The beautiful woman opposite him let her gaze turn to the window once again.
“Pierce promised me that he would tell the truth. It was a stupid thing for him to do. There was no reason to become so agitated. We were fully chaperoned when we met Lady Trenchard and her friend. Mary was with us.” Angelique gestured to her maid. “And the Cravenwoods were only a moment behind. I refer to Lord and Lady Cravenwood and their son and daughter, whom both you and Pierce know well.”
Lucas fell back in his seat.
“Bertie and Clara were there too? But why let Pierce carry on with the deception in the first place? Why didn’t you simply explain that he was joking?”
Mary interrupted indignantly.
“My lady is shy. She has not been brought up to speak her mind in front of people she doesn’t know well. It was embarrassing enough anyway to be seen by Lady Trenchard at that time in the morning. Why make the situation more excruciating for all concerned. Besides, it wasn’t as if my lady knew that she was going to become engaged to Lord Trenchard at that point in time, so the correction hardly seemed relevant. My Lady simply wanted the unfortunate meeting to be over with as quickly as possible.”
Lucas let out a grunt of understanding.
“I see your point, but that brings us back to our trip today.” He glanced out of the window, surprised to see dark clouds chasing them. “We are nearing the Red Lion now, and the evening is closing in. To turn around and return to town in the dead of night in this weather would be foolhardy.”
Angelique glanced out of the window again, a worried frown gracing her brow as lightning split the sky in the distance. She clearly recalled the energy transported in the savage streak of light.
“Yes indeed. I fear it will be foolhardy to stay out. Harold will not be pleased.”
“Neither will I be.” Mary added, her eyes fixed on the sky outside.
The thunder rumbled behind them as they drew into the inn’s forecourt, and though he was happy to have made their destination without the fear of being caught in the storm, Lucas wondered privately if the sound wasn’t an ominous warning.
Chapter Three
A Unique Sensation
Angelique Lancer undid her coat and flung it over the back of the fireside chair as she turned to her maid and laughed delightedly.
“This is so thrilling, Mary! I have never stayed in an inn before, and to make it even more exciting, I don’t believe for one moment that Lord Trenchard told my brother that was the intention.”
The fingers of lightning and rumbles of distant thunder, as the rain clouds chased them into the Red Lion, made the decision to give up all notion of returning to town easy. Now Angelique stood in the bedroom reserved by Lord Trenchard, her heart thumping wildly at the way the day had turned out.
Mary gave her customary sniff.
“If you ask me, your intended is as much of a scoundrel as your brother, though in a slightly different way.”
Angelique laughed again.
“Harold might have agreed to me marrying the man but he is going to have a fit when he realizes that I haven’t returned home for the night. It is a wonder that he hadn’t made prior enquiries as to exactly where Perrydale is situated before he let me come on this outing.” She rushed to the window, open an inch or two to freshen the humid summer evening, and pressed her hands onto the sill. She peered down into the courtyard below. Horses stomped and carriages came and went, splashing through the puddles while the latest shower pattered down around them.
Mary surveyed the clothes already hanging in the wardrobe.
“I believe his Lordship’s family have most of their interests nearer London. Perhaps your brother simply assumed the place was closer to home.” She raised her eyebrows in wonder as she moved the clothes along the rail, inspecting the lush materials and styles of the first fashion. “Lord Caruthers wasn’t wrong when he said your fiancé had chosen a selection of clothes. Why, there are no less than three day dresses and four evening gowns here, and petticoats, slips, and slippers to go with them. Gorgeous nightwear too. Such quality, and decadence!” she added as her eyes took in the near transparent undergarments. “I am not sure that his intentions for this outing are as innocent as his friend made out.” She ran her gnarled hand over the silky material before returning to admire the dresses. “It does seem a shame that we are merely at an inn this evening. I would love to show off these dresses to other ladies maids. Perhaps we will have the chance to present you properly when we reach Perrydale. Did Lord Trenchard mention the other guests by name?”
Angelique came away from the window and tested the bed. The mattress dipped only slightly, but seemed comfortable enough, and the sheets looked pristine.
“No. He hasn’t mentioned any others who would enjoy the library. I was rather surprised that there were going to be any. His close friends seem to prefer parties and routs.”
The maid set about arranging the dresser.
“Well, when you are married to the man, perhaps you will begin to like them too.” Undisguised disapproval laced the woman’s tones.
Angelique sighed and slumped onto the bed as her thoughts drifted to the dark hair and deep sapphire eyes that had mesmerized her for much of the day, instead of light brown and hazel that she had already almost forgotten.
“I am not sure that I would like them at all. From what I have heard, they are little more than a hunting ground for advantageous marriage partners”
Mary chuckled.
“And you didn’t need to attend one to find your perfect husband anyway.”
There was a short silence before Angelique spoke again.
“I don’t know that Lord Trenchard is the perfect husband for me. Though he appears to find books interesting, I fear he is not as keen on reading as he has pretended. He often loses his place in a story, and I have seen his gaze wander towards the window a little too often for comfort. I fear that I will bore him and will not make him a suitable wife.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them
Mary let out a surprised gasp.
“But he is rich, titled and has impeccable manners. And he appears to care for you.” She gestured towards the impressive array of clothes in the wardrobe.
Angelique closed her eyes briefly before rising and going to the window once again.
“He is polite at least, but a title and nice clothes are not everything, Mary. I want to see things, go to new places. Places I have read about. From the way he talks, I think that Pierce would prefer to be thrashing through hedges with the hunt and bringing down stags every day. He has often mentioned his love of riding while I have never sat a horse and don’t even own a habit.”
The maid folded a pair of silk stockings and lay them in the dresser drawer before responding.
“I think those books filled your head with nonsensical ideas. You are nearing twenty-one, my Lady. If you cry off now you might not find another so willing to take you on. It’s not as if your brother is sweetening the deal for any prospective husbands. And the name he uses!” She threw up her hands in horror. “The Peckham Pulveriser indeed! I never heard of such a title. I doubt your Harold has ever been to Peckham in his life.”
Angelique let out another sigh, her breath condensing on the rain spattered glass.
“No, probably not. Though I understand his reasons for fighting, I hate what he does, and cheating makes it worse. Poor Lord Caruthers. His nose is quite bent out of shape even though it was apparently reset.” She decided not to mention how rakish she thought the slight imperfection made the man look. “And his knuckles! All swollen and reddened. Though he hid it well, I am sure that they pain him still. If I thought it might make any difference, I would take Harold to task over his ethics. It is not as if he needs the money the fights bring him. Father left him plenty and he has the living from several estates. It is simply a cover for his weaknesses. He acts a bully, but he fared far worse than I at our father’s hand. I wonder if he is simply protecting himself with bra
vado.” She wiped the fogged window with her handkerchief and stared at the glistening droplets clinging to the outside of the pane.
It was Mary’s turn to sigh.
“Or you. I have often wondered what drives him. He used to be such a happy boy until your father let the drink rule his life. Since then I have seen Master Harold’s manner grow harder and harder, but I do not believe it is his nature to be unkind. I believe he is hiding behind this Pulveriser persona to protect not only himself, but you also. Begging your pardon for the impertinence, but your father didn’t set a very good example. Master Harold was bound to be affected. We should probably be grateful that your brother is not worse than he is now. I am only glad that he has agreed to this marriage. I thought he might object.”
Angelique pressed her forehead against the square of glass, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar scene outside. A man wandered about lighting lamps in the courtyard below.
“I confess that I was surprised at how quickly he acquiesced too, though I believe Lord Trenchard was quite determined to win my hand and persuaded him in no uncertain terms.” She still couldn’t quite believe that it had happened, but Pierce had come to her after a short if vociferous interview with Harold only two weeks previously.
Holding a kerchief to his swollen eye, Lord Trenchard had burst through the drawing room door, immediately fell onto one knee, and begged her to marry him. He boasted of braving her brother’s appalling temper, telling the man he would fight to the death if he refused to let Angelique make him the happiest of men.
Such was Pierce’s apparent fortitude even a black eye could not deter him, and with his whole body trembling with pent up determination as he asked for her hand, against her better judgement, Angelique had quickly agreed.
And now the wedding was only two short weeks away. As Harold had reminded her only that morning. Her heart thumped slowly, beating heavily beneath her breast, and her insides felt hollow. It wasn’t the feeling she had expected to have on discovering herself in love.
In love? She questioned the very idea. Wasn’t one meant to have a wildly fluttering heart? Surely there were meant to be butterflies and somersaulting fireflies in one’s stomach. Shouldn’t the pulse at the base of her throat be throbbing with desire every time she saw the man? But it wasn’t, there weren’t, and desire was the last thing on her mind whenever Pierce came calling.
Not that he was undesirable. In a comfortable, foppish kind of way. His tawny hair curled rather charmingly. His shoulders were broad and his waist didn’t bulge. His clothes were fashionable and functional. She genuinely liked the man. He occasionally made her laugh. He sometimes had excellent opinions. He had even been known to listen to some of hers. But if she were being truthful to herself, the two of them had little in common. Even his good looks were not to her taste. The thought of marrying the man, having to share a bed with him, actually made her slightly nauseous.
A movement in the courtyard below caught her attention. A tall figure came into view, the man’s long strides eating up the ground as he avoided the puddles on his way to the inn’s front door. He raised a hand to the lamplighter and stopped to speak to the man even while the raindrops spattered on his wide shoulders and sparkled in his hair.
Though she couldn’t hear his words, Angelique recognized the depth of the man’s tones without having to see his face. Something flipped in the region of her stomach. A small sensation such as she had never felt before. A clock struck somewhere outside her bedroom door. The dinner hour neared and she clearly needed some sustenance if her rumbling innards were any indication.
She heard Mary bustling behind her, mumbling something about hairpins and bothering to dress for the evening when they were going to spend it in their room anyway, but Angelique didn’t listen properly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man below. And then he stopped speaking to the lamp man and looked up. A flash of blue eyes and a wide smile had her cheeks flushing and her heart racing. She stepped back, pulling the curtain across the frame, hiding the rather impressive Lord Lucas Caruthers from view.
Lucas brushed the rain from his coat and hung it on a peg inside the inn door before raking his fingers through his damp hair. James, his butler who had travelled down earlier, appeared at his side.
“The ladies are settled, my Lord. I have arranged for their dinner to be taken in their room. I have secured you a table over here. Your dinner will be served as soon as you are ready.” The man indicated a table in an alcove at the side of the room.
Lucas did his best to hide the stab of disappointment at his butler’s news. He had rather hoped to spend the evening sitting eating a meal with the enchanting Miss Lancer. Angelique, Angel. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, and quite an unexpectedly delightful travelling companion. Not what he had expected at all from Brendon’s outrageous claims of her being a decadent lover, passionate and wild enough to rival the women of the more interesting clubs in London. But nor was she anything like he had imagined from Pierce’s more realistic, but unexciting, account of her fascination with books.
Neither description was true. Angelique Lancer clearly had hidden depths. And hidden secrets. Had Brendon or Pierce known about the abuse? If either of them did, they hadn’t mentioned it.
Frowning again, Lucas flung himself into a chair and stretched his long legs beneath the table, his mind wandering to the account of why she found books so enthralling. All the adventure and mysteries called to her, gave her a perspective that she had never experienced.
A serving girl interrupted his thoughts, giving him a willing smile and showing more than enough of her generous bosom as she placed a glass in front of him. He picked up the ale and ignored her obvious invitation. He had no interest in any other woman than the one who had beguiled him all day.
His gut twisted at the thought of Angelique never leaving Landsdowne. Of her never viewing the delightful countryside around the estate. It seemed that even the gardens had been out of her reach.
Tension stiffened his shoulders and curled in his stomach as he tried to envision a life of such constraint. What she had gone through, to protect her mother, didn’t bear thinking about. She had been a prisoner in her own home, and her brother had continued the practice since they arrived in London. But why would the man do such a thing? Was there a reason? Lucas couldn’t imagine there being one, other than a natural brotherly concern to keep his sister safe, but Harold Lancer’s idea of safe seemed to be a lot more constraining than what might be considered normal.
Lucas thought about his own sister, Daisy, and almost let out a laugh at the thought of trying to keep her indoors on a sunny day. The woman had been impossible. Even as a girl she had been highly independent, charging around the countryside on her pony. It had been a relief when the Duke of Portland had swept her off her feet, and Lucas could at last stop worrying about her. He smiled as he recalled Daisy’s excitement whenever her paramour came to tea. Lucas had feared it might never happen. But she had got over a past disappointment and Lucas had smiled at her giddy little dance, that she didn’t even know she performed, as she waited in the drawing room for her Duke.
His smile dropped suddenly. Odd comparison, but Angelique didn’t appear to be giddy, or remotely excited about the prospect of marrying Pierce. Her face didn’t flush when she mentioned him, her hands didn’t flutter to her breast. Her feet didn’t tap out an impatient rhythm, and her eyes didn’t sparkle anything like as much as Daisy’s had done at the mere mention of her fiancé.
But perhaps Angelique was happier than Lucas thought. It wasn’t as if he knew that many engaged women, or as if he knew Angelique at all. Perhaps she never became more animated about things, though her expression had brightened considerably when she spoke about seeing the countryside for the first time, and the power of the lightning.
Depression filled Lucas. He couldn’t imagine never seeing his surroundings, or going exactly where he wanted when he wanted. The very thought of being cooped up in his family home for years on end
, with only books for company, saddened him. It was no wonder that she accepted Pierce’s proposal even though she hadn’t known it was forced.
But she seemed to be more subdued about her forthcoming marriage than his sister had been. A lot more subdued. She didn’t appear to be thrilled at all, even though it would mean some kind of freedom at last. Odd when she was marrying such a catch. Pierce was not only a handsome chap, but titled and personable too. And he was rich. Lucas knew that his friend was wealthier than he let out; a guise to keep the match making mothers off his back.
Furthermore, Pierce would never make Angelique stay indoors if she didn’t want to. The man loved to be outside. Couldn’t bear to be restrained in any way. Lucas was surprised Pierce had put up with Angelique’s reading for so long.
The depression left him as another sensation suddenly swept through him. Rage! Burning rage!
God damn it! This wasn’t right. Her brother was being as dictatorial as her father. Harold might think he was doing his best for Angel by securing her a well to do spouse, but marriage to someone you didn’t love would be exchanging one prison for another. And she didn’t deserve that. She deserved to be free, to run through the countryside with the rain on her face, to travel to the places she had seen through her books.
Lucas sighed as he quelled his anger and let his imagination take flight. He could almost see her twirling around, her beautiful hair wafting as she spun in the sunshine, the layers of her gown drifting, tangling around her long, slim legs. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling, and the fragrance of black orchids filled the air as she travelled anywhere she wanted.
A Ring of Midnight Orchids: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 3) Page 4
