Angeline shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Sore shoulder?” Mama’s tone turned sharp. “Have you practised with the bow again?”
“You’ve never had problems with my bow training. In fact, you’ve always encouraged it, saying you never know when you need to shoot someone.”
“I encouraged you when you didn’t have to attract the attention of sophisticated gentlemen. I don’t care how you amuse yourself, but I do care about what people say. Did you see what happened to Lord Wharton? He’s almost an outcast now. He went from being London’s darling to London’s imbecile in a second. That poor maid is traumatised.”
“It was an accident.”
“For the moment being, you must renounce any public, unladylike activities until further notice. After all,youasked me for advice on finding a husband.”
That was true.
Angeline leant against the newel post. “May I ride?”
“You must. Ladies meet the best gentlemen when riding in Hyde Park.” Mama tugged her gloves on. “Pick someone you like. As long as he’s rich, I will approve.”
“You’re angry because of the conversation we had the other day,” Angeline said.
Mama pressed her lips hard. “No, I’m not angry. Any man will fall at your feet if you use the right technique.”
“What technique? Oh, forget it.” She waved a hand.
The conversation was a useless exercise.
“Would you like me to stay here until your mother has returned?” Bassett asked.
“No, thank you. I’ll go to sleep early.”
Angeline exhaled when finally Mama and Bassett were gone and the house was all for her. Her shoulder throbbed, and she winced as she went upstairs to her bedroom.
No, she didn’t want to go to another soirée with potential targets for Mama’s drugs.
She wanted a quiet, nice evening by the warm hearth with a good book. A scary story was the maximum level of excitement she wished for tonight.
What could a girl want more?
