her and away as he said, “Yes, Rodney, you have my word on this.”

“Good. If that is settled …” He turned toward the door.

“This will be fun,” Miss Esther said. “Wallah will enjoy an outing. Isn’t that right, Leonia?”

“Yes.”

At Miss Sutton’s distracted tone, Angela saw her charge watching the duke walk away. Miss Sutton’s sigh was so low that Angela was sure only she had heard it. There was something amiss between the duke and his ward. It would behoove Angela to discover what it was and help heal the rift before their relationship became even more strained with the stress of the Season. If she did not, she suspected her sojourn at Oslington Court might come to an abrupt end.

Seven

Angela glanced at the clock on the mantel in the small parlor. Miss Sutton should have been here by now for her next lesson in deportment. If the lesson went well, Angela would use the rest of the afternoon to give Justin a look-in and explain the duke’s offer. She tried to ignore the suspicion that there was a reason for the duke’s choice of Thursday other than the convenience of the children’s tutor. Accusing the duke of an ulterior motive would be unthinkable, so it would be better to ask Justin for an explanation.

When Miss Sutton did not arrive, Angela went in search of the girl. She had to ask a servant where Miss Sutton’s private chambers were, for she realized she had never been there. The woman eyed Angela with candid curiosity, but explained that Miss Sutton’s room was on the uppermost floor. The maid’s gaze poked Angela’s back until she went down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Angela climbed the stairs and was astounded to discover Miss Sutton’s bedchamber was in the nursery wing along with the other children’s. She knocked on the door, and it opened.

Miss Sutton smiled, motioning for her to come in. The small white room was not spartan, but contained little beyond a bed and a chest of drawers. Curtains on the pair of octagonal windows were of chintz, as was the coverlet on the bed. The bright splash of red flowers brightened the otherwise dreary room, but did not flatter either Miss Sutton’s hair or the pink gown she wore.

“Let me get you a chair, Miss Needham,” Miss Sutton said. “There is one in the nursery.”

“Thank you.” Her reply was to Miss Sutton’s back, because the young woman ran into the nursery across the hallway.

Coming back, Miss Sutton could not hide her eagerness about what Angela might say first.

Angela smiled as she sat on the short chair that left her knees nearly to her chin. Folding her arms on them, she watched as Miss Sutton sprawled in an unladylike jumble across the bed. She was about to chide the young woman, but hesitated. If Miss Sutton’s heart was as fragile as her siblings’, Angela must be careful not to speak too harshly.

“You are late for today’s class,” Angela said, smiling. “I wanted to make certain nothing was amiss with you.”

“Oh, dear! I was reading and lost track of the time.”

“Reading is exemplary, but you must not skip your lessons.”

“Do I have so much still left to learn, Miss Needham?” Miss Sutton asked.

Instead of answering with the obvious, Angela said, “The first thing is to move you out of the nursery.”

Miss Sutton sat up, her eyes sparkling. “Do you think you can convince Rodney to let me do that? I have implored him repeatedly, but he has insisted I stay with the others.”

“You no longer need Mrs. Meyer’s supervision—”

“That hornet!”

“Miss Sutton! Comments like that are what persuade your guardian to treat you as a child. If you wish to be fired-off into society, you must practice restraint at all times. A member of the
élite
does not use such language about a servant.”

“I have heard Rodney say worse.”

“His Grace is a man,” Angela answered, hoping her calm voice would hide her amazement. She could not imagine the duke reacting to anything so inconsequential. “He is excused such language. A lady must never speak so.”

“What is London like? Is the Season as glorious as they say?”

“London is wonderful. You have never seen houses as wondrous as the ones along the squares when they are decorated for a
fête.
”

“The buildings in India were grand and very old. Not that we saw them very often. We usually stayed within the compound.”

Not wanting to let the conversation veer away to another topic, Angela said, “We must obtain the services of a good abigail. You have lovely hair, but you need a woman to help arrange it.”

Miss Sutton clasped her arms around her knees. “Rodney offered to have one of the girls assist me. She was so bothersome that I sent her back to the kitchen. Although Mrs. Burkhardt said she would find me a replacement, I urged her not to. Will you help me?”

“For now.” She smiled, not adding that a companion’s duties were different from a personal maid’s. “When you marry, you will need to supervise a whole staff of servants. Learning to deal with your abigail will help you.”

Miss Sutton leaned across her bed again and rested her chin on her palms. “You know so much about what I need to know. You must have had a Season.”

“I did.”

“Then why aren’t
you
married? You are quite pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“You are not answering my question.”

Angela stood. “Because I have no answer other than I am not married because I have never met a man I wish to marry.”

“What about Rodney?”

“The duke?” she gasped.

The young woman laughed. “You act so awed when you speak of him. You really should not be.”

“He deserves the respect I offer him.”

“That is true,” she mused, as if confronting the idea for the first time. “You must realize, Miss Needham, that—”

“You may call me Angela, if you wish. After all, we shall be spending much time together, and I would have us be friends.”

“I would like that, and you must call me Leonia. And stop calling my little brothers and sisters ‘master’ and ‘miss.’” Two dimples punctuated her smile.

“That is the proper address.”

“True, but we are accustomed to the informality of family. Seth, in particular, is bothered by it.”

“As you wish.” Angela would relent on this, because she needed to concentrate on more important lessons with Leonia.

“As I was saying, you must realize,
Angela
, that I have known Rodney almost all my life. He was Papa’s secretary in the sepoy company. They went on a few campaigns, but usually they were garrisoned at Fort St. George.”

“Where is that?”

“Near Madras on the southeast coast.” She sat and wrapped her arms around her knees again, and Angela began to despair that she would never teach Leonia to sit still.

Mayhap contemplating the task would push thoughts of Justin out of her head. Angela frowned at the thought. She must not let the eccentric viscount keep sneaking into her mind.

Leonia continued, “I know both Papa and Rodney were frustrated that their unit was seldom called to defend the East India Company. When Mama died several years ago—Seth was just a baby—Papa seemed more content to stay in garrison.”

“But the duke never was?”

“Never.” She shook her head. “Thank goodness he was there when Papa was hurt.” Lowering her eyes, she whispered, “I am sure you know that Papa died because of a bizarre accident. Who would have guessed that his horse would panic at the sight of a runaway bull and throw him?”

Sitting on the narrow bed, Angela put her arm around Leonia, whose cheeks were lined with sudden tears. “You need say no more of it.”

Leonia turned her head against Angela’s shoulder. “I want to speak of Papa. Rodney refuses to. He leaves the room if one of us mentions Papa. I know he looks at us and remembers Papa and their friendship. That makes him sad. I believe he mourns Papa’s death more than his own father’s.” Raising her head, she added, “Rodney came—even before Papa’s funeral—to oversee our household, although it was not necessary. Our
ayahs
would have helped us.”

“
Ayahs?
”

“The maids in our household. Rodney refused to let us be alone. He was sure he would be appointed to succeed Papa, but word came from England that
his
father had died. Rodney was now the Duke of Oslington with responsibilities here.”

“So he sold his commission and returned?”

“With us.” She ran her fingers across the coverlet. “He takes his appointment as our guardian seriously.”

“As he does everything.”

Leonia’s eyes widened. “Serious? Rodney?” She laughed, startling Angela. Sliding across the bed, she set herself on her feet. “You have seen him only as he is now. You should have known him before he took on the burden of us. I daresay Rodney was the most dashing officer in Fort St. George. He has a lively wit, and I never danced with a man who possesses his grace.”

Angela tried to readjust her appraisal of the duke. The somber man did not seem the type to whisper court-promises to the ladies when he asked them to stand up with him. Even more bizarre was the thought that he might be as unhappy here as the children. His stern façade could be a shield to conceal his pain. Any man who took on the obligation of four high-spirited children and gave up a career he had devoted years to must have more to him than the spiritless wraith who hid behind the newspaper at breakfast.

“If you have such insight into His Grace’s thoughts,” Angela said when Leonia paused in her praise of her guardian, “you should be able to charm any young rogue interested in finding a wife.”

“I am not sure I want a husband now.”

“You are young, but obviously His Grace feels the time has come for you to consider buckling yourself to a husband.”

“Thomas wishes for me to marry Lord Harrington.”

Angela flinched. She could not halt herself as she imagined Leonia as Justin’s bride. It could heal whatever breach there was between the duke and Justin. Yet, the idea bothered her. She did not want to explore why, because the very idea led her in the dangerous direction of recalling her dreams of being in his arms.