Kitabı oku: «Regency Society Collection Part 2», sayfa 43
‘Good God, Aunt Patience!’ Alex expostulated, astounded to hear his aunt utter such drivel. ‘To hear such talk from you I can only assume there must be a decline in your reading standards. I have repeatedly condemned such trivial and uninstructive reading flooding the market and always thought you above such rubbish. Contrary to what my uncle thinks there is nothing wrong with my “zest for life”. And as for reviving my “appetite for love”—how can something be revived that was never there in the first place?’
Patience refused to let go of the argument. ‘But Angelina is a rare treasure, Alex. Any man would be proud to have her as his wife.’
‘I agree. But not me. You seem to have forgotten that I am on the brink of offering for Lavinia Howard.’
‘You are?’
‘I am considering it. But whatever I decide, I am not marrying Angelina and that is final.’
After pinning all their hopes on a union between them, Alex’s harsh words doused all Patience’s and Verity’s expectations. Alex ignored their despondency, knowing he’d dashed their scheme, but it had needed saying.
‘Take Angelina to London,’ he went on. ‘Give her a Season and find her a husband—which shouldn’t be difficult, given the fact that every male I invited to Arlington this weekend went away singing her praises and all more than halfway to being in love with her.’
‘Have you forgotten that Angelina has stressed time and again that she has no intention of marrying?’ Patience reminded him.
‘No. But I recall her saying that she did not want a Season, either—and she changed her mind pretty quickly about that. She’ll change her mind about marriage soon enough when she gets to London and has every rake in town sniffing after her. Uncle Henry won’t have long to wait before he has her off her hands,’ he said unkindly.
‘Alex! Do not speak like that. Why are you deliberately trying to be cruel?’ Patience reproached harshly. ‘I know you aren’t as unfeeling as you sound. And who’s going to tell her?’
‘I’ll save you all the trouble,’ came a quiet voice from the doorway.
Every eye turned towards the door to see Angelina standing there, unable to believe what she had heard—Alex was sending her away.
Her world tilted crazily. There was no room in her sights for anyone except Alex. She beheld the faint widening of his eyes as they turned on her, but his expression was as inscrutable as a marble mask. She found it difficult to endure his gaze, but she did, his words sounding inside her head like a death knell.
Displaying a calm she did not feel, as she crossed the room she managed with a painful effort to dominate her disappointment and accept the slap fate had dealt her. She must blot from her mind the events of last night, the exquisite sweetness of Alex’s kiss. Jerking her mind from such weakening thoughts her eyes encompassed the other three, having decided not to make an uncomfortable scene.
‘Would you mind if I spoke to Alex alone?’
With a pained expression Patience moved to her side and gently squeezed her hand. ‘Of course not, my dear. I think it’s as well that you do,’ she said, bestowing on her nephew a cross, disapproving look.
‘Angelina, I am so sorry,’ Verity said, looking extremely concerned.
She managed a faint smile. ‘It’s all right, Verity. Truly. I always knew I would have to leave some time.’
When they were alone, Alex raised one brow in arrogant inquiry, knowing she had heard his remark and unprepared to refute it—which was no consolation for Angelina. Why did he adopt this cold, remote, almost hostile attitude to her? Was it possible he was ashamed of the way he had behaved towards her, or was his hunger for her so great that he couldn’t bear to be close to her? She hoped it was the latter, but the way he was looking at her made her discount it. Her eyes met his proudly.
‘So! You really think that, do you, Alex? That as soon as the rakes and fops in London begin paying me attention and whispering sweet nonsense in my ear, I am so silly and weak that I will be unable to resist them and reverse my decision not to wed?’
‘Why not?’ His mouth curled with irony. ‘You were eager enough to yield to me when I held you in my arms.’
His cutting tone and the injustice of his words increased Angelina’s anger. But it was the way he retained his arrogant superiority that was hard for her to take. ‘I don’t know why you are being deliberately cruel to me, Alex, but as I recall, you gave me little choice. I did not invite you to kiss me. In fact, if you will cast your mind back, you will recall that I begged you not to.’
‘I admit that I behaved in a manner for which I am ashamed and regretful,’ he said, his voice curt, thinking when he looked at her how hard it was going to be sending her away.
‘You? Ashamed? Are you quite sure you know the meaning of the word?’ she scoffed. Drawing herself up proudly, she showed him that she too could be hard and cold. He would never know how much he had hurt her. ‘And if Uncle Henry really wanted me off his hands, he would not have encumbered himself with me in the first place. He is warm and generous—unlike you, a man whose heart is encased in ice.’
Angelina expected the words she flung at him to get a reaction, but, except for a glacial hardening of his eyes and a muscle that began to twitch in his jaw, there was none.
‘Do you mind telling why you are dismissing me as though I were an untouchable?’ she asked. She knew the answer, but wanted to hear him say it. ‘What have I done that makes you treat me so despicably?’
Everything, Alex thought wretchedly. She was too much of a threat to his sanity. He couldn’t live in the same house with her any longer if he was to have any peace. Everywhere he turned she seemed to be there, ready to ensnare him, and when she was absent his need to see her made him seek her out. He was furious with himself for feeling like this—for wanting her. He’d never realised that sexual desire for her would become a complication. Better that she was away from him altogether, before she disrupted his whole life.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘At least, not intentionally. You will stay with Aunt Patience until Uncle Henry gets back from Cornwall. Now you have decided to be launched into society, you can begin preparing for it. According to Verity it’s time consuming, so you cannot begin too soon.’
Angelina could hear the absolute finality in his voice that told her it would be futile to argue. ‘Then there is nothing more to be said. I thank you for your hospitality, Alex,’ she said with the polite cordiality of one of his guests who had just departed. ‘I have enjoyed my stay at Arlington, and I am now ready to return to London.’ Her words were of resignation, not defiance.
Suddenly Alex looked at her with unexpected softness. Surprised by the change in his expression, she opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her and, taking a deep breath, continued, ‘You have to go, Angelina. You must. I want you to go. There are some things you cannot understand.’
Angelina’s face was a pale, emotionless mask as she turned from him and crossed to the door. Her heart and mind felt empty, and she was chilled to the marrow, and even now, when she was desperate with the thought of leaving him, she had to ask herself why it should hurt so much, and to question what was in her heart.
Chapter Ten
It was decided that Angelina would stay with Nathan and Verity in Hanover Square, and that Patience would delay returning to her own home at Richmond for the time being. Angelina became firmly fixed under Aunt Patience’s wing as the elderly lady arranged her vast wardrobe for her début, employing modistes who enjoyed her own and Verity’s patronage.
There followed many long weeks of intensive instruction in perfecting the intricate steps of the minuet and the quadrille—a dance, like the waltz, which was considered ‘fast’ by some and only danced at informal affairs and in private. She learned how to curtsy without wobbling, deportment, and how to utilise her femininity by learning the art of the correct use of the fan—how to hold it, how to close it—which almost drove her to distraction.
To alleviate the tedium they often drove through Hyde Park, which was a rendezvous for fashion and beauty, with splendid, shining carriages and high-stepping horses. Angelina was a new distraction, drawing the admiring, hopeful eyes of several dashing young males displaying their prowess on high-spirited horses. Under the watchful eye of Nathan, she was introduced to several, promising to dance with each and every one of them at her début ball.
Under Verity and Patience’s instruction, Angelina blossomed into an extremely attractive and desirable young woman, who was refreshingly unselfconscious of her beauty. The furore she was causing delighted them, and they were secure in Angelina’s certain victory before the Season got under way. Before too long she would have London at her feet.
There were few people in the elevated circles of society who hadn’t heard of the Duke of Mowbray’s American ward, and all the unattached males clamoured to be introduced. It was not just her beauty that drew them to her, or the mystery of her American background and the fact that she had, until recently, been staying at the home of London’s most notorious and sought-after rake, Lord Montgomery, but also the huge dowry the Duke of Mowbray would be certain to settle on her.
On Henry’s return to London, Patience told him everything that had transpired at Arlington and the reason why they had returned to London earlier than intended. Henry was disappointed and yet unperturbed to learn that Alex had made it plain that marriage to Angelina was out of the question. From what he knew of their highly volatile relationship, he suspected that Alex was sorely missing Angelina and when Patience told him Alex was to come to London two weeks hence—stressing he had to attend important business meetings—Henry’s instinct told him that it was an excuse to see Angelina again.
In the beginning it had been Henry’s intention to throw the two of them together, but now he would do exactly the opposite. In an act of pure mischief he whisked Angelina off to Mowbray Park for Christmas.
When Angelina wasn’t in London waiting to receive him, Alex knew a disappointment and fury that was beyond anything he had ever felt in his life. Despite his belief to the contrary, when she had left Arlington he had found it no easy matter thrusting her out of his mind. He threw himself into his work, but it was Angelina he saw in his mind, Angelina who stole his thoughts away from important matters at hand.
When she’d been with him he’d had difficulty keeping his eyes off her, and at times he’d been unable to keep his hands off her. And now she was gone he couldn’t keep his mind off her. Who was she with? What was she doing? Were suitors already lining up, waiting for the Season to begin so they could offer for her? He could hardly contain his jealousy at the thought of any other man touching her.
Cursing himself for behaving like a love-smitten youth, he tried to divert his irrational thoughts away from her, but it became an internal battle—one he began to lose a little more with each passing day. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, and he spent most of the night pouring brandy down his throat and pacing up and down his room so that he almost wore a path in the carpet. That was when the need to see her became paramount to all else.
But that was before he arrived in London and read his uncle’s letter informing him that he had taken Angelina, Nathan, Verity and Aunt Patience to Mowbray Park for Christmas. Alex knew a fury like he’d never known. He knew that this was his wily old uncle’s way of trying to manipulate him. Not for one moment did he consider going after them. He’d meant what he’d said to Aunt Patience, that he would not be coerced or lured into marriage. But on returning to Arlington and finding no peace without Angelina, he reached the most momentous decision of his life—he would return to London in time for Angelina’s début ball.
On the day itself, with her thoughts on what lay ahead and the many difficulties she may encounter during the evening, Angelina stood while Pauline fastened her in her ball gown, feeling extremely nervous now the moment had arrived. When she was pulling on her gloves Verity, resplendent in pale blue satin, came to tell her that Uncle Henry had arrived.
‘My dear Angelina. You look wonderful,’ she enthused.
Beholding her reflection in the mirror, Angelina knew Verity was not exaggerating. Her fashionable, high-waisted gown of white satin, with an overskirt of white tulle, was intricately embroidered and decorated with seed pearls. The sleeves were elbow length, with a flow of delicate Brussels lace caressing her forearms. The French hairdresser had skilfully entwined a slender necklace of diamonds through the heavy curls at her crown so that, every time she moved, her head glittered and sparkled.
Henry watched her descend the stairs, his expression one of admiration and calm. Taking her hand, wonderingly he shook his head. ‘You look enchanting. How I wish your dear mother could see you now. She would be so proud—as I shall be when I walk into Romney House with the most beautiful débutante in the whole of London on my arm,’ he said, not mentioning the unexpected guest who would be making his appearance at the ball later.
The streets in Piccadilly were congested with carriages depositing the cream of London society outside the open doors of Romney House. Inside, footmen in powdered wigs and crimson-and-gold livery lined the stairs up to the ballroom. The head footman announced the Duke of Mowbray and his party in a stentorian voice, and there was much fluttering of fans, bobbing of curtsies and bowing of elegant heads. Guests were arriving all the time—débutantes in gorgeous pale-coloured gowns accompanied by their chaperons, and young men dressed in black, with brightly coloured waistcoats and pristine white cravats.
They were greeted by Lord and Lady Romney in the foyer and then climbed the stairs to the grand ballroom, with its highly polished parquet floor, Venetian mirrors and crystal chandeliers, to be announced again. Between the long French windows opening on to a balcony were huge urns on pedestals, bursting with a profusion of flowers, and elegant gilt chairs were placed at intervals along the walls.
Angelina was dazzled and confused by this impeccable tonish company, recognising several faces from her drives through the park and visits to private drawing rooms. She felt a sudden shyness combined with a curious reluctance to join these distinguished, sophisticated members of society—this gay, rakish and exclusive set who graced ‘The Regent’s Clique’. Looking like a vision from heaven, she entered the ballroom on Henry’s arm.
Every influential head turned to the new arrivals and conversation became hushed as eyes strained to have a look at the Duke of Mowbray’s American ward.
Henry gently squeezed Angelina’s hand in the crook of his arm, sensing her nervousness. ‘Don’t be nervous, my dear. Within half an hour your card will be full. But make sure you save a dance for me. This is going to be the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in a long time.’
Within minutes there was a near riot to see who could get to her for the first dance. Laughter and frivolity surrounded her, and she found herself responding to it automatically. The first two dances of the evening went to young men she recalled meeting in the park, one of them a dashing and flamboyant young lord called Duncan Aylard.
‘I’m delighted to see you again, Miss Hamilton,’ he said with a sardonic grin as he swept her a deep bow. ‘You haven’t forgotten me, I hope—or that you promised me a dance.’
‘No.’ She laughed, warming to his natural charm and easy manner. ‘I do remember you, Lord Aylard—and, yes, I shall be delighted to save a dance for you.’
His grin was impudent as he subjected her to a long, lingering gaze. ‘And the next and the one after—and perhaps you will permit me to take you into supper later.’
‘More than two dances would be quite improper and commented upon,’ she chided teasingly, amused and flattered by his persistent manner, ‘and I have arranged to have supper with my uncle. Do you forget that this is my début, Lord Aylard, and I have my reputation to uphold?’
‘I would not dream of doing anything to damage that—so I shall have to be content with two…waltzes,’ he insisted with a grin, preferring the darting flurry of the waltz to the minuet. The waltz was considered by some to denote a general decline in moral standards, but Lord Aylard thoroughly approved of the dance and would not consider partnering the staggeringly beautiful Miss Hamilton in any other.
He proved to be a superb dancer and Angelina happily abandoned herself to his encircling arm as he twirled her about the floor. Unashamedly he flirted and flattered her and made her laugh, but their entertaining conversation came to an end when someone caught his attention. He stiffened. ‘Good Lord! Did you know he was to attend the ball? I had no idea he was back in London.’
‘Who?’
‘Lord Montgomery.’
Angelina felt her heart slam into her ribs. She froze for an instant, her thoughts scattered. She could feel Alex’s presence with every fibre of her being, and, despite the shock of seeing him again after so long, an increasing comforting warmth suffused her. A strange sensation of security, of knowing he was close at hand, pleased her. But the memory of their parting, of the pain and the hurt he had caused her, was still present.
Over the heads of the crowd Angelina saw him standing with Nathan, even more powerfully masculine and attractive than she remembered. For a second their eyes met, then he looked away, seemingly without interest. Praying Lord Aylard had not taken note of her discomposure, she studied Alex surreptitiously.
His commanding presence was awesome, drawing the eye of everyone in the room. A group of people moved to speak to him, and she noticed how everyone was hanging on his every word, doe-eyed young débutantes gazing at him dreamily, and that there was a tension about the group that seemed to begin and end with him.
When he had arrived a short while ago with Nathan, Alex had paused in the action of kissing the hand of an acquaintance’s wife and quickly glanced up to see Angelina taking to the floor with young Aylard. Nothing had prepared him for his first sight of her after months of absence. His heart wrenched when he looked on her unforgettable face—so poised, so beautiful that he ached to hold her.
Never had he seen her look so provocatively lovely, so regal, glamorous and bewitching—and he wanted her to belong to him entirely, to take her in his arms and send her persistent suitors packing. He was not noted for his patience. His yearning was like an obsession in his blood.
His gaze shifted to Aylard, who was looking down at her upturned face like a hungry fox looking into a hen coop. Of all the males in London, why did she have to draw the attention of Aylard—a young man with the potential to earn a reputation to rival his own? He could not bear to see other men vying with each other with infuriating persistence to dance with her, coveting her, to watch the admiration and appreciation in their eyes as they followed and devoured her every move. He guessed their thoughts were not so very different from his own, and he despised them for it. For the first time in his life he experienced an acute feeling of irrepressible jealousy that twisted his gut and caught him completely off guard.
The dance over, Lord Aylard escorted Angelina back to her uncle. Unfortunately he couldn’t do that without passing Lord Montgomery. Good manners dictated that he stop and offer polite words of greeting, which he did, bowing with a grand, sweeping gesture.
‘Lord Montgomery, it’s good to see you again.’
Alex did not deem to pay Aylard the same homage. Looking the younger man over with a haughtily cocked brow, he nodded, his eyes cold and ungracious. ‘Likewise.’
Angelina stood by Lord Aylard’s side and looked at Alex. After a parting of five months, it was like coming face to face with a stranger. That well-remembered silver gaze slid from Lord Aylard to her. She had not forgotten how brilliant and clear his eyes were—how cold they could be.
‘Hello, Alex,’ she said quietly. ‘I had no idea you were in London.’
Smiling pleasantly, Lord Aylard turned to look at Angelina. ‘If you will excuse me, I will leave you now. Should you find you have another dance free, I shall be more than happy to oblige.’ Passing his appreciative eyes over her exquisite features, he was unheedful of Alex’s face hardening as he witnessed the perusal.
‘I don’t think so,’ Alex said stonily, the cold grey eyes considering the other without a hint of expression, then with slow deliberation. ‘Miss Hamilton’s dance card is full. However, should any over-eager young swain on her card have the misfortune to fall over in their rush to get to her and break a leg, I shall oblige.’
Uncertainty flickered across Lord Aylard’s face, cutting through his easy, friendly demeanour. Angelina felt her ire rising at Alex’s deliberate rudeness, having no reason to think it stemmed from jealously.
‘Why, Alex! Since when did you care a fig for my reputation?’ she flared.
Before Alex could reply, Lord Aylard gave Angelina a brief nod of farewell, and left the ballroom in search of strong liquid sustenance, feeling unusually put out.
Angelina watched him go and then turned to Alex, incensed. ‘You beast. How could you be so rude to Lord Aylard?’
He cocked a brow and regarded her with a tolerantly amused smile. ‘Was I?’
‘Inexcusably so and you know it. He has done nothing wrong and did not deserve such a cruel set-down. I will not tolerate your interference in matters that are none of your concern. And should one of my partners have the misfortune to fall and break a leg, there are others already waiting to oblige.’
Alex grinned in the face of her rage, meeting her stormy eyes. ‘Then take my advice and choose your partners with more care. Aylard’s a veritable tulip who floats around the edges of the Carlton House set. The man’s a rake of the first order.’
‘Which you should know all about, Alex,’ Angelina was quick to remind him, ‘having the reputation of a rake yourself.’
‘Be that as it may, but I may not be around to save you the next time.’
‘I sincerely hope not.’
Alex noted that the angry exchange was not going unnoticed by those close by. ‘Do you mind not looking at me as if you are about to run me through, my pet? Do not make a spectacle and try smiling. People are staring at us.’ His voice was soft, though his smile was knowingly reproachful.
Angelina forced her face into more subdued lines, but when she spoke her voice shook with quiet fury. ‘How dare you call me your pet after the way you treated me at Arlington? I am not your pet and people can stare all they like. Excuse me. I’m going to find Uncle Henry.’ Turning on her heel, with her head held high and two angry red flags of colour burning her cheeks, she stalked away, longing to bring that arrogant, insufferable man down a peg.
Chuckling softly and watching Angelina’s retreating figure with admiration, Nathan moved to his side. ‘My word, Alex. Methinks the lady is extremely vexed. Her aversion to you will not easily be appeased—and who can blame her, considering the way you sent her away from Arlington.
Alex watched the tempestuous beauty rejoin his uncle and Aunt Patience. Her beauty fed his gaze, stirring a sweet, hungering ache deep inside that could not easily be put aside with anything less than what he desired.
‘With a little tender persuasion I am certain I can overcome that problem. However, I can see that, despite all the teachings in etiquette she has received since I last saw her, her spirit remains intact.’
‘Would you have it any other way?’
Alex shook his head. ‘I intend to marry her, Nathan, to gentle her, to make her complaisant to my demands, but God help me if I do anything to change what is inside her. She is quite unique.’
Nathan was astounded by his declaration. ‘So, the renowned libertine and despoiler of women has decided to call it a day and settle down to domestic bliss. Have a care, Alex. Angelina has a strong will, and it’s a courageous woman who will pit her will against yours.’
‘In that, as in everything else, I intend to have the upper hand. She’ll soon come to realise that.’ He spoke with supreme confidence. Lounging back against a pillar, his arms across his chest, a dangerous light entered his narrowed eyes and a smile tempted his lips.
Nathan saw that look, and if he’d had to tell Angelina what it foretold, his explanation would have angered her far more than she already was. Alex looked exactly like a marauder who was about to invade a particularly challenging and desirable country and claim it for his own—and refused to be deterred by any fight from the opposition.
NowAlex had made up his mind that he was going to marry Angelina, he began to enjoy the ball and was in fine spirits for the rest of the evening—enjoying it all the more when Aunt Patience suddenly complained of feeling unwell. After making her excuses to Lord and Lady Romney, Alex saw her out to her carriage—Uncle Henry too, for he was so overly concerned about the onset of his sister’s sudden weakness that he refused to allow her to go home alone. Of course, he made Alex promise to remain with Verity and make quite certain that Angelina was properly chaperoned and to see her home.
Alex wasn’t fooled and knew exactly why his aunt had suddenly decided to feel unwell. He was convinced that she was perfectly well and that her sudden weakness was nothing more than part of the scheme concocted by her and Uncle Henry to throw Angelina in his path. He chuckled with humour. This time he wasn’t complaining. He was content to follow the course his uncle had been plotting from the beginning.
He found Angelina in conversation with Verity, looking quite bemused by what she was telling her. She looked at Alex anxiously when he appeared by their side.
‘Verity tells me that Aunt Patience has been taken ill,’ she said, her eyes filled with concern. ‘Perhaps we should all leave.’
Alex smiled imperturbably. ‘I am sure Verity has told you that her dear mama has nothing more serious than a headache, which I strongly suspect is feeling much better already. Don’t you agree, Verity?’ he queried with humour, giving his cousin a look that clearly stated that he fully understood the situation.
Verity flushed with embarrassment at being caught out. ‘Yes, I’m sure you are right—as always, Alex,’ she replied drily.
Alex turned his attention to Angelina, and there was something subtle in the way his expression changed that made her uneasy.
‘Uncle Henry has left you in my very capable hands, Angelina—to make quite sure you enjoy what is left of the evening and are returned home unmolested.’
‘I find it hard to believe that Uncle Henry would trust you to protect and uphold my virtue. It’s rather like a wolf being left in charge of a flock of sheep,’ she quipped.
Alex’s answer was a slow, impudent grin. ‘My uncle’s skill with weapons is as sharp as it was thirty years ago, and I do not doubt for one minute that he would take up arms against me should I fail in my duty.’
Angelina regarded him sceptically. ‘And I can dance with whom I like?’
‘Providing I approve of your choice of partner,’ he prevaricated.
‘I do not need you to check out my dancing partners, Alex. I am not a child.’
‘That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say all evening. I agree with you absolutely.’
His remark and taunting grin brought a bright hue creeping into Angelina’s cheeks, and made her realise the folly in baiting him.
‘I believe this next dance should have been Uncle Henry’s,’ he said, slipping a hand beneath her arm to escort her onto the floor as the orchestra struck up the next waltz. ‘Come. I would have this dance before you are swept away by yet another devoted, over-zealous swain.’
‘My feet ache. I think I prefer to sit this one out,’ Angelina said, resisting by pulling back.
‘No, you won’t. I insist,’ he said, tightening his hold on her elbow.
Without more ado he headed towards the dance floor. A group of young bloods with flirtatious grins standing on the periphery raised their glasses in a salute as Angelina drew level, and Alex fumed when he saw her acknowledge their homage with one of her bright, generous smiles.
‘Do you have to smile at every man you come into contact with?’ he seethed between his teeth.
‘Why not?’ she replied, her look one of complete innocence. ‘I was only being polite.’
‘Forward to the point of being fast is how I would describe it. You smile and flutter your lashes like an accomplished flirt.’
‘As I understand it, flirting is an accepted, highly desirable mode of social behaviour,’ Angelina argued quietly.
Angelina abandoned her waist to his encircling arm. It was as steady and firm as a rock. Alex was a superb dancer. As he whirled her into the dance she seemed to soar with the melody. It was as if they were one being, their movements perfectly in tune.
‘My uncle informs me that the evening has been a resounding success for you,’ Alex remarked at length.
‘That depends upon what you mean by a resounding success. For myself I am enjoying every moment of it. What brought you to London, Alex? Business?
