Angelina (12 page)

 “You’ve not heard the last of this, cousin,” Samuel Locke sneered. “I’ll be back with a warrant issued by the Archbishop of London himself. Lacking any means of support, you placed your sister in moral danger when you removed her from her father’s loving care. By the time this is over she’ll be grateful for the respectability my father’s name offers, for no other man of standing will honour her with such.”  

“Do not call me cousin again, you parsimonious snipe.” Samuel Locke backed through the door as Rafe straightened, cracking his knuckles. “Inform my father that Celine is of an age to chose whom she will wed. And as for moral danger, my sister is well chaperoned and her morals have never been safer.” As he stared into the mean little eyes of the parson’s son, he shuddered. God help Celine if she’s forced to wed into this family, he thought. 

Rafe turned his back on the man in dismissal, not trusting himself to turn again until the door banged shut. He smiled ruefully when James poured them both a brandy.

“That man will never know how close he got to having his blood spilled all over your carpet. Can the charges be made to stick?”

“I’m unaware if such charges even exist.” James’ eyes were troubled. “We’ve not heard the last of Samuel Locke. If he petitions the Archbishop on morals grounds...?”

“I’ll counter petition on the grounds that my father drove my mother to suicide, cast Celine’s mother from the home without support and is not fit to have her in his care. When I took Celine she’d been locked in her room without food for two days.”

“That has nothing to do with the corruption of her morals. She is subjected to your father’s will until she weds. A scandal of this type will ruin her prospects forever. She’ll be ostracised.”

“Then so be it.” Neither of them had heard her enter the room. “I’d sooner be dead than marry Matthew Locke.” Tears gathered in her eyes as she convinced herself of the fact by tasting the words again. “Yes, I’d much rather be dead.”

“Rafe and I have a plan,” James mumbled. “Actually, I think it was I who thought of it.” He fell on one knee before her. “If you’ll have me, we shall elope this very night.”

“What an awkward oaf you are, James.” Unable to stop himself, Rafe laughed. “If I was Celine I’d refuse you right away.”

“But you’re not me, Rafe. And didn’t I just hear you say I’m of an age to choose whom I shall wed?”

Celine was blushing quite prettily, Rafe noticed. Her eyes were shining as she gazed at James with something akin to worship. His friend’s feelings were all to apparent. He gazed back at Celine with a hungry happiness Rafe envied. A look like that from a woman would be worth the wait, he mused, feeling decidedly superfluous as he edged towards the door, and a man should be afforded the luxury of proposing marriage in private.

“Do not keep me in misery,” James was saying as Rafe swiftly slid backwards through the door.

The next minute Rafe sprawled flat on his back as he tripped over Angelina’s foot. He gave a muffled curse as he scrambled to his feet. “You were eavesdropping,” he accused, when she laughed.

“Such language is not fit for a lady’s ears, Rafe. You’ll apologise, I trust.”

“Most humbly if that’s your desire.” Inhaling the piquant perfume she wore he began to grin. “Damn me if that perfume isn’t different from the one you usually wear.”

“It’s French. Mama thought it was time I graduated from rose water, and took me to a perfumers. Being a woman is quite a business, Rafe.” Drawing him away from the door she said with a lilt of laughter in her voice. “I’ve discovered that perfume is the very essence of a woman.”

“And here was I thinking you were mere flesh and blood.”

“We’re of one mind on that.” Her voice assumed a slight shyness. “The perfumer said that a scent, when properly chosen, absorbs the spirit of the wearer, changing to reflect her personality and mood.” 

“You are the mistress of provocation then,” he accused, taking her hand to sniff the pulse where young ladies usually fragranced themselves. “His second sniff increased in volume. “Definitely provocative; it’s well chosen.”

Her low, husky laugh sent a shiver up his spine. “If there’s a master of provocation it’s you, not I.”

“Angelina, my dear. I thought I sent you to fetch my embroidery from the morning room.”  Elizabeth gazed from one to the other when Angelina snatched her hand away from his.

He took a step backwards, creating distance between them.

“I hope that unpleasant business is cleared up,” Elizabeth said, crossing to Angelina’s side and giving her a penetrating glance. A faint blush surfaced on Angelina’s face. Elizabeth turned the same glance his way, making him prickle uncomfortably. “Lord Lynnbury. You should know better than encourage Angelina to linger in dim hallways.”

Chastised, he bowed slightly. “You’re right, Lady Elizabeth.”

 “But it’s not his fault - “

“Hush, child.” Elizabeth kept her voice gentle. “Lord Lynnbury is well aware of the impropriety of the situation. He’s accepted the rebuke and that’s the end of it. Is that not so, Rafe?”

“It is.”

Angelina appeared most indignant for the second or two it took to realise the rebuke had been for her rather than for him. Her face became downcast. “I’m sorry, mama,” she murmured. Her contrite words brought a smile of forgiveness to Elizabeth’s face and a glint of amusement to his own.

Rafe exchanged a small understanding smile with Elizabeth when she turned back towards him. “You may think me indelicate, Rafe, but I wish to make myfeelings known, even though it is not my business. I consider that cleric’s family totally unsuitable for a gentle girl like Celine to marry into. As she’s unburdened her heart to me, I intend to offer her the protection of Wrey House. My patronage of her will attract no gossip to damage her reputation or status.”

Angelina’s eyes began to dance with excitement. Before Rafe could stop her she whispered. “Do not worry about Celine. Something wonderful has happened. James is on his knees proposing mariage to her. They’re going to elope this very night.”

A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder echoed in the hall. Angelina paled, gave a small whimper of fright and sidled closer to her mother. A protective arm was placed around her waist, drawing her close.

Elizabeth took the news in her stride, but Rafe saw a spark of delight in her eyes. “James always knew how to do exactly the right thing at the right time,” she remarked, allowing a small, affectionate smile to illuminate her features. “I’m glad he’s found his heart’s desire in Celine. In the short time we’ve been acquainted I’ve grown very fond of her. However,” Her elegant shrug said it all, “They will not be going anywhere tonight in this storm.”

She looked as if she had another plan up her sleeve. “What else would you suggest?” he murmured.

“My suggestion is we discuss the marriage arrangements together over dinner. Your sister should not be obliged to wed without attendants, or in such a clandestine manner.” Her smile became impish. “A cousin of mine happens to be both minister of a small parish, and godson to the archbishop -”

“Really, Angelina!” She appeared indignant when Angelina gave an excited squeal and hugged her. She grinned at him over her daughter’s shoulder, for a moment looking just like a young girl. “This behaviour is not seemly for a young lady to indulge in,” she said, and placing her hands each side of Angelina’s face she tenderly kissed her forehead. “But on this occasion I intend to allow you to get away with it.”

Three days later James and Celine exchanged vows in a small church just outside London. Angelina, Elizabeth, and Rafe were all in attendance, as were a several guests, carefully selected for their respectability and discretion. They included a relative of King George, a man who James had once provided a service for. Elizabeth’s meticulous planning had turned the wedding into a celebration, and given it the necessary stamp of approval.

That same day, Elizabeth and Angelina, accompanied by Rafe on horseback, set out for Wrey House, leaving the newlyweds to begin their married life alone together.

Chapter Eight

It was almost dusk and boredom had become the highway robber’s companion. Traffic had been light over the past hour. The pickings lean; the excitement had gone out of the game. 

One carriage only had fallen into the felon’s clutches. The driver, a pale, perspiring merchant of wide girth, had been lightened by the removal of his bulging purse. His daughter had been relieved of a cameo brooch. Afraid she’d be ravished she’d begged her father to save her. Had she but known it, she had nothing to fear. Any maid expecting a highwayman’s kiss to giggle over in like-minded company would be sadly disappointed.

About to kick the stallion into a canter and abandon the evening’s sport, the outlaw’s ears picked up the faint sound of an oncoming carriage. Backing into the bushes, horse and rider melded with the shadows of the forest.

* * * *

“We’ll be home in just a little while.” Elizabeth took one of Angelina’s hands between her own. “You must be tired.”

“No more than you, Mama.” Angelina’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. “I’m so looking forward to meeting my sister and the rest of my family. If they are all as good to me as you and James, I cannot help but love them.” She raised her mother’s hand to her face, her voice choked with emotion. “You cannot imagine how happy I feel.”

Elizabeth’s mind gave rise to misgivings. She couldn’t imagine Rosabelle  welcoming her sister with open arms. Had Angelina been plain, Rosabelle might have tolerated her presence. But the girl was delicately beautiful, and Rosabelle vain.

Thomas would welcome her once he got over his initial awkwardness. Though obdurate at times, he was not a stupid man. She respected his judgment, appreciating the fact that he solicited her opinion on matters concerning the estate. He listened to her point of view whether he agreed with them or not.

Sometimes she surprised a softness in his expression, as if he still felt towards her as he had in the early days of their marriage. The day before she’d left for London he’d come across her in the garden. Quite gently, he’d touched her cheek, then cleared his throat and hurried about his business.

Will’s anticipated reaction to his new sister was harder to guess. William was complex, often displaying an ambiguity of nature. As a child he used to sulk when he couldn’t get his own way. Sometimes he was utterly charming, at other times unbearably insolent or cruel. 

Thomas had offered to buy his second born a commission in the army, a fitting career. Will had refused, coercing his father into leasing him a tumble-down village instead. Situated on a piece of land bordered by hills and a small sheltered cove, there he bred and schooled horses. The locals avoided the village. Once used for smuggling, it was rumoured to be haunted by the ghosts of villagers slaughtered by the drunken crew of a pirate ship, who’d put ashore for water.

Elizabeth sighed, wishing her relationship with William was a little warmer. Only Rosabelle was close to him. From the time she’d brought her home Will had doted on her. He’d been her playmate. As she’d grown he’d taught her to ride almost as well as himself. Rosabelle was not clever, and she adored the manipulative William.

 A tremor of apprehension ran through her. Angelina was as different from Rosabelle as fire was to ice. If the pair of them joined forces against her, Angelina would suffer.

“You mustn’t expect too much,” she cautioned. “As I explained. Your sister is very different from you in looks and temperament.”

“Both James and Rafe have told me that Rosabelle is very beautiful.”

Elizabeth’s eyes sharpened. “The earl said that?”

“He agreed with James, which is much the same thing.”

Angelina glanced at the shadows of the forest, shivering when she caught a glimpse of a dark horse and rider keeping pace with them between the trees. When she blinked they was gone. She chided herself for having such an active imagination. “I wish we’d waited for the other carriage to be freed from the mire,” she said with a shiver. “It’s so gloomy here.”

They were using the Pakenham carriage, which James had thought to retrieve from the London residence, and were travelling through a thicker part of the New Forest. The Wrey carriage, more cumbersome and less comfortable, carried the maids and luggage behind them. It had mired whilst fording a stream. Her mother, eager to reach the safety of home had elected to continue the journey on to Wrey house before it got too dark.

“Rafe will not be far behind us,” Elizabeth said lightly. “The coachman will be stopping to light the lanterns soon. We’ll arrive home just after dusk.”

As soon as the words left her mouth the carriage gradually slowed to a halt, but it was not to light the lamps. When her mother opened the door at the sound of voices they were confronted by a rider dressed from head to toe in black. The pistol in his hand was pointed at the coachman, whose arms were firmly held aloft.

Elizabeth blanched. “What’s the meaning of this? Only a coward would attack and rob two defenceless women.”

The highwayman turned and stared at her for long moments. His gun hand wavered slightly whilst the other tightened on the reins. There was a feverish glitter in the rogue’s eyes, as if he was struggling to hold back laughter. When he spoke his voice was strangely muffled, as if the stock around his neck was too tightly wound.

“Step down from the coach, ladies.”

“We will do no such thing.” Angelina pulled the door shut, glaring at the man with all the ferocity she could muster. “If you take one step towards my mother and myself you’ll be extremely sorry.”

“Angelina,” her mother implored, seeming almost near to fainting. “Do not inflame the man with harsh words, I beg of you.”

“You’d be wise to listen to your…
mama
.
” The outlaw’s dark eyes swept over her face and she nearly recoiled from the animosity in them. Her heart began to pound, her hand curled about her mother’s cane as the horse sidestepped towards them.

“Be gone,” she hissed, surprised she could speak at all, considering her fear. “We have no valuables with us and my mother is alarmed almost to fainting. She smiled as the sound of the second carriage came to her ears. “In a few moments our escort will be here, then you’ll be routed, sir. We have a company of soldiers with us.”