“Angelica!” cried a voice, and the next thing she knew, Maia had enveloped her in a crushing hug.
“Blast it, Miss Woodmore,” Corvindale snapped. “I told you to remain in the bloody carriage.” Pausing to glare at two dishonorable-looking men who’d appeared from around a corner, he urged them down the narrow, dirty hall and gestured even more sharply than he had in the chamber a moment before. “Can you not listen to reason for one moment?”
“It’smysister we’ve come to retrieve,” Maia shot back. Her arm curved tight around Angelica’s waist as she propelled her down the corridor ahead of the furious earl. Uncharacteristically, Maia’s chestnut-auburn hair was in disarray and she was not only dressed in an old day dress, but she was alsogloveless.“And leaving that aside, what harm could come to me when you are here, my lord?”
Even through the mix of emotions that whirled in her mind, Angelica heard the dip of sarcasm in Maia’s voice.
“This is no place for a lady.” Corvindale reached past them to fling the external door open. Only a bit more illumination filtered into the hall, for it was well past twilight now. “Devil take it, Miss Woodmore. Do you have a complete lack of sense?”
Maia sniffed and pushed past him out into the darkness, pulling Angelica with her. In her haste, she narrowly avoided a puddle of something disgusting and climbed into the carriage with her sister’s help. Maia settled in the seat next to her.
Corvindale spoke to the groom, then joined them inside, taking up nearly the entire seat across from them with his wide shoulders and arms stretched across the back. His long legs were tucked into the space between Maia’s skirts and the side of the vehicle. The door closed, and with barely a jolt, they started off.
‘‘You’re not hurt?” Maia was asking as Angelica tried to bury herself in the corner of the seat, huddling beneath the cloak thatsmelled of Voss. The scent was both nauseating and familiar. “What happened? Where have you been?”
But Angelica didn’t wish to talk. Now that she was safe, all she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry.
“Angelica,” Maia said, tugging at the cloak as if to draw her attention.
Angelica clutched it tighter, partly because she was chilled and partly because she sensed it would not bode well if Maia or the earl saw the marks on her neck. There would be more questions, more demands and remonstrations, along with pity and sympathy. None of which she wanted to contend with.
“Miss Woodmore,” Corvindale broke in icily, “perhaps you might leave your sister to her own thoughts. It’s clear, at least to me, that she is in no humor to speak at this time.”
Angelica felt Maia’s outrage and eyed her sister with interest. It wasn’t often she received a set-down, and even rarer that she would decline to respond in her own bitingly proper way. But to her surprise, she merely turned away from the earl and redoubled her efforts to get Angelica to answer her questions.
The drive to Blackmont Hall took much too long, in Angelica’s estimation, but she managed to appease her elder sister’s demands by giving brief, vague answers to some of her questions.
The night was dark, for clouds filtered across the portion of the moon that was showing, and even the streetlamps gave off weak illumination. She could hardly wait to climb out of the carriage and find the sanctuary of her own chamber—or at least, the one that had been allotted to her during their stay with Corvindale.
The thought brought her brother to mind, and Angelica once again felt confusion and surprise at what Voss had told her about Chas.
But the peace she sought was not to be, for no sooner had they stepped into the foyer of the grand but sober house than the earl turned to her. ‘‘Angelica,” he said. “A word, if I may.”
Angelica didn’t like the expression on his face. It wasn’t frightening so much as fearsome: tight and dark, as if he were about to explode with some great fury. She knew it wasn’t directed at her, but regardless, his countenance gave her pause, made her more than a bit apprehensive.
“Of course, my lord,” she said, and started down the corridor in the direction he gestured.
“If you’ll excuse us, Miss Woodmore,” he said behind her.
“But—” Maia’s voice, strained and just as furious as his expression, was cut off by the earl.
“I will speak to your sister, myward,in private, Miss Woodmore. Perhaps just this one time, you will accede to my orders.”
“I wish to be present. Iwillbe present,” she replied. “She may be your ward temporarily, but she is my sister. Once Mr. Bradington and I are wed?—”
“Maia,” said Angelica, strangely relieved her sister wouldn’t be there during the interrogation that was sure to come, “I will come directly to your chamber when Lord Corvindale and I are finished.”
“Angelica,” Maia said in a heartfelt whisper, “I want to be there with you.”
Angelica turned to look at her elder sister, who stood as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her. “I’m sorry, but it will be easier if you are not. I promise I will come to you straight away.”
Maia met her eyes, and Angelica nearly gave in. Her sister seemed not only shocked and saddened but hurt, as well. And she realized at that moment somehow, Maia felt as if she’d failed her. Somehow, she felt responsible for what had happened.
“As you like,” Maia said at last, and then turned away.
The earl gave Angelica a brief nod of gratitude and opened the door she knew led to his study. Once inside, he closed the door, but not all the way.
This brought a bit of a dark smile to her lips. “I appreciate the attention to propriety, my lord, but it’s a bit late to be worried about that now.”
