A Guardians Angel (17 page)

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Authors: Jo Ann Ferguson

BOOK: A Guardians Angel
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Angela glanced around the ballroom and was glad to see that most eyes were focused on the bride and groom. Mayhap no one else would take note of how Leonia gazed with open adoration at the duke. This was something that Angela must speak to Leonia about as soon as they were home again.

“You seem to be able to convince Rodney to do just about anything.” Thomas scratched the back of his neck and tugged on his collar.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, amazed because she had not guessed he would return here.

“He is dancing with Leonia, isn’t he?”

She wagged a finger at him and chuckled. “Have you noticed how beautiful your sister looks tonight? If she were already out, I doubt she would have had a dance left free for her guardian.”

“She always found a way to get under Rodney’s feet whenever there was a gathering in India.”

“So I have heard.” She laughed. “Why are you here? I thought you would be poking through Lord Milborough’s library.”

“I did. He does not have anything else of much interest there that I did not already look at this afternoon.”

“There are so many books. Have you inspected them all?”

“Most of it is poetry and ancient history.” He grimaced again. “In French.”

“Would you like some lemonade?” she asked, holding up the glass Leonia had not sipped.

He nodded and, taking the glass, wandered away. Although she should have called him back, she did not. She must keep a close eye on her charge tonight. Leonia was less likely to sit quietly after dancing with the duke.

Angela learned how right she was when the duke returned Leonia to her care, bowed to both of them, and went to talk to his tie-mates. Leonia’s smile fell away, and tears billowed into her eyes, making Angela wish she had never mentioned to the duke that dancing with his ward would be a good idea.

“Oh, Angela,” Leonia bemoaned, “it is hopeless. He sees me as a little girl. Nothing else.”

Taking Leonia by the arm, Angela drew her across the ballroom toward the hallway. She was glad no one seemed to take note of their leaving, although the room had grown so crowded with wedding guests that she had lost sight of Thomas as well. Seeing him talking to several men she did not recognize, she shook her head. One problem at a time.

The corridor beyond the ballroom was almost deserted. Leading Leonia to a shadowed corner by the staircase, she asked, “Leonia, has your guardian expressed any interest in a relationship other than as your guardian?”

“No.” She slammed one hand against the other, startling Angela. “But that does not mean anything. Rodney has always been the epitome of a gentleman with me.”

“Your father would accept no other behavior from a man under his command.”

“How do you know? You never met my father.”

Angela smoothed Leonia’s hair back toward the comb pinned in it. “You have spoken of him with so much admiration. So has the duke.”

Leonia moaned and hid her face in her hands. “I am being a fool!”

“I never meant to intimate that.”

“But you think that I am silly to be so smitten with Rodney.”

Putting her hand beneath Leonia’s chin, she tilted the young woman’s face up. “My dear Leonia, I would never chide you about anything you felt. However, you must understand that the duke may not share your wish to change your relationship. To him, you are the child of a man he admired greatly. He takes very seriously his duty to oversee your entry into the Polite World.”

“His
duty!
” she spat. “That is all I am to him! An obligation he cannot wait to get rid of!”

“You do not know that.”

“Yes, I do. While we were dancing, he quizzed me about my lessons with you as if I were a little girl reciting what she learned from her tutor.” She whirled away.

“Leonia!”

“No, I cannot stay here and endure a moment more of this!”

Rushing to catch up with Leonia, Angela said, “You must learn, right now, to control these outbursts.”

“How can I deny what I feel?” She backed away. When Angela started to follow, she pled, “I need to be alone now to sort this out.”

“You need someone to talk to.”

Leonia shook her head. “I will not do something skimble-skamble, if that is what you fear. I just want to go to my private chamber and …” Her face crumpled. “Esther is there.”

“Go to my room. I will stay here for a short time longer. Then I will come upstairs, and we can talk.”

Hugging her, Leonia nodded. She gathered up her skirt and rushed up the steps at an indecorous pace.

Angela sighed. How could she have imagined, when she asked the duke to allow the children to come here with him, that obtaining Leonia her heart’s desire would break the young woman’s heart? She must speak with the duke, but not tonight. Too many ears would heed what she must say. Tomorrow she might have a chance during the wedding breakfast. Now she must find Thomas and convince him to return to their private rooms.

How could she ask Leonia to change her heart? She wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time as she walked back toward the door to the ballroom. What a jest—on both her and Leonia—to think that was possible! If this evening had shown her nothing else, it had revealed that she had been right. Hearts refused to heed good sense.

“Excuse me!” she gasped when she bounced off a gentleman standing in the doorway. Bumbling about into Lord Milborough’s guests as if she were foxed would make the situation even worse.

“No damage done.” With a chuckle, the man turned and put his hands on her arms to keep her from walking past him.

In disbelief, Angela looked up into the green eyes that had been sparking with anger the last time she saw them. As her fingers were taken and raised for a kiss that wiped away any thought but of delight, she whispered, “Justin!”

Twelve

“What you are supposed to say next is: ‘Why are you
here
?’” Justin smiled as he drew Angela away from the door. The light from the lamps glistened off the buttons on his gold waistcoat beneath his black coat. His breeches were the same white as his cravat.

“Why
are
you here?” She looked from his smile to his fingers that held hers as if they were as delicate as one of his butterflies. She doubted if she had ever seen him look so handsome.

“Milborough is a friend of mine as well. Rodney Abernathy and I have more in common than just the fact that we despise each other.”

She sighed, her happiness vanishing before she had even had a chance to savor it. “Please do not inject that old anger into this evening. Tonight is about two people finding love and wanting to share that joy with their families and friends.”

“As you request.” He bowed his head to her, his manners as polished as any man within the ballroom. “You look even lovelier than usual tonight, Angela.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “How did the rakes in London let you elude them?”

“They did not seem very interested in me.”

“Proving that they are even more foolish than when I was last there.”

“You as part of the London Season? That is the silliest thing I have ever heard.” She laughed, then put her fingers to her lips. “Forgive me, Justin. I should not have said that.”

“Why not? I suspect, in your mind, it was quite the truth. You have seen me only in grassville, not being a dashing rogue.” He struck a pose more suitable for a statue than a wedding guest.

She laughed again, and his smile warmed. “Are you suggesting,” she asked, “that I know very little about Justin Harrington?”

“Not as much as I would like you to know.” His fingers drifted across her cheek. In his eyes was a fire that gave his words an intimacy that created thoughts she should not be having. “And there is so much about you that I would like to get to know … much better.”

She knew if she continued to gaze up into his eyes that she might not be able to turn down his unspoken invitation. She was as want-witted as Leonia, but she was not a young lass. Falling in love with Justin would prove she was a widgeon, even if her employer did not despise him. There were so many secrets that hid behind his volatile eyes, and he kept each of them hidden from her … as he had tried to conceal Delicia. She could easily forgive him for not mentioning his daughter because he wanted to protect the little girl from pity. Why was he keeping other truths from her? She knew she should ask that question and the ones he had not given her a chance to ask when he walked away from her without explaining why he had reacted as he did.

But all she could do was gaze up into his eyes and imagine him holding her close as he had by the stream. Far from all the other guests, she could gather him into her arms and offer him the chance to open his heart to her as she longed to open hers to him.

“Justin!” Thomas ran over and slapped Justin on the arm. “I thought that was you I saw talking to Lord Milborough! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?”

“I was not so certain myself until I found myself on the way here.” Justin saw Angela’s eyes turn toward the boy, and he cursed silently. The children always found a way to intrude at the very wrong time … either his child or one of hers. Not hers! Oslington’s! He silenced the shout of the duke’s name to tell him to come and get Thomas. There were already too many people in this conversation.

Justin swore again, this time under his breath, when he saw Thomas’s smile vacillate. He could not blame the boy for something that was not his fault. Putting his hand on Thomas’s shoulder, he said, “I understand there are several varieties of butterflies in this area that we may not have studied at Harrington Grange. What do you say to finding out tomorrow?”

“I would like that!” The boy’s grin returned.

“Good. Take yourself off to bed, then, and meet me at the wedding breakfast. I am sure that Milborough will excuse us from all the toasts while we explore his gardens.”

Thomas sped off toward the stairs, nearly careening into a dowager who gave him a reproving scowl. Even that could not dampen his smile. He shouted his apology in his wake.

Justin took Angela’s arm and steered her away from the dowager, who was looking for someone to blame for Thomas’s behavior. When he saw an open door ahead of them, he drew her outside onto the brick terrace edged with flowering bushes he could not identify in the twilight that came so late at this time of year.

“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked as he sat her on a stone bench topped by plush cushions, an affectation he appreciated when he sat beside her.

“I find that words never are onerous between us.”

She smiled, and he wondered if he had been witless to bring her out here because he could not read the warmth in her eyes. Or mayhap that had been the wisest thing he could have done. With a laugh, she asked, “So are you no longer vexed with me?”

“I would like to say yes, but I find that you endlessly challenge me to reconsider everything I have assumed to be true. And not just about Delicia.”

“About the duke?”

“Not directly, but I have realized that only a fool would let his anger at a man he has no respect for get in the way of his delight with a woman he has the greatest admiration of.”

“Oh.”

He folded her hand between his, although he longed to enfold her to him. “That is not a very satisfactory answer.”

“I find that things are not always satisfactory.”

Hearing regret in her voice, he whispered, “What is wrong, Angela?”

“There are several answers I could give you.” She swallowed so roughly he could hear it. “But the one that echoes through me with every heartbeat is why you reacted as you did when I suggested that you consider that school in France for Delicia.”

“Overreacted, you mean.”

Her smile sparkled even in the dim light. “Yes.”

“And you are curious why?”

“Yes.”

He knew he owed her the duty of the truth, but that meant opening too many doors in his memory that he had sealed, vowing never to unlock that vault again. The man he had been then was one he did not want to recall. The pain he had experienced then he was not sure he could face again. Better to leave it all in the past where it belonged. If that were so, then why was he, for the first time in more than five years, even considering opening those closed doors once more?

“France is so far from Harrington Grange,” he said, despising himself for resorting to a banal answer. He feared she would despise him even more if he spoke the truth.

“And Delicia is such a little girl.” She smiled. “I understand.”

Self-loathing threatened to choke him when she touched his cheek as lightly as he had hers. By Jove, he was guaranteeing that she would be hurt if she ever learned the truth of the hell he had endured in France and the greater grief he had found when he returned.

And now … with a groan, he framed her face with his hands. She gazed up at him, and he did not dare to speak. A single word might destroy this moment he had waited for since the last time he had seen her. The moment he had thought of through the endless hours of the night when sleep refused to grant him release from his yearning for her. Even when he found a few moments of sleep, his dreams were all of holding her.

She whispered his name in a soft breath that stroked his lips as he found hers. He tugged her against his chest while his hands slid down the back of her silk gown that was not as smooth as her skin. When she quivered as his fingers cupped her nape, he wondered how long he could be satisfied with only this. His fantasies were far more sensual, for he wanted to explore all of her as his touch released each of the passions that she could no longer mask.

She drew back and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her fingers lingered on his chest, slipping beneath his waistcoat. “I have missed you,” she whispered.

“And I have missed you.” He laughed. “I have missed your stubborn determination to help everyone instead of thinking of yourself once in a while.”

“I think of myself once in awhile.” Raising her head, she whispered, “And I think of you far more.”

Justin’s answer was halted when another couple came through the door. Coming to his feet, he offered his arm. “Angela?” he asked when she did not move.

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