The Primrose Path (25 page)

Angelina thought of joining Lady Hathaway after the next intermission, so she wouldn’t be so obviously without another dance partner. And then he was bowing before her. “May I have this dance. Angel?”

Angelina thought she’d never seen a gentleman so handsome, so perfectly formed, as Lord Knowle in his evening attire. “Thank you, my lord. But you don’t need to—that is, if you’d rather—”

“There is nothing I would rather do, Angel.”

The contra dance kept them apart, except for matching smiles. Melissa was in the same set, scowling again, this time at one of the spotty Talbot sprigs.

Instead of returning Angelina to her place by the wall after the set ended, Corin kept her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. “To prove that the last wasn’t any duty dance, I am claiming the next one also. It’s not spoken for, is it?”

If the Prince Regent himself had his name scrawled on her card, Angelina would have said no. But the orchestra started playing a waltz. Angelina bit her lip.

“What, the intrepid Miss Armstead nervous over the latest dance craze? It’s accepted at Almack’s nowadays, don’t you know, so it’s perfectly proper for the mistress of Primrose Cottage.”

Melissa Wyte was already on the floor in Nigel Truesdale’s arms, swirling and gliding as gracefully as a butterfly. Angelina looked at her slippers, scuffed from her last Talbot partner. “I only practiced once, my lord.”

He was already leading her toward the dance floor. Corin was not going to miss holding this female in his embrace, not when he had a perfectly legitimate excuse for doing so. “It’s a simple dance, really. Once is enough. It’s like horseback riding, you don’t forget.”

Angelina had to laugh. “But I don’t ride, either.”

“What? I cannot believe you don’t like horses, so you must not have learned how. The devil, is that why you didn’t accept the invitations to ride out with me and my guests?”

No, that wasn’t why. She didn’t need to see him making sheep’s eyes at Melissa Wyte, thank you. Angelina could have driven Dumpling in the donkey cart if she wanted to torture herself that much. She just nodded.

“Well, you’ll learn,” he said.

It wasn’t a question or a request, only the arrogant aristocrat’s typical assumption of authority. Angelina started to bristle, but he added, “I’ll teach you. I know you’ve got backbone beneath that fragile beauty, so you’ll do.”

Angelina almost tripped.

Holding her steady, Corin went on: “I need you to come with me around the estate. I’m thinking of staying on here instead of seeking a government position, and there are some improvements that I’d like to make. I want your advice first.”

Suddenly Miss Angelina Armstead was the best dancer in all of Kent. How could she not be graceful and gliding when her feet never touched the ground? She’d learn to ride an elephant if that’s what Corin asked.

The temperature in the room must have risen by five degrees. Either that or Angelina’s flushed cheeks and fevered brow must be due to Corin’s hand at her waist, the hard strength of his shoulder under her own fingers, the occasional brush of his thigh against hers in the turns of the dance. She could hardly breathe by the end of the music.

Corin was likewise affected, she was happy to note. It must be the closeness of the room, then, not the closeness of their bodies. “Come,” he said. “Let’s get some champagne.”

“I think I’ve had more than my tolerance of champagne, thank you.” The room was already spinning.

“Then I have a better idea.” He started to lead her toward the terrace, where Mercedes Lavalier was still surrounded by gentlemen. “Let’s take a walk. There are any number of people strolling in the gardens so you don’t have to worry about your reputation.”

“Oh, but they are your guests. You cannot leave.”

“Why not? I’ve wined them and dined them and provided entertainment for them. Now it’s my turn to enjoy myself.”

Hadn’t he
enjoyed taking supper with Melissa or having the first dance with
her? Not even the night air could cool the spark that glowed somewhere in Angelina’s midsection.

Corin didn’t stop when they reached the last of the Chinese lanterns in the garden. He kept walking, around the house and toward the stables. He was taking her to see his dog, Angelina realized, suddenly chilled. That’s what he meant by enjoying himself, not spending time in her company. The dastard most likely wanted to know what to do about the dog’s worms! And she could have been dancing with Squire Hardwick’s nephew or the new curate. The devil fly away with all men.

The devil had already stolen Corin’s good intentions. And worms were perhaps the farthest thing from his mind that night as he watched Angel bend to get a better look at the dog.

Sunshine was looking fine, Angelina decided, carrying her plumed tail jauntily over her shiny black back. She’d always have a limp, but that didn’t seem to matter to Sunshine or to his lordship, who was grinning like a proud papa over his progeny. And she was right, he was spoiling the dog, likely overfeeding her the way the dog was growing so rounded. Why—

“Did I tell you yet how beautiful you look tonight?”

Angelina had to turn around to make sure he was speaking to her, not the dog. She laughed. “What, after seeing Mercedes Lavalier and Miss Wyte in the same room? Hardly, my lord.”

“They are not half so beautiful in my eyes.”

Still smiling, Angelina said, “Perhaps you should wear spectacles, then, sir, for you think this sorry little dog is beautiful, too.”

“Isn’t she?” he asked, stepping closer. He told himself that he had to shorten the distance so she was in his lantern’s light, so he could make sure she wasn’t cold. No, he couldn’t detect any goose bumps. Angel seemed to shiver under his scrutiny, so obviously Corin had to take her into his arms, which was what he’d been wanting to do since she stepped through the door of his home tonight. And the whole week before, at least.

Corin had fully intended to make his comfortable marriage of convenience with the nabob’s daughter. But he was so deuced uncomfortable with wanting another woman that he couldn’t bring himself to the sticking point. He thought that if he held Angel, if he kissed her, then he could get the craving out of his mind, get the lilac scent of her out of his nostrils. Which proved how foolish men’s fancies were when they were in rut.

Holding her didn’t help, of course, and kissing Angel just made Corin want to kiss her more, and kiss more of her.

Angelina’s knees were trembling, but she didn’t resist, didn’t pull back. In fact, she participated fully, reaching, stretching, pressing herself to him in an effort to deepen the embrace. Corin wasn’t engaged. And he thought she was beautiful. So what if he must have had too much champagne also, Angelina was going to have this one night of magic to cherish for the rest of her life.

The guests, the party, the grooms checking the stalls, nothing mattered. The dog blankets on the hay-strewn stable floor were looking better and better. And then they heard the shot.

There was a scream, a shout, another shot, then a moment of silence before everyone at the party, guests and servants alike, was yelling, running, crying out. Corin grabbed Angelina’s hand and started racing for the terrace.

Before they reached the ballroom, they found the Duke of Fellstone on the ground near one of the lantern-lit pathways. He was coughing and clutching his shoulder. “Mercedes,” he gasped. “The blackguard got Mercedes.”

Corin tore off his neck cloth and wadded it up to press against His Grace’s shoulder. Angelina was loosening the duke’s collar so he could breathe more easily. Others came running now, so Corin shouted to someone to ride for that blasted too-faraway doctor, and someone else to find pistols and saddle horses for any man able to ride with him.

“Damnation!” Corin swore while he waited for others to help carry the duke inside. “I thought she’d be safe here with the soldiers all around.” He didn’t mention how foolish he thought the duke was, taking Merdedes off the lighted paths, away from the company. Then again, he understood such driving forces, indiscreet or not. “I’ll throttle that clunch Fredricks for letting this happen.”

The duke grasped his hand. “Save a piece of the traitor for me, lad, what? Fredricks is the bastard who shot me and dragged Miss Lavalier off.”

* * * *

Florrie was shrieking. Lady Hathaway was quietly weeping with Elizabeth at her side, and Melissa was passed out, in Nigel’s ready arms. The rest of the neighboring guests were dithering whether it was safer to stay where the madman had attacked one of the company, or leave to face the dangers on the road.

“There is no danger to anyone else,” Corin advised while he marshaled his forces. “The man has taken Miss Lavalier with him when he could have shot her, so he has to be on his way to France. I’ll find him. Who’s coming?”

Not Nigel, who was not relinquishing the languishing heiress, even into her father’s arms. And not Averill Browne, who was turning green at the sight of the duke’s blue blood. There were enough officers and adjutants ready to ride that Corin told the architect, “You take the ladies back to Primrose Cottage in Lady Hathaway’s carriage, with a squad of my armed grooms as outriders. Keep them there until you hear otherwise.”

Angelina stepped to his side. “I’m coming.”

He was tucking a pistol in his waistband. “You can’t even ride a horse, you said.”

“And you said I could learn. I’ll come in the cart if you don’t take me with you. Mercedes needs me.”

“She doesn’t need you in the way of a bullet! The scum would have killed her if this was about revenge, so Fredricks is in this for the money. He has to take Mercedes Lavalier back to France to collect if he doesn’t have a contact here. He’s not going to hand his prize over to you, Angel, no matter how nicely you ask. And I’m not going to let you get caught in the middle.”

Angelina stood her ground, her hand on his arm. “Mercedes needs me, and you need me because the dogs will find her a lot sooner than you will, going off in every direction at once. Fredricks could have carried Mercedes to any rocky shore or he could keep her somewhere until the French come for her. You can’t know, but her own dog Juliette can. Ajax is a tireless tracker, and Spooky’s got a good nose.”

“What, no bloodhound?” he asked sarcastically.

“That’s Cyrano, but he’s asthmatic. He’d be as useful as Miss Wyte after the first mile, unless he can ride in your carriage and catch the scent from there.”

Deuce take it, Corin realized, she had a point. His plan was to call out the militia, blanket the roads with searchers. But if Angel came now with the dogs, while the scent was strong, they had a better chance. He called for his curricle instead. It would be slower than horseback but more effective. Fredricks must have Mercedes in some kind of carriage, or riding double with him, so the gallows bait wouldn’t be making good time, either.

He sent some of the other men on ahead to spread out and ask questions while the horses were hitched. He paced furiously in front of the stable, wondering if he could handle both the horses and the dogs himself, or if Jed Groom could come with him in Angel’s stead. She might let him take her dogs after a paid mercenary who had to know he’d hang if caught—when hell froze over. Lud, Corin thought, he’d be driving this woman into the path of danger when he should be locking her in a fortress to keep her safe.

“But you can’t bring the blunderbuss. And don’t bring the dog that hates horses. Or the one that chases rabbits. Or the little yippy ones in case we have to sneak up on the muckworm. And not the one who ...”

Chapter Twenty-eight

In the end Corin took Angelina up with him on his gelding. Major McKennon could follow with the curricle. They’d get to Primrose Cottage faster on horseback, to gather the dogs. That’s what Corin half convinced himself anyway. The other half was delighted with another opportunity to hold Angel close.

Lord Wyte was leading another contingent of riders toward the road to Ashton and on to the coast. Corin could almost feel sorry for Fredricks if the India Company nabob caught up to him first; the traitor should hang, not be made into a rug.

The dash to Primrose Cottage through the Knoll’s home woods at night was too fast, too dark, and too bumpy for Angelina to feel anything but glad that Corin’s strong arms were around her. She considered that perhaps she didn’t want to learn to ride after all.

Then they were at the cottage, and all other thoughts fled. Something was dreadfully wrong. The dogs were in a frenzy, for one, and the door was open, for another. Preston and Charlotte Franklin had moved to the Remington place and were keeping Robinet with them this evening, and the servants had the night off—those who weren’t in attendance at the castle, that is. But Penn would never have left the place unlocked and unattended. Jed Groom would never have gone off leaving the dogs loose to roam. Most were outside, from what Angelina could see through the confusion in the yard: the little dogs, the old dogs, even half-blind Diamond wandering in circles through the primrose beds.

And yes, there was Juliette, in love again or still, accepting Homer’s carte blanche. No wonder the other dogs were in an uproar. But where was everyone else, and where was Ajax?

“Quiet,” Corin whispered when he lifted her down from the gelding, for she was about to speak. “Be quiet and stay here. I’ll go see what’s happening.”

He hadn’t needed to whisper; the dogs were making such a racket that he couldn’t even hear Angelina creeping behind him. Closer to the house he felt a presence, though, and spun around, his pistol drawn. “Hell and damnation, Angel, I could have shot you!” But he took her hand in his left one, the hand that wasn’t holding the gun. “At least stay behind me, dash it.”

They edged through the open door—and almost tripped over Ajax, where the big dog was spread across the foyer. Corin threw his hand over Angelina’s mouth so she wouldn’t scream, then he bent down. “He’s breathing,” he whispered.

She was already running her hands over the dog’s sides and legs. “I don’t feel any blood or broken bones, but there’s a lump on his head.”