CHAPTER2
ESCAPING AN ANGEL
Meanwhile, to the east of Dunfey Park
Her labored breaths sending out clouds of white in front of her chilled face, Angelika raced toward Stonefield Manor. She was sure someone would be following her at any moment. There was no where to hide and no way to cover her tracks.
The snow was too deep. Even holding up her redingote and skirts, their hems were skimming the soft powder that blanketed the ground for as far as she could see.
She had to squint to do so, it was so bright. The cold air made breathing difficult, and she could practically see crystals forming in front of her face with every breath. Glittery sparkles that were there one second and gone the next.
Daring a glance back, she slowed her steps. She didn’t hear any shouts. She didn’t see anyone at all.
Someone at Dunfey Park had seen her, though. He had probably been watching her the entire time she was in front of the parterre garden, making a fool of herself as she created a snow angel.
With such pristine powder, forming a snow angel was easy. Angelika simply fell backward into the snow and waved her arms and legs. Harder to do was attempting to escape the angel without disturbing the surrounding snow. She had devised a way to do so, though. She left a pair of footprints at the bottom edge of the angel’s skirts before taking as large a leap as possible away from the impression.
Grinning at the embossed shape she had created, she was about to take her leave when she realized she was being watched.
An older man, his face framed in a window, was staring at her as she stepped away from the snow angel.
Although she couldn’t be sure of his expression—he didn’t seem angry but mayhap amused—she decided he couldn’t have been the master of the house. Not given the tales some in town told of the reclusive duke who lived at Dunfey Park.
The Duke of Suffolk was said to have never left his house because he was hideous. Because he had suffered some sort of awful accident that left him disfigured. That as a result, he was a beast.
The man in the window didn’t appear to have anything wrong with him.Probably the butler,she reasoned as she continued on her way home.
Besides, even if the duke had some sort of disfigurement, how bad could it be? Having read enough gothic novels in her twenty years, she could imagine a horrid beast. She also knew from those novels that a horrific looking creature wasn’t always horrible in his manners, so the duke’s outward appearance probably wasn’t necessarily an indication of how he behaved in polite company.
As to whether or not the Duke of Suffolk behaved as a gentleman, no one seemed to know from first-hand experience. There were those in town who claimed very few in Westmorland had even met the man, he was so secretive. None of Angelika’s acquaintances admitted to having spoken so much as a single word with the duke, so how would they know?
She glanced back over her shoulder again, disappointment settling over her. She hadn’t expected to actually see the duke on this day, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have welcomed a hint of what he looked like.
Passing the line of poplar trees that separated the duke’s Dunfey Park estate from that of her father’s marquessate, Angelika was reminded of his recent letter—the last bit of mail the Royal Mail coach had delivered before the snow had deepened so much, coaches could no longer reach nearby Kirkby Kendal.
Dear Angel,
I pray this letter finds you in good health and warm at Stonefield Manor.
Your brother arrived on British shores a week ago bearing tanned skin and an extra trunk filled with treasures from his trip. It seems Greece and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies agreed with him, for he is at least two inches taller than when he left and at least a stone heavier. You might not recognize him.
As for when you’ll see us, that is a matter of which I cannot be sure.
Although I hoped Robert’s arrival might bring with it some warm Mediterranean weather, it has not. The sunsets have become rather brilliant, though, when there are not clouds blocking the western vantage.
Winter has descended with a vengeance here in the capital, and I have learned from colleagues it is the same in other parts of the country. My plan is still to make it back to Stonefield Manor for Christmas, but if the snows are too deep for our traveling coach, or if I learn the coaching inns are closed due to the foul weather, I may have to delay our departure from the capital.
Please do not despair if we are delayed. We shall celebrate Christmastide whenever Robert and I make it there. In the meantime, do continue seeing to the household as you always have. I promise to bring you even more books than you asked for when I left.
All my love,
Your father
The thought of more books had Angelika grinning as she made her way to the front door of Stonefield Manor. The butler, Bronson, had it opened before she had a chance to use the boar’s head brass knocker. A good thing, too, for she could barely feel her fingers.
“You were out there far too long, my lady,” Bronson scolded. He watched as she struggled to undo the buttons of her redingote.
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But it was invigorating.”
