The Solemn Bell (19 page)

A man like Brody could not hope for a better wife.
 

He’d just have to make his father see the situation clearly. Marcus could have been more helpful. Father would have listened to the wiser, more responsible son. If blessed Marcus thought Angelica was a good catch, then the old man could be reasoned with. Instead, his brother had sat silent. God forbid Father cut off
his
allowance.

“Do I have to have a reason to take you away?” he asked, trying to be chipper. None of this was her fault, and he didn’t want her to even suspect something was wrong. “I thought we’d start our morning drive a little earlier, that’s all.”

“You’d tell me if—”

He reached over and put his arm around her shoulder, silencing her. “I’d tell you. There’ll be no secrets between us.”

She smiled, and leaned into his embrace. “You know, I woke up this morning certain that last night was a dream.”

“I’m sorry I had to sneak off while you were sleeping. I didn’t want either of us to be caught out.”

“Oh, I understand. Bessie might think herself worldly for dressing a fallen woman, but I’m sure she’d scream if she found us in bed together.”

Brody navigated a tight turn. “You like her, don’t you?”

“It’s nice to have someone my age to talk to. No offense, but your sister isn’t exactly good company.”

“Mary Rose has a lot of growing up to do,” he explained. “Wherever we end up, there will be ladies for you to make friends with. You can have them over for tea and spend all day gossiping.”

Angelica laughed. “I hope so.”

He slowed the car, finally working up the courage to ask something he’d been curious about for miles. “Did you really live all those years in your house without any money?”

“Yes. Mother took enough to buy a train ticket north, and the rest went to pay the servants’ wages. After that, I was on my own—well, besides the kindly old man who lived in the lodge. He’d bring me wood or coal, and other things I couldn’t get.”

“And he never told a soul about you? The world simply forgot about a blind girl in the manor house all alone?”

She bit off another piece of toast. “Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

They were gone for two hours. When the Bentley finally turned onto the gravel drive, and pulled to a stop in front of the house, Marcus stood on the front steps waiting for them. Ignoring him, Brody walked around to help Angelica out of the car.

“We need to talk,” his brother said.

“Angelica is chilled. I don’t have time to talk.”

“Then take her upstairs and come back.”

Angelica might have wondered, but she never asked. Perhaps she thought whatever was wrong was an issue between the two brothers, and nothing to do with her. After seeing her safely to her room, Brody returned downstairs to meet Marcus on the steps.

“
Now
you have something to say,” he spat. “Where was your tongue earlier?”

“I’m sorry. I was mortified during breakfast. I couldn’t think of a way to make it any easier for you.”

Brody paced from one side of the steps to the other, hands jammed in his greatcoat pockets. It was a brisk morning, but he was sweating through his clothes. His blood was up, and this wasn’t helping. “I’ve got to make Father see that Angelica is a good match.”

“Father only cares about money, and you’ve been a drain on him for seven years…”

“Some of that wasn’t my fault!”

“I know,” Marcus said. “But you have to start thinking like Father—not a rational man.”

“You never told him about the ring?”

“No, that was none of my business.”

Brody’s eyes searched his brother’s. “But you’re not against it?”

“Of course not. If you’ve chosen Angelica to be your wife—”

“I haven’t asked her yet, and I’m not sure when I’m going to. First, I have to work out this business with Father. I don’t want my future wife to worry about anything,” he said. “God knows she’s had enough to trouble her over the years.”

Marcus leaned back on the Bentley, arms crossed over his tweed jacket-front. “Right. This business with her family…even you have to admit it’s rather an odd tale. Father dead, brother missing, and the mother vanishes into thin air? What sort of woman abandons her blind daughter in the middle of a war?”

“She didn’t abandon her. Angelica’s mother went to get help from her relatives. Something must have happened on the journey,” Brody explained. “Their situation was very dire, Markie. It’s perfectly reasonable that her mother succumbed to the same flu that killed her father, or…God, I don’t know…was murdered somewhere between home and Hexham.”

“But if Angelica is the only one left, surely there has to be an inheritance. If you want, I could look into it for you.”

He shrugged. What was the point? “You forget I’ve seen the place. There was money once—it’s a charming, well-built old pile—but not anymore. If there was anything to be had, some cousin of hers would have come knocking by now.”

“All the same—”

“Look if it pleases you, Markie, but I need a reliable solution.”

His elder brother studied him for a long moment. “Why don’t you come in to work with me on Monday. There must be something you’re qualified for. Something that Father is willing to trust you with. Surely, he wouldn’t object to you joining the family business. And it’s a salary…”

“God, the thought of going to that office every day kills me. But, if it means I can marry Angelica, then I suppose I can stomach it.”

Marcus laughed. “You really do love that girl.”

Brody laughed, too. “You have no idea.”

***

Peter and Cynthia arrived in time for luncheon. They’d both caught the same train in, and the family gathered in the foyer to greet them. Brody stood in the rear with Angelica on his arm. Father hadn’t said anything more about their relationship, but he knew the old man wasn’t pleased—Angelica wasn’t family, and had no reason to be there to greet the guests.
 

Brody wanted her there. Everyone else could go to the devil.
 

“Marcus and I have known Peter for years,” he explained to her. “He’s a cad, but he’s a rich cad. Girls who don’t know better flock to him.”

“Does your sister have her eye on him?”

“I hope not, but if she does, my father and Cynthia’s father might have to fight over him. A battle of the dowries.”

Angelica laughed. “Does it always come down to money with you lot?”

He glanced down at her. God, did she know? His heart lurched, and for a moment, he couldn’t find his voice. Finally, he said, quietly. “Always.”

Her smile never wavered. “Then I hope, for your parents’ sake, that Mary Rose doesn’t want him. I’d hate to see how high a bidding war between two wealthy families could climb.”

If she suspected anything, she was damned good at hiding it.
 

The Daimler pulled to a stop in front of the entrance doors. Both guests climbed out of the rear seat and stretched in the sun. It had warmed up since breakfast—lovely weather for a week-end party. There might even be tea on the lawn this afternoon.

Cynthia looked tired and pale. Her frazzled blonde hair was packed into a cloche hat, which had been pulled down low to hide the shadows beneath her eyes. Peter didn’t look much better—black hair slicked back, probably with water from the train lavatory sink, and an extra dash of Bay Rum to cover the stench of a sleepless night.
 

The pair had probably been up for days, and slept only fitfully on the journey westward. Brody knew the routine all too well—they were part of the London nightclub scene he had hoped to leave behind. Now, they were here, temptation personified.

In the foyer, Cynthia squeezed Mary Rose, giggling and whispering like schoolgirls. Peter shook Father’s hand, then kissed Mother, and gave Marcus an affectionate punch on the shoulder. When he came to greet Brody, his eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils suspiciously wide.

The man’s shifting gaze shot to Angelica’s face, darted over her figure, and then focused on her own blank, blue eyes. “Brody, who is this stunning creature?”

He gritted his teeth into a smile. “Angelica, may I introduce Peter Lawton? Peter, my very good friend, Miss Grey.”

Angelica smiled. “How do you do?”

“Better now, my dear.” Peter was a snake. He’d always been a snake, and now he was going to move in on Brody’s own girl. But, could Brody play the jealous lover in front of his parents, knowing they expected him to cast her aside? He had to rein in his own emotions, and do what was best for Angelica—showing his hand too soon could ruin their future chances.

While Peter visually undressed the love of Brody’s life, Cynthia slithered over to size up the competition.
 

“Brody,” she purred. “We have missed you in town. Limehouse just isn’t the same without you.” Her smeared-red lips brushed his cheek, and then she turned to glance at Angelica. “But there have been rumors…”
 

“Oh, you know how rumors are,” he said, lightly. “The good ones are rarely true.”

Cynthia ignored him, studying Angelica, instead. “And who are you?”

“This is Angelica Grey,” Brody said. “Angelica, Cynthia Cartwright.”

The two women said nothing. Perhaps they both sensed something simmering beneath the surface. He didn’t care a fig for Cynthia—she was his first-cousin, for Christ’s sake—but the girl might be terribly jealous of Peter’s wandering affections, which were momentarily fixed upon Angelica.

Mother swept across the entrance hall, taking Peter by the arm, and drawing him away from the group. She called back over her shoulder, “Mary Rose, I know you and Cynthia have much to catch up on.”

Everyone went in opposite directions, leaving Brody, Marcus, and Angelica alone in the marbled foyer.
 

Marcus frowned. “Cynthia looks like hell.”

“Too fond of cocaine—unless she’s moved on to more potent stuff.” Brody rested his arm on Angelica’s hips. “I didn’t like the way either of them were looking at you. If Peter comes knocking, tell him to keep off.”

Her dark brow furrowed. “Knocking? Won’t you be…”

“I’ll be there,” he whispered in her ear. “But he can’t know about it.”

“You mean, he can’t know about
us
.”

“If anyone found me in your bedroom, the consequences would be disastrous. And with Cynthia’s blabber-mouth, the news would spread all over Britain. It’s one thing to carry on in private, but—” He kissed her forehead. “I simply don’t want you to be gossiped about. When the time is right, we’ll reveal ourselves, and no one will have a damned thing to say about it. Until then, we shall have to be discreet.”

Brody frowned at Marcus, who merely shook his head. Neither of them knew what to do about Angelica. For a moment, he swore he caught a glimpse of hopelessness in his elder brother’s eyes. Brody brushed the thought from his mind. They’d find a way to make this relationship work. He would find a way to convince Father to let him keep both his allowance and the woman he loved.

She must have sensed his distress. “I do love you, Brody.”

“I love you, too. And, someday, everyone will know it.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Markie, why don’t we escort Angelica in to luncheon? The others will be down shortly.”

Marcus held out his arm, and slipped Angelica’s hand into the crook of his elbow. She seemed pleased to have two gallants. It had been so long since she’d had anybody to depend on. Brody hoped that—no matter what—she would always have the Neill brothers to love and care for her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Angelica took her usual place at the table—at Captain Neill’s side—but, to her horror, Mr. Lawton claimed the empty chair to her left. She would’ve preferred Marcus, Mary Rose, or even Miss Cartwright, but they each had their own designated seats across the table.

She felt Mr. Lawton’s eyes on her. The man was a lecher, and she was certain he could tell she wasn’t a virgin. He spoke to her like he knew what sort of naughty things she’d been up to. As if Captain Neill’s obvious fondness of her was some sort of challenge. Angelica knew he was going to make a move on her, but she never thought he’d be so bold.

As she quietly ate her stuffed tomato, the man’s knee bumped hers. Angelica ignored it. Another bump, only harder this time. She chose to ignore that one as well. After the third time his knee knocked into hers, Angelica knew it was no mistake. Mr. Lawton was trying to get her attention. Instead of giving him what he wanted, she turned to chat with Captain Neill, who, thankfully, seemed oblivious to it all.

Obscured by the table cloth, the man placed his hand on her thigh. Angelica tried to keep her features blank and her voice even. She gently placed her knife on her plate, and reached beneath the table to swat his hand away. Then, she continued eating. Surely, he got the point by now. She didn’t want anything to do with him or his advances. She only wanted Captain Neill.

They finished the first course in peace. But, as soon as she started on her roast chicken, Angelica felt Peter Lawton’s hand again creeping up her leg. This time, he lifted the hem of her skirt just high enough to bare a patch of flesh above her garter. He curled his fingers around her thigh.

Angelica reached beneath the table to grab his wrist, but she wasn’t strong enough to dislodge his grip. His nails dug into her skin so hard that she almost whimpered. If anyone discovered what was happening, she’d be humiliated. They’d think that she—a stranger in this house—had encouraged their friend to make passes. Captain Neill would never forgive her.

She turned him loose, and silently went back to eating her chicken. She never tasted any of it. Angelica ate and talked as if nothing were happening, yet, all the while, Mr. Lawton stroked her bare leg. He didn’t care that she loved Captain Neill. He wanted her for himself, just for sport.

Peter Lawton continued to massage her thigh. His fingertips toyed with the lace edge of her underdrawers. When he dared to venture further, Angelica refused to open her legs for him. She clamped her knees shut, squeezing his creeping fingers. He pressed as far as he could without attracting suspicion, but when she continued to refuse his caress, the man reached between her inner thighs and pinched her.