What a Reckless Rogue Needs

by Vicky Dreiling

  Angeline couldn’t allow herself to even consider the possibility that tender feelings might develop in this marriage. She had to be pragmatic, and that meant accepting an offer of marriage that she was far from confident about, but it wasn’t as if she had better choices. That thought alone made her feel horrible, because every instinct inside of her shouted that she was selling herself for a season in London for her sister.

  God help her, she would do anything, even marry, to make sure her sister had a fairy-tale come-out ball.

  When footsteps sounded, Angeline straightened her neckline and squared her shoulders. Agnes appeared at the door. “My lady, the kitchen hearth is sound. I took the liberty of scouring the pots and pans with sand.” The scullery maid lowered her eyes. “John awaits on the drive.”

  “Thank you, Agnes,” Colin said. “Tell John we will be only a few minutes.”

  “Yes, your lordship.” She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared.

  “Angeline, is all well with you?”

  She thought he must be worried about what had transpired. “Yes, I’m well and ready to depart.” The heady sensations of his kisses and touches had worn off quickly as her worries had taken over. He’d offered marriage, the one thing she’d known could reverse all of the bad things that had happened. At first, it had seemed like a dream, but it was not. Quite possibly, it could end in a nightmare for her.

  He’d agreed to grant her more time to give her answer when the house party ended. She wondered if he was as reluctant as she was about this marriage. At least there was no question about their motives for marrying. They both knew exactly why they were doing this. But could they build a lifetime on a sham marriage?

  She would reconcile herself to the marriage, make the best of it, and be grateful. Because Providence had provided her with a chance to redeem herself—a gift to her family.

  They would marry, and she would be able to attend her sister’s debut. There would still be whispers, but once she was married to Colin, no one would dare openly cut her. The combined strength of both their families would help as well.

  Could it really be that easy? She hoped with all of her heart that it would, but only time would tell.

  Yet her thoughts were of her family, not of him. She worried that he’d made a decision based on hearing her sad tale, but he would benefit as well. God willing, he would not regret his decision. There were three weeks left for both of them to figure out if they could forge a life together, one that could bring them happiness for a lifetime.

  But would three weeks be enough?

  It was a daunting prospect. She wanted to believe, more than anything, that they would fall in love like his father and Margaret had. But she must not count on it. She’d been disappointed and humiliated once before. The scars inside her had yet to heal, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting. There would be no other opportunities.

  A voice deep inside warned her that a marriage based on winning a property and salvaging her reputation was insufficient for a lifetime, but it was more than she’d thought possible. From the moment she’d broken her engagement to Brentmoor, she’d shut off her dreams of love and forever-after happiness. Now all she hoped for was contentment.

  But would there be? No matter how kind he had been to her, she could not forget that he was a notorious rake. She’d heard ladies whispering immoderately about him in the retiring rooms at balls, and she had seen him walking out into dark gardens with scandalously dressed ladies at balls.

  Her instincts told her he was different. He’d shown sympathy for her and made her feel better about herself for refusing Brentmoor’s insistence on intimacies. But she couldn’t forget Brentmoor’s attentive concerns when she’d first met him. Colin was different. He was.

  Yet she’d had to persuade herself the same way she’d done with Brentmoor.

  After dinner that evening, the ladies had repaired to the drawing room while the men drank their port. Angeline was aghast to learn her mother and Margaret were making lists for the party they were planning to ease her back into society. She had to stop them somehow, because it might well end up in disaster.

  “Mama, Margaret, I beg you to forget this party for now. I am not ready to face society. I am simply unable to entertain the thought. Perhaps the time will come, but I am too uncomfortable with the idea right now.”

  “Angeline, by spring, you will be ready,” the duchess said.

  “Please do not move forward yet. I’m not ready for this step. I hope you understand and will abide by my wishes. It would be a mistake at this time.”

  “Of course, dear,” the marchioness said. “We’ve no intention of forcing you, but Charlotte’s letter sounded so positive.”

  “Charlotte has been a good friend to me for many years, but I believe she would counsel me to wait. I think it is for the best.”

  Margaret turned her attention to the duchess. “Perhaps we should wait. Angeline is sure to receive many invitations. It would make for an easier entry back into society.”

  They still did not understand, but she had no intention of elaborating. Her mother and Margaret were grasping at straws, and Angeline found it unbearable. Then it occurred to her that she could divert them. “Perhaps we could discuss the girls’ debuts.”

  When Penny heard mention of a debut, she and the twins left the pianoforte to join them.

  “Angeline, tell us about your debut,” Penny said.

  A lump formed in her throat. As an elder sister, she ought to have brought it up earlier, but that was before she had been afraid to encourage Penny.

  “Oh, yes, please do,” Bianca said. “I wish to hear about every moment.”

  Angeline recollected standing still in the receiving line, waiting for the first guests to arrive. Silly thoughts had flitted through her mind, and she’d had to stifle a giggle. Had she really ever been so young and naïve?

  “Tell us about your gown,” Bernadette said.

  “At first I thought it a bit plain. It was white with a high waist and made of beautiful lace. In the candlelight it was gorgeous,” she said. “The best part was that Mama relented and allowed me to have white slippers with scarlet stripes.”

  “Do you still have them?” Bianca asked.

  “They’re packed away in a trunk for safekeeping at Deerfield.”

  “Mama, will we go to London and have gowns made up by a modiste?” Bernadette said.

  Margaret smiled. “Yes, you shall have new gowns, slippers, bonnets, and stockings.”

  “We shall have to pour through all the fashion books,” Bianca said.

  “Girls, you must practice at the pianoforte, as you will be called upon to exhibit after you debut,” the duchess said. “You must attend to your dancing lessons as well.”

  “I shall probably make a cake of myself,” Bianca said.

  “We always do,” Bernadette said, laughing. “We had better pay attention to Mama’s lessons in deportment.”

  Penny hunched her shoulders. “I fear I’ll make no impression at all.”

  “We won’t let you be a wallflower,” Bernadette said.

  “Exactly,” Bianca said. “We will not let you out of our sight, unless a handsome swain asks you to dance.”

  “My palms are damp just thinking about dancing with a boy,” Penny said. “Angeline, you will be there? I cannot do this without my wonderful sister.”

  “You will do very well.” She met her mother’s eyes briefly and looked away. If she were a better daughter, she would confess today’s events to her mother. But she could not do it, because she didn’t want to raise her mother’s hopes, and if in the next three weeks, she or Colin determined that they would not suit, it would be best if their families never knew.

  The marquess finished his port and regarded his son. “You were at Sommerall today?”

  “Yes. I wish to complete my inventory of the items in the attic. I covered the few paintings I discovered and set aside those items you might find useful. If you are amenable to sending a
wagon, I’ve put items in crates that the tenants and servants might find useful.”

  The marquess arched his brows. “Well, I did not expect you to labor in the attic. Servants could have accomplished the task.”

  “They would not have known what was valuable and what was not. I found correspondence that I left on your desk. You were out shooting.”

  Wycoff narrowed his eyes. “My daughter was with you?”

  “Yes, she helped. The scullery maid attended us again.” Although Agnes had not shadowed them, he did not divulge that information. He wanted to reassure Wycoff, especially after hearing what had transpired with Brentmoor.

  Colin had intended only to give her a relatively chaste kiss, but the moment their lips met, he felt as if his blood were on fire. He imagined taking her on walks and sharing heated kisses, but he should not take advantage of her. If at the end of three weeks she changed her mind, it would prove dashed awkward when they parted ways because of the long-standing friendship of their parents.

  He turned his attention to his father. “Agnes is a resourceful servant. She doesn’t wait for orders; she makes suggestions. You might mention it to Margaret.”

  “I will,” the marquess said. “Have you decided that marriage is too high a price for Sommerall?”

  Wycoff rose. “I’ll give you privacy.”

  Colin noted Wycoff’s wan expression and slumped shoulders as he trudged out of the dining room.

  The marquess sighed. “Wycoff’s spirits plunged again after hearing Margaret and the duchess exclaiming over that letter. I mentioned to Margaret that it might be best to leave off the plans for his sake, but she was adamant that the letter proved there was hope for Angeline.”

  Colin circled the rim of his glass with his finger. He figured silence was for the best.

  “I’ve thought of telling Wycoff to make an effort to rouse himself from this melancholia.”

  “He blames himself.”

  The marquess narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Even I am not privy to the details of Angeline’s problems.”

  He’d better be careful what he said, because Angeline had spoken to him in confidence. “I assume that he does based upon his actions and his reaction to that letter Angeline received in particular.”

  “I suppose you’re correct,” the marquess said. “Now, you have not given me an answer about your intentions for Sommerall.”

  “I’ll give you my answer when the house party ends.”

  His father scoffed. “I’ll grant you the remaining three weeks to give me an answer, even though I’m fairly certain you would rather give up the property than marry.”

  “If I did not want to take possession of Sommerall, I would have told you so immediately.”

  When the duke entered the drawing room, Angeline was determined to persuade him to play chess with her. She hurried to intercept him, but her father walked past her and offered his arm to Penelope. Her father set up the board and seated her sister. Angeline trudged over to the window seat and considered quitting the drawing room, but someone would likely inquire why she was leaving, and the last thing she wanted was to attract attention.

  There was no doubt that her father had withdrawn his affection. It hurt so much. She had once been her father’s favorite, and now he ignored her. Worse, Angeline found herself jealous of her little sister. They had always had a special bond, and of course, she shouldn’t begrudge her. But her father’s rejection cut like a knife in her heart.

  A deep voice cut through her thoughts. “You look a hundred miles away.”

  She lifted her gaze to find Colin. “I suppose I am.” She didn’t want to tell him about her father. The pain was unimaginable, but how could she blame her father for being disappointed in her? No, disappointment was too weak of a word to describe what she’d done to her family.

  “You seem dispirited,” he said.

  “It will pass.” She knew it would be a long time before the aching guilt left her.

  “I wish there was something I could do to cheer you,” he said.

  “I appreciate your concern.”

  His gaze turned away from her. “Is it your father who troubles you?”

  She stiffened. “Why do you ask?”

  “He is not himself at all,” Colin said. “Have you noticed?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t want to discuss the issue now. The wounds were still too raw.

  Colin reached between them and squeezed her hand. “I know it is difficult now, but trust that everything will come about.”

  She felt his gaze upon her and looked up at him.

  “Everything will be well, Angeline.”

  She wasn’t sure if his words were a promise or simply encouragement, but tonight, she needed someone to help her believe that everything would work out for her—for both of them.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he said under his breath.

  “No, I’m not afraid of you, but I fear that at the end of the house party you will feel obliged to marry me,” she said quietly. “I beg you to be honest. I could not bear it if you felt trapped.”

  “You worry too much,” he whispered. “You look careworn.”

  “I’m a little done up tonight.” She didn’t tell him it was because she was heartbroken that her father had snubbed her once again.

  “Get some rest,” he said. “You will feel better tomorrow because of it.”

  “Thank you, Colin.” Perhaps they would be able to find happiness together, but if they were to do so, she knew it was crucial that she not compare him to Brentmoor. Colin had been honest with her about what he wanted. They both would benefit as long as they were truthful with each other.

  There had been that moment when she’d questioned his reasons for asking her to marry him, but he had been completely honest and so had she. As she wearily climbed the steps, she told herself that she must do it, despite her doubts. They would manage, and while it would never be the fairy-tale love match, it was preferable to a lonely life as a spinster.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning after breakfast, the marquess cleared his throat. “Bianca, Bernadette, your mother reported to me that the maid found bones in your room. Clearly that ugly dog has taken up residence with you. I made it clear that Hercules must stay in the kitchen until such time as a servant walks him. You have disobeyed me.”

  Colin noted his sisters’ sorrowful expressions.

  “Oh, Papa,” Bianca said. “Hercules is scared of the banging pots. He made a puddle in the kitchen.”

  “Better the kitchen than the water closet,” the marquess said.

  Colin thought his sisters were talented enough to tread the boards onstage, but of course, ladies did not flaunt themselves. Nevertheless the twins were experts at manipulating their father. Colin ought to take lessons from his wily sisters.

  “I am not finished,” the marquess said. “I have noticed bite marks on the legs of the furniture. That dog is teething on chairs that cost a fortune. Either you teach that dog not to chew the furniture or he goes out in the rubbish bin.”

  “Your father is jesting,” the marchioness said. Her attention turned to Bernadette. “Do not feed scraps to Hercules from the table. You are teaching him to be an unmannerly dog.”

  “That begs the question as to what constitutes a mannerly dog,” the marquess said.

  “One that can shake hands like Hercules,” Bernadette said. “Shake, Hercules.”

  On command the dog put his paw in her hand, and the marquess rolled his eyes.

  Everyone laughed, with the exception of Wycoff.

  Cook brought out a hamper and set it on the sideboard.

  The marquess frowned. “Colin, is it really necessary to spend every single day at Sommerall? I’m sure Angeline would prefer entertainment to working every day like a servant.”

  Colin regarded her. “I do apologize. Of course you wish to enjoy walks and drawing.”

  “No, I want to help at Sommerall,” she said. “Today I will
begin a series of sketches of how I envision the drawing room.”

  “Lady Angeline,” the marquess said, “I’m sure you are only being polite, but it is unnecessary.”

  “I am committed,” she said, “and it is something I enjoy. I insist.”

  “Angeline,” the duchess said in shocked tones.

  “It is quite all right,” Margaret said. “I’ve seen some of her sketches. Angeline is very talented.”

  “I must admit the architect who came to Worthington Abbey was very impressed,” the duchess said.

  “Mama, I’m sure he was only being polite,” Angeline said.

  “I’m sure he was being honest,” Colin said. “You are talented.”

  Her face grew warm. “I enjoy it very much, and I’m looking forward to sketching my visions of the drawing room at Sommerall.”

  The marquess turned to his son. “While Lady Angeline is slaving away with her sketches, what will you do? Nap on the sofa?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “John brought a ladder from the barn,” Colin said. “I plan to check the outside blinds. If I’m not mistaken, some of them are tangled or broken.”

  Margaret rose. “The hamper is ready and Agnes is waiting. We will have our walk, and Chadwick and Wycoff will take their mud baths.”

  “Very funny, Margaret,” the marquess said. “By the by, could you manage to lose that ugly dog during your walk?”

  “Papa, no,” Bianca cried.

  “Your father is only teasing,” Margaret said. “Chadwick, that is enough.”