“You don’t know anything, of course. No one will be surprised at that. It’s not as if I haven’t thrown dozens of girls in your way only to have you ignore them.”
An instinct of danger rose up. Raoul eyed his cousin with burgeoning suspicion. “What are you up to, Angelica?”
She showed him an innocent face. “But I have told you.”
“Indeed? I’ve an idea there is more to it.” A thought occurred and he frowned. “In any event, it won’t fadge. She was in my company for some time. None will believe I know nothing about her.”
His cousin’s brows rose. “Well, what did you talk of?”
“The fact that her duenna and Maskery had both disappeared.” The memory of his first moments with Miss Temple passed through his mind. “She was not forthcoming. Except to tell me she had no social arts. She did speak of the academy and being a schoolmistress, but that was all I could get out of her.”
“Well, don’t go telling people that, for heaven’s sake! In fact, you need say no more than what will place her with me. Any other question you may treat as an impertinence.”
He knew he was famed for his set-downs. They provided a useful shield against gossiping tongues. “To tell you the truth, Angie, people are unlikely to ask me anything about it at all.”
“All to the good. But I believe you are too sanguine. Silve and Hetty both overheard the business mentioned, and separately at that. If you were not in general so disobliging, Raoul, it would not matter. But you behaved so out of character, it is bound to be remarked upon.”
He cursed aloud. “I wish to heaven I never had bid on the creature!”
“It is too late now.” Angelica gave him a speculative look. “Moreover, I rather think she intrigues you more than somewhat. Am I right?”
She was, but he was damned if he was going to admit as much. “My interest, if any, has been forced upon me. I may find it inconvenient and galling, but I am not so callous as to leave Miss Temple to bear the burden of her guardian’s iniquity. At the least, it behoves me to see her safely returned to her former life — if that is what she wants.”
“At best, then?”
The gleam in his cousin’s eye revived the snake of suspicion in his breast. What the devil was Angelica planning?
Once she reached the comfortable chamber her hostess had shown her into earlier in the day, Felicity lost no time in getting rid of the various servants. Still seething, she nevertheless managed to assume the required air of confident authority. She had not been a schoolmistress for nothing.
A word of thanks despatched both the footman who had brought the coffee and the butler with her valise. The latter bowed himself out, assuring her upon enquiry that the missive entrusted to his care would be taken immediately to catch the earliest post. The moment the door closed, Felicity let her breath go in a whoosh and plonked down on the chair next to a small octagonal table where the tray had been set. She lifted the silver pot and poured, dismayed to find her hand shaking.
The devil take that man! How dared he belittle her? So high in the instep as he was himself, did he expect her to behave in the same arrogant fashion? Don’t advertise her situation to the world indeed! No, it wastrynottoadvertise it, was it not? Insufferable. Patronising, top-lofty, infuriating man! Just when she had been warming to him too.
She added cream and a lump of sugar to her cup, grumbling as her jerky movements made the liquid slop into the saucer. Lifting the cup with scrupulous care, she wiped beneath it with a finger and sipped. The hot brew soothed and her temper began to cool, bringing the inevitable stirring of regret.
She should not have allowed herself to be provoked into unbecoming conduct. Yet she might be pardoned for it, Lord Lynchmere’s remarks coming as they did so closely upon the discovery of her guardian’s outrageous act. He ought to be grateful she had not thrown herself to the carpet, screaming and drumming her heels. But, no. He must needs draw unnecessary attention to the wide disparity existing between a marquis and her parlous condition.
Oh, dear me, Miss Temple, we cannot have you carrying your own valise like the nonentity you are. Not in this house. At least try to pretend to a right to call yourself a lady.Faugh!
A knock at the door interrupted her inward tirade. Instinct bade her get up to answer it, but the consciousness that in this house she ought not, stayed her.
“Come in.”
The door opened and a capped head peeped around it. “I’m Peg, miss. Mr Maunder said to wait on you.”
Felicity sighed. “Well, come in then.”
The girl did as she was bid and closed the door, bobbing a curtsy, and glancing around the room. She was a pretty wench, scarcely older than some of the girls in Felicity’s care at the academy.
Spotting the valise, Peg picked it up. “I’ll put your clothes away, miss.”
Without further ado, she went to the dresser to one side of the room, setting the valise down on a chair. Unused to being waited on, Felicity hesitated. But when the girl opened the thing and gasped, staring within, she could no longer be still.
Half-empty cup in hand, she rose. “What is the matter?”
The girl glanced at her. “Begging your pardon, miss, it’s all a-jumble.”
“Is it?” The marquis’s admonishment loomed large in her mind. She could hardly say she had not packed it herself. She fumbled for an excuse. “Yes, I dare say it is. I packed in a hurry.”
