Forbidden Angel (3 page)

She had asked for a couple of riding habits, one in a deep shade of lavender, the other in black. Still in mourning, she needed a few black gowns and hats. Much to her surprise, a fur-lined pelisse had been delivered.

The cost of the clothing had to be exorbitant. She could think of better uses for the money, Malcolm being one of them. Not a vain woman, she nevertheless felt a thrill of satisfaction as she regarded herself in the cheval glass. A light knock fell on the bedroom door and Bunny opened it to admit Shirley Whitaker.

“Oh, miss, you do look lovely,” Shirley began, and was nudged by Bunny. “I’ve heard you need someone to travel with you and Master James, and well, if I could be of service I would gladly accompany you. I’ve been with the family for seven years. Although I’ve never been a lady’s maid, I learn quickly and I’m loyal.” She clasped her hands in front of her and waited.

Angeline sighed in relief. “I’d be very grateful for your company, Mrs. Whitaker.” If they must go, there would at least be someone they knew with them.

“Thank you, miss. You won’t be sorry.” Shirley bobbed a curtsy and sent Bunny a smile as she scurried from the room.

“Did you know about this, Bunny?”

“I suspected as much. Shirley’s a good woman and if it won’t be me goin’ with you and Master James, then I’m glad it’ll be her. She’ll look after you far better than I could.”

At another tap on the door, Bunny turned to open it. They were both surprised to see Mr. Mansfield instead of one of the maids.

“I beg your pardon, miss, but there is—a person—here to see you.”

Angeline lifted a brow.
“Could you be more specific?”

“He wouldn’t give his name, miss, but he says he has a message for you,
personally
.”

“Show him into the parlor. I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, miss.” Mansfield bowed and withdrew.

Angeline shut the door and gave Bunny her back. “Help me out of this gown. I’m certainly not going down dressed like this.”

A few minutes later, Angeline descended the stairs in a well worn, but serviceable, day dress. Mr. Mansfield waited in the foyer, a look of misgiving on his face as he regarded the man beside him.

“I’m Angeline Ashley. You have a message for me?”

“Yes miss, from Mr. Thornby. He asked me to deliver it personal like and that’s what I done.” Turning his hat in his hands, he sent a rather abused look at Mansfield.

“Edward Thornby sent you?”

“Yes, miss.” He handed her a folded piece of paper. “Me and my lad was asked to help ye.”

The letter was indeed from Edward. Short and to the point, he urged her to pack quickly and come to London. She was to trust Hankins—she glanced at the man—to see them safely to lodgings near the docks where they were to stay until the ship departed. It was signed
Thornby.
Obviously, Malcolm had discovered they planned to leave.

Hankins and his son, Jeb, who was nearly a head taller than his father and outweighed him by a good two stones, were shown to the kitchen for venison pie while the trunks, cases and bandboxes were packed. Then, with their help and that of some footmen, two heavy drays were quickly loaded. A layer of straw and vegetables covered the luggage.

Dressed simply in drab brown, and wearing dark capes with the hoods pulled up, Angeline and Shirley climbed into the middle of one dray and hunkered down between baskets of cabbages, potatoes and leeks. Hankins handed Jimmy in, and Angeline tugged a thick woolen blanket over him before Hankins covered them with an oilskin. After he took his position on the flat plank that made up a seat, the two farm wagons bumped away from Ashley Manor toward London.

By the time they reached their destination, Angeline felt bruised and battered from head to toe. If just her reputation was at stake, she would confront Malcolm and be done with this. But she couldn’t take the chance he would make good on his threat to hurt James.

Their housing was an attic room in a small cottage, but it was clean and warm, the food hot and filling. Within a few days, and under cover of night, they were ushered aboard ship to the safety of their cabin.

She knew someone was to meet them in London and accompany them to America. Angeline hoped Edward had been able notify that person they were already on board. But as the day arrived for the ship to depart, she’d had no word from anyone.

Within days of leaving London, the weather turned, sending the few passengers below deck. High waves washed over the bow and lifted the ship, then dropped it into deep troughs, only to be lifted again by the next wave. Most of the travelers were either sick, or kept to the relative safety of their compartments.

Angeline paced back and forth in their tiny cabin, kicking the hem of her dress out of the way as she turned. Always active, she was frustrated at the forced confinement.

“Miss, I would be most happy to stay with Master James while you get some air,” Shirley Whitaker offered. “I have no desire to go up there myself.”

Angeline’s spirits rallied at the thought. “The sea has quieted and I would enjoy some exercise, if only for a few moments.”

“Perhaps one of the ship’s officers would accompany you.”

“There’s no need for that.” Angeline threw her thick, warm cape around her shoulders and left their compartment before Shirley could make a fuss. Rushing up the stairs and onto the deck, she held out her arms and twirled, breathing in deeply.

Black clouds hung low overhead and threatened to deliver yet another storm. Determined to make the most of the time above deck, Angeline walked briskly to the railing and gazed out over the water. Lifting her face to the wind, she laughed as strong gusts tugged at her hair and sent pins flying. The thick, black tresses swirled around her face. When the ship took a sudden dive, she grabbed for the railing, and missed.

Arms slid by her on either side. Strong hands gripped the railing as the ship dove into a trough, then rode the wave back up. Held firmly between the railing and a large, male body, she glanced over her shoulder and into the face of an American Army officer. Warm green eyes flecked with gold stared back at her for a moment, and then he smiled.

“Th—thank you,” Angeline said weakly as he slowly released her and stepped back.

“Are you all right?” She nodded. “Captain Michael Harrington, United States Calvary, at your service.” His voice had the distinct drawl of an American but with an even softer inflection.

“I’m Lady Angeline Ashley. If you hadn’t been here—”

“But I was.” Captain Harrington glanced at the water. “The sea is rising again and it’s no longer safe up here. May I escort you below deck?”

She sent one last look at the ocean before placing her hand on his sleeve. The ship rolled heavily as they made their way across deck, and Angeline gripped his arm tightly for support. Entering the stairwell first, he turned and offered his gloved hand as they started down the narrow steps. Another large roll of the ship sent her careening into him, slamming him back against the wall with a distinct, ‘Oof.’

“I am so sorry, are you all right?” she gasped.

“Just fine, ma’am.” He placed his hands on her waist and moved her away.

Heat suffused her face as she realized she’d been pressed up against him. “I . . . that is to say, the ship—” When she noticed his decidedly male appraisal of her, she stopped talking. With a lift of her chin, she summoned what composure she could find. “If there is no damage done, I must return to my quarters.”

“My lady, since I just saved you from a very uncomfortable tumble, perhaps you would take tea with me as my reward?” He gave her a charming, lopsided grin not unlike Jimmy’s.

Despite herself, she smiled. “Thank you, Captain, but I’m afraid I can’t accept. It’s not—”

“Please?”

She laughed, suddenly feeling quite adventurous. “Captain Harrington, I would be delighted to take tea with you.”

“Shall we say, four?”

Angeline knew she acted inappropriately, but, just as she’d told Jimmy, this was an adventure.

Michael waited in the almost-deserted dining room with a few of his men. He glanced toward the door and saw her. As she approached, the other soldiers nodded respectfully and left.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you, Captain.”

“Not at all, my lady.” He helped her with her chair, then took his own across from her. The scent of roses drifted around him as it had earlier.

Dressed in black, her skin appeared almost translucent in contrast. Her gorgeous hair was confined in a loose chignon. On other women it would look severe, but on her it accentuated the slender length of her neck and the graceful curve of her shoulders.

How in Hades could Adrian describe her as a mere girl? The vision sitting across from him was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and, if memory served, also endowed with soft, feminine curves. He glanced around to see other men watching, undisguised interest on their faces.

“I believe the sea has quieted, don’t you agree?” She spread her napkin across her lap.

“Somewhat.” He jerked his gaze away from the expanse of pale skin exposed by her décolletage. “I took the liberty of ordering sandwiches for us, as well as tea.”

She met his gaze. “That sounds lovely. I must confess to being famished.”

“Excellent.” The women of his acquaintance would never admit to feeling hungry, and only pick at their food.

Angeline surveyed the room. “It would seem there are few feeling well enough to leave their cabins.”

“The ship doesn’t carry many passengers, and this time of year the sea can be very unpredictable. You seem to be handling it quite well.”

She turned her bright, lavender gaze on him, and his breath hitched in his throat. “I think I have.” When she sent him a brilliant smile, he forgot to breathe.

Clearing his throat, he questioned, “May I ask how many are in your party?” He needed to determine how best to protect them. He would apologize for his failure to meet her at the docks and explain that he’d been detained at the cargo office. It should really be quite simple.

She lifted a brow, curiously. “Just my maid, Mrs. Whitaker, and my brother, James. We were to meet someone in London but he didn’t arrive. Perhaps he changed his mind at the last minute. But we’re making the trip quite well on our own.”

“About that—”

“I hope the poor man isn’t lying injured somewhere, set upon by thugs or some such thing. More than likely, he’s passed out in some pub after imbibing too freely.”

Horrified, Michael tried again. “I can assure you that’s not—”

Angeline blithely interrupted. “In my experience, there seems to be an overabundance of such behavior in men.”

He choked back a laugh. “And have you a lot of experience?”

She eyed him through her lashes. “Perhaps not much, but enough to know it happens quite frequently.” Her brow creased fetchingly. “To be fair, I have to admit to seeing the same behavior in women as well.”

“Hmm, you do keep unusual company, my lady.” He bit his lower lip and stared at a point on the far wall until he could speak. “Don’t you think there might be a plausible explanation for his tardiness?” He should tell her the truth right now, but he enjoyed himself far too much.

“‘Tis not tardiness, Captain. If it were, he would have made his presence known by now.”

“But—” He stopped as the food was delivered and they were alone again. Covertly, he watched her across the table. Every movement was grace personified. Exquisitely made, her petite frame gave her a look of fragility, but he wasn’t fool enough to think she was. From what Adrian had said, she couldn’t be. She raised her gaze and met his, and he forgot what he was about to say.

Only later, and when extra lamps had been lit, did he become aware of the time. They’d talked of books and poetry, and he’d told her of his travels. She’d wanted to know of America, the people and culture. He’d shared his rather cynical views and made her laugh.

When her expression clouded, Michael leaned toward her. “Did I say something to upset you?”

Angeline bit softly on her lower lip. “No, I’ve had a most enjoyable time. Our conversation has reminded me of those I used to have with my father. He was killed recently in an accident. This may sound quite terrible of me, but I am so very angry. First my mother, then my father and stepmother, and now I must leave my home and England.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. It’s quite normal to experience anger over things for which we have little or no control, especially the loss of those we love. As far as leaving England, we don’t always see the reason for change in the beginning, but eventually the explanation will be made clear if we give it time.”

She nodded and ran a finger across her damp cheeks.

God, what a tangle. If she knew he was the one sent to meet her, she would most likely feel deceived and not talk to him. He couldn’t remember a time he’d enjoyed himself as much with a woman, at least in this particular way. Usually, when he had a companion, there was very little conversation involved. Angeline was bright and quick and possessed a sense of humor. He found her utterly delightful.

“My father and I talked about most things. So why, when something most affected me, did he choose not to discuss it? This places me in such an awkward position.”

“Awkward?”

“My brother’s guardian . . . I have always held him in the highest esteem. Now I fear we will be at loggerheads with one another. I can assure you, Captain, I have no intention of allowing my life to be decided for me. Although a woman is still considered to be the property of some man, things are changing for us. I am nearly one-and-twenty and have earned the right to make decisions for myself.”

“That old?” When her gaze narrowed on him, he grinned. “Do you really think your brother’s guardian will treat you thusly?” Obviously, Adrian was in for a rude awakening if he thought she was some timid miss.

“I do hope not. He is most wonderful, and—” She stopped abruptly, her cheeks flaming.

“And?” he prompted gently.

She gave a shrug. “I should return to my cabin. Thank you, Captain, for a most enjoyable evening.”

“But I haven’t yet answered all your questions about America and the Army.”

Her eyes brightened, and, after a short hesitation, she settled to listen. She’d responded as he’d hoped. He told himself that his reason for not wanting the evening to end was his desire to know what she would have said about Adrian.

Michael told her of the things he’d seen and places he’d been. As he regaled her with stories of the treaties he’d helped bring about with various Indian tribes, and of the war chiefs he’d met, her eyes widened.

Then, with a little prompting, she spoke of her life in England. He caught a glimpse of the young girl who’d lost her mother far too early, and tried to comfort her grieving father, only to find him unable to accept what she offered because she reminded him too much of his loss.
Had no one ever considered her needs?

With a mischievous grin, Angeline confided, “My father forbade me to ride his hunters. He said they were too big and too difficult for me to manage. Of course, that made me all the more determined.” Her eyes sparkled. “The head groom thought it his duty to tell my father. One morning, as I prepared to jump a particularly high hedge, my father appeared.”

She leaned back in her chair, a huge grin lifting the corners of her lips. “He was positively apoplectic. I made the jump, there was never a doubt in my mind, and raced for the barn. I’m not certain how he managed it, but he was waiting for me when I arrived. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to sit a saddle for a few days.”