Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante

‘Why—I cannot for the life of me see why not. If a man considers a woman suitable to take to his bed, why not marry her?’

Alex’s grey eyes observed her with ill-concealed displeasure from beneath dark brows. ‘I think we will drop this particular subject. It is pointless and leading nowhere.’

Restraining the urge to giggle, Angelina shrugged flippantly. ‘As you like.’

When he turned the conversation back round to his home, she listened with a good deal of interest, and mostly in silence when she realised just how much Arlington and its people meant to him. It brought to mind her own home and all she had left behind. Memory clouded her eyes and Alex seemed to sense her despondency.

‘Tell me, are you homesick for America?’ he asked suddenly, correctly guessing the cause of her dejected attitude.

Angelina raised her eyes and looked at him sharply. His question was unexpected. ‘Very much,’ she admitted, unsure whether she wanted his sympathy, but comforted by it nevertheless.

‘And you miss Mr Boone and your friend Will, I suppose.’

‘Yes, I do miss Will. He was a part of my life for a long time.’

‘And now? What do you think he is doing?’

‘Trapping beaver somewhere among the Great Lakes of North America, I suppose,’ she murmured, unable to conceal the yearning she still felt for her homeland.

‘What made your father go out west?’

‘He was bitten by the bug that bit everyone else. The lure of the west changed him and eventually he became hungry to see it for himself.’

‘He wasn’t the only man lured by the Promised Land.’

‘It was a dream shared by many. Thousands of men all seeking a better life, a different life, to raise their children—all the time pushing further west in a valiant attempt to tame the land and carve themselves a niche. Hundreds perished in the migration, becoming victims of the elements or at the hands of the many tribes of hostile Indians.’

‘And your mother? Did the lure of the west attract her also?’

‘No, not really. She tried telling my father that homesteading was best left to those who know how to work the land, but Father was determined to go west.’

‘And how did your father fare as a farmer?’

‘Being unskilled in agriculture, he did not fare well. The weather became his mortal enemy—and then there were the Indian raids, when livestock would disappear overnight. Lack of money was a constant problem. The prosperity he’d dreamed of always eluded him. He possessed a grim determination to survive despite the odds stacked against him—but in the end he was defeated,’ she finished quietly. ‘The Shawnee saw to that.’

‘Uncle Henry told me he was killed in an Indian raid, and that your mother was wounded,’ Alex said gently.

The light in Angelina’s eyes hardened. She seemed to withdraw into herself and her body tensed. ‘Yes. Will looked after me and took me back to Boston with my mother—but I hate to remember. On the night of the raid I believe I faced the worst that could happen to me,’ she whispered.

Having some comprehension and understanding of how desperate her plight must have been at that time, his own unhappy days as a child and the dreadful visions of his father’s final moments returned to him vividly. Alex looked at her for a long moment, his eyes soft and filled with compassion. Whatever it was that had happened to her, she still saw her ghosts—just as he did. His voice when he spoke was kind, kinder than Angelina had ever heard him use in addressing her.

‘Then we won’t speak of it again. But if you truly believe you have faced the worst that can happen to you, nothing can really be that bad again.’

Angelina raised her pain-filled eyes to his, wanting so much to believe him. ‘Do you really think so?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’

The footman returned to serve them with a lemon pudding and they continued to eat in silence until he left them alone once more. Alex watched Angelina’s unconscious grace as she ate. She looked so prim in her violet gown. Apart from her face and slender hands not an inch of flesh was exposed, and not a single hair escaped that severe plait.

In the soft light her face was like a cameo, all hollows and shadows. There was a purity about her, something so endearingly young and innocent that reminded him of a sparrow. He tried to envisage what she would look like if the little sparrow changed her plumage and became a swan, and the image that took shape in his mind was pleasing. Feeling compelled and at liberty to look his fill, he felt his heart contract, not having grasped the full reality of her beauty until that moment. She must have sensed his perusal because she suddenly raised her eyes, hot, embarrassed colour staining her cheeks as he met her gaze with a querying, uplifted brow.

‘I would be obliged if you would please stop looking at me in that way. Your critical eye pares and inspects me as if I was a body on a dissecting slab.’

‘Does it?’ Alex murmured absently, continuing to look at her, at the soft fullness of her mouth and glorious eyes.

Her flush deepened. ‘I have imperfections enough without you looking for more. Please stop it,’ she demanded quietly. ‘You are being rude.’

‘Am I?’ he said, his attention momentarily diverted from her fascinating face.

‘Yes. And if you persist I shall be forced to leave the table.’

Her words brought a slow, teasing smile to his lips and his strongly marked brows were slightly raised, his eyes suddenly glowing with humour. ‘I apologise. You cannot leave before you’ve finished your dinner. But I cannot help looking at you when you are sitting directly in my sights.’

Hot faced and perplexed, Angelina almost retorted that she was not a rabbit in the sights of his gun, but she halted herself in time. She had never known a man to be so provoking. She was suddenly shy of him. There was something in his eyes tonight that made her feel it was impossible to look at him. There was also something in his voice that brought so many new and conflicting themes in her heart and mind that she did not know how to speak to him.

The effect was a combination of fright and excitement and she must put an end to it. She was in danger of becoming hypnotised by that silken voice and those mesmerising grey eyes; the fact that he knew it, that he was deliberately using his charm to dismantle her determination to stand against him, infuriated her. As soon as she had finished her dessert she stood up.

‘Please excuse me,’ she said stiffly, making a display of folding her napkin in order to avoid his eyes. ‘I want to look in on Aunt Patience before I go to bed.’

‘Of course,’ Alex replied, rising and slowly walking round the table to stand beside her. ‘Would you like some coffee before you leave? Or perhaps you would like to stay a while longer and play a game of cards—or chess, maybe? Uncle Henry did say you play a pretty mean game.’

Meeting his gaze, Angelina felt her flesh grow warm. His nearness and the look in his eyes, which had grown darker and was far too bold to allow even a small measure of comfort, washed away any feeling of confidence. The impact of his closeness and potent masculine virility was making her feel altogether too vulnerable.

‘No—thank you. Perhaps another night.’

‘As you wish.’ Alex’s voice was as soft as silk. There were the uncertainties of innocence about her, telling him that the sudden panic in her eyes was not in the least feigned. He accompanied her to the door, opening it for her. ‘I hope you sleep well. I must warn you that the old timbers creak and groan, so don’t be alarmed if you hear anything untoward during the night. Tomorrow I will ask Mrs Morrisey to show you the house.’

Angelina felt a sudden quiver run through her as she slipped away from him, a sudden quickening within as if something came to life, something that had been asleep before. She went up the stairs in awed bewilderment, feeling his eyes burning holes into her back as she went.

Chapter Five (#ulink_dcde803f-4305-5ae2-a351-9d008b09f66e)

During her first few days at Arlington, Angelina contrived to keep out of Alex’s way as much as possible. She became a familiar and welcome sight at the stables. From Trimble, the head groom, she learned that horses were Lord Montgomery’s abiding passion. Possessing some prime horseflesh, he was immensely proud of his large stable. He was also an expert horseman, who adored his gun dogs and was passionately interested in every kind of field sport.

Arlington Hall was a complex maze of rooms and arched passageways leading into each other. A billiard room and a music salon led off from the long gallery, and the smaller rooms had been made into private sitting and dining rooms and libraries, ornate with Italian marble and Venetian glass chandeliers.

Around mid-morning she invariably found herself in the domestic quarters to partake of a cup of Mrs Hall’s delicious chocolate. Her charm and friendly, open manner had precipitated the admiration and devotion of the entire army of servants.

Angelina had never seen so much food in her life as the amount that existed in Mrs Hall’s kitchen. ‘Are all the animals eaten at the Hall reared on the estate, Mrs Hall?’

‘Why, yes—at least most of them. As you will have noticed, Lord Montgomery likes good, plain food when he’s at Arlington—none of your fancy French cooking smothered with rich sauces and the like, which he says he gets more than enough of when he’s in town. He prefers a roast or a game pie any day of the week.’

‘What? Rabbit and partridge?’

‘Aye, that’s right—although it’s a while since I made a rabbit pie. I have to wait until the gamekeepers bring me some, you see. The woods round here abound with all kind of game. I dare say it’s the same where you come from.’

‘Oh, yes. Although shooting isn’t a pastime as it is here in England. It’s a way of life and often the only means of survival.’ Suddenly Angelina was struck by an idea and her lips stretched in a wide smile. ‘I shall get something to fill your pie, Mrs Hall,’ she said, leaving the kitchen with a jaunty stride.

Mrs Hall smiled indulgently after her and did not take her seriously, but she would have been astounded if she could have seen Angelina fifteen minutes later, striding towards the woods with her rifle.