A Guardians Angel (22 page)

The Sutton children were waiting anxiously in the nursery, and she was delighted to share Leonia’s prognosis with them. Looking about, she did not see Delicia before Hervey knocked on the door and motioned for her to come with him.

Angela followed the butler down the stairs to the first floor, answering his questions as best as she could. More than once, she had to reply, “You must ask Miss Sutton about that. She knows so much more about this condition than I do.”

When he opened the door to the duke’s book-room, she saw a silhouette in front of one of the rain-swept windows. She rushed across the room. “Justin! I had hoped you would wait here.”

“I did not wish to take Delicia out in the rain.”

“Delicia? Is she here?”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling forward over his forehead and teasing her fingers to brush it back. “She is asleep up in the nursery.”

“That is why I did not see her when I went to speak with the children.”

Weaving his fingers through hers, he led her to the closest settee. He sat her there, then went and closed the door to the hallway. Sitting beside her, he asked, “How does Oslington do?”

“Leonia has assured me that the fever and the sweating are normal parts of the progression of the disease.”

“What about the doctor?”

“He was useless. I fear he is no more familiar with maladies of the Orient than I.”

He chuckled without humor. “He is an excellent doctor for setting broken legs or offering laudanum to ease sleeplessness. Otherwise, you are right. He is useless.”

“Was he the doctor when your wife died?”

“Yes.”

Putting her hand over his, she combed that defiant strand back from his eyes. “I am so sorry.”

“And so worried.”

“Of course. His Grace is too young to be laid low by this debilitating illness.”

“Anyone who is want-witted enough to seek a career in India must be willing to suffer.”

Angela stood, unable to believe her ears. “Can’t you relinquish your hatred of him long enough to have sympathy for him?”

“I am no saint,” he replied, setting himself on his feet. “You may be asking more than I can give.”

“Can or will give?”

Walking to a sideboard, he poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “You look as if you could use this.”

Her fingers quivered as they closed around it. She tried to halt them. For the children, for the household, for herself, she must appear strong. “Thank you,” she said as she took a sip of the sweet Madeira. She put the glass on the table beside her. “But it is not what I need.”

With a moan, he pulled her into his arms. She wound her fingers through his hair as his mouth found hers with the hunger of the days they had been separated. His kiss said what he had not in the midst of their angry words. These longings mixed with exasperation could so easily tear them apart. She needed him to strengthen her, and she sensed that he wanted her strength as well. But it was more than that. In his arms, she could give herself wholly to this ecstasy. Nothing existed but his lips on hers, his tongue caressing the inner secrets of her mouth, and her breasts soft against his hard chest.

His lips coursed along her neck, and she trembled with the craving that had no name. It simply was. It was part of him and part of her and part of what drew them together, no matter how many other things tried to drive them away from each other.

He whispered against her ear, “You are so delicious.” His tongue traced the edge of her ear, and she tightened her hold on his coat. She did not want to be thrust away by the power of this longing.

Steering his mouth back to hers, for her lips were lonely for his, she slipped her arms beneath his coat. The cool length of his back waited for her exploration, and she did not hesitate. Against her legs, his strong ones pressed, urging her back one step, then another toward the settee. With one arm around her waist, he drew her other hand to his lapel in an invitation to ease his coat aside. She started to draw it over his shoulder as he brought her down to sit, his eager mouth pressed to hers.

Suddenly Justin seized her hands, pulling them away from him. Angela gasped in astonishment. “What is wrong? Are you out of your mind?”

“I would ask the same of you, Miss Needham,” came the duchess’s furious voice from behind her.

Angela looked over her shoulder and jumped to her feet at the same time. The duchess rested one hand on the doorframe. Behind her, Hervey was holding out his arms, warning that he expected her to collapse at any moment.

“Your Grace,” Angela said, “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Is that your excuse for allowing
that
man to paw you like a common strumpet in my son’s house?” The duchess lurched into the room. Waving aside Hervey, who begged her to sit, she did not pause.

Angela moved out of the way, suspecting the duchess would walk right over her. The duchess paused in front of Justin, who had come to his feet and was adjusting his coat.

“Your Grace,” he said with the slightest bow of his head.

“You know you are not welcome here. Not after what you did!” The duchess pointed to the door. “I trust I will not need to call for someone to have you removed.”

“No, Your Grace. I will take my leave as soon as I retrieve my daughter from the nursery.”

Angela stared from one furious face to the other. “Please explain to me why there is so much hostility between these two families.”

“Be silent!” ordered the duchess.

“Your Grace,” Justin said, his calm voice not hiding his rage, “you need not speak so to Angela. Her only mistake is offering a haven to Delicia and me during a vicious thunderstorm.”

“Her only mistake?” The duchess flicked a lock of Angela’s hair which had fallen to her shoulders. “It seems she has made another error in judgment by allowing you to attempt to seduce her. If you will take your leave, Lord Harrington, I shall deal with this problem in my household as I believe is appropriate.”

Angela knew she would infuriate the duchess more, but she put her hand on Justin’s arm to forestall his back-answer. When he looked at her, she said, “Mayhap it would be for the best if you took Delicia home now, Justin.”

“As
you
wish,” he replied, glaring at the duchess. “I shall take my leave, so I am not an additional burden on you while you oversee the duke’s recovery. I know—once he is well enough to have a rational thought in his head—Oslington shall also demand an explanation of why I was allowed to step foot in his house.” He smiled coldly. “Good day, Your Grace.”

Angela bit her lip as he took her hand and bowed over it with the perfect manners he could exhibit whenever he chose. When he stood straighter, she wished to say so many things to him, but she could not when the duchess might overhear. In his eyes, she saw an apology for focusing the duchess’s anger on her. She wished to tell him that she could endure anything after her sister-in-law’s tempers. She said nothing.

“Angela, please keep me informed of Oslington’s condition.” He reached for the butterfly net that she had not noticed leaning against a bookcase.

“Yes … yes, Justin,” she said, glancing at the duchess, who bristled at the use of his name.

When he turned and walked out of the room, Angela yearned to follow. Instead, she faced the duchess, who signaled to the butler.

“Hervey, we will be disturbed only if my son needs me,” the duchess said in her imperious tone.

“Yes, Your Grace.” He backed out of the room, closing the door in his wake.

The duchess sat, but did not grant Angela leave to do so. Appraising her candidly, the duchess sniffed. “You are a sight!”

“The storm winds—”

“Do not fill my head with out-and-outers, young woman!” She tapped the wooden arm of the chair. “Your behavior with
that
man is intolerable.”

“
That
man,” Angela fired back, knowing she should keep her mouth closed, but unable to, “went for the doctor to help your son. Justin went out in the middle of that horrible storm, risking his own life, to bring Dr. Young.”

“I suspect he did so only to gall Rodney.”

“What?”

“Did you ever consider, Angela, that the only reason he volunteered was so that he could gloat at forcing an obligation upon Rodney when my son had no other choice?”

“That is ludicrous!”

Angela knew she had spoken out of turn when the duchess erupted to her feet. For the next half hour, she was treated to a listing of all her shortcomings and foolish behavior. The duchess showed no signs of being the worse for the sleeping powder, save that she had to sit halfway through the scold.

“And,” the duchess finished, “I would turn you out of Oslington Court without a recommendation if not for the long-standing respect I had for your mother. However, if there is another mistake, you will be gone. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really?” the duchess persisted. “Let me reassure myself that you do. You will have nothing more to do with Lord Harrington while you reside beneath this roof.”

“But, Your Grace, I am obligated to escort the children to play with Delicia Harrington each Thursday afternoon.”

“Who agreed to such an addled arrangement?”

“The duke.”

“Why?”

“Thomas has been studying butterflies with—”

“Bah! Butterflies! If Lord Harrington wishes to waste his life, that is one thing. I shall not have anyone in this house do so.”

“But Esther and Delicia have become friends. They look forward to their times together.”

The duchess strode toward the door, her steps still uneven. Gripping the door, she said, “I shall hear no more of this balderdash! Everyone knows that his child is witless, and she shall not be inflicted on any of these children. Her madness might spread to them.”

“Madness? She is not mad. She cannot hear!”

“So who knows what is going on in her head? No, I shall not have the children playing with her. You will inform them that these visits are curtailed.”

“I will tell them, but …” Angela took a pair of steps toward the door, then stopped when the duchess’s eyes narrowed. “Delicia’s friendship with Esther has been good for both little girls.”

“Do not argue with me! The Sutton children are Rodney’s responsibility, and it is his duty to make sure they are not infected as that child has been.”

“Infected?”

“With the sins of the father.” Her mouth worked. “And the mother. You will go to your room, Angela, and stay there while you consider that.” She strode away, leaving Angela to stare after her in disbelief.

Fifteen

Angela lowered her needle as a knock sounded on her door. Rising, she put the bonnet on her table. Another few stitches and the flowers would be secure again. She wished Wallah had not taken such a like to her bonnet, but was sure that Esther was sincere when she promised to watch her pet more closely. Scolding the little girl was the last thing she had wanted to do when the children already were so upset about being forbidden to call at Harrington Grange.

Foolish Thomas had tried to sneak away from Oslington Court when the duchess had overseen one of Leonia’s music lessons. He had realized how determined the duchess was to prevent any more visits. Now the lad was banned from leaving the house without a footman in tow. Between his anger and Esther’s tears and Leonia’s tears, for nothing she did seemed to find favor with the duchess, and Seth’s pouts because he was upset that his siblings were upset, the whole house was in an uproar.

Did the duchess have no idea how much her son had appreciated the quiet he had found in these walls before her arrival? He needed that peace now more than ever before as he struggled to get better.

All in all, Angela had been so busy that she should not have had a second to think of Justin. In truth, he had been constantly on her mind. How many times had she wandered into Leonia’s room simply to gaze out the window at Harrington Grange? She had considered slipping out to call there, but she guessed the duchess was having her watched as closely as Thomas.

Another sharp knock came at her door, and Angela hurried to open it. She was startled to see the duke’s valet on the other side. “Culver, is something amiss?”

“Quite to the contrary.” The white-haired man was smiling broadly. “Miss Needham, I would like to extend an invitation from His Grace for you to give him a look-in now.”

“He is himself again?” Once the crisis had passed, and the duke was sleeping with the powders that Leonia had ordered, Angela had spent hours by the duke’s bedside when Leonia had needed to rest. She had bathed his forehead with cool cloths and followed the instructions that Leonia had given her.

“Yes.”

“Then I should not … I mean …”

In Culver’s eyes, she saw a twinkle for the shortest second. “You will be happy to know, Miss Needham, that His Grace is well enough to enjoy the sunshine on his small balcony off his sitting room.”

“Did Leonia give him permission to—” Angela interrupted herself with a laugh. As headstrong as any of the children, the duke would not remain in bed if he believed himself fit enough to walk a few steps.

Going with the valet toward the wing where the duke’s rooms were situated, Angela heard her name called. She turned and waved to Leonia.

“Are you coming to the duke’s chambers, too?” Angela asked.

“No.” Leonia glanced over her shoulder like a felon being followed by the watch. “Her Grace expected me for tea nearly five minutes ago.” Holding out her hands, which were filled with a half-dozen books, she asked, “Would you take these to him? When I saw him yesterday, he was restive, and I thought they might persuade him to sit quietly.”

“Yesterday? I thought you were checking on him much more frequently than that.”

“The duchess has been gracious enough to spend a majority of her waking hours working with me to have me ready for my entrance into the Polite World.” Her frown suggested she was not as grateful as her words sounded.

Taking the books, Angela said, “As soon as I can find a way, I shall remind Her Grace that I was brought here to perform that task.”

“No!” Leonia grasped Angela’s arm. “Do not! She is always in a pelter whenever your name is mentioned. I fear that, if you challenge her now, she will turn you out. Then I shall have no one to confide in.”