Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante

‘Angelina, wait,’ Alex commanded brusquely when she was about to follow Mrs Morrisey across the hall to the stairs.

Angelina’s spine stiffened and she turned to him. Taking her arm he drew her aside. Gazing up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes, she met his piercing eyes. Inwardly she shivered, seeing something ruthless in that controlled, hard silver gaze. She stood perfectly still and tense, waiting for him to speak.

‘I will see you at dinner?’

‘If you don’t mind, I think I will eat with Aunt Patience in her room,’ she replied stiffly, averting her eyes.

‘I do mind,’ he told her quietly. ‘Your opinion of me matters not at all, but I refuse to have the servants see my guest has an aversion to me. I would appreciate it if you would try to practise a little courtesy while you are in my house. Is that too much to ask of you?’

Angelina heaved a heavy sigh. It would be difficult to do as he asked, but she saw no reason why they should not at least be cordial to one another. ‘No, of course not,’ she conceded.

‘Thank you. Dinner is at half past seven.’

Abruptly he turned and strode away, leaving Angelina to follow Mrs Morrisey up the stairs. The opulence and elegance of the blue and white room into which she was shown took her breath away.

‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ she enthused with delight.

‘Lord Montgomery instructed me to have this particular one prepared for you because it offers such a splendid view of the garden. It also faces south and has an abundant supply of sunshine—especially during the summer months.’

‘How considerate of Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina replied, strangely touched to discover he had spared the time to think of her comfort.

Later, she joined Lord Montgomery in a small candlelit dining room off the main hall. Presenting a pleasing appearance, having donned one of the gowns Patience had purchased for her in London—a violet silk which complemented her figure and her eyes—she managed to maintain an outward show of calm, despite the tumult raging inside her.

Lord Montgomery was standing by the sideboard, pouring red wine into two glasses. Angelina was struck by his stern profile outlined against the golden glow of the candles. She saw a kind of beauty in it, but quickly dismissed the thought. It was totally out of keeping with her opinion of him. He turned when she entered and moved towards her, his narrow gaze sweeping over her with approval.

‘I hope I’m not late. I went to look in on Aunt Patience.’

‘How is she?’ Alex handed her a glass of wine. Having lost all desire to quarrel with her tonight, he was relieved to hear she sounded more calm than aggressive.

‘Sleeping—but she really does look quite poorly.’

‘Then you will be relieved to know the doctor has seen her and has left some medication that should help relieve her discomfort. Is your room to your liking?’ he asked, pulling out her chair at the damask-covered table decorated with orchids.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Angelina replied, slipping into it and taking a sip of wine, hoping the meal would be over quickly so she could escape.

‘I’m glad you decided to join me for dinner,’ Alex said, seating himself across from her. ‘I hoped you would.’

‘I could hardly ignore a royal command, could I?’ Angelina replied, unable to resist taking a gentle stab at him, the impish curve to her lips softening the tartness of her reply.

His glance darted across the table. ‘It was not a royal command.’

‘No? That’s how it sounded.’

Reining in his mounting irritation, Alex stirred impatiently. ‘Angelina, don’t be aggressive,’ he told her quietly. ‘I am in no mood for a quarrel.’

Angelina laughed shortly, a mischievous light twinkling in her eyes. ‘Why, what kind of miracle is this! To what do we owe it?’ When he shot her an annoying look she sighed in capitulation, though in the light of his previous animosity towards her during their brief acquaintance, she remained suspicious of this softening to his attitude. ‘No. Neither am I,’ she answered, smiling at an aloof-looking footman who was standing to attention like a soldier close to a large dresser containing platters of food.

‘Good. Now that is settled, perhaps we can enjoy our dinner in peace.’

‘I shall endeavour to do so.’

‘As long as you don’t upset my cook by not eating. Mrs Hall is very efficient—and, being a woman, she is extremely temperamental and takes it as a personal criticism if anyone refuses to eat.’

‘What! Even you?’ Her eyes sparked with laughter.

‘Even me.’ He smiled in response, spreading a napkin over his knees.

It was a simple, lovely meal, excellently cooked and served by the aloof footman who came and went. Alex talked amiably about Arlington Hall and the surrounding countryside, giving Angelina a brief insight of the people who lived and worked in and around the village of Arlington, just one mile from the hall.

‘Do you often go to London?’ she asked, wondering how he could bear to leave such a lovely place for the hurly-burly of London.

‘I have to take my seat in the House of Lords occasionally—more so at this present time with Europe in a state of turmoil and the war with the United States.’ A faint smile touched his lips when he observed Angelina’s expression of bewilderment, and realised that, coming from America, she would know very little about English politics.

‘You are a politician?’

‘No—at least not in the professional sense. It is simply that I, and all peers of the realm, have been trained to regard it as our right and duty to participate in governing the country. We enter Parliament as we do university and gentlemen’s clubs—such as White’s or Brooks’s.’

Angelina was impressed. ‘It all sounds very grand to me. And what do you debate in the House of Lords?’

‘The issues at this time are many and varied—and of an extremely serious nature. Fortunately we have managed to stand against Napoleon, despite his attempts to throttle our trade. The present economic crisis is foremost in the debates, and the textile trade, which is getting worse. Following two bad harvests, there is general unrest in this country—especially in the north and the Midlands. And on top of all this comes the need to pay out gold to support the war in Portugal and Spain and our naval battle with America.’

‘Dear me. What a muddle it all is. I wonder at you having time to leave London and come to Arlington.’

‘I’m not required to spend all my time in the House of Lords, and much of my business can be taken care of here.’ He went on to explain the basics of British politics and the English Court, telling her that King George III had lapsed into incurable madness and his son, the Prince of Wales, had been made Regent the previous year. ‘There are times when I have to go to Carlton House and other haunts of the Prince Regent and the beau monde. But I must point out that political exigencies take me there, rather than personal tastes.’

‘Uncle Henry told me that George III and his Queen set a standard of decorum and domestic virtue, but that their court was a very dull place to be—much different to that of their son.’

Alex smiled broadly. ‘Uncle Henry was right. As soon as the old King was struck down with madness and fastened into his strait-waistcoat, the Prince of Wales took to wearing corsets and the ladies to shedding their petticoats. There are those who say the country is falling into a decline in moral standards—if not the onset of national decadence.’

‘I was of the opinion that the English aristocracy has always been a profligate lot, who has indulged in loose living and has never ceased to do what it likes and cares only for its own whims. Why—I know you enjoy a certain reputation yourself, my lord,’ she said softly, glancing across at him obliquely.

Alex looked at her sharply. ‘Correction,’ he defended curtly. ‘I may have acquired a certain reputation, but I did not look for it and certainly do not enjoy it.’

Angelina shrugged, swallowing a juicy baby carrot. ‘Whatever the case, it is no secret that you are something of a womaniser and that you keep a mistress—a notorious beauty by all accounts.’

Alex’s gaze narrowed and slid to her seemingly innocent face. ‘Really,’ he said drily. ‘You are well informed, Angelina. Did Uncle Henry tell you that too?’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘Of course not. Uncle Henry is too much of a gentleman to indulge in tittle-tattle. But I do have ears—and servants talk. What’s she like?’ Angelina asked, popping another baby carrot into her mouth whilst lowering her eyes to hide their mischievous intent, secretly delighting in his discomfort.

Alex’s jaw tensed and a flash of annoyance darkened his eyes. ‘Who?’

Calmly Angelina met his gaze. ‘Your mistress.’ As he arrogantly raised one brow a dangerous glitter entered his eyes, which warned her that his temper was not far from surfacing.

‘She’s very sweet, as a matter of fact,’ he drawled.

‘Then instead of marrying Miss Howard, why not marry your mistress?’

‘Gentlemen do not marry their mistresses, Angelina.’