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Authors: Maya Rodale

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BOOK: The Rogue and the Rival
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Obtaining that address was easier than he had anticipated. By presenting himself as his twin, an absolutely enraged duke, to a hapless, terrified clerk at the offices of the
London Weekly
, he was able to walk off with Angela’s address in mere moments.
He had come up with dozens of reasons not to go to her in the past eight months, among them: she likely despised him; what he had done was unforgivable; it was for the best if they went their separate ways; he would have made her miserable anyway. And, most of all, if she hadn’t waited a week for him, why would she wait any longer? He could not see any reason to.
But something had changed. It may have been the letter from his father, and it may have been that illustration, or it could have been nothing more than the passage of time. That mention of her with Frost certainly had something to do with his arrival; that was undeniable. He loved her, and he could not let her make such an obvious mistake. Again.
And he had also come to the conclusion that if he was going to be a miserable failure—as he admittedly was—it was not going to be because he didn’t try to be better. She may reject him thoroughly, soundly, and absolutely forever, but that was just a risk he would have to take.
Phillip checked the address again. It couldn’t be. He knew this house; he had spent more time than he would have liked in the drawing room. His relationship with the lady of the house was one of mutual disdain.
And she was Angela’s aunt, according to the clerk at the newspaper offices. He had courted, using the term loosely, another one of this woman’s nieces before. That he should now need her favor to win the hand and heart of a different niece was a cruel, twisted joke for the universe to play on him. He did not find it the slightest bit amusing.
He could, of course, just walk away. But he had come all the way from Bedfordshire for this. In fact, it felt rather like he had walked barefoot across hot coals from the depths of hell for this chance at happiness.
Goodness and love. Duty and regret.
No, he would not turn back now.
And who knows? Perhaps Lady Palmerston had moved. Phillip knew better than to hope that she had forgotten about him.
“Groves! Show him in.” Phillip heard her voice from where he stood in the foyer. There was no mistaking Lady Palmerston’s voice.
Phillip followed the butler into the drawing room. It had not changed since the last time he had been here, forcing a ring onto Emilia’s finger in one last-ditch attempt to secure an heiress. It was still decorated in the same excessive manner. It still made a man feel like he was going to break something at any second. He grimaced and cringed at the memory of his last visit. If he had known then that he would need Lady Palmerston’s favorable opinion one day, he would have gone about things a bit differently.
Lady Palmerston sat grandly in her chair by the fire, as if it were a throne. She looked at him with eyes that seemed to possess the ability to see right through his (and everyone else’s, to be fair) carefully constructed social facade. That was why she terrified him. He knew she could see right through him.
However, that meant she could see right into his very soul and see his genuine longing for Angela. She was here; Phillip could sense it, feel it. And if she was indeed Lady Palmerston’s niece, that meant that she was nearby, likely eavesdropping on this interview.
Phillip would not be cowardly when he faced the dragon.
Not this time. Not when it mattered. He stood a little bit taller, straightened his shoulders, and looked the dragon lady in the eye.
“Lord Huntley, we meet again,” Lady Palmerston stated. “I find myself intrigued by your presence in my drawing room. But they do say there is a first time for everything, do they not?” She tilted her head slightly to one side, watching him closely to see how he would take her taunts.
“I did not come here to be insulted, Lady Palmerston, though I readily admit you have no reason to be kind to me,” he answered evenly.
“Then why, pray tell, are you here?” Lady Palmerston asked, as if she simply could not fathom any other reason why he would come to call. It was an act; he was sure of it. Everyone knew that Lady Palmerston knew everything there was to know. And he discovered that that made it very easy to be honest with her.
“I need to see Angela.”
“Need?” Lady Palmerston arched her brow.
“Yes, need. Want to, would like to, would love to, can’t imagine a life worth living if I don’t see her.
Need
.”
“What is it with you and my nieces, Lord Huntley?” Lady Palmerston wondered, abruptly changing the subject.
“I wonder the same thing.”
“It’s quite a coincidence,” she remarked.
It was. How many young, unmarried nieces could one woman have? And how could Phillip end up crossing paths with both of them?
“Indeed, but that does not affect the fact that I need to see Angela.”
“Spare me the speech again,” Lady Palmerston said with a dismissive wave of her hand and rolling her eyes. “She’s not at home.”
“So she is living here, then,” Phillip said, catching Lady Palmerston’s slip and confirming that Angela was indeed residing here.
“You’ve gotten a bit sharper, haven’t you?” Lady Palmerston commented, with narrowed eyes. He was not sure if he ought to take that as a compliment or not. He thought it best not to say anything.
“Of course she is staying with me, Huntley. You must admit it is the safest place in London for a young woman to be.”
“When it comes to men with dishonorable intentions, you are more of a deterrence than a dozen armed soldiers,” Phillip answered. And then he froze, because he had just insulted her, when he so needed her approval. But wait—Phillip noticed the
slightest
curve at the corner of her mouth. He wanted to shout in triumph. Nevertheless, he maintained his composure.
“I should think two dozen at least,” she murmured. “But your intentions, Lord Huntley? Do I dare presume they are the same as ever?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? He chose his words carefully and spoke clearly so that there could be no confusion.
“My intentions are as they ever were since Angela accepted my proposal. I mean to marry her.”
“You know, Huntley, the last time you said you were affianced to one of my nieces, you were lying through your teeth.” Phillip stifled a groan of utter frustration. Yet again, his past was catching up with him. The evening to which Lady Palmerston referred had been a low point, even for him.
But so far he had survived ten minutes in the den of the dragon. If she was going to skewer him alive, he would at least go down fighting.
“And if my memory serves me, you, too, lied through your teeth that evening, gravely insulting my masculinity. But I forgive you,” Phillip said graciously.
“At long last my conscience is soothed,” she deadpanned.
“I’m overjoyed to have helped. But as you said, I’m sharper now, so I do not expect you to take my word that Angela had agreed to marry me. But I trust you will believe her. You could ask her now, in fact.”
“As I believe I mentioned, she is not at home,” Lady Palmerston said firmly.
“I’ll wait.” He would. He would sit in this overdecorated drawing room until the apocalypse came and left, and then a little bit longer, if necessary.
“She could be gone for hours. Days. I have no idea,” Lady Palmerston replied. They both knew she was lying.
“As negligent as ever, I see,” he said. “Please tell her I called. And that I will call again tomorrow.”
“And the next day, and the day after that, too, I suppose,” Lady Palmerston said, saying the words for him.
“As long as it takes.”
Phillip suspected she thought him a lovesick fool. He certainly was, and he had definitely been thought worse things than that.
 
Angela stood frozen in the dining room, behind the slightly open drawing room door, from where she had been eavesdropping.
When Groves announced that Lord Huntley had come to call, while she and her aunt had been enjoying breakfast, she was so shocked that she had dropped the piece of buttered toast she held onto her lap. And then her heart skipped a beat. Or two. He had come back. Her questions would be answered, and she could face her future with a full understanding of her past.
She frowned as she picked up the toast from her lap and set it aside. She didn’t think she’d have to face her future with a stained dress and messy hair.
“Is he not aware that it is beyond the pale to call at such an hour?” Lady Palmerston asked.
“He seems rather impatient, madame. He wishes to see Miss Sullivan about an urgent matter.”
“Perhaps he might return later,” Lady Palmerston said, eyeing Angela’s dress, which was a mess, even without the new stain from her buttered toast.
Of all the mornings for him to come to call, he had to do so when she had completely given up—and looked it. He had seen her in the awful gray, ill-fitting frocks she had worn in the abbey. He had removed those dresses to see her naked. But she did not want him to see her now in a plain morning gown stained with charcoal from her drawings and ink stains upon her fingers. She hadn’t even so much as brushed her hair. And Angela wanted to be as stunning as she could possibly be when she saw him again.
Oh, she knew it was the height of vanity, and that such concern for her appearance went against all the teachings of the abbey. But the fact remained that she was a proud woman, facing the man who had broken her heart.
It only occurred to her in this moment that she might be facing a very, very angry man. He had confessed to her that the newspaper’s portrayals of him bothered him. Her picture was not flattering, for she had portrayed him as the villain. He could be such a fool sometimes, and perhaps he didn’t understand her intentions. She wanted his attention.
Her courage was evaporating by the second. Angela looked pleadingly at her aunt.
“I’ll see him,” Lady Palmerston declared. “You should listen, so I needn’t repeat everything he says. If it’s so important, he’ll come back and tell you himself.”
And so Angela eavesdropped shamelessly. Once she was sure he had left, she pushed the dining room door all the way open and stepped into the drawing room. She felt like such a ninny.
She had heard everything.
And she had understood less.
Lady Palmerston was grinning and muttering something about reformed rakes and it never ceasing to amuse her. Angela rang for tea and sat down on the settee.
“Hmmph,” Lady Palmerston muttered. “Well, did you really agree to marry him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it seems he means to hold you to your word.”
“So he says,” Angela said bitterly. “Dora, what did you mean about him lying about that before? And courting your other niece?”
“Ah, that is quite a story. He had been very determined to marry Emilia, for her money, and she had been determined to marry Devon. His and Phillip’s identical appearances caused some problems. But it all resolved itself before it was too late.”
“Did he ruin her, too?”
“No. Not for lack of trying though.”
“I thought he was rude to you, just now.”
“Oh, to the contrary. The man has finally discovered his wits. And courage. For the first time, he did not bore me to tears. We could talk of it for hours, but the pressing point, Angela, is what you intend to do. For I quite believe he’ll make good on his promise to call day after day until he sees you.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. But if he does, please, do not leave me alone with him. Or any man,” Angela added, thinking of Lucas’s intentions to call and Emilia’s stories of Lady Palmerston’s unusual chaperoning methods.
“If you fear a man will harm you unless there is a chaperone present, I wonder why you would see the man at all.”
“I don’t fear being made to do something against my will. It is my own will, my own mind, my own judgment that I do not trust.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Lucas didn’t force me. Phillip never forced me. And I have been ruined and heartbroken all the same. I chose them as much as they chose me. So do you see that I cannot be trusted, because I am a fool, a victim of my own poor judgment? I cannot be left alone.”
“I understand, Angela.”
“I’d better go change before we receive any more callers,” Angela said, looking down at her gown once more.
She didn’t take long and had just returned to the drawing room when Groves announced that Lord Frost was calling.
“
We
shall see him,” Lady Palmerston informed the butler.
There was something about Lord Frost that Lady Palmerston did not like. She took the liberty of considering exactly that as he and Angela conversed about how they were enjoying London, the ball the previous evening, mutual acquaintances, and other such trivialities. The topic of the past,
their
past, was deliberately ignored and avoided, as were all the intervening years.
BOOK: The Rogue and the Rival
3.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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