The Earl Claims a Bride (29 page)

“I’ve been watching for you since the rain started,” Mrs. Bickmore said, opening the door for her. “Give me that soggy cape.”

She tried to take the cape and saw it move. She jumped back. “What’s that?”

“It’s just another dog, Mrs. Bickmore.” She stuffed him in the woman’s arms. “He’s really quite calm and will be no problem. Where are the others?”

“In their room where they’re supposed to be,” she replied, being very careful how she took hold of the dog.

Angelina knew she couldn’t put a strange dog in with three pals. That would be asking for trouble. “Put him in the china and cutlery closet and give him something to eat and a blanket. I’ll take care of him later.”

“Look at you,” Mrs. Bickmore said. “Your dress is sopping and probably your feet, too. Lady Railbridge asked that you join her and the Bishop Worsley in the drawing room as soon as you arrived, but I think you should get out of your wet clothing first.”

Hope shot through Angelina. “No. I’m fine,” she said, nervously untying the ribbon on her bonnet. “A little damp but not wet. Just go take care of the dog for me please.”

At last
, she thought, walking into the drawing room, peeling off her damp gloves. Bishop Worsley sat in one of the wingback chairs and her grandmother on the settee. Angelina looked at their faces, hoping to glean if the man had favorable or unfavorable news for them.

“Angelina, the skirt of your dress is soaked.”

“And I’m thankful you have a fire going, Granna. It will dry in no time,” she said, walking over to the fireplace and standing in front of it.

After proper greetings her grandmother said, “I didn’t think you would ever return, dearest.”

“I’m here now,” she answered, rubbing her cold hands together.

“Good. Bishop Worsley wouldn’t say one word about what he’s accomplished until you arrived.”

Angelina felt an uneasy gnawing in her stomach. After her afternoon with Captain Maxwell, she didn’t know if she could take any more disappointments.

“I’ve been a bit worried,” she said, looking at the man, “since it’s been so long and we haven’t heard about your progress. Just demands to paint more.”

“I know I told you a project like this would take time. A lot needed to be done.”

“You did,” she agreed anxiously. “I had hoped it wouldn’t take as long as you expected.”

He reached down into a satchel at his feet and pulled out a dark-green velvet pouch tied with a gold braided cord. He handed it to Angelina. It was heavy.

“There is enough money in there to pay every one of your father’s debts.”

“What?” Her heartbeat raced and her knees went weak. She looked from the bishop to her grandmother, who appeared just as shocked. “How do you know? How did you know how much he owed?”

Bishop Worsley shrugged. “It was the first thing I had to check on. I needed to know how much money you needed. It’s easy to find out what gambling debts a gentleman has if you know the right people to ask.”

The pouch got heavier as Angelina held it. Enough to pay all his debts!

She wanted to believe what he said was true, but she couldn’t. She had hoped they’d get enough to help them buy more time, but to completely pay everything—it was too much for her to accept.

“This will pay off all his debts?” she asked again.

“All the ones I found about anyway. I suppose there could be more.”

“I’m stunned,” she breathed softly as she hefted the bag and settled on the settee by her grandmother. “You were paid this much money for my paintings. I had no idea. I just assumed my father’s debts would be so much more than I would be paid for my work. This is truly unbelievable.”

Bishop Worsley chuckled and crossed one leg over the other, making himself comfortable in the chair. “No, no, Miss Rule. I see no reason not to tell you the truth. I mean, yes, the duchess bought all your fans and paid well for them. She asked for more, which you delivered, and she has also paid for them. Mr. Eyston gave you a handsome price for your miniatures and boxes as well, but it would be wrong of me to allow you to think you made enough to pay your father’s debts. You didn’t.” He shook his head. “They were enormous. In fact, if this house didn’t belong to someone else, you wouldn’t be living here right now.”

Lady Railbridge gasped.

“What are you talking about?”

“Suffice it to say, what you received from all your pieces would have hardly paid the interest on the money he owed.”

Angelina swallowed the lump in her throat and looked at her grandmother.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about, dear,” she said, shaking her head. “Your father never made me privy to any of his affairs.”

Angelina looked at the bishop. “Then what did you do to garner this?” She held up the heavy bag.

Her grandmother suddenly jumped up and said, “You didn’t, Bishop Worsley!”

He smiled and slowly rose, too. “I did, Lady Railbridge. I did exactly that and I enjoyed every moment of it.”

Angelina joined them standing up. “What? Tell me what you did.”

“He gambled with your money. That’s what he did,” Granna said as if she were spitting something distasteful from her mouth.

Her accusation didn’t wipe the smile off the bishop’s face. It only enhanced it. “Yes, that is exactly what I did, Miss Rule. I took the money that came from your paintings and I gambled with it and I had the time of my life. I doubled it over and over again.” He closed his eyes and breathed in as if he were smelling the most heavenly perfumed rose. “It was as if I couldn’t lose. I’ve never had a winning streak like it. I doubt I shall ever have another.”

“How could you?” Angelina asked in horror. “That’s what happened to my father. Gambling over and over again got him into this trouble.”

The bishop smiled. “Ah, but he lost, and I won.”

“You could have lost it all, too,” she said, her voice rising as the bag in her hand felt heavier and heavier until suddenly she threw it onto the sofa. “I would have had nothing, no hope of ever helping my father if you had lost.”

“You never had any hope of helping him with what you could sell, either, Miss Rule. The moneylenders would have laughed at you had you arrived with the money you made. That is why I took the chance. Now, you can hate me for it. But that is the truth.”

Angelina didn’t know what to say. She wanted to force him to admit he was wrong about that, but she couldn’t. In her heart, she knew he was right.

“I’ve always loved to gamble,” the bishop continued. “Haven’t been able to do it for a while. In fact, Lady Railbridge, I promised your husband I’d never do it again. And God rest his soul, I hadn’t until you came to see me. It was too tempting to pass up. Two ladies trusting me with a couple hundred pounds.” He smiled the sweetest smile Angelina had ever seen. “What were the odds that would ever happen to me? It was a dream come true. I haven’t had my hands on that kind of money in years. How could I not test my mettle and see if I’d lost my touch with the cards. I made enough to pay your father’s debts and more.”

“How much more?” Lady Railbridge demanded.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, then looked at Angelina. “I kept that as my payment. You don’t mind, do you?”

Do I?

“No, of course not. I’m just astounded you would take the risk knowing what was at stake.”

“That’s what makes gambling appealing. I took chances because I had nothing to lose. As for you, Miss Rule, life is full of risk. But you already knew that or you wouldn’t have come to see me.”

He was right.

“I don’t think there is anything left to say except thank you and good-bye, Bishop Worsley,” her grandmother said stiffly.

He nodded. “If you have more paintings, Miss Rule, I’ll be happy to continue to represent Miss Paulette Savill.”

“No,” Angelina and her grandmother said at the same time.

“It may not change your feelings for me right now, Lady Railbridge, but I’ve always wanted to do something for you. Your husband was kind to me when I didn’t have a friend in sight. I feel like I have repaid him now and I appreciate you giving me that opportunity.”

“I don’t approve of the way you repaid him, Bishop Worsley,” her grandmother said, her chin high in the air. “You could have lost everything.”

The bishop made no comment but looked at Angelina and said, “I’m glad it worked out for you. You know where to find me if I can ever be of help again.”

Angelina didn’t approve of his methods any more than her grandmother, but she wouldn’t worry about that. It was done and she was thankful. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted. She kissed Bishop Worsley on the cheek before he left.

“Granna, you know what this means,” Angelina said as she looked at the dark-green bag lying on the settee where she’d thrown it.

She nodded. “Your father no longer has to fear prison.”

“And I will be free to choose who I will marry.”

“That’s true. Your father has no reason to force you to marry Lord Thornwick, but before you make your decision think long and hard. And then choose wisely, my dear.”

Angelina looked down at her hands. There was a spot of paint on her wrist. She remembered how Harrison had wet the paint with his tongue and then gently rubbed it off with his fingers. Flames heated her skin just thinking about that moment. He’d made her feel like she was the only lady he’d ever wanted.

Why had fate sent Lord Thornwick to come between her and the man of her dreams? She wanted to love Captain Maxwell. She wanted to help him recover, give him her devotion, and revel in their passion for each other. He deserved to be truly loved.

But Angelina feared that wasn’t her dream anymore. There was a time she knew for certain that Captain Maxwell was the man for her. And now she wasn’t. It had nothing to do with his scars. She was convinced of that. It all had to do with what she felt when the Earl of Thornwick walked into the room.

Chapter 26

I understand a fury in your words but not the words.

Othello
4.2.32–33

After Angelina had seen to the injured dog and sent a note to Mrs. Vaughan, she changed out of her damp dress and went back into the drawing room to wait for her father.

She anxiously paced in front of the window, in front of the fireplace, and around the settee. She’d walked to the back of the house to check on Molly, Mr. Pete, and the new dog, too. She looked out the window at Rascal and Sam who were sniffing around the wet bushes, and then retraced her steps into the drawing room to start all over again.

The afternoon grew late. Mrs. Vaughan’s worker arrived to pick up the injured dog, Mrs. Bickmore lit the lamps and stoked the fire, and her grandmother said she couldn’t bear to watch Angelina pace another step and retired to her bedchamber to rest.

Angelina first thought she would rush her father as soon as he walked in the door and shove the money into his hands. Thankfully, her common sense took over and she discarded that idea from her mind. And several others equally ridiculous. The best thing to do would be simple and straightforward. Now she waited, albeit with bated breath, for him to come home so she could surprise him with this good news.

When the front door finally opened Angelina’s legs went weak and she quickly sat down. She heard him talking to Mrs. Bickmore in the vestibule, knowing he was removing his cloak, hat, and gloves. Counting to ten didn’t calm her. Inhaling deeply three times didn’t calm her, neither did wringing her hands.

She looked at the velvet bag. She hadn’t touched it since she’d thrown it onto the settee. But staring at it now calmed her. Why specifically she wasn’t sure, unless it represented the fact that she could now decide for herself who she would marry. And, while she hadn’t made the money that was in the bag, it was because of her plan, and her determination that the bag was full. Harrison crossed her mind and she smiled. She wondered what he would say if he knew she had broken the rule that said ladies and gentlemen of Society did not go into trade. However risky it was, with her grandmother and Bishop Worsley’s help she’d accomplished exactly what she’d set out to do. That gave her enormous satisfaction.

“Good afternoon, Angelina. How are you this wet afternoon?”

She rose on confident, steady legs. “I’m very good, Papa, and you?”

He laid the newsprint on his favorite chair and then walked over to the side table and poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter. “Splendid. And shouldn’t you be in your chamber getting ready for tonight’s parties?”

“I will soon. I’ve been waiting for you to get home.”

“That’s nice to hear, my dear.” He picked up the newsprint and sat down, ready to enjoy his drink and the afternoon edition. “Will we be dining at home tonight or will there be supper for us at one of the parties?”

Angelina remained standing. Watching him. “I believe we’ll dine here before we go.”

“Good. I always like that better.”

He took a sip of his drink and Angelina knew she could wait no longer. She picked up the velvet bag and said, “I have something for you.”

He laid his newsprint aside and looked curiously at her as he took it from her. “What’s this? It’s heavy.”

“Open it,” she said, her stomach starting to jump again.

He pulled on the drawstrings and looked inside. “Good Lord!” He looked up at her with wild blue eyes. “Where did this come from? How did you get this?”

She understood his shock. She’d felt the same way when Bishop Worsley showed it to her. “I sold my paintings. My fans, miniatures, and boxes. Everything I’ve painted the past few years. There’s enough money in there to pay off all your debts. There’s no longer any need for you to be at the Prince’s mercy.”

His mouth hung open in disbelief. His wide eyes narrowed, and his face turned red as he jumped up out of the chair. “What the devil have you done, girl? What do you mean you sold your paintings? How could you and to who? You don’t have anything worth this amount of money. Out with the truth of this right now.”

Angelina took a step away from him, and her legs hit the back of the settee. Surely he would calm down once she explained everything about Bishop Worsley to him. “A friend of Granna’s
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