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‘But you can put your mind at ease, Miss Leigh. Any enterprise involving my uncle and his secretary stands the best chance of success. Individually they’re impressive, together they’re invincible.’
Angelica gave a wan smile. ‘I so hope you’re right.’ They walked back into the centre of the room where Dante Locke was inscribing in a notebook the latest couplets that had come to mind.
‘Come on, Dante, time to leave Miss Leigh in peace.’ Lord Latimer slapped his friend on the shoulder.
Angelica walked with them to the door. ‘I have your niece visiting with Miss Stafford tomorrow,’ she said with a smile.
‘She barely stops chattering about you, you know.’ Lord Latimer tossed the words over his shoulder as he turned, and with Dante Locke, ran down the front steps into the Square.
* * *
Angelica spent the following morning with her mother. Amabel Leigh was in the highest spirits showing her daughter all the treasures she had gleaned from the Parisian modistes and other grateful shopkeepers keen to see the tourists return to the city. As she twirled in an ermine-lined pelisse of silver-grey velvet, Angelica watched her from the bed, troubled by every kind of question.
Martin and Robert, the groom, had struggled up the stairs with the brass-bound chest left in the hall by her father. When the men had gone, Amabel opened it and they both gasped at the sight of so many gold coins; running them through their hands made it seem truly like they had stumbled upon pirate’s treasure. ‘Mama, how did my father earn his living and why is there still a warrant out for his arrest?’
Amabel did not welcome any questioning of her past. ‘I never asked much. I knew he owed people money and possibly robbed people too, but you see, Angelica, I was so grateful to him for picking me off the streets and giving me a home. And then you came along and were my only care.’
‘Do you think we can believe that these gold coins truly are his profits from his club?’
‘Who knows? But he always had a way about him so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made a success of something that demanded a certain braggadocio and flair.’
‘Oh Mama, I’m so afraid of what we don’t know about him.’ Angelica’s head sank under the weight of anxiety. ‘I am so ashamed to have implicated a good man in his nefarious deeds.’ She looked up to search her mother’s face, hoping for some further elucidation, then expostulated, ‘And we still don’t know if he is safely on his way to France!’
‘He has the luck of the devil, my dear, and his welfare is not your responsibility.’
‘But what if I could have done more to save him?’
Amabel Leigh had cast off the beautiful fur-lined pelisse and slipped into a military-style spencer with plush burgundy tassels that became her wonderfully well. She grasped her daughter’s hand and her eyes turned gimlet sharp. ‘What do you mean, Angelica? What more could you have done?’
Angelica turned away. She could not even confide in her mother the shameful bargain offered her by Lord Rackham, in part because she wondered if her immediate dismissal of it was due to some excess of pride in herself. The thought of where her duty lay continued to trouble her.
There was something else she had not told her mother which concerned her too. ‘Mama, did you ever meet my father’s mother?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Well, he gave me a very beautiful necklace he said had belonged to her.’
‘That’s quite possible, my dear. I believe he came from Irish gentry stock. A family with land near Cork.’ Angelica was unhappy that she had omitted to tell her mother details while being so critical of her for the same omissions. Somehow Prosper Crowe, or Peter Crowley, or whoever he was, seemed to contaminate others with his secrecies and lies. And what about Mr Asprey and his probity? Her creeping sense of anxiety and shame suffused everything.
‘Oh Mama, everything he touches he threatens to spoil.’ Her voice was despairing.
‘You see why we were better off without him,’ her mother responded with some satisfaction.
Angelica turned away. ‘I must go and prepare for tonight’s ball. Miss Elinor Asprey is dropping in for an hour or so.’
* * *
There was a knock on the door which was opened by Martin to find Miss Stafford and Elinor Asprey, dressed in a blue dress with a ruffled collar under a matching pelisse, and a jaunty straw bonnet tied haphazardly over her brown curls. ‘Good afternoon, ladies.’ Martin, in full theatrical make-up, was delighted to welcome to his domain this handsome woman and bright-faced child. He bowed low.
Angelica came running down the stairs to greet them. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Stafford. And Miss Elinor, what a pleasure to see you.’ She took their hands. ‘May I offer you some tea to drink?’
Miss Stafford smiled and shook her head. ‘I’ve an appointment at two, so cannot stay. But, Elinor, I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour.’ Her charge was watching Martin and had her hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. Appreciative of any audience, Martin was practising his Irish jig down the corridor to the kitchens, his feet flashing as he danced away and then back carrying a glass of lemonade, perfectly still, on a tray.
He bowed theatrically and placed it on the hall table then offered to take Miss Asprey’s pelisse. ‘Thank you, sir.’ She bobbed a quick curtsey.
‘Come upstairs, Miss Elinor. Mary’s helping me dress.’ Angelica led the way with Elinor beside her and Martin following with the tray.
As they passed, Mrs Leigh bustled out of the drawing room and Elinor was introduced to her. Angelica’s mother was still euphoric from her travels and was at her most effusive. Taking the girl’s hand she led her into the room, picked up a handful of French bon-bons and slipped them into Miss Asprey’s pocket, then kissed her on the forehead. ‘You’ll be a beauty when you’re grown.’
