To Tempt An Angel (Book 1 Douglas series) (8 page)

“I can see that you don’t believe me,” Aunt Roxie said, and then she laughed. “Think, darling. Haven’t I already buried three husbands? I needed them to marry me before I could bury them.”

“And you wasted all your inheritances keeping us alive,” Angelica added.

“Oh, pish, the money was well spent,” Aunt Roxie replied. “Once all of you are married, then you’ll take care of me.” She gave Angelica a puzzled look, asking, “If Robert seduced you this morning, why did you wait until tonight to fall on the floor and weep?”

“I wasn’t weeping for Robert,” Angelica told them. “Papa pushed me out of his way and I landed on the floor. He stole the money Robert left for us.”

“Oh, the man adores you,” Aunt Roxie exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“What about Papa?” Angelica asked.

“I can do nothing for Graham,” Aunt Roxie said, losing her smile. “His fate was written before he was born.”

“What do you mean?” Angelica asked.

“I don’t know absolutely everything,” Aunt Roxie answered. “The good news is our visit with Mr. Lewis last night has gone undetected.” She smiled brightly at her three nieces, saying, “Let’s make supper, my darlings.”

Two hours later, Angelica sat in front of the hearth and played her harp. Accompanying her were Samantha on the violin and Victoria on the flute.

With her eyes closed in relaxation, Aunt Roxie sat on the settee and enjoyed the soothing bath of sound they created. Their serenade evoked a morning breeze, dancing wildflowers, rustling leaves.

Angelica stopped playing when she heard the knock on the door. Aunt Roxie and her sisters looked at the door in surprise. No one ever visited them. Robert had left only a few hours earlier; he wouldn’t be returning this soon.

“Don’t open the door,” Angelica ordered when her aunt rose from her chair.

Aunt Roxie gave her a confused look “Why not, darling?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Angelica answered. “Let’s pretend we aren’t home.”

“We cannot change what will be.” Aunt Roxie opened the door and said, “Parson Butterfield, what a surprise.”

Bull’s pizzle,
Angelica thought flicking a glance at Samantha and Victoria. Her sisters’ indiscretion of the previous night had been discovered.

“What is this?” Angelica heard her aunt saying.

Parson Butterfield stepped inside the cottage and gestured to someone behind him. A moment later four men appeared, carrying an unconscious Graham Douglas.

“Papa,” Angelica cried, hurrying across the room. “Bring him this way.”

The four men placed her father on his bed and immediately left the room.

While her sisters watched, Angelica lightly tapped her father’s face, saying, “Wake up, Papa. Wake up.” She looked up in confusion at the parson and asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Angelica cried.

She glanced at her sisters. Their complexions had paled to a ghostly white. Her aunt, more experienced with loved ones dying, shook her head sadly.

“Now my poor brother has what he’s wanted since the day your mother died,” Aunt Roxie said.

Angelica felt torn. Though saddened by his unexpected passing, relief at being freed from the terrible burden of her father’s affliction shot through her. In the next instant, guilt replaced her relief.

Angelica leaned close and kissed her father’s forehead. “One day soon, you and Mother will be buried on your own land,” she whispered. “I promise you that.”

Turning to the parson, Angelica asked, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Parson Butterfield told her, shaking his head. “He just dropped dead at my feet.”

“How horrifying for you,” Aunt Roxie sympathized. “You will do the funeral in the morning?”

Parson Butterfield nodded. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“As a matter of fact, I need a favor,” Aunt Roxie said, casting the parson an ambiguous smile. She looped her arm through his and steered him toward the door. “An old friend of mine, a man of some importance, lives in London. Could you possibly deliver a message for me?”

Parson Butterfield hedged. “Well, I—”

“I’m certain the Duke of Inverary will be grateful to you for delivering my letter,” Aunt Roxie said.

“The Duke of Inverary?” Parson Butterfield echoed in surprise.

Aunt Roxie nodded.

“You will
not
write to that man,” Angelica ordered.

Her aunt glanced over her shoulder and gave her a frigid glare. “Don’t listen to my niece,” Aunt Roxie told the parson. “Grief for her father’s passing steals her common sense.”

“That is to be expected,” Parson Butterfield replied.

Aunt Roxie gave him a dimpled smile. “Until tomorrow morning, then.”

“I’ve a mind to murder those men who murdered Papa,” Angelica said after the door closed behind the parson.

“I’ll help,” Samantha said.

“So will I,” added Victoria.

“Swallow your tongues,” Aunt Roxie said.

“Whatever we send out returns to us tenfold.”

Chapter 5

“
Bull’s pizzle
,” Angelica grumbled, recalling her aunt’s words of wisdom. If what we sent out to others returned to us tenfold, those men who had ruined her father would surely be burning in hell. Especially Charles Emerson, who had swindled an honest man, and Magnus Campbell, who had failed to help a friend in trouble.

Angelica glanced at Aunt Roxie, who sat beside her in the garden the following afternoon. Her sisters had disappeared into the woodland, probably intending to wade in the stream’s cooling waters.

Her father was dead and buried, Angelica thought, yet the world kept spinning as if nothing momentous had happened. The sky was a blanket of blue, the sun shone brightly, the old oak offered shade from the day’s warmth.

Angelica closed her eyes and tried to block out the beauty of the day. The Duke of Inverary still sat in his mansion on Park Lane. Charles Emerson still owned the lands he’d stolen from her father. Trimble and Drinkwater still enjoyed the fruits of their dishonesty. Only Mayhew had gone to meet his Maker.

Where was justice for the Douglas family? She had no faith in the law; she would make her own justice, and woe come to anyone who stood in her way.

Angelica lifted her harp onto her lap and begun plucking its strings idly. The plucking became a haunting melody that conjured a solitary bird flying overhead, the sins of old age, tears on the heather.

“You are a very beautiful bird,” Aunt Roxie crooned to Jasper. “The ladies of the ton would love to wear those blue and gold feathers in their hair. And your owner is now the Countess of Melrose. That makes you a special macaw.”

“What did you say?” Angelica asked. “I was speaking to Jasper,” her aunt told her.

“Yes, but what did you say?”

“I said that you are the Countess of Melrose.”

That surprised Angelica. “I am?”

“Darling, our family’s ancient charter stipulates that if there are no males in direct descent, then the eldest daughter assumes the Melrose title,” Aunt Roxie informed her.

“A penniless countess?” Angelica said. “That’s laughable.”

Angelica closed her eyes again, leaned back against the oak, and pretended to relax. Her mind raced faster than a highwayman chased by soldiers. If she could raise enough money to purchase decent clothing, the Countess of Melrose would have more gambling options open to her.

She could pretend to be newly arrived from Europe. With a letter of introduction from her aunt, she would present herself . . . where?

Angelica decided she would present herself to the Duke of Inverary and pretend he’d done nothing wrong. She would use his influence to get the first four villains, and then she would turn on the duke. After that she would get even with Robert Roy. If he hadn’t left that money on the table, her father might still be alive.

With her mind set on justice, Angelica relaxed against the oak’s trunk. A smile touched her lips when she thought of putting her scheme into action.

“Darling, I do not like that smile,” Aunt Roxie said. “What are you planning?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Angelica said, fixing an innocent look on her face.

Aunt Roxie narrowed her gaze. “I mean—”

“Hello? Is anyone home?” called a voice.

“Hello, hello, hello,” Jasper called.

Robert Roy appeared around the side of the cottage. “I thought I heard an angel playing her harp,” he said, crossing the garden toward them.

Reaching into his pocket, Robert produced a green apple. He held out the apple to the macaw, and Jasper lifted it out of his hand and shifted it to his claws.

“Say thank you,” Robert told the bird.

“Thank you,” Jasper said, making him smile.

Robert looked at her black gown and then raised his eyes to hers. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“We buried my father this morning,” Angelica answered, rising from her seat on the grass beneath the oak.

Robert looked surprised. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Are you?” Angelica asked, her gaze on him cold. She knew she was wrong to blame him because of the money he’d left on the table, but she was unable to control the urge to lash out at someone.

“Do you believe I wished for your father’s death?” Robert asked, his surprise evident in his voice.

“My father might be alive,” she told him, “if you hadn’t left that money on the table.”

“Angelica,” her aunt cried.

“Your father drank himself to death without my help,” Robert told her. “Apparently he wanted to die . . . good-bye, Angelica.” With those final words, Robert turned and left the garden.

“Apologize,” Aunt Roxie ordered.

Angelica looked at her aunt and then hurried after Robert. What had she done? No one had forced the poison down her father’s throat he’d done that to himself.

“Wait, please,” Angelica called, rounding the cottage.

Robert turned around. With the misery of the world etched across her features, Angelica halted mere inches from him.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she told him. “Please, forgive me.”

Without saying a word, Robert opened his arms, and Angelica flew into his embrace. She buried her face against his chest and wept, his arms around her offering comfort and safety.

When her sobs subsided and then ceased, Angelica looked up at him. She shifted her gaze to the handkerchief he offered.

“It’s clean,” he said, making her smile.

“I feel so guilty,” she told him, her voice raw with emotion.

“I accept your apology.”

“I don’t feel guilty about you,” Angelica said, making him smile. “I feel guilty about my father.”

“There is nothing you could have done,” Robert said, holding her close.

“You don’t understand,” Angelica replied, misery swelling inside her chest, making breathing almost painful. “When Parson Butterfield told me my father was dead, I felt . . .
relieved
.”

Robert tightened his hold on her. He tilted up her chin so he could gaze into her tear-filled eyes and spoke soothingly. “You took good care of your father and are
not
relieved that he is dead, only that a heavy burden has been lifted from your shoulders.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Believe me, love. Your heart is too gentle to wish anyone dead.”

“That isn’t what my father said,” Angelica told him. “His final words to me were that I looked like my mother but possessed none of her gentleness.”

“The alcohol was speaking, not your father,” Robert replied.

“I suppose you could be correct.”

“I want you to get some rest,” Robert told her. “Tonight I’ll take a couple of my friends to the graveyard to guard your Father.”

Angelica became alarmed. “I thought corpses weren’t in demand at this time of the year.”

“That didn’t stop your sisters,” Robert reminded her, a smile flirting with his lips.

Angelica reached up and placed the palm of her hand against his cheek “Thank you.”

“Do you feel better now?” Robert asked, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

“No, but I’m certain I will someday,” she answered with a rueful smile.

Angelica watched Robert ride down the dirt road to Primrose Hill. For the first time since she’d met him, he turned in the saddle and waved before disappearing from sight.

In spite of seducing the virginity from her, Angelica thought, Robert Roy was truly heaven-sent. He cared about what happened to her and her family. Yes, he had seduced her before mentioning his aversion to marriage, but other than that one lapse, he’d been completely honest with her. How ridiculous that an expert cheat like herself should value honesty and loyalty above all else.

Long after the sun had set, Angelica sat with her sisters in front of the hearth and told them her plans for revenge. Jasper had long since been put to bed, and Aunt Roxie was floating in and out of her bedchamber. She seemed in high spirits for a woman who’d buried her brother only that morning.

“Aunt Roxie, what are you doing?” Angelica asked finally. “I’m packing a few of my belongings,” her aunt answered.

Her reply confused Angelica “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes, I am,” her aunt answered with an ambiguous smile, and disappeared into her chamber.

“Do you think Papa’s death has unbalanced Aunt Roxie?” Samantha whispered.

“Aunt Roxie has always been a bit unbalanced,” Victoria answered.

Angelica smiled at that. “We need to walk to the graveyard now.”

“Why?” Samantha asked.

“I want to be certain that Robert hasn’t forgotten his promise to guard Papa,” Angelica answered.

“He said there was no demand for corpses at this time of year,” Victoria said.

“That didn’t stop you,” Angelica replied, echoing Robert’s words.

Samantha and Victoria rose from the settee. Angelica stood when they did and glanced at her aunt’s closed bedchamber door. She caught her sisters’ attention and shook her head.

The three sisters tiptoed out of the cottage, stopping only to light a lantern. The night was warm and hushed and eerily dark since no moon shone overhead to help the lantern light their way. Ten minutes later, the girls arrived at the graveyard.