The Secrets of Colchester Hall: A Gothic Regency Romance

by Sophie Barnes

  Mrs. Essex frowned and tried to look past her. “Was someone chasing you?”

  Angelica stared back, then blinked. “No.” But she wasn’t entirely sure. She’d felt something awful. Something not of this world. Or perhaps it was once again her overactive imagination playing tricks on her mind. She wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.

  Mrs. Essex smiled with an almost irritating degree of pleasantness. “Why don’t you go downstairs and enjoy a good breakfast. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a hot cup of tea.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Essex’s smile widened as she stepped aside so Angelica could pass. There was something about this woman – something distinctly unsettling. Angelica’s stomach clenched as she walked away from her, not on account of fear this time but because of another feeling she couldn’t quite place. It only worsened when, upon reaching the foyer, she looked up to find Mrs. Essex still there. The woman watched her with that pleasant smile of hers, though there was now a pensiveness to her expression.

  Shuddering, Angelica made her way to the dining room where breakfast was already underway. It seemed she was the last to arrive. “Good morning,” she said, deliberately keeping her gaze from Lord Sterling as she went to fill a plate for herself at the side table.

  “I’m sorry I came down without you,” Rose said. She’d brought her plate over for a refill of bacon, for which she harbored a particular fondness. “But I thought it best to let you rest.”

  “It’s quite all right, Mama,” Angelica assured her while wondering whether to try the strawberry jam or the peach preserves. “How did you sleep?”

  “Very well. I went up shortly after you and fell asleep almost instantly. How about you?”

  “Fine.” Angelica spooned some peach preserves onto her plate.

  “Are you sure?” Rose was definitely frowning based on the tone of her voice. “You don’t sound like your usual cheery self.”

  “I had a bad dream. That’s all. Nothing a hearty breakfast and a cup of hot tea can’t fix.”

  “Not to mention the attentions of our handsome host. Don’t think I didn’t notice you were the only lady with whom he took a turn of the parlor last night.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Angelica whispered.

  Rose tilted her head and gave her a don’t-be-silly look. “It means he singled you out.”

  “Perhaps,” Angelica allowed. But she was fairly certain she’d bungled whatever chance she’d had of him choosing her. First, by offending him and second, by enraging him to the point where he’d appeared ready to do serious violence. “But what if I don’t want him?”

  Her mother blanched. “Don’t even jest about such a thing. We need this match, Angelica. You need it.” Rose’s lips quivered ever so slightly at the corners. “I didn’t want to worry you but my funds are limited. Bloomfield has not been as generous as I’d have hoped, and as a result, I may lose the house.”

  Angelica’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “The many expenses left me no choice but to borrow against it.”

  “You never said a word.” The modest townhouse with its prestigious address on Berkley Square had been purchased by Angelica’s father when her oldest sister, Stephanie, was born. The purpose had been to create a cozier family home than the grand Bloomfield House manor on the edge of Hyde Park would allow. In his will, Angelica’s father had bequeathed the property to his wife. It was Angelica’s childhood home – the house in which she’d always lived – and the thought of losing it because her father’s cousin was being tight fisted made her feel ill.

  “Come. Let us sit down before we attract too much attention.”

  Angelica couldn’t move. Her mother had just dropped a cannonball on her head, yet she wanted to sit down and eat as if all was normal? “We need to discuss this, Mama. Surely my sisters can help?”

  “They already have.”

  And she refused to ask them for further assistance? “But even if I marry well, there’s no guarantee my husband will—”

  “No,” Rose said. She looked somewhat piqued. “I would never expect him to, nor would I want to be anyone’s burden. What I am saying is that I may have to relocate to something significantly smaller.”

  Understanding dawned. Her mother feared her financial straits would force her to move to a place where there wouldn’t be room for her unmarried daughter. Angelica instinctively glanced toward Lord Sterling, who made no effort to hide the fact that he was watching her with keen interest. Her heart quickened a little and she tightened her grip on her plate. How could she possibly marry a man who was capable of such forceful anger?

  “Come,” her mother insisted once more, and this time she walked away, returning to the table without waiting for Angelica to follow.

  Angelica dropped her gaze to her plate. All she wanted was to toss it against the wall in despair, but that would be wasteful, not to mention ill-bred, and she actually was quite hungry. So she clenched her jaw and went to sit beside Miss Chesterfield since all the other seats were already taken. It was just as well. Lucy would only want to talk and right now that was the last thing Angelica felt like doing.

  Instead, she ate while pondering what her mother had told her.

  Having finished his food a while ago, Randolph enjoyed his morning coffee. He tried to engage the women seated closest to him in conversation, though not without keeping a constant eye on Lady Angelica. Her face had been drawn when she’d entered the room. Now, after speaking with her mother, concern strained her features. And she was making a very deliberate effort to keep from looking at him. Really, he had to apologize for his behavior last night. After all, his intention was to woo her, not frighten her away.

  “Perhaps you would like to know the schedule for the coming week?” He wasn’t foolish enough to invite six young ladies to his home with no plan to entertain them. All directed their gazes at him, chaperones included. Except Lady Angelica, whose attention remained fixed on the contents of her teacup. “Today I’ll be spending a private hour with each of you so we can improve our acquaintance.”

  In a way he dreaded it, for he knew at least two of the candidates would have little to say. At least not enough to fill a whole hour. He also wasn’t sure there was much point to the effort when only Lady Angelica held his interest. Still, they’d all come a long way for his consideration and deserved to be given a chance.

  “The rain has ceased and if the weather stays dry we shall go for a walk tomorrow. If it’s not too cold, we can even enjoy a picnic. Then on Wednesday, we shall go to the village. There’s a lovely little teashop and a haberdashery where you may find ribbons and lace to your hearts’ content. Friday is set aside for games, including a treasure hunt Mrs. Essex has promised she’ll arrange.” This was met with particular murmurs of excitement and even a quick glance from Lady Angelica. Randolph smiled. “On Saturday, I shall host a ball – the neighboring gentry have already been invited. And on Sunday I shall ask one of you to stay on an extra week, at the end of which I will propose.”

  There were several pink cheeks after this declaration and even a few low chuckles and self-conscious smiles. Randolph’s only interest was in Lady Angelica’s response. She neither smiled nor blushed but rather bit her lip and frowned harder. And then she looked at him, her gaze locking with his in a hard stare comprised of sheer determination.

  His chest tightened and his heart – that part of him that scarcely knew how to function any more – slumped. It was the only way he could think of describing the overwhelming disappointed that filled him. Because he wanted…he wanted…

  Oh, hell.

  He wanted her to truly want him, not just because of his title or because she needed to marry, but because thinking of him as her husband felt right – because she was drawn to him. God, they scarcely knew each other, had only just met the previous day. It was absurd of him to have such a yearning, yet it couldn’t be helped. He wanted more from Lady Angelica than from the rest.
r />   Idiot.

  Tightening his jaw, he addressed Lady Seraphina. “Would you be kind enough to meet me in the green parlor in half an hour?”

  “I’d be delighted.” She practically glowed with the pleasure of being the first he’d selected to join him. Little did she know that he’d merely done it in order to get her out of the way as quickly as possible.

  With nothing left to say, Randolph stood, excused himself, and left the dining room. Six hours later, with only an hour’s reprieve during luncheon, he was almost ready to hang himself from the rafters in the attic. Lady Seraphina had shown no interest in him at all, except when it came to inquiring about his properties, the number of carriages he owned, and how much time he spent in London. Everything else she said pertained either to herself, her father’s magnificent title, or her family’s close connection to the king.

  And then there were Miss Stevens, Miss Chesterfield, and Miss St. James who all seemed to blend into one big mass of blandness. It had been a chore getting any of them to say much of anything. Miss St. James had been especially withdrawn. She had not opened up as her chaperone had assured him she would. Instead, she’d kept her gaze averted from his while offering nods and headshakes by way of response. If he asked a question that demanded more, she’d wait an unbearable ten seconds before mumbling something he couldn’t understand.

  So it had been a delightful surprise when Miss Harlow, though somewhat soft spoken and timid, had made a couple of jokes and proven herself to be more than he’d expected. She even answered every question he’d prepared to perfection, proving herself to be, on paper at least, an excellent choice.

  “Thank you for an entertaining discussion,” he told her once their time was up. “It has been most enlightening.”

  She smiled prettily. Really, there was something beguiling about her he’d not noticed before – perhaps in her eyes or the curve of her mouth? Not that she compared with Lady Angelica, whose looks, though not stunning by any means, captivated him in an entirely different way. Plain and simple, he found her to be incredibly attractive, not just physically, but…

  Well, it was her personality really.

  “Likewise,” Miss Harlow told him. She seemed to consider the partially open door leading out to the hallway. There was a sense of hesitance about her – an indecision of sorts – until she suddenly met his gaze with a forthrightness he would not have thought her capable of. “Most men would have chosen an entirely different group of candidates.” She didn’t sound accusatory, just as if she were making a clear observation.

  Randolph couldn’t disagree. He certainly wasn’t about to argue her point since that would most likely insult her intelligence. So he chose to say nothing as they stood across from each other in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though he did feel as if she were taking his measure.

  “Shall I send Lady Angelica in?” she eventually asked. “I believe she is the last to enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

  He almost laughed, because he was almost certain Lady Angelica wouldn’t consider it a pleasure, though he definitely meant to convince her otherwise. “Please do.”

  Miss Harlow gave a small nod. She moved as if to exit the room, and he almost turned away to prepare himself for Lady Angelica’s arrival. But Miss Harlow suddenly stopped. It seemed she had one more thing to say. “It is often helpful to be faced with undesirable options, for it tends to make the obvious choice so much clearer.”

  She was gone before he was able to respond. Her insight had literally stripped him of words, for it was quite unexpected, not only because it had come from a woman who, while proving to be a better conversationalist than Miss St. James, was still a hesitant speaker, but because he was sure the choice she referred to was someone besides herself.

  Randolph blinked. Miss Harlow might not be for him, but she was certainly a woman he could respect and admire. And then all thought of her vanished from his mind as Lady Angelica entered the room. Her hands were clasped before her, and she appeared apprehensive in a way that unnerved him. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable in his presence or for her to look so unlike the smiling woman with whom he’d conversed last night. He wanted her as blunt as she had been then, for it had occurred to him that while she’d managed to ruffle his feathers, only someone truly honest would speak as candidly as she had done, and this was something he truly valued.

  “Would you care for some tea while we talk?” He gestured toward the sofa, hoping she’d choose it in favor of the armchair so he might sit beside her.

  She glanced over her shoulder and shivered. Not a good sign.

  But then she gave a small nod. “Tea would be nice.”

  A rustling sound whispered close to Angelica’s ear, causing her to glance back as she’d done on countless occasions that morning. Of course nothing was there. She knew before she looked, yet she still couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched from a corner – just off to one side where her gaze didn’t reach. Shivering, she accepted Lord Sterling’s offer of tea. Anything to take her mind off the strange sensations following her wherever she went in this house.

  Lord Sterling rang for a maid, who brought a fresh pot and cups to replace the ones he and Lucy had used. Angelica took a deep breath and approached the seating arrangement, electing to sit in the armchair. Lord Sterling appeared to ponder her choice for a moment, then lowered himself to the spot on the sofa closest to her.

  “I realize you must have had enough tea today to last you a lifetime,” she said since she was the only woman present and therefor ought to pour, “but would you care for another?”

  When he didn’t respond, she glanced at him more directly than she had all day. His mouth tilted, the edge of his lips drawing up to form a crooked sort of smile. “I would love one,” he murmured, just low enough for his voice to create a vibration within her. “Thank you.”

  Angelica swallowed. Was her heart truly fluttering now and why oh why did she have to look at him when all that did was muddle her head? This was the last reaction she wanted toward a man who’d yelled at her in anger and given her arm a dark bruise.

  Dropping her gaze to the teapot, she took a calming breath and filled both cups. “You don’t seem like the milk or sugar sort. Correct?”

  “Indeed.” He raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure how she knew this without looking at him, but she did, perhaps because of his tone. “An impressive deduction.”

  The air shifted around her shoulders – there was that rustling noise once more. Angelica forced herself to stay still, to not look over her shoulder, for she knew she’d find nothing there. So she reached for her cup and cradled it between her hands. It would still be too hot to drink, but the warmth offered comfort.

  “I, um…” Lord Sterling cleared his throat. A pause followed. Angelica reluctantly looked up. “I wish to apologize to you for last night.”

  It wasn’t the color of his eyes that spoke to her, but the earnest need for understanding and forgiveness they conveyed. “It was wrong of me to thwart your wishes.”

  “Nevertheless, I should have been kinder. More gentle.” The edges of his mouth tightened as if with discomfort. “It is not in my nature to hurt women. I’m not that sort of man.”

  “I know.” She couldn’t explain how she knew this, but she did. “You were upset, not so much by my presence but, I imagine, by what I reminded you of.”

  He closed his eyes. “Yes.” Barely a whisper, but enough to confirm what she’d started suspecting.

  “Will you tell me about your wife?”

  “Will you tell me what your mother said to you at breakfast this morning?” he countered.

  She pressed her lips together and frowned. “I do not wish to marry you.”

  There she went again, speaking her mind with no care for who she stampeded in the process. He opened his mouth as if to comment. Instead, he just sat there, staring at her as if she were the strangest creature he’d ever seen.

  “In truth, I’ve no desire to
marry anyone,” she felt compelled to add. The additional discussions she’d had with her mother after breakfast had, however, forced Angelica to view her situation with increased clarity. And since she didn’t want to be selfish or cause her mother additional worry, she hadn’t much choice.

  “But,” she told him carefully, “the time has come for me to forget my own wants and do my duty instead. I’m sure it’s not what you’re hoping to hear but I am a practical woman. I cannot pretend I’ve been swept off my feet unless that is how I actually feel.”

  “Good.”

  It was her turn to stare at him. “Good?”

  “I don’t care for pretense. Honesty and straightforwardness are far more desirable.”

  She gave him a slow nod. “Then I should also tell you that I’ll expect my husband to help support my mother. She could lose her London home and I…I just cannot bear to—”

  “Angelica.” His voice was warm, but firm. Reassuring. “You mustn’t concern yourself about that. If we marry, I will guarantee your mother’s wellbeing.”

  “You would pay for her house?”

  “As long as you never betray me, I will do all I can to keep you happy.” He stood, quite suddenly and offered her his hand. “Will you accompany me over there to that window?”

  She thought of saying no, then realized she wanted to go with him.

  So she placed her hand in his and immediately sucked in a breath as a shock of awareness surged up her arm.

  “Come,” he urged, as if nothing untoward had happened.

  She stood and together they crossed the floor, though not without her being acutely aware of his warmth, the enticing scent of bergamot that clung to his clothes and just…him.

  Angelica’s pulse quickened.

  “I believe it is my turn to be honest with you.” Lord Sterling still held her hand yet she felt no compulsion to pull away. Indeed, she liked feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. There was a rightness to it that defied explanation. “Ordinarily, I would refuse to speak of Katrina. In fact, I have not uttered her name since the day she died. But there’s a genuine quality to you that tells me you’ll never be my wife unless I tell you exactly what happened.”