It was curious, Angelica decided. For two people who’d only just met, they understood each other remarkably well. And yet… “You’re mistaken. I will marry you no matter what. For my mother’s sake.”
He tilted his head. “I do not doubt it. But marrying me and actually being my wife are two very separate things.” His eyes burned with hot intensity until she felt herself scorched. He was speaking of intimacies. The sort that forged unbreakable bonds – the kind that demanded trust.
“I see.”
“I hardly think so.” He chuckled, deep in his throat. “But you will. As long as you never betray me.”
The skin at the back of Angelica’s neck prickled. Lord Sterling’s eyes had darkened, hardened as if by an unpleasant memory. Unease slithered through her, and the air around her grew cooler. A strange sense of panic started building inside her – a sudden fear of knowing too much.
But then he spoke, and it was too late for her to change her mind, to press her hand to his mouth and force him into silence, to remain oblivious.
“I loved her.” He said it as if there had been no choice. Angelica’s heart paused to absorb this before continuing its steady rhythm. “She was perfect and we were happy together. Happier than I ever expected to be. Until she died, frozen to death outside and...” The muscles in his throat flexed and strained as if he were struggling to speak.
“I’m so sorry.” Angelica waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “Surely she must have called for help.”
“There was a storm that night. No one would have heard her above the howling of the wind.”
Angelica shuddered. The image Lord Sterling evoked of his wife’s passing was thoroughly disturbing, especially in light of her own recent experiences. She swallowed. “It was the door from last night, wasn’t it? The one that shut her out in the cold?”
His expression was pulled into grim lines, his eyes a dull shade of grey. “Again, I must apologize for my reaction.”
“There’s really no need.”
He blinked, seemed to collect himself. His eyes focused on her with remarkable clarity. The air between them thickened. Her breaths came slower, harder. She parted her lips without even thinking. And then the air between them was gone, and his mouth was pressed against hers with insatiable hunger.
Surprise made her flinch and for a brief second he paused. Yes or no, he seemed to ask.
“What if someone sees?”
“No one will.” His breath whispered softly against her lips. “They’d have to enter the room completely to see this corner. And the door isn’t fully open.”
Still, she hesitated, though only for a brief second before his scent and the desperate desire to ease away his sorrow in some small way overwhelmed her. She wanted this. She wanted him. And he must have felt her compliance, for he closed the gap between them once more with a kiss that reached to the depth of her soul.
This was passion and desire – it had to be – and she was alive with it, so alive every nerve ending in her body clamored for more. Her lips parted instinctively, and he wasted no time in taking advantage. Good lord! Whoever knew it would feel so grand to be devoured? His hand slid down her back, its progress slow, assessing, gauging her willingness and her reaction.
Angelica gasped. Not because she objected to his caress, but because of the air brushing over the nape of her neck. Ice dug its way under her skin like claws trying to rake their way through her. “I…” She drew back. “Do you feel that?”
His eyebrows drew together in bewilderment. “What?”
She glanced about. The chill trickled down her spine, slowly releasing its grip. “I’m referring to the cold.”
He stared at her. “We are near the window. Perhaps you’re more sensitive to the lower temperature in this part of the room than I am.”
“Of course.” That had to be it, right? Any other explanation would border on madness. She shivered. “Perhaps I should make a habit of wearing a shawl while I’m here.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed.
His gaze drove into hers in a way that made her heart pound with longing. Something warm touched her hand, almost causing her to leap. She relaxed when she realized it was his fingers, slowly sliding over her skin in a way that pushed all else to the background. She forgot her unease and relaxed once more while allowing herself to savor his touch.
“I want you to know…” His mouth flattened in a serious manner. He swallowed in an almost awkward sort of way. “I haven’t kissed any of the others. Only you.”
It felt important. Monumentally so. Yet she still had to ask, “Why?”
“Because I don’t want them. I want you.”
Angelica’s lips parted in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be quite to frank. “You barely know me.”
“I know you’re the only woman here with whom I can see myself spending the rest of my life. Whether or not it will come to that will be determined in the coming days.”
“You already know I don’t care for Colchester Hall. What if I don’t want to live here?”
The edges around his mouth tightened and he released her hand. Stepping away from her, he watched her through narrowed eyes. “This is my ancestral home. I cannot rid myself of it simply because you wish it.”
“No. Of course you—”
“But” –he held up a hand— “I could perhaps be persuaded to spend more time in London.”
“Really?” He merely inclined his head by way of answer. Angelica bit her lip and considered the sacrifice he was ready to make. “Thank you. For everything you’re offering to do.”
He shrugged one shoulder and strolled toward the side table. She followed and watched as he poured two glasses of port, their still-full teacups on the table completely forgotten. “We’re merely trying to learn if an understanding can be reached.” He held one glass toward her, and she stepped forward to take it. “Marriage requires compromise. Don’t think I won’t ask for anything in return.”
Angelica gazed up at him. There was something mesmerizing in the way he looked at her. “Like what?” She had to know.
“I won’t endure another marriage in which my wife and I sleep apart.”
Her face heated. “Really?” The word was more of a squeak than something one might consider part of the English language.
His lips curved into the most devilish smile she’d ever seen. “I have needs, Angelica. And I will expect you to tend to them.”
Good lord, the way he said her name, like a sensual purr. And the words themselves, what they implied… It was scandalous in the extreme – he was being scandalous and… and a secret part of her deep down inside thrilled at it.
“I see I have shocked you,” he murmured. A low chuckle followed. “Sip your drink. It will help you regain your balance.”
She did as he suggested. “I am usually the one to shock others with my boldness.”
“How does it feel, having the favor returned?”
The answer crossed her lips without any thought. “Reassuring.” It was baffling, but it was the truth. “It is comforting to know what one can expect.”
“Precisely the reason why I am so partial to you.”
Unsure of what else to say, Angelica glanced at the door and…glanced at it again. A dark shadow was there, just beyond the light, and the chill that had gripped her earlier hooked its claws into her shoulders.
She gasped. “I think someone’s watching.”
“Where?”
She looked back at him and pointed. “Right there.”
“I don’t see anyone.” He crossed to the door and opened it wide, but before he reached it Angelica saw that the shadow was gone. “It was probably just a servant or one of the other guests passing by.”
“Yes,” she whispered, because to suggest anything else would only urge him to cart her off to Bedlam instead of to the altar. “You’re probably right.” She forced a smile and set her glass aside. Perhaps she was merely tired and it had been a trick of the
light. “It is getting late. I should go upstairs if I am to get ready in time for dinner.”
“By all means.” He placed his glass on the fireplace mantle and reached for her hand. “It has been a true pleasure.” Holding her gaze, he raised her hand to his lips.
Her stomach did a funny flip, and her skin turned all jittery. “Likewise,” she managed, thankfully getting the word out without it sounding too strangled. Taking a deep breath, she turned and made her way to the door on slightly wobbly legs.
“Angelica?” He halted her right before she managed to slip out of the room.
Her heart knocked against her ribs as she glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
Dark eyes met hers. “How did you like the kiss?”
She considered something proper like, “it was pleasant” or, “very much.” But she knew he liked her for her boldness and her unvarnished honesty, and if there was ever a time for both, this was it.
So she drew back her shoulders, met his gaze dead on, and smiled. “It was spectacular, my lord.”
“Randolph.” There was something hot and needy in the way he said it. “I want you to call me Randolph.”
“Very well.” Her fingers curled around the edge of the door, latching on in an effort to hold herself steady. And then she tested the name. “Randolph.” His eyes lit up, egging her on. “I hope we have a chance to do it again.”
“That can certainly be arranged.”
And because she sensed he was on the verge of stalking toward her, shutting the door, and ravaging her right there where she stood, she departed before he had the chance to do something quite so damning.
Chapter 4
Dinner that evening was a wonderful affair. Angelica could scarcely believe her eyes when she received her first plate, filled with smoked trout, neatly arranged on a bed of lettuce with dill and a twisted slice of lemon on top. She stared at the dish, then glanced toward Lord Sterling. Randolph. He listened to Lady Seraphina – or at least pretended to, for his eyes clearly rested on Angelica and the secretive smile brushing his lips was directed at her.
“How wonderful,” Rose remarked. “I love smoked trout and I dare say it’s one of your favorite dishes as well, Angelica.”
“It certainly is,” Angelica said. Her cheeks burned, but that didn’t stop her from returning Randolph’s smile. Efforts like this, she decided, had to be rewarded, no matter what.
And not just the trout was perfect. Next came oven roasted duck, accompanied by baked apples and prunes, sugar glazed potatoes and sautéed red cabbage. Angelica kept her gaze fixed on her plate this time, for she feared all the other guests would somehow see the truth in her expression the moment she looked up. Randolph was openly favoring her – courting her with grand gestures in front of the other young ladies hoping to win his attention.
It felt underhanded somehow and yet…
Good lord, the food tasted good!
“I’m so glad the cook chose to make this,” Lucy remarked. “I absolutely love duck. And it seems you do too, Angelica. The pleasure on your face is quite palpable.”
Angelica could only nod and smile and sip her wine, even as her cheeks grew hotter.
She wasn’t as surprised when the syllabub arrived for dessert as she’d been with the previous dishes, but she was equally grateful, for it tasted divine. Smooth, creamy, and just a touch tart. Exactly how she liked it.
“I might order Cook to prepare this every day from now on,” Randolph murmured close to her ear when they filed out of the dining room later. As host, he’d stood by the door, allowing all the ladies to precede him, and since she’d been seated furthest from him, Angelica was the last to exit. He pressed his palm to her lower back while directing her into the parlor, infusing her with his heat and forcing a series of improper tingles to dart across her skin. “As long as there are no other men about to watch you eat.”
She wasn’t sure she understood his meaning. It seemed most peculiar, but his voice and his tone suggested he’d just alluded to something wicked or, at the very least, slightly naughty, though she’d no idea how food might factor in.
“It was delicious,” she told him, not only because it was true but because his effort deserved to be acknowledged. “Thank you.”
He merely bowed his head, then strode away to engage Miss Stevens in conversation. Angelica watched him go. While he might have singled her out for the meal, he was obviously aware that it would be bad form to make her the sole recipient of his attention. She smiled. He behaved like the perfect host, and in spite of their altercation last night, she was warming to him in a way she hadn’t expected. Of course, the kiss might have helped as well in that regard. The mere memory of it had the ability to leave her feeling flummoxed.
Angelica searched the room for Lucy and started in her direction as soon as she spotted her. But she’d barely taken two steps before something soft and cold breezed across her shoulders. She flinched. It was almost as if some invisible person breathed cold air on her skin.
Stiffening, Angelica kept on moving. That rustling sound she’d heard before snuck up behind her, like hollow whispers demanding attention.
She turned.
Stared back.
Of course there was nothing.
There never was.
Swallowing hard, she told herself for what had to be the hundredth time that she was being silly. In such an old house, creaky floors and odd sounds were bound to occur. And just because she couldn’t locate the draft, didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
“Are you all right?”
Angelica jumped, spun around, and pressed her palm to her breast when she spotted Lucy. “Heavens, you nearly startled the life out of me.”
Lucy frowned. “You look awfully pale. Come, let’s have some hot tea over there in the corner.” They approached the small sofa they’d occupied the previous evening and helped themselves to the tea that sat waiting on the low oval table. “You’ve been very jumpy all day. And frowny. Is something amiss?”
“No, no.” Angelica sipped her tea. She willed her heart to slow but it kept pounding. And an awful sensation twisted deep in her belly – a queasiness that kept her on edge.
“Are you certain?” Lucy watched her too closely for comfort. “Is it Lord Sterling? Did he upset you somehow?”
Yes.
And no.
He’d frightened her last night and then today he’d swept her off her feet. Had any other woman in history ever been courted by a more contradictory man? No one confused her more, and nothing concerned her as much as the eeriness lurking within the walls of Colchester Hall. It seemed almost as if a presence existed – one she could not see or accurately define. But she could feel it, and it made her want to leave. Except she didn’t have the heart to distress her mother. And at the same time, she was starting to believe she and Randolph could be happy together if they tried.
Did she really want to give up her chance of that just because his home made her feel uneasy?
“It’s not Lord Sterling.” His anger with her made sense. She shook her head, drank some more tea. She surveyed the room, then stopped when her gaze found Mrs. Essex. She stood near Randolph, issuing instructions to one of the maids, it seemed. Her gaze shifted and her cool blue eyes met Angelica’s. The perfectly lovely smile she always wore materialized on her face. Angelica’s skin pricked. “It’s something else. Something’s not right.”
“What?”
Mrs. Essex stepped closer to Randolph and dipped her head toward him. They exchanged a few more words as a master and housekeeper might need to do, but there was a sense of familiarity between them that felt entirely wrong.
An ugly sensation flowed through Angelica’s body. It slithered and stretched until it encompassed her heart and caused a sharp pang. She turned to Lucy with a start.
“Have you visited the gallery?”
Lucy blinked. “No.”
“Would you like to?”
“Now?”
Angelica nodded. Sh
e wanted to leave this room and the nattering women all vying for Randolph’s attention. She wished to forget Mrs. Essex existed and that she possessed the power to make her wonder and imagine the worst sort of things until she felt sick. But most of all, she had an unsettling urgency to see a particular portrait.
“Would you please slow down?” Lucy panted, clinging to the banister as they reached the top of the stairs. Their bedchambers were to the left, Randolph’s somewhere off to the right, and the gallery…
“This way.” Angelica hastened along the walkway bordering the perimeter of the stairwell. “It must be over here somewhere, toward the front of the house.”
It was almost as if she were being pulled toward her destination. She stepped through a tall double door and went utterly still. This was it and for some strange reason she couldn’t quite explain, the space demanded reverence.
Lucy must have felt it too, for she did not utter a word when she entered. She just sighed, ever so softly, and followed Angelica down the long row of Sterling family portraits. Until they reached the end.
Angelica stared at the wall in disappointed silence. “It isn’t here. The portrait of Lady Sterling should be right there.” She pointed to the vacant spot in case Lucy needed explanation.
“Perhaps Lord Sterling found it too painful to look at and had it removed?”
Angelica sighed. “It’s possible.” For some peculiar reason she’d needed to see it. She couldn’t explain why. It made no sense really, unless there was something…some indefinable manifestation beyond comprehension.
She dared not imagine, but what if the shift in the air and the cries for help had been no illusion, what if the shadows that seemed to flicker at the edge of her vision were really there? What if…
She sucked in a breath as the temperature dropped. The light from the wall sconces sputtered. A lonely wail clutched at her heart and stiffened her limbs.
The Secrets of Colchester Hall: A Gothic Regency Romance Page 5
