What a Reckless Rogue Needs Page 5

  “You are quiet, Angeline,” Margaret said.

  “Forgive me. I was lost in thought.”

  “What were you thinking about?” Bianca asked.

  Angeline smiled a little. “That I have not spent time with a needle recently and need to practice my skills. What are you embroidering, Bianca?”

  Bianca held up her sampler.

  Angeline blinked. She couldn’t make out whether the embroidery represented a tree or an animal. So she settled for an innocuous reply. “Oh, how…unique.”

  “It is Hercules,” Bianca said. “I thought I should immaritalize him.”

  Bernadette elbowed her sister. “Immortalize, you silly goose.”

  Penny clapped her hand over her mouth, but a giggle escaped her. “Sorry, Mama,” she said, lowering her chin.

  The marchioness smiled. “Do not fret, Penny. Last week, Bianca embroidered a skull and crossbones.”

  “It was only a jest, Mama,” Bianca said, her eyes twinkling.

  “You would do better to embroider a proverb,” the marchioness said.

  “I don’t know any,” Bianca said.

  “Of course you do,” the marchioness said. “A stitch in time saves nine.”

  “What does that mean?” Bernadette said.

  “Do not put off something, for it will only be more difficult later,” the marchioness said.

  Bianca shrugged. “You could wait and do it all very fast at the last minute.”

  Angeline’s shoulders shook with laughter as she pulled the needle through her sampler. The twins never ceased to amuse her. She realized she felt better already. Matters with her father were difficult now, but she mustn’t give up. He only needed more time to forgive her. She had to believe that in time she would reconcile with him.

  “Penny, what are you embroidering?” Bernadette said.

  “A leaf pattern on a handkerchief.”

  Angeline looked at her sister’s work. “The whitework embroidery is very pretty, but you have always had a gift with a needle.”

  Penny blushed. “Thank you.”

  “Everyone has a talent,” the marchioness said. “Angeline has an expertise in converting old-fashioned rooms to fashionable rooms.”

  Angeline smiled. “I fear it is my only real talent. My needlework is only average at best, and I’m surprised Hercules did not howl when I played the pianoforte last night.”

  “But Colin was much taken with your playing,” Margaret said with a sly smile.

  Oh, no. Surely Margaret wasn’t bent on matchmaking. Angeline focused her attention on her needlework. “I’m fairly certain he felt obliged to turn the pages.”

  “He rather looked as though he were enjoying it.”

  “I must say you looked as if you were enjoying his conversation as well, Angeline,” the duchess said.

  God help her. If Margaret and her mother kept this up, she would have to put a stop to it. Otherwise, she and Colin would find this house party even more of a trial. She wondered if she ought to warn him and decided to do so only if Margaret and her mother became even more obvious.

  The marchioness looked at Penny’s needlework. “Your stitches are perfect.”

  “A thing worth doing is worth doing well,” the duchess said.

  “My girls would do well to remember that proverb,” the marchioness said.

  “Yes, Mama,” the twins said in unison.

  “Why do I suspect you will both forget the moment something else catches your fancy?” the marchioness said.

  Angeline liked Margaret very much. She had a witty way of managing her high-spirited girls. Even her scolds were gentle but effective.

  “Mama, may we take Hercules for his walk now?” Bianca asked.

  “I can see very well you are wild to be out of doors.” The marchioness turned to the duchess. “Do you mind if Penny joins them?”

  “Not at all,” the duchess said. “The exercise is good for their health. Do remember your bonnets and wraps, girls.”

  The twins and Penny retreated. High-pitched giggles echoed outside the drawing room and eventually dissipated.

  “Angeline, do you wish to join them?” the marchioness asked.

  “I think I shall take my sketchbook and walk,” she said. “The scenery is so spectacular this time of year.”

  After she quit the room, the marchioness sighed. “She is better now, but we shall endeavor to enliven her spirits with walks, drawing, and conversation.”

  “She is restless,” the duchess said. “When she begged me to allow her to make over the principle drawing room at Worthington Abbey, I could not deny her. She was excited, and we all saw her talent, but when it ended, she looked lost. Now she spends much of her time walking the grounds and drawing. I confess I worry.”

  “She will recover her high spirits,” the marchioness said. “Angeline is strong, never forget that.”

  The duchess set her dish of tea aside. “Hopefully we have weathered the worst.”

  “I do believe the scandal has already faded,” the marchioness said.

  The duchess sighed. “It has faded because my daughter has not made an appearance in London society since breaking her engagement.”

  The marchioness set her own cup aside. “She is beautiful and the daughter of a duke. That and her marriage portion will pave the way.”

  “I’d always hoped she would make a brilliant match.”

  “I hope she finds love,” the marchioness said.

  “In our day, parents arranged the marriages,” the duchess said.

  “Yes, my father wanted to elevate our family,” the marchioness said. “I was frightened half to death.”

  “You were educated as a lady,” the duchess said.

  “I learned the nuances from you, my dearest friend.”

  The duchess smiled. “More important, you found happiness with your husband.”

  “I am blessed to have married a man I grew to love,” the marchioness said. “I wish it for Angeline. She deserves the ultimate happiness.”

  “I agree, but I would fail my daughter if I did not council practicality,” the duchess said. “If she is fortunate, there will be affection, but you know my concerns.”

  “All will work out. I am sure of it.”

  “I received a letter from my son today,” the duchess said.

  “I hope Lady Landale is well.”

  “My son’s wife is nearing her confinement. I shall have a grandchild soon.”

  The marchioness leaned forward. “Why are you not rejoicing?”

  “I dread telling Angeline when the baby is born.”

  “She will be happy for her brother and sister-in-law,” the marchioness said.

  “Yes, she will express outward happiness for her brother and his wife, but it is only natural to wish for one’s own fulfillment. In her situation, she may find the news a reminder of her recent troubles and her lack of a husband.”

  “I cannot credit it,” the marchioness said. “She is better off without that deceiver.”

  “I agree, but we want our daughters to find happiness in marriage.”

  “And our sons,” the marchioness said, “though Colin is not my natural son. I wish that our relationship was not so…guarded.”

  “Nonsense, you did an admirable job, but he was eight years old when you married Chadwick. He spent much of his time at school, and you were ill for a long time after losing an infant. You had to regain your strength. Colin’s life was no different than that of any other boy at Eton.”

  Margaret clasped her friend’s hand. “You came to nurse and comfort me.”

  “You were rewarded with two lovely, spirited girls.”

  “I am blessed,” the marchioness said. “I only wish those same blessings for all of our children.” She sighed. “I do wish Colin and Angeline would form an attachment.”

  “It has been my dearest wish all these years,” the duchess said. “I suppose we were too obvious today.”

  Margaret laughed. “I fear so.”<
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  “It is so frustrating,” the duchess said. “It would be a brilliant match.”

  “I would council leaving the matter to Providence,” the marchioness said, “but I suspect Chadwick has taken matters into his own hands.”

  “What do you mean?” the duchess said.

  “I saw Colin storm out of the house earlier, and when I confronted my husband, he said that he had everything under control. I’m sure he made a muddle of things. Chadwick is as stubborn as a mule, but I shall speak to him. If he presses too hard, I fear Colin will leave and never return.”

  “Surely he would not do such a thing,” the duchess said.

  “If Chadwick goes too far, I fear a permanent break. I know that Colin has sowed wild oats, but I will never forgive myself if I do not intervene. I feel a responsibility.”

  “Be that as it may,” the duchess said, “there is only so much you can do.”

  “I have more than a little influence on Chadwick,” she said. “He will listen to me.”

  “You are so amiable, Margaret,” the duchess said, “but you do have a backbone.”

  “No, I have an interest in seeing my family happy.”

  Chapter Three

  Angeline strode with great purpose through the woods. Once away from the confines of the drawing room, her lungs expanded, allowing her to really breathe. It was a ridiculous notion, but she felt liberated nevertheless.

  The birch branches stretched out shadowy elongated limbs. With each gust of wind, the branches shed spectacular copper and gold leaves. She shaded her bonnet rim and hurried her step when she saw the folly up ahead. Usually follies were nothing more than ornamental curiosities, but this one formed a Palladian bridge across the stream. After reaching it, she leaned against the rail, opened her sketchbook where she’d placed her pencil, and started drawing. The angle, however, wasn’t quite right. She decided to walk through the covered part and try from the other side of the bridge.

  Heavy footsteps startled her.

  When Colin emerged, she had to suppress a groan. She’d hoped to avoid him after sticking her nose in his affairs and revealing a bit about her own.

  “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

  Of course he was, but she favored him with a brief smile. “You remembered your hat, coat, and gloves this time.”

  “One chill is enough for today.” He closed the distance between them.

  His height, easily over six feet, struck her anew. She knew he was fit; she’d seen the evidence when he’d chopped that huge limb with an ax. But how he managed it was beyond her, given the rumors about his rakehell exploits.

  “I saw you hurrying along the path with your sketchbook and figured you would come to the bridge,” he said.

  She wondered what he wanted. “What made you so certain?”

  “It is picturesque and therefore worthy of your best efforts.”

  “How would you know? Perhaps my best efforts aren’t worthy at all,” she said.

  Naturally he laughed.

  Her snippy barbs usually drove men away. Granted, men were not begging to court her. She winced, recalling the offensive way dozens of Frenchmen had treated her. She did not even want to know the rumors that must have precipitated their insulting entreaties.

  “Do you not wish to capture this grand bridge? It will probably be here long after we are gone,” Colin said.

  “How utterly macabre.” She drew a few lines for the bridge columns and shaded in the arches. His presence, however, interfered with her concentration. “Is there a reason you followed me?”

  “Well, yes.”

  After making a few broad strokes, she glanced at him. “I cannot recollect you ever willingly seeking me out, other than the time you tricked me into standing under the mistletoe.”

  “You can’t blame a fellow for trying to steal a kiss.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Colin, you want something. Spit it out.”

  He laughed. “Such language from a lady.”

  “Do try to recover your sensibilities. I’ve no smelling salts to revive you.”

  He grinned. “A gentleman in distress? The possibilities boggle the mind.”

  “Yours perhaps.”

  He laughed. “I heard you have a singular talent for renovations.”

  “I have some experience,” she said. “Does this concern Sommerall?”

  “Yes. I wish to approach my father again with a plan based on what needs to be done to make the house habitable. If you are amenable, I would welcome your assistance.”

  “You seem to have forgotten your father’s decree that you must marry in order to take possession.”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten.” He regarded her with a quizzical expression. “What about you? I would imagine your parents are urging you to wed.”

  Apparently, he was unaware of her damaged reputation, but she would not discuss that with him.

  “My first task is to persuade him to let me determine what renovations are needed for the house. He’s more likely to agree if you’re involved.”

  “Perhaps your father has already looked into the condition of the property.”

  “To the best of my knowledge he has not returned to the house since my mother died.”

  The marquess might have finally decided to sell the property in part because there were too many sad memories attached to Sommerall, but that was many years ago. His decision had probably been far more practical. The chances of Colin leaving behind his London lightskirts and taking up residence at Sommerall were negligible. “I doubt offering my assistance will sway your father’s decision,” she said. “You cannot be unaware that men do not take a woman’s opinion seriously.”

  “I take you seriously or I wouldn’t have asked,” he said.

  “You asked because I’m the only qualified person available.”

  “Well, that, too,” he said, grinning. “Do say you’ll agree.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He was trying to charm her into doing his bidding. “Why should I help you?”

  “Margaret said you took great pleasure in overseeing the renovations at Worthington Abbey. I thought you would enjoy lending your expertise.”

  “Your glib responses tell me you really do not care about returning Sommerall to its former stately beauty.”

  His smile faded. “If I did not care about the property, I wouldn’t be here.”

  She didn’t want to involve herself in his concerns. “Colin, we have never gotten along. We are here only because of our families. To be frank, you are asking a great deal of me, but I have no incentive to help you. Furthermore, I’m not certain it is wise for me to involve myself in this venture. Your father has by no means approved the idea.”

  “All I want for now is to make an inventory of the work that needs to be done. I think it is a reasonable plan that he will approve.”

  He was a rake with plenty of experience enticing women to do his bidding. Granted, she did not think he was even remotely attracted to her, but he’d already tried to charm her. She’d fallen for a charming rake once before, and she was wary of Colin. He would likely take advantage of her knowledge and probably abandon the project as soon as he grew bored. When that happened, she would feel the weight of responsibility because she’d gotten involved.

  “You are reluctant,” he said, “but I would appreciate any advice or assistance you’re willing to give. I don’t want the property to pass out of my family.”

  She remained unconvinced. “Were you concerned about Sommerall a fortnight ago?”

  “A fortnight ago I’d no idea my father intended to sell.”

  “Do you plan to reside there?” She knew he wouldn’t give up his carousing in London, but if he tried to lie, she meant to call him on it.

  “Eventually I will take possession, but at the moment, my pressing concern is to keep my father from selling.”

  “Eventually sounds rather vague.”

  “I’m a bachelor and intend to live in London until I decide to
marry. What difference does it make?”

  At least he’d been honest. “Are you set to inherit?”

  “It was always understood,” he said.

  “You assume it will be yours.” He was the sort of man who expected that everything would come easily, because no one had ever made him earn what he wanted. Then again, she could say the same about herself before this past year.

  “I’m his only son. There is no one else to inherit. What else am I to think?”

  “Perhaps you should turn that statement around. Given your reputation, what was your father supposed to think?”

  He glared at her. “You imply I’m unworthy?”

  “I did not mean—”

  “Of course you did or else you would not have dared to question me.”

  “You requested my assistance. I have every right to know the circumstances before making a decision.” If he truly cared about the property, he would have done something about it years ago. No doubt he’d not given a thought to Sommerall until he’d found out his father meant to sell it. Worse, he wasn’t likely to occupy the house. It would remain empty, perhaps for years. After all, she’d heard plenty of stories about him.

  “If I thought you were sincere, I would offer my assistance,” she said. “But I have trouble believing you really mean to renovate Sommerall. You just don’t want to lose it on principle.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You have missed an important point. The circumstances are clear. Unless I can prevent it, strangers will possess the land where my mother is buried.”

  “Colin, I understand—”

  “No, you do not. Apparently, I’m the only one who cares.”

  Her heart beat rapidly. “Colin, I did not mean to insinuate—”

  “I apologize for disturbing you. Rest assured I will not do so again.” He made a curt bow and strode past her with fisted hands.

  He could storm off for all she cared.

  His words rang in her ears. Unless I can prevent it, strangers will possess the land where my mother is buried. She shut her eyes and told herself to keep her distance. She could not afford even the slightest transgression, and getting involved in his concerns could lead to trouble.