Society's Most Scandalous Viscount (27 page)

“I needed to get out of the house and your invitation proved convenient.” He smiled to soften the glib retort. “Let's get on with it. I'm hungry.”

Amused, Kell led his grandfather through the door and introductions proceeded with enthusiasm. Nicholson and Penwick were already arrived and Emily, the only female in the group, appeared a rose among weeds. Jasper and Emily's happiness showed apparent in every nuance of their being, a loving glance or kind word. Even the interior of their apartments seemed to scream ‘happily ever after'. He could never begrudge his friend, though a piercing reminder of everything he didn't have, nor ever would possess, made conversation difficult.

“There's a sadness about you, Kell. No need to sell me a dog in explanation. Just know I'm concerned.” Out of earshot, the two friends stood near the doorway.

“Thank you, Jasper. It's of no matter.” He hardly paused. “Would you allow me the privilege of speaking to your lovely wife? I believe our conversation is past due.”

“Of course. I'll have her meet you in my study.” Jasper indicated his approval with a curt nod and reassuring smile. “Don't stay overlong. We've a sumptuous dinner planned sure to satisfy the most finicky pudding-house.”

Kell found a true smile. Jasper was a good man and loyal friend. The type of person Kell strove to become someday.

He slipped into the hall without notice, his grandfather regaling Nicholson and Penwick with outrageous tales of some breeze or another, and found Jasper's study the way it always appeared, crowded with crates and half-baked inventions. Some things remained constant no matter how one's world transformed. He waited not long as Emily swept into the room, her gown as bright and lively as her smile.

“You've certainly achieved wonders organizing Jasper's plethora of
interests
.” He flicked a glance to the assorted boxes, neatly arranged in stacks at the perimeter of the room.

“Yes. Jasper is a truly brilliant man, but his lack of order proved a bit disconcerting at first.” Emily sighed, a sparkle in her eyes, although she quickly changed the subject. “I'm so glad you've decided to attend. We've missed your company, Kellaway, and hope you are well.”

There was no way he could rejoin the comment with sincere truth and not reveal his depth of tribulation, so he ignored it and launched into the words he should have stated months before.

“Emily, my anger over our father's negligence prevented me from welcoming you with the respect and affection you are due.” He shook his head in the negative in hopes to emphasize how despicably he'd behaved and how regretful of his actions he was.

“I know,” Emily replied in a soft tone. “Jasper explained as much. More than anyone, I understand how hard it is to come to terms with Father's indiscretions.”

They stood in silent agreement before Kell reached for her hand, enfolding it in his own. “You are my sister now. There is no changing the fact.”

“And you are my brother.” Her smile beamed.

“I'm thankful for that.” His eyes settled on the ornate charm bracelet on her wrist, an unpleasant reminder. She must have noticed his conflicted regard.

“It's lovely, isn't it?” She didn't wait for his reply. “Jasper gifted it to me on our wedding trip. I lost a charm bracelet I'd grown fond of sometime before, and he wished to replace it, but when it came time to select the adornments, he chose all hearts. He's a romantic sort. I adore him.” The latter was murmured more to herself and her cheeks pinkened with the tender admission.

“It is easy to see the happiness you've found together.” He released her hand not wishing to delve any deeper into emotion—or the imprudent subject of their sire for that matter. “Let's join the party before my grandfather initiates some intractable buffoonery. The last thing I need is another scandal with my name attached.”

“Indeed.”

She led the way back to the drawing room and Kell felt a weight lifted from his shoulders, although the relief found in resolving his relationship with Emily underscored the darker feelings he struggled to erase. In spite of his newfound sibling, he remained alone. Unworthy. After decades of attempting to earn his parents' approval, he'd failed. He hadn't been enough for Angel either—her persistence to leave a constant reminder of his shortcomings. He was undeserving, contemptible and apparently, though it proved the most bitter pill, unwanted. How maudlin he must appear. He forced a vague expression of conviviality.

Conversation in the drawing room flourished. Someone mentioned Emily's League for Virtuous Equality and
his sister
took the floor to answer all questions with proud aplomb. The late arrival of Jasper's brother, Earl of Dashwood, and his lovely wife, Wilhelmina, added further lively exchange. When the butler signaled dinner waited, he stepped forward to offer his arm before Jasper reached his wife. With lighthearted dismissal of her husband's protest, Emily accepted Kell's escort and they walked down the hallway to dinner.

There wasn't anything to do but pray. Angelica sat in her sparse room after the evening meal and considered her dire circumstances. She'd been at the priory for six days and they'd all run together in a blank monotony of rosary and service. The nuns were pleasant. The vicar…well, he was another issue entirely in the form of a solemn man of indeterminate age with a considerate paunch and balding pate. How her father could consider the man a marriage candidate confounded her, but then she'd already reasoned her father had lost all ability for rational thought. Otherwise why would he punish his daughters, threaten to abandon his mother…for the sake of religious belief?

For the time being, Angelica did as she was told. She performed all her duties, cleaned the monastery, led prayer when asked, and read the Bible aloud to the vicar in the evenings while he enjoyed his port. More than once she'd noticed his lascivious leer, the weight of his eyes invoking gooseflesh of the poorest variety. Still she didn't object, vowing to follow the rules until she could chart a path to freedom.

Her inner thoughts were a salvation, though the one thing she didn't permit, couldn't bear, was to reflect on the time spent with Benedict. To remember the timbre of his voice, the heat of his caress, or the sound of his laughter. She wouldn't allow even the smallest memory to pierce through her veneer of calm because to do so would cause her world to crumble and at this time, her future was more fragile than she ever imagined. And perhaps that persisted as the harshest irony of all. She'd sought those exquisite moments with Benedict for the sole purpose of providing her solace and now she could not bear to unlock the memories.

So she busied herself in any way possible, accepting all tasks offered to move the day along, sometimes transcribing verse and preparing prayer books for the poor. Eventually the day passed and night, a lonely ritual, descended on silent wings.

This evening as Angelica lay on her bed wondering how much longer she could endure the stifling solitude of life at the priory, the disruptive whisper of a soft tread on the gravel outside her window alerted her attention. Wild animals lurked in the forest and nearby pastures, but never had she worried of a creature approaching the cluster of inhabited buildings. As her ears perked, the noise sounded more like footfalls than anything else.

As soundlessly as possible, she slid from the bed and approached the small window, her only view of the outside world. Through some manipulation of the truth, Father had convinced the vicar she needed to be locked in her bedchamber at night. Although the keyhole worked both ways, she'd realized early she had no means to escape. How she regretted not fleeing from Brighton when she'd had the chance. But she wouldn't dare think of her past. Remembering Brighton meant recalling Benedict and her heart was already too anguished to summon his precious words and caresses.

Focused on the black night, straining for the tiniest sound as an indication of what she might have heard, she started when a figure came into view. Helen. Standing not two feet from the window. Angelica's eyes flared, questioning her sight before she slid the glass upward, allowing just enough room for her sister's face to appear, rounded and never so beautiful.

“What are you doing here? Oh, Helen, you're safe. I've worried much for your welfare.” The hushed words spilled forth as tears of happiness blurred her vision. Was she dreaming? How could this be? Not only was the priory two days' ride from London, but her sister was here, smiling in gladness, healthy and as lovely as always. Prayer had succeeded, at least in this instance. She struggled to exhale, her emotions overcome, and reached to clasp her sister's hand, the cramped window allowing only as much passage as her elbow before she met with the wooden sill.

“Take this and listen.” Helen spared a brief moment to squeeze Angelica's hand and then thrust her arm forward, a silver key across her palm. “Open the door and in absolute quiet come outside. Grandmother and Nan are waiting in a carriage at the foot of the hill and we have no time. Despite the hour we can't take the risk of being discovered.”

“But I don't understand—”

“There will be time for explanation as we leave this place. Take the key. Waste not another minute.”

Angelica needed no other urging and clasped the key in her palm, her hands trembling as she inserted it into the lock and eased the panel open. Quietude pressed from all sides, and ignoring the shifting emotions of fear, exhilaration, and relief, she sought the outside door and emerged. Helen grabbed her hand and urged her forward without discussion and while Angelica marveled at her sister's stealth, the slight belly of her pregnancy not an impediment to her hurried gait, she also counted her blessings to be free of the priory and away from her father's convoluted confinement.

As promised, at the foot of the hill Nan sat atop the bench of an old country tilt, Grandmother's beatific face emerged from the covered interior, her eyes flared and fixed as Angelica and Helen approached. With no grace at all, they climbed inside and settled, the slap of the reins underscoring their escape.

“I don't understand what's happening.” Angelica sat in the middle of the bench, her hands held on either side by sister and grandmother.

“First, tell me you are well, Angelica.” Grandmother squeezed her hand tighter and leaned over to press a gentle kiss against her cheek.

“Yes. As well as can be expected, but confused and amazed you have come to help me.”

“Of course.” Grandmother's smile shone even in the dim interior.

“A gentleman came to see me in Hay Market.” Helen tugged on Angelica's arm to gain her attention. “His explanation made little sense, but he described you brilliantly and I knew something was wrong. Father's plan to preserve his daughter's chastity has resulted in the most devious manipulation. After speaking to Viscount Kellaway, I sent a message to Grandmother, who returned to the local fair and purchased a sleeping draught from the gypsy travelers before coming to London and informing me of Father's behavior.”

“It took little effort to drug your father. Once he bowed his head in solemn prayer, I enhanced the sacrificial wine in his goblet. Unfortunately, I'd no idea which key ensured your freedom, so I borrowed the entire chatelaine.” She tapped the pocket of her cloak for emphasis and laughed softly as a muffled tinkling of metal was produced. “He was shocked to see me in London and equally stunned by my vehement reaction to your delivery here. I'm certain he believes a threat to my future would paralyze my assistance in this matter, but nothing would prevent my help. He could only be livid when he awoke and certain to pursue a search, but we'll be hidden well by then. We have a day's time advantage and we won't waste a minute of it.”

“I don't know what to say. To be loved so well and thoroughly.” She held tight to each hand. “And you are well, Helen? The baby? Your health?”

“Yes. I'm very happy.” Her words were the sound of pure joy. “I've taken a room in Hay Market and work as a governess to a kind family who owns an inn in the central square. Both wife and husband are too busy belowstairs with the customers to tend to their one-year-old child in the apartment above, so I tend to their daughter while they work. At the same time they care for me by providing a comfortable room and hot meals.”

“But what will happen in a few months when the babe arrives? What then?”

“I'm not afraid, Angelica. I have no regrets. I've become acquainted with a league on Upper Bond Street where women help each other in times of need. I've already written to Miss Shaw and Miss Edmonstone, as they conduct the meetings there. I'm confident they will help me find my way.”

“What of Father?” Her words contained a large measure of trepidation, though the fast-paced conversation raveled in tempo to the tilt as it raced along the country road. “I don't understand why all of this is happening or why he would act so rashly.” She bowed her head in pious habit. “We are daughters to an earl.”

“Chin up, Sister.” Helen eyed her and nodded. “Father's decisions have been ruled by religious doctrine since mother passed. You know he's greatly influenced by the vicar's advice and opinions. I'm not sure he hasn't donated our entire dowries to the collection plate.”

“But confining me to a convent…”

“Now that is an entirely different situation. I'm afraid my predicament instigated his reaction. It intensified his fear and compounded doubt he hadn't raised his daughters rightly in the eyes of the lord. He'd never get into heaven if he didn't sacrifice, and I'm so sorry, but he chose to sacrifice you.”

Grandmother piped up, ripe with disgust. “He's unbalanced. Dicked in the nob, that's what.”

“But he loved us.” Angelica shook her head to clear away the contradiction.

“Not enough. He loves the church and his beliefs. We rarely saw him. Don't misinterpret the teachers and tutors, psalms and prayers, as anything but an investment in his perception of our future. All the hired nurses, nannies, and Bible memorization. How can you forgive the sting of his walking stick across your bottom? When we were younger and easily controlled we had no idea of his religious obsession, but now we are fully grown and capable of making our own decisions.”