What a Reckless Rogue Needs (15 page)

But would three weeks be enough?

It was a daunting prospect. She wanted to believe, more than anything, that they would fall in love like his father and Margaret had. But she must not count on it. She’d been disappointed and humiliated once before. The scars inside her had yet to heal, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting. There would be no other opportunities.

A voice deep inside warned her that a marriage based on winning a property and salvaging her reputation was insufficient for a lifetime, but it was more than she’d thought possible. From the moment she’d broken her engagement to Brentmoor, she’d shut off her dreams of love and forever-after happiness. Now all she hoped for was contentment.

But would there be? No matter how kind he had been to her, she could not forget that he was a notorious rake. She’d heard ladies whispering immoderately about him in the retiring rooms at balls, and she had seen him walking out into dark gardens with scandalously dressed ladies at balls.

Her instincts told her he was different. He’d shown sympathy for her and made her feel better about herself for refusing Brentmoor’s insistence on intimacies. But she couldn’t forget Brentmoor’s attentive concerns when she’d first met him. Colin was different. He was.

Yet she’d had to persuade herself the same way she’d done with Brentmoor.

After dinner that evening, the ladies had repaired to the drawing room while the men drank their port. Angeline was aghast to learn her mother and Margaret were making lists for the party they were planning to ease her back into society. She had to stop them somehow, because it might well end up in disaster.

“Mama, Margaret, I beg you to forget this party for now. I am not ready to face society. I am simply unable to entertain the thought. Perhaps the time will come, but I am too uncomfortable with the idea right now.”

“Angeline, by spring, you will be ready,” the duchess said.

“Please do not move forward yet. I’m not ready for this step. I hope you understand and will abide by my wishes. It would be a mistake at this time.”

“Of course, dear,” the marchioness said. “We’ve no intention of forcing you, but Charlotte’s letter sounded so positive.”

“Charlotte has been a good friend to me for many years, but I believe she would counsel me to wait. I think it is for the best.”

Margaret turned her attention to the duchess. “Perhaps we should wait. Angeline is sure to receive many invitations. It would make for an easier entry back into society.”

They still did not understand, but she had no intention of elaborating. Her mother and Margaret were grasping at straws, and Angeline found it unbearable. Then it occurred to her that she could divert them. “Perhaps we could discuss the girls’ debuts.”

When Penny heard mention of a debut, she and the twins left the pianoforte to join them.

“Angeline, tell us about your debut,” Penny said.

A lump formed in her throat. As an elder sister, she ought to have brought it up earlier, but that was before she had been afraid to encourage Penny.

“Oh, yes, please do,” Bianca said. “I wish to hear about every moment.”

Angeline recollected standing still in the receiving line, waiting for the first guests to arrive. Silly thoughts had flitted through her mind, and she’d had to stifle a giggle. Had she really ever been so young and naïve?

“Tell us about your gown,” Bernadette said.

“At first I thought it a bit plain. It was white with a high waist and made of beautiful lace. In the candlelight it was gorgeous,” she said. “The best part was that Mama relented and allowed me to have white slippers with scarlet stripes.”

“Do you still have them?” Bianca asked.

“They’re packed away in a trunk for safekeeping at Deerfield.”

“Mama, will we go to London and have gowns made up by a modiste?” Bernadette said.

Margaret smiled. “Yes, you shall have new gowns, slippers, bonnets, and stockings.”

“We shall have to pour through all the fashion books,” Bianca said.

“Girls, you must practice at the pianoforte, as you will be called upon to exhibit after you debut,” the duchess said. “You must attend to your dancing lessons as well.”

“I shall probably make a cake of myself,” Bianca said.

“We always do,” Bernadette said, laughing. “We had better pay attention to Mama’s lessons in deportment.”

Penny hunched her shoulders. “I fear I’ll make no impression at all.”

“We won’t let you be a wallflower,” Bernadette said.

“Exactly,” Bianca said. “We will not let you out of our sight, unless a handsome swain asks you to dance.”

“My palms are damp just thinking about dancing with a boy,” Penny said. “Angeline, you will be there? I cannot do this without my wonderful sister.”

“You will do very well.” She met her mother’s eyes briefly and looked away. If she were a better daughter, she would confess today’s events to her mother. But she could not do it, because she didn’t want to raise her mother’s hopes, and if in the next three weeks, she or Colin determined that they would not suit, it would be best if their families never knew.

The marquess finished his port and regarded his son. “You were at Sommerall today?”

“Yes. I wish to complete my inventory of the items in the attic. I covered the few paintings I discovered and set aside those items you might find useful. If you are amenable to sending a wagon, I’ve put items in crates that the tenants and servants might find useful.”

The marquess arched his brows. “Well, I did not expect you to labor in the attic. Servants could have accomplished the task.”

“They would not have known what was valuable and what was not. I found correspondence that I left on your desk. You were out shooting.”

Wycoff narrowed his eyes. “My daughter was with you?”

“Yes, she helped. The scullery maid attended us again.” Although Agnes had not shadowed them, he did not divulge that information. He wanted to reassure Wycoff, especially after hearing what had transpired with Brentmoor.

Colin had intended only to give her a relatively chaste kiss, but the moment their lips met, he felt as if his blood were on fire. He imagined taking her on walks and sharing heated kisses, but he should not take advantage of her. If at the end of three weeks she changed her mind, it would prove dashed awkward when they parted ways because of the long-standing friendship of their parents.

He turned his attention to his father. “Agnes is a resourceful servant. She doesn’t wait for orders; she makes suggestions. You might mention it to Margaret.”

“I will,” the marquess said. “Have you decided that marriage is too high a price for Sommerall?”

Wycoff rose. “I’ll give you privacy.”

Colin noted Wycoff’s wan expression and slumped shoulders as he trudged out of the dining room.

The marquess sighed. “Wycoff’s spirits plunged again after hearing Margaret and the duchess exclaiming over that letter. I mentioned to Margaret that it might be best to leave off the plans for his sake, but she was adamant that the letter proved there was hope for Angeline.”

Colin circled the rim of his glass with his finger. He figured silence was for the best.

“I’ve thought of telling Wycoff to make an effort to rouse himself from this melancholia.”

“He blames himself.”

The marquess narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Even I am not privy to the details of Angeline’s problems.”

He’d better be careful what he said, because Angeline had spoken to him in confidence. “I assume that he does based upon his actions and his reaction to that letter Angeline received in particular.”

“I suppose you’re correct,” the marquess said. “Now, you have not given me an answer about your intentions for Sommerall.”

“I’ll give you my answer when the house party ends.”

His father scoffed. “I’ll grant you the remaining three weeks to give me an answer, even though I’m fairly certain you would rather give up the property than marry.”

“If I did not want to take possession of Sommerall, I would have told you so immediately.”

When the duke entered the drawing room, Angeline was determined to persuade him to play chess with her. She hurried to intercept him, but her father walked past her and offered his arm to Penelope. Her father set up the board and seated her sister. Angeline trudged over to the window seat and considered quitting the drawing room, but someone would likely inquire why she was leaving, and the last thing she wanted was to attract attention.

There was no doubt that her father had withdrawn his affection. It hurt so much. She had once been her father’s favorite, and now he ignored her. Worse, Angeline found herself jealous of her little sister. They had always had a special bond, and of course, she shouldn’t begrudge her. But her father’s rejection cut like a knife in her heart.

A deep voice cut through her thoughts. “You look a hundred miles away.”

She lifted her gaze to find Colin. “I suppose I am.” She didn’t want to tell him about her father. The pain was unimaginable, but how could she blame her father for being disappointed in her? No,
disappointment
was too weak of a word to describe what she’d done to her family.

“You seem dispirited,” he said.

“It will pass.” She knew it would be a long time before the aching guilt left her.

“I wish there was something I could do to cheer you,” he said.

“I appreciate your concern.”

His gaze turned away from her. “Is it your father who troubles you?”

She stiffened. “Why do you ask?”

“He is not himself at all,” Colin said. “Have you noticed?”

She nodded, but she didn’t want to discuss the issue now. The wounds were still too raw.

Colin reached between them and squeezed her hand. “I know it is difficult now, but trust that everything will come about.”

She felt his gaze upon her and looked up at him.

“Everything will be well, Angeline.”

She wasn’t sure if his words were a promise or simply encouragement, but tonight, she needed someone to help her believe that everything would work out for her—for both of them.

“Are you afraid of me?” he said under his breath.

“No, I’m not afraid of you, but I fear that at the end of the house party you will feel obliged to marry me,” she said quietly. “I beg you to be honest. I could not bear it if you felt trapped.”

“You worry too much,” he whispered. “You look careworn.”

“I’m a little done up tonight.” She didn’t tell him it was because she was heartbroken that her father had snubbed her once again.

“Get some rest,” he said. “You will feel better tomorrow because of it.”

“Thank you, Colin.” Perhaps they would be able to find happiness together, but if they were to do so, she knew it was crucial that she not compare him to Brentmoor. Colin had been honest with her about what he wanted. They both would benefit as long as they were truthful with each other.

There had been that moment when she’d questioned his reasons for asking her to marry him, but he had been completely honest and so had she. As she wearily climbed the steps, she told herself that she must do it, despite her doubts. They would manage, and while it would never be the fairy-tale love match, it was preferable to a lonely life as a spinster.

T
he next morning after breakfast, the marquess cleared his throat. “Bianca, Bernadette, your mother reported to me that the maid found bones in your room. Clearly that ugly dog has taken up residence with you. I made it clear that Hercules must stay in the kitchen until such time as a servant walks him. You have disobeyed me.”

Colin noted his sisters’ sorrowful expressions.

“Oh, Papa,” Bianca said. “Hercules is scared of the banging pots. He made a puddle in the kitchen.”

“Better the kitchen than the water closet,” the marquess said.

Colin thought his sisters were talented enough to tread the boards onstage, but of course, ladies did not flaunt themselves. Nevertheless the twins were experts at manipulating their father. Colin ought to take lessons from his wily sisters.

“I am not finished,” the marquess said. “I have noticed bite marks on the legs of the furniture. That dog is teething on chairs that cost a fortune. Either you teach that dog not to chew the furniture or he goes out in the rubbish bin.”

“Your father is jesting,” the marchioness said. Her attention turned to Bernadette. “Do not feed scraps to Hercules from the table. You are teaching him to be an unmannerly dog.”

“That begs the question as to what constitutes a mannerly dog,” the marquess said.

“One that can shake hands like Hercules,” Bernadette said. “Shake, Hercules.”

On command the dog put his paw in her hand, and the marquess rolled his eyes.

Everyone laughed, with the exception of Wycoff.

Cook brought out a hamper and set it on the sideboard.

The marquess frowned. “Colin, is it really necessary to spend every single day at Sommerall? I’m sure Angeline would prefer entertainment to working every day like a servant.”

Colin regarded her. “I do apologize. Of course you wish to enjoy walks and drawing.”

“No, I want to help at Sommerall,” she said. “Today I will begin a series of sketches of how I envision the drawing room.”

“Lady Angeline,” the marquess said, “I’m sure you are only being polite, but it is unnecessary.”

“I am committed,” she said, “and it is something I enjoy. I insist.”

“Angeline,” the duchess said in shocked tones.

“It is quite all right,” Margaret said. “I’ve seen some of her sketches. Angeline is very talented.”

“I must admit the architect who came to Worthington Abbey was very impressed,” the duchess said.

“Mama, I’m sure he was only being polite,” Angeline said.

“I’m sure he was being honest,” Colin said. “You are talented.”

Her face grew warm. “I enjoy it very much, and I’m looking forward to sketching my visions of the drawing room at Sommerall.”

The marquess turned to his son. “While Lady Angeline is slaving away with her sketches, what will you do? Nap on the sofa?”

Everyone laughed.

“John brought a ladder from the barn,” Colin said. “I plan to check the outside blinds. If I’m not mistaken, some of them are tangled or broken.”

Margaret rose. “The hamper is ready and Agnes is waiting. We will have our walk, and Chadwick and Wycoff will take their mud baths.”

“Very funny, Margaret,” the marquess said. “By the by, could you manage to lose that ugly dog during your walk?”

“Papa, no,” Bianca cried.

“Your father is only teasing,” Margaret said. “Chadwick, that is enough.”

The marquess laughed. “We will discuss this in more detail later, Margaret.”

“Wycoff, it’s about time you bagged a bird. I can’t kill them all by myself,” the marquess said.

“I’m not up for it.”

The duchess laid her hand on his. “Go along, dear. It will do you good.”

An uncomfortable moment passed. Finally, Wycoff assented. “Very well.”

Colin met Angeline’s gaze. Her father was in a very bad way. He hoped another day out shooting would help. Perhaps his father would press Wycoff to make more of an effort after all. Whether it would do any good was questionable.

After they boarded the carriage and it rolled off, Colin moved over to Angeline’s bench. “Give me a kiss.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’re affianced now. Well, secretly.” He plucked her sketchbook out of her hand and set it aside.

“It is only a trial engagement to see if we suit,” she said.

Devilment showed in his eyes. “Well, since it is a trial, we should practice so that we can perfect our kisses.”

“You need no practice. You are clearly an expert.”

His smile stretched across his face. “Like my kisses, do you?”

“They are…tolerable.”

He pulled her onto his lap and she shrieked.

“Good thing it’s so noisy on the road. Otherwise, John and Agnes might suspect I’m having my wicked way with you.”

“I might point out that there is plenty of room on the seat,” she said. “So I’ll avail myself of the space.”

He clamped his arms around her. “Please, can I have a kiss? Just one?”

“Very well.” She pecked him on the mouth, thinking to escape, but she’d underestimated him. He plucked at her lips and she opened for him without a thought in her head. The sweep of his tongue mesmerized her. She grew a little bolder and experimented touching her tongue to his, and when he groaned, she knew he liked it. She wanted so much more from him, but their wraps and gloves prevented them from going farther. It was probably for the best. Then his hands burrowed inside her cape. “We must not,” she said.

“I know, but I yearn to touch you and for you to touch me.”

Beneath her bottom, she could feel the evidence of his desire.

“I beg your pardon. Have I shocked you?” he said.

Her face grew hot. “A little.”

He wrapped his arms around her again. “I am undone.”

When he captured her lips again, she opened for him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but in truth, she could not deny that his erotic kisses and strong arms made her feel wanted and wonderful.

Their combined breaths frosted in the carriage. “Are you too cold?” he asked.

“Only a little.”

He rubbed his nose against hers. When he kissed her again, she opened her mouth for him, and he slid his tongue inside. She suspected he was imitating what he really wanted. He was so hard against her, and she understood his need, but they weren’t really engaged. “Colin? We had better stop.”

He tore his mouth away. “God almighty, I want you badly.”

“We can’t. Not here.”

“I know. I would not,” he said. “I am a gentleman, and it is cold.”

“I am a lady—well not so much in the carriage.”

“How do you feel about a trip to Gretna Green?”

She laughed. “I think you have lost what few wits you have,” she said. “I know you are jesting, but we agreed to three weeks. It’s so little time for us to learn more about each other. We should not waste it.”

“I know.” He paused. “If we marry, we will probably set the house on fire.”

She laughed. “I like that you make me laugh.”

“Kiss me instead.”

She opened her mouth for him, and she was lost in the sensation of his lips and tongue and the sweep of his hand over her breast.

“We have to stop,” she said. “We should talk about things that matter.”

His breathing was as labored as hers. “Can we get married now? I don’t want to wait.”

“You just want to bed me,” she said.

“So do you,” he said. “Angeline, this part is important.”

“That is why we have to stop,” she said, “because I’ve never wanted a man more.”

He set his forehead against hers. “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

“Tell me,” she said. Her breathing sounded labored to her own ears.

He captured her hand and guided it to his chest. “I want your hands all over me.”

Had she just stopped breathing? “Do not tempt me.”

“I have too many layers of clothes, and so do you,” he said.

“That may be for the best; otherwise, we’re liable to do bad things in the carriage.”

“We could do that,” he said, “but you’re a virgin.”

“How do you know?”

“You aren’t?”

She pushed him. “Of course I am.”

He laughed and hugged her tightly. “It is too cold anyway.”

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

“Is it always like this?” she said.

“Like how?” he said, his voice rough.

“Like a craving, one that is forbidden and so hard to resist.”

“No, it isn’t always this strong.” He cupped her cheek. “This is special.”

“Are you just saying that so I will touch you again?”

He looked into her eyes and his expression was solemn. “No.”

Eventually, their breathing slowed.

When the carriage rolled around the drive, she adjusted her bodice and closed her cape over her gown. “Now we must behave.”

“Drat,” he said.

She gave him an exasperated look. “Go find the ladder. I’ll have Agnes clean kitchen utensils. “I’ll be in the drawing room making sketches. When you get hungry, come find me and we’ll have luncheon.”

She watched him move the ladder along the house. John stayed with him. Angeline walked upstairs with her sketchbook and sat on the sofa. She envisioned a gold-framed mirror above the sideboard. Then she walked to the windows where Colin was hammering something. She smiled. He was no dandy, and clearly not afraid to get his hands dirty. Standing there, she realized that a long balcony just below the French windows would make the perfect place for flowers and maybe chairs for guests to look at the stars in summertime. She sat cross-legged on the floor and drew her design quickly so that she wouldn’t lose the idea. Then she rose and walked to the stairwell and ascended it to the highest point. She imagined a three-tiered chandelier suspended before a series of Palladian windows. It would look very dramatic at night. She thought guests arriving for a dinner party would be impressed. When she made a quick sketch, she drew figures of gentlemen and ladies looking upward.

Her heartbeat quickened as she hurried down the stairs to the dining table. Fortunately, it was well covered and the chairs had no cushions. The chairs and table were mahogany and elegant. They would not need to replace them, but the walls did nothing for the space. She had a daring idea. Rather than walls, she could set off the dining room with four ionic columns and a beautiful Axminster carpet for color. Mind, she would need to consult and review samples in design books. She ascended the stairs, sat on the sofa, and started drawing her idea for the dining room.

Angeline had no idea how much time had passed when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Her excitement mounted, and she met Colin at the door. “Come, I wish to show you my sketches.”

“Very well.” He sat beside her on the sofa.

“This is my favorite. Do you see how dramatic the Palladian windows will be at night with the light of a chandelier?”

“I imagine so,” he said.

“I have so many ideas, but this one is my favorite.”

“There are no walls.”

“Exactly. Is it not daring and yet elegant? I know without color it is probably difficult to envision. Oh, and I thought of something else I’m sure you will like. It is a balcony built all along the south façade. Guests could sit in chairs with small tables to watch the stars. What do you think?”

“I think it is fantastic and fanciful,” he said. “I would never be able to imagine something like this.”

“I’ve no idea of the cost, but I could write to the architect, Mr. Rotherby, or perhaps you…” She trailed off, realizing her mistake. “I am sorry. Obviously, you cannot move forward, but I do believe you will inherit.”

He cleared his throat. “Angeline, you are very talented.” He met her gaze and she could see the discomfort in his eyes. “It is still my father’s house, and I’m in danger of losing the property.”

“Do forgive me,” she said, closing the sketchbook. “I always get carried away with my sketches and ideas. I just wanted to show them to you.” She rose and shook out her skirts, and naturally he stood as well.

She pasted on her society smile. “Shall we eat luncheon in the breakfast parlor?”

“Yes, I’m hungry, thank you.”

He offered his arm and escorted her downstairs. Her arms were chilled. Their easy camaraderie had disappeared, because she had all but spoken on the assumption that the marriage would take place. She had not made a conscious decision and certainly had not thought it through before speaking. Instead, she’d allowed her enthusiasm to bubble up, and now she worried he would feel obliged to propose.

She felt foolish and realized the difficulty of their decision to have a trial engagement. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect solution. The problem was that they were in a constant state of uncertainty. Yet, they had succumbed to desire. She had willingly sat on his lap, let him touch her, and touched him in return just as if they were married or truly affianced. But nothing was decided. Everything was contingent on something else. His father might sell the property when the house party ended. All of their clearing and sorting in the attic would help the servants and tenants, but there was a chance neither of them would ever benefit from the work they had done.

By the end of the house party, either one of them might decide they would not suit. They had both agreed they could easily part without rancor or wounded feelings. Now she realized they must have been daft to think such a plan would work.

There was nothing for it except to brazen it out and pretend that nothing was awry. She served their usual luncheon on the plates while Colin opened a bottle of claret. He sat beside her, and it struck her how quickly they had already formed habits here. But like their trial engagement, it was nothing more than an illusion.

When he handed her a glass of wine, she sipped, but she only nibbled at the chicken, because she felt anxious. Because of her incautious words, their comfortable friendship had suddenly become awkward. She hated that it had because she was beginning to have feelings for him, and he surely had no strong attachment to her. It was her responsibility to say something to break this chilled atmosphere.

“I do apologize for my foolish enthusiasm. I’m generally a very practical person, but when it comes to my designs, my imagination runs away with me, and I start to prattle. I’m sure you were amused by it.”