Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante

‘Nothing so dramatic—merely a mild skirmish.’

Pauline gaped, amazed at her mistress’s courage. No one ever spoke to Lord Montgomery in that tone. Bobbing a hurried curtsy she scuttled out.

‘Well?’ said Angelina, feeling strangely threatened now the closed door separated her from Pauline.

‘You left your books,’ he said, holding them out to her.

Disarmed, she was completely taken aback. ‘Oh! Thank you,’ Taking them from him, she placed them on a chair. ‘Why did you dismiss Pauline?’

‘I do not like my conversations being listened to by servants.’

‘And are we going to have a conversation, Lord Montgomery? Do you mean to tell me that you sought me out in my room for a reason other than to bring me the books I selected from the library—which I could have collected myself?’

‘Miss Hamilton, in common agreement, can we not strive to portray ourselves as being both gracious and mannerly for our uncle’s sake?’

‘A truce, you mean?’

‘Something like that.’

At first she seemed to consider his offer, but then her expression changed and she was on the defensive. ‘No. There will be no concessions. In the first place, I don’t like you.’

Alex arched his eyebrows at her frank admission. ‘And the second?’

‘Until I have an apology from you.’

‘An apology? What are you talking about?’ he asked with infuriating calm.

‘You insulted and degraded my mother. I cannot let it pass. If I were a man, I’d demand satisfaction and call you out. Believe me, I’m sorely tempted to do that anyway, but since your demise would cause Uncle Henry extreme distress, I suppose I shall just have to make do with an apology.’

Alex looked at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. The chit truly was incredible. ‘You? Shoot me?’

‘Yes. And I never miss my target.’

‘Then, faced with determination such as this, you leave me with little choice. Very well. I apologise. It was wrong of me to say what I did.’

Angelina was astonished. She hadn’t expected it would be that easy to extricate an apology from him. ‘You apologise?’

‘Of course. And consider yourself fortunate. Apologies don’t come easily to me.’

‘I gathered that.’

‘You accept it, then?’

‘Providing it isn’t lukewarm and you mean it, I will,’ Angelina replied stonily.

‘Thank you.’

‘Now you may leave,’ she told him firmly, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious.

Alex calmly ignored her and looked about him for a moment, his eyes caught by Will’s skilful carving of Mr Boone, which Angelina had placed on a table beside the bed. Every night since leaving Boston it was the last thing she looked at, and as she closed her eyes and went to sleep it made her feel less wretched and alone. With genuine interest Alex moved towards it, looking at it with admiration and the eye of a connoisseur.

‘This is a fine, interesting piece of craftsmanship—lovingly carved. Yours, I presume?’ he asked, looking at her.

‘Of course it’s mine,’ she snapped, annoyed because he showed no inclination to leave. ‘I haven’t stolen it, if that’s what you mean.’

‘That was not what I meant. I was asking you if the dog was yours—a pet, perhaps.’

Angelina felt foolish for having misunderstood his meaning. ‘Yes. A very dear friend of mine carved his likeness. He carves animals and birds and sells them to make a living—along with his beaver pelts,’ she explained, captivated by Lord Montgomery’s strong, lean fingers as they caressed the wooden object. ‘He presented me with it before I left Boston.’

‘Do you miss him?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend.’

‘Why—yes. Very much.’

‘What was the name of your friend?’

‘Will. Will Casper.’

‘And your dog?’

‘Mr Boone.’

A lazy smile spread over his face, which seemed softer now. ‘So named after Daniel Boone, the intrepid pioneer.’

Angelina was pleasantly surprised to learn that he knew something of America’s history. ‘Yes. You’ve heard of him.’

Alex nodded. ‘I’m a businessman. I make a point of keeping abreast of world news. It proves advantageous where investments are concerned. And did your dog live up to his namesake?’

‘Does. He’s a brave little thing with a heart as big as a lion.’

‘Is?’ Alex’s eyebrows snapped together as a sudden, decidedly unpleasant thought occurred to him. ‘You are not going to tell me you brought him with you—that the animal is here, in this house?’

Alex looked so horrified at the prospect of Mr Boone capering through his stately rooms that Angelina’s composure slipped a notch closer to laughter. She bit her lower lip to still the trembling as she caught his eyes. ‘You needn’t glower in that ferocious fashion, my lord. You will be relieved when I tell you that I left him in Boston with Will.’

His relief was evident. ‘Thank the Lord for that. The last thing I need right now is a dog disrupting the routine of things.’

Angelina made a pretence of looking offended. ‘I will have you know that Mr Boone is extremely well behaved and never disgraces himself. Have you an aversion to dogs, Lord Montgomery?’

‘I keep several of my own at Arlington. But they are used for hunting and well disciplined by their handlers. They are also kept outside in kennels where they belong.’

‘Yes, I expect they are,’ Angelina replied, with a cheeky impudence that Alex found utterly exhilarating. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face as his eyes locked on to hers in silent, amused communication, and he was quite entranced by the idea of sharing her humour.

He walked towards the fire where he stood, hands behind his back, staring down at the glowing heat. ‘How long did you live in Boston?’

‘About two years. We left Ohio when the Shawnee raided our settlement. They—they killed everyone—including my father,’ she told him softly, ‘and wounding my mother.’