The Earl Claims a Bride (19 page)

She pursed her lips and studied on what he’d said. Doing something like that was a fanciful thing and it didn’t sound like anything the earl would do. But then, the captain wasn’t one to make up a story like that, either.

“That’s odd.” But not astonishing. Lord Thornwick was always full of surprises. Including bringing her a half-dead plant. It did give her an unexpected shiver of awareness to know he’d been peeping in at her.

“I thought so, too. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was watching you play the pianoforte. I heard you, too as I walked up the path, but I wouldn’t go over to the window and spy on you.”

Captain Maxwell seemed much more concerned about this infraction in manners than Angelina. “I’m afraid Lord Thornwick plays by his own rules, or maybe it’s better to say that he plays by no rules. Not many acceptable ones anyway.”

His expression questioned her. “Yet you don’t seem upset by this realization.”

“I’m not.” She smiled at the officer, trying to reassure him. “There was no harm done.” Now that she thought about it, it was actually quite amusing that Captain Maxwell had caught Lord Thornwick looking in her window. As far as she was concerned, it served the earl right. Though she doubted the incident embarrassed him in the least.

“That’s not acceptable behavior for anyone and especially an earl. I thought you’d be a bit more upset by his Peeping Tom antics.”

“Perhaps I would have been if he had been looking into my bedchamber, but there is nothing to see in the music room. And it’s not like he didn’t have a reason. He heard the pianoforte playing.”

“I think I should let your father know. I would hate for Lord Thornwick to make a habit of gawking at you through your windows.”

Angelina laughed lightly. The image of the earl gawking at anyone was amusing and the very idea was preposterous. “That’s not something I would ever concern myself with. Nor should you. And as far as my father goes it will not concern him, either, but by all means mention it to him if it will make you feel better. Now, Captain, I don’t want to talk about Lord Thornwick. Tell me about India. I doubt I shall ever have the opportunity to go there and I want to hear all about it.”

“It was hot where I was and very little rain.” He stopped and sighed. “The Indian people are clever and hard workers from what I observed. As you can imagine, their customs are very different from ours.”

Captain Maxwell continued to talk. She noticed that the longer she looked at him, the easier it was to ignore the wounded side of his face. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened, and she hoped he’d share it with her one day, though she’d never ask. Obviously there was a battle of some kind, or maybe a small skirmish. It must have been a pistol shot or perhaps a musket or maybe even the explosion from cannon fire. There was nothing about the scarring that looked as if it could have been done by the straight blade of a knife or the firm contact of a fist.

“So I don’t think I will ever be going back,” he finished.

“And you’re all right with that?” she asked. “Never returning?”

He put his arm up on the top of the settee. “I have to be. It’s doubtful I’ll stay in the army, now. I can no longer fight.”

“I’m sure that troubles you.”

He shrugged. “My commanding officer has discussed with me the possibility of staying in the army and becoming a courier.” He sighed heavily again. “I promised to think about it, but it would probably be difficult for me to become a messenger.”

“But why? That is a very important duty, is it not? To carry critical and classified documents back and forth for the generals and other officials.”

“I’m a soldier, Miss Rule. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“Oh.” She didn’t really know what to say to that impassioned statement. “Perhaps there is a role for you somewhere in the army. I assume there is no hurry for you to make a decision.”

“Not so far,” he said with an intense expression. “Presently, I’m still considered to be recovering. Though, I have no idea how much longer that will be the case.”

“What would you do if you resigned your commission?”

“I have money saved. Enough to buy a small house in a village somewhere or here in London. Not in Mayfair, of course, but if I continue to be frugal, I have adequate means to support a wife and family. I will not live as a pauper.”

“No, I never thought you would.”

He shifted in the small sofa and leaned toward her. “Miss Rule, I know I no longer look the way I did before I left for India, but I need to know that you would like me to continue to call on you.”

Yes! Yes, of course.

He had been the man of her dreams for three years. But should she encourage him? The injury had left him vulnerable. She saw it in his face and heard it in his voice. Her heartbeat increased. Should she allow him to think they could be together if that might never be possible? There was no hope that the captain might be able to help her father pay his debts as she’d once hoped. She couldn’t ask him to take what he had saved for a house and his future and give it to her father for his reckless behavior. Especially now that the captain was considering resigning his commission. No, she wouldn’t ask that of him. She would get the money from the work of her own hands. Her father and his debts were her responsibility, and she would take care of them. Even if she had to paint day and night.

“Yes, Captain, of course,” she finally said. “I would like for us to get to know each other. That is what the Season is for, is it not?”

He sat back again and looked at her curiously. “But there are others wanting to get to know you as well. Lord Thornwick?”

“My father certainly hopes he is,” she said honestly, but avoiding the complete truth.

“How can I compete with an earl?” he said gruffly, throwing his body against the back of the settee in a frustrated manner.

Angelina forgave his slight show of temper. “Because you are a well-respected and honored gentleman just as he is. Captain,” she said softly, “I just met the earl a few nights ago. I’ve waited for your return for over a year.”

His stare at her face was intense. “So have I. You don’t know. You can’t know how I longed for yet dreaded coming home. Not knowing how you, or how anyone would receive me now.”

She had a fairly good idea how conflicted he must have been.

He stirred restlessly and looked down at the floor before finding her gaze again and asking, “You’re sure my appearance doesn’t repulse you?”

His return to his appearance pricked a moment of annoyance inside her. How many times must she tell him? “Would I be sitting here having a normal conversation with you if it did? Do you think me that small-minded, sir? If so, I don’t want you calling on me again.”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “No. I don’t think that. It’s just that I’ve seen the way others stare at me. Believe me, I know this is not an easy face to look at.”

“You have no reason to say that,” she said earnestly.

“I’ve seen my face every day for the past five months.” He closed his eye and shook his head briefly before looking back at her. “I pray each night that it will continue to heal but each morning I wake, look in the mirror to shave, and the scars are no better.”

Her heart went out to him. She gazed at him with all the concern she was feeling for him about his insecurities. How could she help him? She wanted to reach out and touch his face, his hand, or something, but with her father in the room she couldn’t.

“Give yourself time, Captain. I’m sure it’s much better than after it first happened. The scars will continue to heal and lose their redness and fade with time.”

“That’s very good of you to say.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Though I don’t know that it’s true.”

“I do. It’s the truth, and I don’t want you to reference it again because it makes no difference to me.”

His gaze stayed on her face. “I thought about you every day I was gone.”

Her heart lifted and she smiled again. “I thought about you every day, too,” she admitted frankly.

She heard his intake of breath. “I hoped you would wait for me but after my—after
^____
I was afraid to hope since I, well, none of that matters now, does it. Thank you, Miss Rule. You’ve made me very happy.”

Angelina smiled, too. She couldn’t give up so easily on Captain Maxwell. This is what she’d dreamed of for over a year. To court him and to be his wife one day. She wouldn’t forget that. She was certain that the captain would make her feel all the wonderful sensations Lord Thornwick had made her feel and more.

Her paintings would sell and she would pay her father’s debts. Her whole future depended on it. Once she freed her father from the risk of prison, she would be free of the threat of an arranged marriage to a man who couldn’t possibly be the right husband for her.

Chapter 16

And by the way let us recount our dreams.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream
4.4.198

A bell jangled as Bishop Worsley opened the door of Highgate’s Furnishings and Antiquities Shop at Number Four-Fifty-Five South Lambert Street. It had taken several days, but he’d finally completed his search and decided which establishment they needed to approach about acquiring Angelina’s paintings. He’d said he wanted a place that sold expensive items where only the crème de la crème of Society made their purchases.

Angelina was the first to step into the well-lighted room, followed by her grandmother and then the bishop who carried the large satchel filled with an assortment of her work. At once Angelina noticed the pleasant fragrance of spicy incense. The room was filled with well-placed furniture. Paintings, tapestries, and mirrors of every size, shape, and dimension hung on the walls. Different styles of urns, vases, lamps, and all manner of small household accessories were attractively placed around the room. A basket of fresh flowers was placed on one of the side tables and a silver tea service on another.

The shop owner evidently wanted to cater to the traditional buyer. There were none of the bizarre things that seemed to be so popular in homes the past few years. No stone gargoyles with big emerald eyes, no stuffed heads of boars, bears, or other animals, and no life-sized statues of Athena, Venus, Zeus, or any of the other Greek gods or goddesses. Almost anyone who entered his place of business would feel comfortable and find something conventional to take with them when they left. That the shop had such a large variety of things to choose from gave Angelina hope. According to Bishop Worsley, other than the duchess, this man was her best chance of obtaining money to help her father.

“Good afternoon, ladies, sir,” a stout-built man of average height said, appearing from a room at the back of the store. “Welcome to Highgate’s. I’m the owner and I’ll be happy to assist you with any questions. Or you may feel free to browse on your own with no disturbance from me. Whatever you prefer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Highgate,” Bishop Worsley said, stepping forward. “I’m Mr. Hugh Walters. This is my wife, Mrs. Walters, and our niece Miss Paulette Savill. We’d like a moment of your time if we may.”

Angelina breathed a sigh of relief at how easily Bishop Worsley handled the made-up names.

“Of course,” he said with a closed-lip smile. “But my name isn’t Highgate. That was the name of the shop when I bought it many years ago and I had no reason to change it. I’m Mr. Eyston. How can I help you?”

“We have some paintings we were hoping you’d buy from us to sell in your shop. We’d be pleased if you’d take a look at them and consider it.”

The man glanced down at the satchel as if it were a distasteful object, and then gave the bishop a dubious look. Angelina’s heart sank.

“You have paintings in that?” the man asked.

“They are quite small,” Bishop Worsley responded. “All miniatures.”

“Hmm,” he said, showing the first hint of interest. “I have been known to buy handcrafted items from individuals from time to time and I do sell some paintings. But I only buy the highest quality of merchandise.”

“We knew that. That’s why we came here. I wouldn’t let my niece’s paintings be sold just anywhere, you understand.”

Mr. Eyston cut his eyes around to Angelina and then to her grandmother, who was pale as a ghost and looked as if she were about to faint. Angelina knew her grandmother was against doing this and wished she could have done it without her, but she’d insisted on coming along.

“I’m not promising anything, but come over to my desk and let’s take a look at what you have.”

They walked to the back of the shop, where there was a large dark wood desk. The elaborately carved trim work along the edges and down the legs was beautifully cut and tipped with gold leaf. Mr. Eyston quickly closed some account books and pushed them and other papers aside. Bishop Worsley set the satchel in the chair and opened it.

“I’ll let Miss Savill take them out,” the bishop said, looking at Angelina. “She knows best how to handle such delicate things. I’m afraid my big hands might drop one.”

Angelina looked at the shop owner and knew at once he was already bored, completely uninterested but trying to be polite. If she was going to get his attention she had to make this visit personal. Even though her insides were quaking, she hoped her nervousness didn’t show on the outside.

Swallowing her hesitation, she turned to him, held out her gloved hand, and said, “Mr. Eyston, I’m pleased to meet you.”

His light-brown eyes widened with surprise as he took her hand and nodded. “Miss Savill, thank you for coming into my shop today. Now show me what you’re offering.”

Angelina took her time and laid out three snuffboxes, two mourning boxes, four miniatures, one whalebone, and two pieces of ivory on the desk. Bishop Worsley had already left all her fans with the duchess for her consideration so she had none to show.

Mr. Eyston looked at every piece as it came out but said nothing. He then picked up his spectacles, bent over the desk, and studied each piece. He remained quiet and so did everyone else. The minutes ticked by as he picked up first one, then another, for closer examination. Angelina thought her breathing would stop and her stomach would jump into her throat before he finally laid his spectacles down and turned to her.