Angel Of Windword

by Maggie Dove

  “Where is she?” Nicholas asked flatly.

  “Riding,” Jean-Claude replied, clearing his throat with a nervous little cough. “My lord, she’s gone riding as she does every morning. She’ll be back soon.”

  Eager to be on his way, Nicholas did not want to spend another hour at Château Beauvisage. “Did she not know that she was to join me for breakfast? I find it hard to believe that this is the second meal that I share with you and she’s still not here. Tell me, does she eat and sleep in this house?”

  “Please be patient with her, m’lord,” Pierre urged. “Ever since we told her that you were coming, she has not been herself.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Nicholas retorted with a wry grin. “I, too, am restless this morning,” he lied. “I’m eager to take a bride.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened as if she were astonished by his revelation. “Vraiment?” she asked incredulously. “But I have it on good authority that you have shied away from marriage.”

  “It’s time to beget heirs, but only if I approve of the mademoiselle,” Nicholas replied tonelessly, thinking the woman awfully impertinent. “The marriage will only take place if I want to take her as my wife. The venture is of no consequence to me.”

  Victoria tossed her head back with a scoffing chuckle. “Ah, monsieur. When you hear what I have to say, I’m certain the venture will no longer be inconsequential to you. And, I’m afraid, you will no doubt be taken by Angelique. You see, my stepdaughter is quite fetching. There is no question in my mind that you will want her.”

  “Madame, if I should decide I do not want her, can she not marry another? Someone willing to invest her inheritance in the merger?”

  “Lord Kent,” Victoria spoke intently, “your father and I have decided to merge our fortunes and our families together for the purpose of setting up banks throughout the world. We will become one of the most powerful families ever.”

  Her haughty face flushed with excitement, Victoria went on, “My late husband’s estate has been equally divided between his daughter and myself. Angelique’s share has been put in trust until she becomes thirty or until she marries someone approved by me. We need Angelique’s share, my lord, and we simply cannot afford to wait until she turns thirty. When the marriage takes place then, and only then, will we be able to combine all of our resources to start this wonderful enterprise. Ah, the Bank of Kent. It does have a nice ring.”

  “I’m well aware of the venture, madame. You know damned well that is not what I am asking,” Nicholas snapped, beginning to lose his patience.

  Victoria glared at his tone. “My lord, I know that you are a wealthy man in your own right, but are you aware that your father has risked his entire fortune and will lose everything if this merger does not take place? Are you aware that your mother and sister will be left penniless if we do not secure Angelique’s inheritance?”

  “My mother and sister are my concern. You have said so yourself, madame. I am a wealthy man. I would provide for them.”

  “Oui, but what of your father’s pride? He would be ruined. A broken man having to depend on his son’s generosity for the rest of his life. The earl would be crushed. A man his age, I do not doubt it will cost him his life. Are you inclined to place your trust and your family’s fate on the whims of another? What guarantee would you have that Angelique’s future husband would be willing to invest in our merger?”

  None, damn it! thought Nicholas. He believed his father had been exaggerating when he said he would lose everything. The Montclair bitch was right. Last night, he had wanted to kill the little French brat; this morning, he had wanted retribution from her for her insults; right now, revenge was no longer an issue. Although sweet, it was of no consequence one way or the other. The Beauvisage chit and her young lover no longer mattered. But his father’s welfare mattered—it mattered greatly.

  To his total dismay, Nicholas knew there was no other way. He could not trust Angelique’s blubbering beau with his family’s fate. Bloody hell! He knew he had no other choice but to take the insolent brat as his wife.

  “The timing could not be better for establishing the Bank of Kent. We are intent on taking advantage of England’s opulence at the moment. Ah, with so many nouveau riche industrialists wanting to invest their money in different types of ventures. I’m positive many will invest in our banks,” Victoria hooted triumphantly.

  For almost an hour, she illuminated her audience with the details of the lucrative merger. “Investments are at a … oh, Lord Kent, I almost forgot! I got word this morning. Your father is on his way to London to meet with the lawyers as we speak. He will not be returning to Windword Hall. Instead, he shall stay in London and arrange for the opening of our London branch. Lady Marguerite and Lady Anna will join Edmund shortly thereafter to partake of the London season.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No, Lady Clarissa shall remain at Windword Hall during the summer. According to the earl’s communiqué, your mother has tried to convince her to go to London for the season, but she insists on staying behind.”

  “Who is Clarissa?” asked Jean-Claude. “I hear the season in London is très fantastique. Why would anyone want to miss it?”

  Nicholas downed the last drop of café au lait, thinking if they continued to serve meals like these, he might never wish to leave France. “Clarissa is my brother’s widow,” he replied, as he took the last bite of a strawberry crêpe, and wiped fresh whipped cream from his lips with a napkin.

  Victoria continued to carry the conversation for the remainder of the meal. She tried to be charming. But this woman did not charm him. As he watched her greedily consume her food, Nicholas felt queasy. Madame Montclair reminded him of a ferocious she-wolf waiting for its prey. He couldn’t wait to be out of her sight knowing that he was just that—her prey.

  Suddenly Victoria cried out most disagreeably, “Phillipe!” She proceeded to reprimand the servant for not clearing the table quickly enough. “How many times must I tell you that as soon as I finish what is on my plate, you are to take it out of my sight!”

  Nicholas looked long and hard at the woman before him. God, he disliked her. In the very short time he had known this woman, he was certain life with her would be unbearable. He thought of his bride-to-be and wondered if maybe the two were one of a kind. No, he mused, recalling Angelique’s angry words in the courtyard and her fury toward her stepmother. The girl must have suffered at this woman’s hands. It must have been very difficult to grow up with this witch. They are different. Just as conniving, but somehow different. At least he hoped so.

  Victoria turned back to Nicholas, not caring if the servant heard, and laughed mockingly. “I’m sorry for my outburst, but sometimes I wonder on the practicality of having these fools in my employ.” She winked at Nicholas, as if they shared something in common. “Don’t you agree, m’lord? It is so difficult to find decent help anymore. The man is a fool … a simpleton.”

  Jean-Claude and Pierre both snapped, “Maman!” They looked mortified, as they watched the servant bow his head and run back to the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

  “Madame, judging by what I have just witnessed, it is decent masters who are hard to find these days,” Nicholas commented as if the answer were obvious.

  “Well!” Victoria gasped, pressing her hand to her chest as though she were going to suffer a sudden heart attack. Mustering as much dignity as possible, she stood up to leave the table. “Excusez-moi. I am needed elsewhere.” With cold eyes and a fictitious smile, she turned to go and unexpectedly bumped into poor Phillipe who had just come out of the kitchen and was again attempting to clear the table.

  Dishes flew in the air and crashed to the floor. Shattered china and crystal lay all around them while the terrified servant used a napkin to wipe traces of gooey orange marmalade that dripped from his mistress’ hair.

  “Maman!” The brothers gaped in unison. Suddenly, they burst out laughing. With tears in their eyes, they tried to compose
themselves, but they took one look at Victoria’s furious face and again roared with laughter. She gave her back to them and stormed out of the room and still their laughter did not subside.

  Nicholas spoke over his shoulder as he got up from the table and went to the door, “I wonder what got her goose up?”

  The brothers burst out with renewed laughter at Nicholas’s words.

  Jean-Claude managed between chortles, “My lord, I can assure you, the Loire has never seen such sparks.”

  The Loire has seen nothing yet, Nicholas predicted sullenly as he strode to the stables. Soon he would meet his future wife. He was in no mood to court a spoiled little French girl with stars in her eyes and a damned fool in her heart—much less sweep the dreadful chit off her feet. Damned Julian Beauvisage and his bloody will. Damned his father for putting him in this predicament. But most of all, damned Angelique Beauvisage for being so beautiful … and yet so deceptive.

  * * * *

  Angelique purposely took her time coming back from the Bertrand estate. She rode long and hard, making several stops along the way to postpone the upcoming charade. Hours after her morning meeting with Henri, she finally arrived at the château and went straight to the stables.

  Out of breath from the exhilarating ride, she pushed back a few disheveled curls from her face and handed Champagne to the stable lad. “Marcus, I’m afraid I’ve exhausted Champagne. Please see to her.”

  “Oui, mademoiselle. The horse looks tired, but it will survive. However, I’m not so certain about you.” The groom warned her, “Madame has been out here twice looking for you. Her face was red with fury, her nostrils were flaring! I defended you, mademoiselle. Really, I did,” he emphasized, as he nervously looked over his shoulder for any sign of Victoria, his actions making the gallant words he had just spoken and his attempt at bravado seem meaningless.

  Smiling at the cowardly groom, Angelique quickly turned to leave and did not see the stranger as he entered the stables. She ran straight into his arms and would have fallen if the man had not caught her in his strong embrace.

  A clean, manly scent invaded her senses as she looked up to face him and stared into the deepest shade of blue eyes she had ever seen. “Excusez-moi. I did not see where …” she half-uttered, catching her breath. She was unable to finish the sentence. She tried again, but the words would not come. Stupefied, she stood, completely taken aback with the man smiling down at her.

  Mon Dieu, it could not be. But it was. Who else could it be but Kent? There had been no time for introductions, but somehow she knew this stranger was her husband-to-be. She knew it just as she knew she was standing there gawking like a complete fool.

  Angelique knew she should disengage herself from his firm grasp, but her body would not budge. Tante Mattie had not exaggerated. The man looked so ruggedly strong and powerful in his brown riding breeches that her mouth became dry at the mere sight of him. Hard as stone, the man towered above her. Without thinking, she stared at his half-opened shirt. She could hear the strong, steady beating of his heart beneath his muscled chest as his sinewy arms held her close. She could feel his firm, hard thighs pressed against her.

  Her gaze traveled to his full, sensuous lips. Swallowing hard, she licked her lips, puzzled at the sudden, knowing smile he gave her and the tightening of his embrace. But before she had a chance to combat his brazenness, he gathered her even closer into his arms.

  “Unhand me at once, monsieur!” Angelique demanded, jolting back with incredulous indignation. “How dare you take such liberties?” she hissed, raising her hand to slap his face.

  Kent did not flinch as he caught her hand in the air. “What a fiery little wench you are. I like that.”

  “I don’t care what you like, monsieur. How dare you?” she repeated, stunned.

  “Dare what?” His brows lifted mockingly. “What’s the matter, mademoiselle? You act as though I tore your clothes off, threw you down on the hay and bedded you as if you were a common strumpet. Weren’t you falling?” he asked evenly. “I was just holding you up.”

  His voice was deep, smooth as satin. Tante Mattie was right about that, too. Forcing herself to concentrate on his blatant familiarity with her person, she retorted icily, “You were doing much more than that, monsieur. Let me warn you. I do not take kindly to such brazen behavior.”

  “Brazen behavior?” A sparkle of mischief touched his eyes, and his lips curved roguishly into a grin. “In less than a month, we shall marry. Between now and then, I suggest you get used to me. I took no liberties. Forgive me if I offended you in any way.”

  The man is not the least bit sorry! Angelique thought, irked by the amusement in his eyes and the teasing grin on the lips. Suddenly, she knew why he was considered a rake amongst his peers. “I do not find this amusing, monsieur. I don’t care for what you are thinking,” she flared. “I shall have to kill you if you put your hands on me again. Is that understood?”

  “Perfectly, mademoiselle.”

  Highly pleased with herself for having put him in his place, Angelique nodded firmly. “Good. We shall speak of it no more, m’lord.”

  Nicholas brought her hand slowly to his lips and kissed it. Then, to her disbelief, he said, “Don’t look so triumphant, little one. Next time you fall, I’ll act appropriately and keep my hands off you.” His eyes never leaving hers, he added, “I was beginning to think we would never meet. Tell me, Angelique, you haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”

  Angelique felt her cheeks warm. Why was he staring at her that way? He seemed to take pleasure in teasing her. The feel of his warm lips on her skin made her head swim. The coaxing of his deep, husky voice sent shivers through her body. Her heart was beating fast and irregular. She wanted him to let go of her hand. Yet she could not move. As before, she stood mesmerized, captivated by his dark, chiseled features. Damn him. The man was becoming increasingly impertinent by the moment and still he fascinated her.

  “Have you?” he repeated.

  Lost within his dark blue gaze, she heard herself say, “Have I what, monsieur?”

  “Have you been avoiding me, Angelique?”

  “Oui,” she sighed.

  The deep chuckles that erupted from him completely took her by surprise, and Angelique suddenly realized what she had just admitted to him. Mortified, she exclaimed, “I meant no, I’ve not been avoiding you. Quite the contrary, I have been anxious to get this over with.”

  Again, Nicholas chuckled deeply. “Have you now?”

  Frustrated at her own stupidity, Angelique knew she must compose herself. But the more she looked at him, the more unsettled she became. Mon Dieu, she needed to get out of there. His nearness was intoxicating. She had been prepared to pretend the willing fiancée. But never in her wildest dreams, had she been prepared for the tremendous impact this man’s physical appearance had made on her today. It was all she could do to suppress the strange, awkward tingling inside her.

  Trying to sound as gracious as possible under the circumstances, she insisted, her voice a pitch too cheery.

  “Monsieur, it is time you went on your morning ride. I’m afraid if you wait too much longer, the sun will be too warm.”

  She called the groom over and asked him to prepare a horse for Nicholas to ride. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to accompany you, m’lord. But as you can see,” she apologized, pointing to her rumpled appearance, “I’m tired from riding all morning. I must return to the château.” Then remembering the rules of protocol, she added, “It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Kent.”

  “My dear mademoiselle, I can assure you the pleasure was all mine,” he drawled, ever more chivalrous. But the crooked smile that graced his handsome features let Angelique know exactly what was on his mind. And it had nothing to do with chivalry.

  Again, she felt the color rise to her cheeks. Refusing to allow him to see her blush, she quickly turned around. “Your horse is ready, monsieur. Adieu for now,” she murmured over her shoulder and left.

 
Moments later, while riding out of the stables, Nicholas got a glimpse of Angelique as she crossed the front lawns to enter the château. He smiled as he urged his horse to a gallop. Their initial meeting had proven to be quite interesting. She seemed feisty. He liked that about her. He would not enjoy being saddled to a woman who lacked spirit. Yes, Angelique Beauvisage was certainly a beautiful woman … but she was nonetheless a woman. And he knew how to handle a woman. In a month’s time, he could make her forget that silly Frenchman of hers. He was certain of that. He would have her living in Windword before she ever knew what hit her.

  * * * *

  “I’d like to wring her little neck. Imagine keeping the arrogant viscount waiting all morning. You don’t suppose she’s with Bertrand, do you? I give you fair warning, my sons, if that little ingrate spoils my plans, she’ll live to regret it,” Victoria ranted.

  “Hush, Maman. The servants will hear you.”