Angelina (13 page)

The robber gave a wavering, undecided laugh. He stared in the direction they’d come from and whispered in his queerly muffled voice. “There is but the sound of one carriage and a horse.”

Raising the cane above her head Angelina brought it down upon the flank of his mount. The horse reared with a squeal of fright and the highwayman’s pistol discharged, effectively disarming him.

“Lucifer’s oath!” he cursed in a high-pitched squeak as he fought to regain control. Leaning into the coach he snatched the cane from her and raised it.

Moonlight touched on a glint of gold at the exposed wrist between gauntlet and sleeve as it descended, two hearts entwined. Giving a moan, her mother threw herself forward. The cane glanced off her shoulder, causing her to cry out in anguish.

 “You blackguard.” Angelina sprang at the man, raking at his face with her nails. The cloth fell away, giving a glimpse of a smooth, youthful countenance before the disguise was snatched back over his face.

“You’ll pay for that,” the highwayman warned and wheeled his horse about. Within seconds he’d been swallowed by the forest. The sound of his departure faded within seconds.

Rafe arrived to find the coachman frozen with fear, his arms still raised on high. Elizabeth was collapsed in Angelina’s arms.

 “A highwayman,” she explained briefly when he sprang from his horse. “Do not bother to go after the man, Rafe. It’s almost dark and we need the comfort of your presence here. My mother has been injured.”

  She gazed at the coachman, saying with a certain amount of asperity. “You may lower your arms and go about the business of lighting the lanterns, Biggins. The black-hearted coward has gone.”

Rafe could only marvel at Angelina’s strength as he took the lantern from the man’s trembling fingers and held it aloft. She was no shrinking violet when faced with adversity. A sharply astringent scent reached him when she held a silver-topped vial under Elizabeth’s nose. She murmured with satisfaction when Elizabeth recovered enough to recline against the cushions. Returning the vial to her pocket, she gently fanned her mother’s face.

 “You were struck on the shoulder, mama. Can you tell me if you are badly injured?”

“Just bruised,” Elizabeth whispered, beginning to cry.

“Hush, mama,” she soothed. “Rafe’s here, so we’re quite safe now.” She took the monogrammed silver flask he offered “Sip a little of this brandy. When you’re recovered we shall resume our journey.” Presently the colour returned to Elizabeth’s face. Angelina turned to him, her eyes stormy in the lantern light. Her hair had been loosened in the fracas and was shot through with a coppery glow.

Struck anew by the vibrant beauty of her moods on occasion, he smiled at her. “You have great deal of courage, Angelina.”

“Damn me if she didn’t strike the horse with a cane,” the coachman suddenly babbled, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets with fright. “She soon showed him she wasn’t some namby-pamby miss. I’ve never seen the likes of it before, a young scrap of a thing like ‘er takin’ on a highwayman with a cocked pistol -”

“That’s quite enough, Mr Biggins.” The firmness of her voice stilled the flood of words. “Because of the ordeal we’ve suffered I’ll overlook your impertinence this time.” She rolled her eyes and sent him a smile. “Lord Lynnbury, perhaps a small nip from your flask will soothe his nerves long enough to enable him to do what he does most admirably, and that is to drive this carriage safely on to Wrey House.”

“And what of you,” Rafe murmured, admiring her presence of mind. “Have you not taken fright?”

“I was terrified out of my wits,” she admitted. “But when angry, I’m often endowed with false courage.” She shot an astutely calculating glance at her mother. “Lady Alexandra told me it was an unfeminine trait which I should strive to curtail.”

Elizabeth’s spine straightened as if she’d been drawn up on a string. “So is stealing another woman’s child. I would prefer that woman’s name not to be mentioned again, Angelina.”

“Yes, mama.” Although the glance Angelina turned his way was innocent, a grin flirted at the corner of her mouth.

Cunning little minx, he thought, trying not to grin himself. She has an instinct for saying the right thing to suit the circumstances.

Just then the second coach came up behind them and all was pandemonium again. Rafe took charge, bidding them light the lanterns and arming the second coach driver, a stout looking fellow, with one of his pistols as a precaution. He issued instructions that they must stay together for the rest of the journey.

Half an hour later they turned into the elaborate wrought iron gates of

Wrey house. Noticing the nervousness in Angelina’s face, Rafe’s heart went out to her.

Keep your courage high, little Angel, he thought. You’ll undoubtedly need it over the next few days.

Although the splendour of Wrey House was unexpected, Angelina did not allow her surprise to show. James had told her the house had been remodelled by his grandfather, but he’d given no hint of its grandeur.

   The hallway was of chequered green and white marble with the family crest set in the circle in the middle. Over it hung a huge chandelier of glittering crystal. Doors were set in alcoves, and flanked by columns. They sheltered bronze statuary of men engaged in heroic action. A stairway stretched upwards from either side to a gallery above, which was lined with portraits.

Angelina was disappointed she couldn’t see the charming inner courtyard James had described. He’d told her it contained a fountain, and was surrounded on three sides by the older part of the house.

Elizabeth led her straight to the chamber prepared for her, one not far from her own, and facing west to take advantage of the afternoon sun.

The room had wall panels of watered grey silk, and delicate blue bed hangings embroidered all over with peacocks. Matching curtains hung at the windows, and a soft Aubusson carpet stretched across the floor. The furniture was of a pretty gilt design in cream embossed with gold. Joined by a dressing room large enough to accommodate Angelina’s gowns and accessories twice over, was her maid’s quarters.

Clara, the plain and sensible maid hired by James, earned a word of praise from Elizabeth when she immediately set about unpacking her mistresses things. Despite her ungraceful appearance, Clara was clever with her hands and had a good eye for style. Angelina was more than pleased with her, though she missed Bessie.

After refreshing themselves, Elizabeth, still pale from her ordeal and carrying her bruised shoulder a trifle stiffly, sent a servant to inform her husband they would present themselves in his study in a little while.

Angelina was subjected to a brief embrace. “My husband...your father...is not a demonstrative man. If his welcome is a little restrained I’d ask you to bear that in mind.” 

“I will, mama.” She gave her mother a tremulous smile and strove to control the catch in her voice. “It must have distressed the earl when he discovered I still lived. I’m thankful you did not reject me. My existence must have been a complete shock to you.”

“I clearly remember holding you in my arms for a brief moment. It’s Rosabelle I cannot ...” Her voice trailed off, the faraway look in her eyes was replaced by a determined brightness. “Lets not get too maudlin, my dear. The earl becomes rather brusque when presented with sentimentality.” 

“You make him sound like an ogre,” she murmured, shivering a little as she remembered the treatment Celine had received from the hands of her own father. “Is he a man to be feared?”

Elizabeth linked her arm through hers and led her from the room. “He’s a good man at heart, desiring only to be obeyed and respected. He does not seek fault where there is none, and although he’s reluctant to admit to being in the wrong, he does not lay blame on others unjustly. I’m sure Thomas will grow to love you as I do, in time.”

 Angelina wasn’t convinced that the earl wanted to know her, let alone grow to love her. He gazed at her curiously when she sank before him in a curtsy, saying in a gruff voice.”You’re like your mother, child.”

Her father resembled James a little, she thought. He was darker, the hook in his nose more pronounced. Tall and upright, his skin was tanned and creased from the outdoors. His greying, dark hair was thick and wavy. There was nothing welcoming about his dark, unwavering eyes, but neither were they hostile.

He ignored her tentative smile, and her voice shook with nerves when she requested.”I ask for your blessing, My Lord.”

“You have it, daughter.” She took the strong, calloused hand he offered and stood trembling before him. “I welcome you to the home you’ve never seen, to the family you’ve never known. I hope you’ll be happy amongst us.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” She gave her mother an uncertain look, then encouraged by her smile went to stand demurely by her side.

“Lord Daventry told me you were waylaid by a highwayman,” the earl said, his glance softening as it went to her mother. “I trust you were not badly hurt.”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“Good, good.” The earl’s eyes flicked suddenly back to her. Angelina held her breath. “I understand my wife’s injury was due to a certain recklessness on your part.”

“I...I do not understand what you mean, sir,” she stammered, feeling spots of colour stain her cheeks. “If anything I did contributed to mama’s injury it was unintentional, and I most deeply regret it.”

“You did nothing, my dear.” Elizabeth’s voice was decidedly frosty. “Had it not been for her courage I’m sure the rogue would have killed us both...or worse.”  She gave a delicate shudder. “If Lord Lynnbury’s account of the incident gives substance to such accusation I’d be interested to hear it, Thomas.”

“Perhaps I misunderstood.” The earl, whose eyes had impaled her all this time, suddenly smiled. “You must think ill of a father who welcomes you home one minute and chastises you the next.”

“Indeed, I’m glad to discover I have a father, My Lord. I’ll do my utmost to conduct myself in a manner you’ll be proud of.”

The earl gazed reflectively at her. “That’s well said, child.”  Stooping, he brushed her forehead with his lips. “Let’s be done with formality. As I’m your father it’s fitting you should address me thus.”

“Thank you...
father
.
” How sweet the word tasted on her lips. Her father…at long last! All the time she was growing up, how she’d longed for a family. Without thinking she crossed to where he stood and laid her head against his shoulder. “Dearest, father, how I’ve longed for this moment.”

His hand awkwardly patted her shoulder.

“How touching, Papa!”

The earl stiffened and moved away when a flurry of rose coloured taffeta pushed between them. Luminous dark eyes swiftly assessed her. This must be Rosabelle.

 “Strange that we look nothing alike.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed as she took possession of the earl’s arm. Her exotic beauty was flawed by the hostility in her eyes. I am Rosabelle,” she drawled.

“I’m Angelina.” The instant surge of dislike she felt for Rosabelle dismayed her. They were as unalike as two people could get, and she sensed it had very little to do with looks.

Her mother took her hand, squeezing it in comfort. Not by word or gesture did Angelina betray her feelings. Her smile remained serene. “I’m happy to meet you at last, Rosabelle.”

 They stared at each other, she and her sister, with nothing else to say. The

silence deepened, yet neither broke it. Rosabelle clung to the earl’s arm. There was a closeness between the two she’d never enjoy. It was a closeness of familiarity, of the love a father bears for a daughter.

I’m your daughter too, her heart cried out. It was not my fault your love was denied to me.

The silence was broken by the door clicking open. Footsteps echoed across the floor, and with the sound came tension. Rosabelle smiled slightly. Where the tension came from, or why it was there Angelina couldn’t guess.

A man moved into her vision, a deep voice said quietly. “I’m sorry I was not here to greet you, Angelina.”

For some reason prickles crept slowly up her spine, as if an unseen menace existed in the room. The man was big and strong, his hair and eyes dark, his appearance handsome. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, which were disconcertingly direct and never wavered from her face. She wondered if this direct gaze was characteristic of the Wrey Family.

“You must be William.” She couldn’t understand why she whispered, except her throat had become unaccountably dry.

“That’s so.” His eyes searched every inch of her face as if to imprint it on his memory. A small intake of breath hissed from between his teeth. “You are very much like your mama. I expected some resemblance to Rosabelle.”

Angelina wanted to step back when William embraced her, but was prevented by the pressure of his fingers on her arms. She managed to keep her voice light. “Both you and James resemble the earl, but in different ways.”

“If you think that you haven’t met Frey.” William’s glance flicked to the earl, his mouth twitched. “Frey is the image of the earl.” 

“Frey?” She was so tense she staggered off-balanced when William let her go. Her mother’s hand against her elbow steadied her.

“That’s enough, Will.” Her father was having trouble keeping his temper under control. Rosabelle gave a soft giggle when Will threw him an insolent glance.

 “Angelina has to know sooner or later, father. After all, your bastard is her half brother too.”

“Your behaviour is unfit for a gentleman, and inappropriate for this occasion.”  The earl bowed stiffly to his wife, his eyes unable to conceal the humiliated rage he felt. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Perhaps you’ll take our daughters upstairs where they may become better acquainted. I wish to speak to William alone.”

It was a silent trio who left. Halfway up the stairs they heard voices raised in anger, then the sound of a blow.

Rosabelle turned on her mother and hissed, “See what you’ve done by bringing this creature into the house. If Will is hurt I’ll never forgive you.”

“Control yourself. William should not have spoken to his father so.”

“You’ve never understood, Will. Never!” Gathering her skirts together Rosabelle fled up the stairs. She turned at the top, accusing. “And you have never loved me.”