He was rendered speechless as his eyes fastened on the young woman descending the stairs.

Angelina possessed the grace and beauty of a Grecian goddess and the regal bearing of a queen.

When she reached the bottom step, Alex took her hand. A slow, appreciative smile worked its way across his face as his eyes leisurely roamed over her body. The unspoken compliment made her blood run warm.

“You look entrancing,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m delighted you were able to join us—if tardily.”

“I’m sorry. Am I late?” The look she gave him was one of unadulterated innocence.

“You know you are. What were you trying to do? Hold out to make a grand entrance?”

“What? Me? Really, Alex—you know me better than that,” she murmured meaningfully.

He glanced down at her with a hooded gaze. “Do I?”

She smiled impishly. “No one knows me better,” she breathed.

The Defiant Debutante

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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HELEN DICKSON

was born and still lives in south Yorkshire, with her husband, on a busy arable farm where she combines writing with keeping a chaotic farmhouse. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure, owing much of her inspiration to the beauty of the surrounding countryside. She enjoys reading and music. History has always captivated her, and she likes to travel and visit ancient buildings.

The Defiant Debutante
HELEN DICKSON

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Available from Harlequin® Historical and HELEN DICKSON

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Belhaven Bride #190

The Earl and the Pickpocket #201

Rogue’s Widow, Gentleman’s Wife #853

His Rebel Bride #222

Wicked Pleasures #873

A Scoundrel of Consequence #248

The Defiant Debutante #256

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

London, May 1812

Birds were stirring in the trees and dew was still on the grass as dawn began to spread its watery grey light over the deserted park. Two men shrouded in long black cloaks rode towards the seclusion of a group of trees and dismounted.

Cursing at his own folly, Alexander Montgomery, the seventh Earl of Arlington and taller of the two, glanced irritably at Sir Nathan Beresford. The two men were as close as friends could be, and as different as night and day. Nathan, with his ash-blond hair and blue eyes, was well liked, good natured and easygoing, and he lacked the aura of authority and power that seemed to surround Alex. Nathan was to act as Alex’s second, when the other party deigned to arrive for the duel.

Three inches over six feet tall, Alex was a man diverse and complex, and could be utterly ruthless when the need arose. There was a hard set to his firm jaw, and his wide, well-shaped mouth was held in a stern line. His face was clean shaven and one of arrogant handsomeness, dark brows slashed his forehead and his hair was thick and ebony black. In the midst of so much darkness his eyes were dove grey, striking and piercing. Hidden deep in them was a cynicism, watchful, mocking, as though he found the world a dubious place to be.

He possessed a haughty reserve that was not inviting and set him apart from others in society. There was an aggressive confidence and strength of purpose in his features, and he had an air of a man who succeeds in all he sets out to achieve. From the arrogant lift of his dark head and casual stance, he was a man with many shades to his nature, a man with a sense of his own infallibility.

‘You’ve tied yourself into some knots in your time, Alex, but this is by far the tightest,’ Nathan remarked, tethering his horse to a branch and scanning the park for the arrival of Alex’s opponent. ‘I only hope you can extricate yourself from this mess with some modicum of honour.’

‘I agree. It’s a damned unfortunate business, Nathan, and I bear the entire weight of this incident on my own conscience.’

‘Surely Amelia Fairhurst must shoulder some of the blame.’

‘The responsibility is all mine,’ Alex replied curtly, dismissing Nathan’s well-meaning attempt to absolve him. ‘But if ever I am stupid enough to fall prey to another pretty face, remind me to scrutinise her credentials for hidden husbands.’

‘Knowing how assiduous you are to detail, I am surprised you didn’t vet her more carefully.’

‘I must have taken leave of my senses,’ Alex replied, contemplating the irony of the situation. Here he was, one of the most eligible bachelors in England, and yet he had made the fatal mistake of taking to bed a married woman. His stupidity galled him, and he cursed himself for being a dim-witted fool.

Nathan cast him an arch look. ‘The delectable Amelia Fairhurst must be quite something for you to have overlooked the fact that she has an aging husband tucked conveniently out of the way in Yorkshire.’

Alex’s firm lips curved in a slight smile when he remembered the stunningly vivacious brunette, who had taken no persuading to jump into his bed. ‘She’s certainly an interesting, unconventional female.’

Nathan chuckled, giving his friend a conspiratorial wink. ‘And I seem to recall you saying on more than one occasion that unconventional women are always more exciting between the sheets.’

‘Exactly,’ Alex replied with a wry grin. ‘Providing one doesn’t happen to be married to one.’

His words were flippant, but Nathan heard an edge to his voice. Alex was a self-proclaimed single man. Past experiences had forged him into a hardened cynic, and he discarded all women as being dispensable and irrelevant. Age and experience had taught him that women couldn’t be trusted, and the first lady to show him this had been his own mother. Her affairs had been notorious and had hurt him badly. They had also been the reason why his father had sought oblivion in alcohol before blowing out his brains. Alex’s mother, the beautiful and immoral Margaret Montgomery, had married her Spanish lover soon after and had gone to live in Spain. Whether she lived or had died Alex neither knew nor cared.

‘Thank God Fairhurst is in his dotage. With any luck his eyesight will be impaired and his brain addled. I am merely one in a long line of Amelia’s lovers. Why the devil he’s singled me out is quite beyond me.’

‘Maybe it’s because you’re the only one he knows about.’

‘I doubt it. But whatever the reason, remind me not to stray from Caroline from now on. She’s more than enough to satisfy my needs.’

Alex was always careful to choose a mistress whose company he enjoyed. She had to be intelligent and sophisticated, who would not mistake lovemaking and desire with love, and, moreover, she had to be a woman who made no demands and expected no promises.

For these reasons she would be kept in the lap of luxury. She could expect a smart town house, a beautiful carriage and horses, servants, gowns, furs and jewels that would be the envy of every other woman.

‘Does Caroline know about your affair with Amelia?’

‘Yes, but she understands not to ask for an explanation. However, I must admit that I’ve been unfair to her.’

Nathan quirked a brow, his blue eyes twinkling with light mockery. ‘What’s this? Are you becoming sentimental?’

‘I am never sentimental,’ Alex snapped. ‘But for the life of me I can’t understand why someone as stunning as Amelia married old Fairhurst in the first place. It’s disgraceful that so much beauty is wasted on such a pathetic old man.’

Nathan regarded his friend with mild cynicism. ‘Yes, you can. You know the type of woman she is. She’s a scheming fortune-hunter who likes to drink the finest champagne and wear the most expensive jewels. She openly and shamelessly admits she married Fairhurst for his title and wealth and flaunts it with aplomb.’

‘So she does, but you must admit she is more pleasing than those simpering young misses, who swoon at the merest hint of a stolen kiss, their mamas hovering over them like hawks, ready to latch on to me if I show any sign of compromising their precious daughters.’

Alex was aware that he was a fantastic matrimonial prize—top of the list of every ambitious matchmaking mama, whom he treated with amused condescension. They were women whose only ambition in life was to form an alliance with the powerful and illustrious Montgomery family. His ancestors on his mother’s side had been rewarded for their loyalty to the crown through the ages with estates and riches enough to make him one of the wealthiest men in England.

Alex’s attitude to the female sex was highly critical, his opinion low, but his own popularity among them was high. He was unattached, unattainable, and he would stay that way.

‘Perhaps if you were to give marriage some serious thought it might put a stop to the hunt.’

Alex threw Nathan a look that would have stopped a race-horse in its tracks. ‘When I want some of your logic, Nathan,’ he retorted tersely, ‘I’ll ask for it.’

‘Nevertheless, it would solve the problem,’ Nathan went on imperturbably, ignoring Alex’s black look. Nathan was one of the few people who could argue with him and escape unscathed.

‘Marriage and love are for fools,’ Alex stated caustically.

‘I never mentioned love. Besides, where you are concerned, since when has love anything to do with marriage or anything else for that matter?’ Nathan proclaimed.

‘You’re right. I despise the romantic ideal of love. I’ve seen enough of it in the past to know of its destructive effects. Desire I understand. It’s a more honest emotion. Passion and desire are easily appeased—fleeting—and easily doused.’

‘It’s a good thing we’re not all as cynical as you are,’ Nathan chuckled. ‘Not every woman is as ambitious and devious as you seem to think they are. I am fortunate to be married to one, don’t forget.’

That was true. Twelve months ago Nathan had found wedded bliss with the lovely Verity Fortesque, a woman with whom even Alex had been unable to find fault. Alex and Verity were cousins, Verity being the only daughter of his Aunt Patience, Uncle Henry’s younger sister. Patience’s husband had died after just a few short yet happy years of marriage. She had never remarried and still lived in the house they had shared at Richmond.

‘Verity is a sweet thing, I grant you. But she is the exception. However, unlike you, I do not find marriage a desirable institution.’

Nathan shot him an exasperated look. ‘I agree it can be heaven or hell. Thankfully I chose my wife wisely. Our marriage will be long lasting, based on caring—and love. And you may scoff at that all you like.’

Alex looked at his friend, suddenly serious. ‘I’m not scoffing, Nathan. In a way I envy you.’

‘You do?’

Alex nodded and looked away.

‘You know, Alex, you Montgomerys have become thin on the ground; if you want to continue the line, you really should give some thought to producing an heir. You don’t have to marry for love—but I suspect that one day you will fall prey to what you consider to be a debilitating emotion, and it will come as the greatest shock in your life.’

Alex favoured him with a look of absolute disdain, but Nathan ignored it. ‘I don’t think so,’ he answered coldly, his tone suggesting that the subject was closed. But as he turned away he frowned, his thoughts reverting to the matter of an heir. Nathan was right. He was heir to his uncle, the Duke of Mowbray, and Alex knew how anxious his uncle was for him to marry. If he didn’t produce a legitimate heir, the title would become extinct. It troubled him more than anyone realised, and he knew he couldn’t go on ignoring the issue.

He had stayed a bachelor far longer than most of his contemporaries, and the truth of it was that he was beginning to tire of courtesans and mistresses, and all the jealousies and petty tantrums they brought with them. This latest affair with Amelia Fairhurst had made him see that he was susceptible to women of a certain type, and a wave of disgust swept over him. There had to be an easier way of satisfying his physical needs. Perhaps Nathan was right and a marriage of convenience was the answer after all. In fact, it might have much to offer, and, further, the ideal woman was waiting in the wings.

Lavinia Howard was the eldest daughter of Lord Howard of Springfield Hall in Kent. She was eminently suitable and available. He would dwell on the prospect and invite her—along with a party of friends—to Arlington, his estate in Hertfordshire. If he offered for her, marriage would be a comfortable arrangement that would suit them both. A union between two civilised people who knew what to expect from each other might be just what he needed. He could still enjoy pleasant intrigues, providing he had a compliant wife.

Cursing softly under his breath, impatiently he moved away and began pacing to and fro. ‘Fairhurst’s late. Where the devil is the man?’ Annoyed, Alex thought of the impending duel with distaste. He hoped Fairhurst would achieve satisfaction by merely wounding him—or preferably missing him completely. Alex would fire into the air, and, in so doing, would be admitting his guilt—then the affair would be ended. This was how duels were usually settled between gentlemen. If a death should occur, it would draw the attention of the law, and neither of them wanted that.

‘Tell me, Alex. Does your uncle know that Fairhurst has challenged you to a duel?’

Alex’s mouth narrowed into a thin line of annoyance. ‘No. At this very moment my uncle is en route to America.’

‘Really?’ Nathan expressed profound surprise. ‘I say! That’s a bit sudden—and reckless, considering the present situation. It’s highly probably that America will declare war on us very soon.’

Alex knew this to be true and his irritation about the situation had increased considerably. ‘I know it’s only a matter of time before the situation ignites. His decision to go was all rather sudden. He has a cousin, Lydia Hamilton, in Boston who is dying. Her husband is dead and she’s fallen on hard times. It appears she has appealed to my uncle to make her daughter his ward. The girl is a minor and Lydia wants him to bring her to England and offer her a home.’

‘And you’re not pleased, I can see that,’ Nathan stated.

‘No. When I returned to London from Arlington and read his note, my first impulse was to take the next ship and go after him to bring him back.’

‘Thank God common sense prevailed. Do you think your uncle will bring the girl back with him?’

‘Uncle Henry is far too sensible to do anything irrational, but from what I recall, his feelings for Lydia were far stronger than just cousinly fondness. Their mothers were sisters, and Henry and Lydia created a scandal that embroiled both families at the time. I believe she is the reason why my uncle never married. I don’t know the gist of it, but what I do know makes me decidedly reluctant and uneasy about admitting that woman’s daughter into our lives.’

‘Why did she go to America?’

‘Against her father’s wishes, Lydia married an adventurer by the name of Richard Hamilton with undue haste and went with him to Boston. I believe they went west and settled in Ohio. Apparently, her father was outraged and cut her off without a penny. As far as I am aware, nothing has been heard of her since—until my uncle received a letter from her three weeks ago.’

‘And no doubt you’re afraid he’ll be taken in.’

‘Yes. He is not a man who shirks his responsibilities, and he obviously thinks of his cousin’s daughter as just that, otherwise he would not have gone tearing halfway across the world without discussing the matter with me first. But why go at all? He could have written or sent someone to escort the girl to England.’

‘It occurs to me that this grand gesture might be your uncle’s way of telling Lydia Hamilton that where she is concerned his feelings are no different to what they were all those years ago.’

It was a possibility that Alex refused to dwell upon.

‘Alex, your uncle may have a soft heart, but, contrary to what you believe, he is no fool.’

‘You’re right. But to saddle himself with a ward at his time of life could be disastrous.’

Nathan arched a sceptical brow. ‘For whom? Him or you?’

Alex shot him an icy glance. ‘All right, damn you. Me,’ he answered curtly.

Nathan grinned, arching a brow at his grim-faced friend. ‘It needn’t be. I think it’s rather touching. But is there no one in America who can look after the girl?’

‘Apparently not. My uncle is Lydia Hamilton’s next of kin, and I suspect she will take advantage of that. It’s years since he last saw her and I’m afraid she might turn out to be a scheming opportunist.’

‘Never having met the woman, don’t you think you do her an injustice? Come, Alex. I doubt her daughter will bring any real changes to your life,’ Nathan argued.

Alex’s eyes were full of distaste when he looked at Nathan. ‘I hope you’re right. But a girl from the wilds of America will have no social skills and find it hard to adjust to the kind of world we inhabit. If so she’ll be nothing but a damned nuisance and an embarrassment.’

‘Good Lord, Alex! What are you expecting? An ill-bred barbarian? A girl who is half-savage, with brown skin and feathers in her hair?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Why not? She could be anything. We know absolutely nothing about her.’

‘Nevertheless, having met several colonists both on my travels and here in London, on the whole they are extremely civilised, pleasant people.’

‘Several of my acquaintances are Americans, Nathan, so I would be grateful if you did not lecture me on their attributes,’ Alex replied drily. ‘If my uncle brings the girl to England, he will have legal control over her until she is twenty-one.’

‘Are you afraid that she’ll be a drain on your resources?’

‘No. We can afford it,’ Alex bit out.

‘Not only will you have to feed her, but you will be faced with the enormous expense of clothing her and introducing her to society.’

‘I don’t need reminding.’ His eyes like dagger thrusts, Alex glared with deadly menace at the amusement Nathan was unable to conceal in his eyes. ‘Damn it, Nathan! I do believe you’re enjoying my predicament,’ he flared in exasperation.

Blithely ignoring his friend’s ill humour, Nathan grinned good-naturedly. ‘No, not really. I merely find it odd that a girl you have never met, a girl you know nothing about, is capable of rousing so much ire in you. It appears to me that you have already made up your mind not to like her, and have no intention of being charitable or accommodating.’

Alex’s eyes impaled Nathan like sharp flints. ‘I cannot be accused of being either uncharitable or unaccommodating in this instance. And contrary to what you may think, I have formed no opinion of her whatsoever.’

‘I am glad to hear it. You may be pleasantly surprised. Why, she might be a pretty young thing with a sweet disposition and excellent manners.’

‘Let us hope so—for all our sakes,’ Alex drawled, scanning the park for Lord Fairhurst, his annoyance increasing by the minute the longer he was kept waiting.

‘Nevertheless, try to imagine how she might feel,’ Nathan persisted. ‘Her mother is dying, you say, and she has no relatives in America. Maybe she doesn’t want to come to England. My fear is that when she is faced with your formidable manner—a daunting prospect for any girl—it will alienate her from the start. Has it not entered that arrogant, stubborn head of yours that you might like her, Alex? And, if so, will it wound your pride to admit it?’

‘Even for an arrogant, stubborn male like me it is not beyond the realms of possibility,’ Alex conceded with sarcasm. ‘I am protective of my uncle; as you are aware, he does not always enjoy the best of health. He is renowned for his generosity and I am naturally concerned that he is not taken advantage of.’

‘Yes, I can understand that. How old is the girl?’

‘I really have no idea, but it is my intention to marry her off to the first prospective suitor.’

Nathan watched an inexplicable smile trace its way across the other man’s face. ‘In which case, you do realise that you will have to provide a somewhat generous dowry?’

Alex regarded Nathan in casual, speculative silence, one dark brow lifted in amused mockery. ‘If she turns out to be a wilful hoyden with outrageous manners,’ he said drily, ‘it will be worth it to get her off our hands.’

Alex had been trained to discipline as soon as he had drawn breath. Already the American girl had caused a rift in his routine—a disturbance that had brought a feeling of unease which had begun to trouble him. It was like a pebble breaking the calm surface of a pond. Once thrown there was nothing to prevent the ripple widening in ever-increasing circles.

The quiet of the park was interrupted. Hearing the measured thud of horses’ hooves on the soft turf and the creaking of wheels, they turned to see a closed carriage bearing down on them. It came to a halt and they saw it had only one occupant, a man in middle age. He climbed out and calmly told an astonished Alex that Lord Fairhurst had died suddenly of a seizure during the night.

When Angelina and her mother, Lydia, had left Ohio, never in her life had Angelina known such grief. It broke her heart to think that as well as her father, all the people she had known in the settlement were dead, that whole families had been wiped out by the Shawnee.

Will Casper had accompanied them to Boston. He was a loner, a man of few words, who helped Angelina’s father on the land when needed. Will had become a good and loyal friend to them over the years. He had found a doctor to tend to Lydia after she was badly wounded in the Shawnee attack, but he could give them little hope that she would live beyond the next few weeks.

With a horse and wagon, a few meagre possessions and a rifle, they had faced east, pushing themselves hard on well-worn trails. The months of trekking through Pennsylvania and across the mountains were a harsh and emotional time for Angelina, during which she was veiled in a curtain of shock. Her pain defied release. It hid itself in a hollow place inside her heart, beyond the reach of understanding.

Will silently watched her battle to be brave and grown up. He showed her she wasn’t alone, and together they made it to the state of Massachusetts, making their home in a shack on the outskirts of Boston. The land round about was wild, and fast-flowing water cut its way through a steep rocky gorge beside the shack, moving north to the Charles River.

The night of the massacre and her own treatment at the hands of the Shawnee had scorched its memory on Angelina’s soul. Even now, two years later, she felt defiled and beyond redemption. The terrible, haunting nightmares had pursued her all the way back east. At first they happened every night, but now they were less frequent. But no matter how much time passed, she could not swallow her feeling of outrage and pretend the incident had never happened. She would never be able to come to terms with it, never be able to speak of it. Her terrible secret would remain a burden she would never be able to put into more manageable proportions.

Angelina galloped so hard towards Henry Montgomery that he half-expected a troop of Amazons to materialise from the trees in her wake. Riding the forest pathways on a pony as energetic as herself, she was reckless, like an Indian, and as refreshing as a cool, invigorating wind. With long bouncing braids sticking out from beneath a battered old beaver hat with an eagle’s feather stuck in its brim, she pulled her lathered pony to an abrupt halt in front of him, unconcerned by the clouds of dust that the restless animal sent into the air with its hooves, which covered his fine clothes.

Dressed in a worn brown jerkin, ill-fitting deerskin trousers and dull brown boots that no amount of rubbing would bring a shine to, Angelina levelled a steady dark gaze at the tall, silver-haired man. Silently they took stock of each other. She was guarded, wary, looking at him with a wordless resentment.

Henry Montgomery possessed a commanding presence. He had the poise and regal bearing of a man who has lived a thoroughly privileged life. With Angelina he aroused a curious inspection. He looked cool and contained in his immaculate charcoal grey suit and pristine white stock. He was the sort of gentleman her mother had told her about—his rather austere mien and noble bearing out of place here in the backwoods of New England.

Despite the unease and resentment his unexpected arrival caused her, knowing how much her mother was looking forward to meeting him, she had primed herself to be gracious.

‘You’re the Englishman,’ she stated without preamble, her pronunciation clear and distinct. Taking note of this, Henry smiled inwardly. He would have expected nothing less from Lydia’s daughter. Swinging her leg over her pony she jumped down like an Indian—lithe, supple and long limbed.

Henry inclined his silver head with amusement and quite without resentment on being confronted by the bold and forthright manner of the girl, who positively oozed energy and vitality. Somehow it came as no surprise to see the butt of a rifle sticking out of a saddle pouch on the side of her pony.

She held out a slim hand. ‘It is most kind of you to come all this way.’

Taking her hand in both of his, Henry held it, gazing with complete absorption into the darkest eyes he had ever seen. Set in a face burnt golden by the sun, they slanted slightly and were fringed with sooty black lashes. Her cheekbones were high, her nose pert, and an attractive little cleft dented her delicately rounded chin. Dainty and fine though her features were, her face could possibly pass for a boy’s, and with a baggy shirt and jerkin concealing her adolescent breasts, the same could be said of her body. But the mouth was much too soft and pink, too delicate, to belong to a boy. There was something inexpressibly dainty about her, which aroused vague feelings of chivalry.

‘I am Henry Montgomery—the Duke of Mowbray. And you are Lydia’s daughter.’ The likeness almost cut his heart in two.

‘My name is Angelina Hamilton,’ she replied, withdrawing her hand, completely unfazed by the stranger’s grand title and fancy clothes. ‘You’ve come a long way.’

If Angelina did but know it, Henry would walk through hell fire and promise to live in eternal damnation if Lydia asked him to. Even though he was fifty-five and a veteran of hundreds of dispassionate affairs, this girl’s mother was the only woman to have captivated his heart. He had loved her as much as it was possible to love another human being, but, because their parents had considered their relationship to be incestuous, he’d had to resign himself to letting her go. Yet, despite the distance, their hearts were still entwined, and neither separation nor time had lessened the pain or their love for each other.

‘I came in response to your mother’s letter.’

‘I know.’

Her eyes were questioning and direct, and her voice was steady, but there was something in it of a frustrated, frightened child.

‘How is she? In her letter she mentioned that she was ill—that she was wounded when Indians attacked your home.’

‘My mother is dying, sir.’

Carefully Henry schooled his features as he took note of the pain showing naked on Angelina’s young face upturned to his. A hint of tears brightened her translucent eyes, which were like windows laying bare the suffering and many hardships of her young life.

‘I’m so very sorry, my dear. How dreadful this must be for you.’

‘Mother knows she’s dying, but she set her mind on not doing so until she heard from you. She didn’t know if you would come in person. She didn’t expect you to. She thought that perhaps you would write in response to her letter.’

‘We used to be very close, your mother and I, before she married your father and came to live in America.’ He averted his eyes when Angelina gave him a curious, questioning look. ‘Come—walk with me back to the hotel. Mr Phipps, the proprietor, has kindly offered me the use of his buggy. You can take me to her.’

Mr Phipps was a man who liked to talk. All Henry had had to do was sit back and listen when he made it known that he was here to see Mrs Hamilton and her daughter, Angelina.

‘Real nice is Miss Angelina,’ Mr Phipps had told him. ‘Shame about her ma an’pa, though—what the Indians did an’ all. After the attack an’ when she’d buried her pa, she brought her ma back here an’ bought the old McKay place down by the gorge. It was a wreck of a place so it didn’t cost much.’

‘Did Angelina see what happened?’ Henry had asked him.

‘She saw all right—more than is right for a child to see. Done killed the Indian who killed her pa, she did. Stabbed him right through the heart, accordin’ to Will.’

Unable to comprehend what Angelina must have suffered during the Indian attack, Henry’s expression remained unchanged as he absorbed this shocking piece of information. ‘Will?’

‘Will Casper. He was out west at the time an’ came back east with her and her ma. Been right good to them, too. Don’t know what they’d ’ave done without him.’

‘How do they manage?’

‘Miss Angelina spends all her time huntin’ an fishin’ an’ lookin’ after her ma, while Will does all the work about the place—when he’s not off trappin’ beaver. They ’aven’t much—but what they do ’ave they make the best of.’

Moving towards the door through which the Englishman had disappeared, Angelina stopped on the threshold, suddenly feeling like an outsider in her own home. Knowing her mother wanted to be alone with him, she would go no further, but before the bedroom door closed she saw the Englishman bend and pick her mother’s limp hand up off the patchwork quilt and place it to his lips. At the same time her mother raised her free hand and gently placed it on his silver head, as if bestowing a title on the Duke of Mowbray. It was a scene that would remain indelibly printed on her mind for all time.

When he emerged from Lydia’s room after what seemed like an eternity, Henry passed through the house to the veranda, welcoming the cool air after the heat of the sick room. Night had fallen and a languid breeze stirred the trees. The air carried a heavy fragrance of jasmine, wood smoke and cedar wood.

Henry had been taken aback at first to see how ill Lydia was, and he knew she wasn’t long for this world. As fragile as a plucked wildflower, she lay still and as white as death against the pillows. But when he’d gazed once more into those glorious dark eyes, he had seen that the years had not quenched their glow.

Lydia had been his grande passion, the woman he had been prepared to relinquish his title and his family to marry. She had been part of his flesh and his spirit, and a large part of him had died when she left him. Without warning and without his knowledge she had married Richard Hamilton, sacrificing herself for his own sake, and gone to America. In a brooding silence he was conscious of the girl standing silently behind him, waiting for him to speak, her dog, Mr Boone, at her feet.

Henry turned and looked at her. The soft, silvery moonlight washed over her, touching the delicate, pensive features of her face. He saw the questioning black eyes in cheeks pale with apprehension, and it was only then, upon meeting that dark, misty gaze, that he realised the enormity of the responsibility Lydia had placed in his hands.

‘You know why your mother wrote to me, Angelina,’ Henry said, sitting in one of two battered old wicker chairs. ‘You also know that I am her cousin and closest kin. It is most unfortunate that on your late father’s side there are no close relatives. It is your mother’s wish that I take charge of you, and take you back with me to England. Would you like that?’

Angelina’s reaction to say no was instinctive, but, realising that this gentleman had travelled a long way to help her mother and herself, she could not be so discourteous. It wasn’t that she disliked the Englishman, but the question of being forced into something she had no control over that troubled her. Independence had become a part of everyday life, and she had no wish to renounce that.

‘I don’t know.’

‘I have promised your mother that before we leave America I will legally make you my ward. When she is gone, as your next of kin your responsibility rests entirely with me.’

‘Are you really my only living relative?’

Henry frowned. It was one question he had anticipated, and since he now knew what Lydia had told Angelina about her grandparents—that they were dead and nothing more—he was capable of answering. He would rather not, because it meant having to lie. However, he didn’t see how it could be evaded if he was to abide by his promise to Lydia.

‘Your grandparents on your mother’s side were killed in a carriage accident some years ago,’ he told her in a gentle, straightforward voice, praying she would never discover the truth.

‘My grandparents never wrote to her, and she would never speak of them. Do you know why?’

He nodded, silently cursing Jonathan Adams, Lydia’s father. Anne, his wife and Henry’s own aunt, had been a gentle woman, who had lived in awe of her husband, and had been unable to stand against him when he had coldly cut Lydia out of their lives.

‘When your mother married your father and left England, Angelina, it was against your grandfather’s wishes. He was a hard, unforgiving man and meant to punish her for disobeying him. He cut off all connection with her—and insisted that your grandmother did the same. You mother never forgave them.’

How true this was, Henry thought sadly. Lydia’s lack of forgiveness was no temporary state of affairs. With great intensity she had insisted that there must be no connection between Angelina and her grandmother. Not wishing to distress her further, Henry had promised he would abide by her wishes.

Angelina sat on the top step of the veranda with her back propped against a wooden rail. ‘Won’t someone like me be a burden to you in England—a financial one?’

Henry was mildly amused at her words so innocently and frankly spoken. ‘I can well afford it. It will be a pleasure. And you are far too lovely and independent to be a burden. You will learn to be a fine lady,’ he told her, wanting to tell her not to change, that she was just perfect the way she was. But, if she was to live in the social world he inhabited, regretfully it was necessary.

‘How should I address you? For me to call you “my Lord” every time I speak to you is too formal and quite ridiculous.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Uncle Henry will be appropriate.’

She considered this for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes. Uncle Henry it is then.’

Angelina’s new uncle had a warmth of manner that made her feel as if she had known him a long time. His physical impression might be one of age, yet his twinkling eyes and willing smile were the epitome of eternal youth. Over the distance they smiled at each other, comfortable together, sharing a moment of accord on the veranda that seemed to bind them together.

‘It is obvious to me that your education seems to have been taken care of, so we’ll have no trouble in that quarter,’ Henry remarked at length. ‘Your pronunciation of the English language is excellent.’

‘Thank you. I am also conversant in French, Latin and some Greek, too,’ Angelina confessed proudly. ‘Despite the everyday hardships of living in Ohio, my mother saw to that.’

Henry’s admiration for her was growing all the time.

‘Do you have a wife?’ Angelina asked suddenly, with the natural curiosity of a child.

‘No,’ he answered, startled by the abruptness of her question, but not offended by it. ‘I never found a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with—except, perhaps, one,’ he said softly, his eyes clouding with memory, wondering how Angelina would feel if she knew that her beloved father had been accepted by her mother as a hasty second best.

‘But isn’t it the custom for gentlemen of your standing to marry to beget an heir?’

‘I had no intention of adhering to custom by chaining myself to any woman I might only have a passing fancy for, in order to beget an heir. Besides, I have a perfectly acceptable heir in my nephew, Alex—my brother’s son.’

Angelina’s eyes became alert. ‘Alex?’

‘Alexander Henry Frederick Montgomery, the seventh Earl of Arlington and Lord Montgomery—which are just two of his titles. His friends call him Alex.’

Angelina’s eyes widened in awe. ‘Gracious me! What an awesome responsibility it must be to have so many names. Doesn’t he feel weighted down by so many titles?’

‘Not in the least. He was born to them and learned to accept and ignore them from an early age. One day he will become the sixth Duke of Mowbray—following my demise, you understand. His title as the seventh Earl of Arlington he inherited from his mother’s family. The sixth earl died several years ago, and as the estate is unentailed he left it directly to Alex—with provision made for his mother, who was an only child. He made representations to the King that Alex be given the title of seventh Earl on his demise. You’ll meet him when we get to England. He is the only son of my brother, who died when Alex was fifteen. Alex is now twenty-eight—and I swear that young man is the reason for my hair turning white,’ he chuckled softly.

‘Is he married?’

‘Despite being one of the most eligible bachelors in England, I’ve all but despaired of ever seeing him suitably married.’

‘Why? What’s wrong with him?’

‘Nothing. He hasn’t got two heads or anything like that.’ Henry chuckled aloud. ‘It is his unequivocal wish to remain a bachelor and childless. I cannot hide the fact that he’s an exacting man, who insists on the highest standards from all those he employs. However, he can be quite charming, when it suits him.’

‘What does he do?’ Angelina asked, already in awe of Alex Montgomery.

‘Alex handles all my business and financial affairs—as well as his own. He has a brilliant mind and a head for figures that shames me. He drives himself hard, demanding too much of himself—and others. Ever since he took over he’s increased all my holdings considerably. Now I’m in my dotage I’m perfectly content to sit back and let him handle everything. Oh, he consults me now and then, but business is not my forte.’

‘And do you trust him?’

‘Implicitly. Besides, my dear…’he chuckled softly, his grey eyes twinkling merrily ‘…if I didn’t, I wouldn’t dare tell him so.’

Angelina frowned. He sounds quite formidable. He’s bound to resent me. How do you think he’ll react?’

Henry grinned. ‘He’ll be outraged when he finds out I have made myself your guardian—but he’ll soon get used to having you around. Besides, there’s not a lot he can do about it.’ He relaxed, regarding her warmly. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll soon get used to Alex.’

Just two days after Henry Montgomery had come to Boston, Lydia slipped quietly away in her sleep.

Angelina’s heart was heavy with sadness, but she didn’t give in to her grief. Her mother had suffered greatly, and now she was at peace. Henry gave no outward sign to Angelina of his own private emotions, but his face was lined, his eyes dull with a deep sorrow.

It was difficult for Will to stand on the bustling quayside and watch Angelina board the ship. Her leaving would leave a huge hole in his heart.

Feeling quite forlorn, a hard lump of tears formed in Angelina’s throat as she looked into Will’s rheumy eyes. He looked lost and torn and old. Although it broke her heart to do so, she had decided to leave Mr Boone behind, in the hope that he would help console Will and that it would ease their parting. Will had carved her a wonderful likeness of Mr Boone out of ebony. It was packed in her trunk and she would cherish it always.

‘Goodbye, Will. I’ll never forget you, you know that. I promise I’ll write and let you know what it’s like in England.’

‘You go and make your ma proud,’ Will said, his voice hoarse with emotion, wondering where she would send her letters to when he had disappeared into the backwoods of North America. ‘You’re going to do all those things she talked about. You’ll dazzle all those English gents—you see if you don’t. Remember it’s what your ma wanted. She told you that.’

‘I do remember, Will, and I’ll never forget. Ever.’

Will’s eyes met those of Henry Montgomery in mutual concern. Unbeknown to Angelina, Will had told the Englishman what had happened to her on the night of the Shawnee massacre, and how he had rescued her. He hoped that, in knowing, the English duke would have a deeper understanding of his ward.

Henry had listened to all Will had said with a sense of horror. Will had told him that there was still something about that night Angelina refused to speak of. It was like an inner wound that was bleeding. The secret lurked in her gaze. Was it the shock of the massacre and her father’s death that caused it—or something else? Whatever it was might be eased when she reached England. A new country, a new home—a new life.

Chapter Two

The sky was overcast as the carriage ventured north towards Mayfair. Angelina devoured the sights and sounds of what her mother had told her was the most exciting city in the world. On reaching Brook Street she gaped in awe when the door of one of the impressive houses was opened by a servant meticulously garbed in white wig, mulberry coat edged in gold and white breeches. His face was impassive as he stepped aside to let them enter.

‘Welcome to Brook Street,’ Henry said, smiling as he watched his ward’s reaction.

Angelina was completely overwhelmed by the beauty and wealth of the house. Standing in the centre of the white marble floor she looked dazedly about her, wondering if she had not been brought to some royal palace by mistake. She wasn’t to know that compared to Mowbray Park, Henry’s home in Sussex, this house on Brook Street was considered to be of moderate proportions. Craning her neck and looking upward, she was almost dazzled by the huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling, dripping with hundreds of tiny crystal pieces.

A superior-looking man with a dignified bearing and dressed all in black stepped forward. ‘Welcome back, your Grace. You are expected. I trust you had a pleasant crossing from America.’

‘Yes, thank you, Bramwell. Is my nephew at home?’

The butler replied, ‘No, your Grace. He’s out of town for a few days, staying with Sir Nathan and his wife in Surrey.’

‘I see.’ Henry smiled at Angelina, who looked visibly relieved by the reprieve. ‘Perhaps you would like to see your room and freshen up before dinner, my dear. Show Miss Hamilton to her room, will you, Bramwell.’

‘Certainly, your Grace. The green room has been prepared. I’m certain it will meet with Miss Hamilton’s approval. It’s quiet and overlooks the garden,’ he told Angelina, before leading her up the elegant staircase.

Entering a large room on the first floor, Angelina blinked at the extravagance and unaccustomed luxury. The walls were lined with mirrors and pictures depicting placid rural scenes, and the bed hangings were in the same pale green brocade embroidered with ivory silk as the windows.

‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ she gasped.

‘I thought you’d like it.’ Bramwell directed his gaze towards the dressing room when a fresh-faced young maid emerged, her arms full of linen. ‘This is Miss Bates, Miss Hamilton. She has been appointed your personal maid.’

When Bramwell had departed Angelina smiled warmly at her maid, who bobbed a curtsy. Two or three years older than Angelina, she was quite pretty, small and rather plump, with the majority of her dark brown hair concealed beneath a modest white cap.

‘I’ve never had a personal maid before,’ Angelina confessed. ‘What does it mean?’ She saw surprise register on Miss Bates’s face, which was replaced by an indulgent little smile. No doubt she had decided that, as she was from America, her new mistress’s ignorance could be excused, that perhaps people over there weren’t as civilised or refined as they were in England.

‘Why—I see to all your personal needs—take care of your clothes—everything, really,’ she explained cheerfully.

‘Well, it seems you will have to teach me—and I have much to learn. Where I come from, unless you are very rich, one doesn’t have personal maids.’

Miss Bates seemed to be lost for words at this candid admission. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon get used to having me do things for you.’

‘Perhaps, but I simply refuse to call you Miss Bates. What is your Christian name?’

‘Pauline, miss.’

‘Then since we are to spend a good deal of time together, I shall address you as Pauline,’ she said, as two footmen entered with her trunk.

The following afternoon while her uncle was resting, and feeling hemmed in and restless at having to remain indoors because of the rain that continued to pour down, Angelina wandered through the house. Her uneducated eye was unable to place a value on the things she saw, but she was able to appreciate and admire the quality of the beautifully furnished rooms.

The library, with its highly polished floor and vividly coloured oriental carpets, was like an Aladdin’s cave—a treasure trove of precious leatherbound tomes. It was a room which, to Angelina, encapsulated every culture and civilisation of the universe, where bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, broken only by a huge white marble fireplace and long windows. Happily she browsed along the shelves, looking for a book to suit her mood, eventually finding just what she was looking for.

Unaccustomed to being indoors for such a long period, she placed her books on the desk and went to the window, leaning her shoulder against the window frame, gazing in a somewhat disconsolate manner at the garden, glad to see it had stopped raining and envying the gardener pottering about among the flower beds. Unable to resist the temptation to join him, but not wishing to dirty her dainty slippers, she dashed to her room and donned an old pair of stout boots she had brought with her.

She entered the garden by the long French windows in the library, and spent half an hour chatting to the gardener and helping him debud some of the sodden roses—which Jarvis thought highly irregular considering who she was. Then the rain came down again and the wind rose with a vengeance, so she made a dash for the house. On entering the library she was unable to prevent the sudden gust that sent some loose papers blowing off the desk all over the place and a tiny figurine from crashing to the floor.

‘You stupid, reckless little fool. Do you have to enter the house like a bloody whirlwind?’ a voice thundered.

Angelina’s face was a frozen mask. In her struggle to keep the door from blowing off its hinges, she hadn’t seen the man sitting at the desk with damp, unruly locks of raven black hair tumbling wildly over his head. Scraping his chair back, he stood up and strode towards her, his face livid.

Like an animal on the defensive, Angelina’s eyes narrowed and flashed. ‘You are just about the rudest man I have ever come across and you have a foul mouth for such a well-bred gentleman—I assume you are Lord Montgomery.’

‘Precisely, and I know who you are—Miss Hamilton.’ He seemed to lose control of his expression momentarily as his gaze passed over her, from the top of her shining head to her boots, where it froze.

Angelina followed his gaze and saw her mud-caked boots dirtying the parquet flooring. Soil clung to the front of her skirt, resisting all her efforts to brush it away. Despairing, she groaned inwardly with frustration. For two days dressed like a lady, she had waited for the master of the house to appear, and what good had it done her? Having no intention of apologising for the way she looked, ignoring the irate nobleman, she bent down and eased off her boots, placing them by the door. She then further astounded his lordship by going down on her knees and beginning to pick up the pieces of the broken figurine.

‘Leave it,’ he snapped. ‘The servants will clean it up.’

‘I made the mess so I will do it. I don’t wish to put anyone to any trouble.’

‘I said leave it. The servants are here for your convenience as well as mine.’ When she took no notice he reached out and grasped her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. There was a loud crack as Angelina slapped his hand away. Momentarily startled, he drew back. ‘Why—you hot-headed little savage,’ he barked. ‘What the hell are you trying to do?’

His scowl bore into her as Angelina rubbed her smarting hand. ‘That will teach you not to touch me,’ she snapped, hotly irate. ‘It’s your own fault. Keep your hands to yourself in future.’

Alex’s lean cheeks flexed tensely and his grey eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have any idea how exasperating you are?’ he gritted. ‘And do you have to appear looking like a labourer?’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ she snapped testily.

‘I imagine you’re not, but you will find that here you will do things differently.’

The pieces gathered up, Angelina got to her stockinged feet and placed them on the desk. ‘I’m sorry I broke it,’ she said, unaware of the streak of mud on her cheek as she faced him squarely, two fiercely indomitable wills meeting head on and each refusing to step aside to allow the other to pass. His face was as cold and hard as the stone from which his fine house was built. ‘I didn’t mean to. I suppose it was valuable.’

‘Priceless.’

‘If I had some money of my own I would offer to pay for it, but I don’t.’ Angelina recognised authority when she saw it. Everything about this illustrious lord bespoke power, control and command. The hard set of his darkly handsome face did not suggest much tolerance or forgiveness. ‘No doubt you have already made up your mind where to bury me?’

‘Not yet. But I dare say I will.’ His voice was of a rich, deep timbre. He watched as she flexed her arm. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘You hurt my arm,’ she said crossly, her dark eyes narrowing and accusing.

‘I apologise for that—if you will apologise for appearing like a field hand.’ He waited, his grey eyes penetrating.

‘I suppose so,’ was all Angelina was prepared to relent.

Dressed in snug-fitting, calf-coloured trousers tucked into highly polished tan boots, and a fine white lawn shirt open at the throat, his body well honed and muscular, Angelina could see there was something purposeful and inaccessible about Alex Montgomery, and those grey eyes, which penetrated her own, were as cold and hard as newly forged steel. There was no warmth in them, no humour to soften those granite features.

She sensed his amazement that she had the effrontery to face him as an equal. Clearly this wasn’t what he’d expected—and certainly not what she’d intended. She knew better than to be rude to a man in his own house, but after suffering the indignity of being spoken to so rudely and manhandled, she had mentally drawn the battle lines and moved her guns into position. They looked at each other hard, suspicion and mistrust on both sides.

His expression became suddenly thoughtful and he inspected her upturned face as if something puzzled him.

‘Do you always subject people to such close scrutiny when you meet them for the first time?’ she asked directly. ‘I am not used to being looked at like that and find it extremely disagreeable. Is there something wrong with my face that makes you examine it so thoroughly?’

‘When I look at you I think unaccountably of fairies and imps and things, and have half a mind to demand whether you have bewitched Uncle Henry and my servants—according to my uncle, every one of them seems to be under your spell.’

‘I will not argue the point, but I assure you, Lord Montgomery, that it is not my intention to disrupt your household.’

With a look that betrayed a mild degree of surprise, he nodded. ‘Thank you. I respect your frankness.’ Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked to the window, standing with his back to her while he gazed out. His body was tense, his shoulders squared. ‘I hope the servants are looking after you,’ he said at length.

Angelina was uncomfortable, but she was relieved to hear civility in his tone. ‘Yes—thank you,’ she replied, imitating his politeness. ‘Everyone is being very kind.’

‘And you like the house?’

‘Very much. But then, who wouldn’t?’ she said, warm in her admiration. ‘Have you spoken to Uncle Henry since you arrived home?’

He turned and looked at her. ‘Briefly.’

‘And did he tell you anything about me?’

Alex nodded. ‘He told me that when your mother died he did the Christian thing by making you his ward and giving you a home. He assures me you are a charming, delightful and remarkably intelligent young woman who, for the short time he has known you, has made him extremely happy. In short, you are an absolute treasure.’

Angelina was stung by the irony of his words. ‘But you don’t believe him.’

‘Not if the past few minutes are anything to go by. I am more astute than my uncle. I prefer to reserve judgment.’

Lifting her chin proudly, Angelina met his gaze, not with defiance but a quiet resolve. ‘You don’t want me here, do you, Lord Montgomery?’

‘I love and hold my uncle in the highest esteem, Miss Hamilton. I may not be happy about what he did, but whether I like it or not you are here now and a member of this family. As such, that is how you will be treated and how you will behave.’

‘I realise that my presence in your house is an inconvenience, but taking everything into account, you must see that I have been more inconvenienced than you.’

‘In which case, since we have no choice in the matter, the obvious solution is that we should both try to make the best of things and be cordial to each other. Don’t you agree?’

‘Yes. I have no wish to upset Uncle Henry,’ she said.

Absently she tucked a stray lock of silky hair behind her ear that had dared escape her tight braid. The unconscious gesture caused Alex to study her properly for the first time, and he was amazed by what he saw. Her hair was the colour of rich mahogany with highlights of red and gold, making him think of harvest corn, chestnuts and autumn fires. Parted at the center, it was drawn back and woven together in one long thick braid that reached her waist. Accustomed to seeing women with neatly arranged curls and ringlets, he found this style unusual, but strangely attractive on this young woman. He had the absurd desire to reach out and set her hair free and let it spill about her shoulders, convinced it would glow with the glorious vibrancy of autumn leaves.

Her eyes, surrounded by thick, curling sooty lashes, were captivating. At first they looked so dark to be almost black, but on closer inspection they were seen to be not black at all, but the colour of two glorious purple velvet-soft pansies. Her skin was flushed with warmth like that of a ripe peach, and she had an enigmatic mouth, ripe and full of wonderful promise. The daffodil-yellow gown she wore revealed a female form that was faultless, slim and strong, with long legs and curves in all the right places. With angular cheekbones her face was alluring, interesting, and overall there was an innocence and vulnerability about her that would put a practised seducer like him beyond the realm of her experience.

‘You are not at all what I expected.’

‘What did you expect?’ she retorted sharply. ‘A creature from the wilds who is half-savage, with brown skin and feathers in her hair?’

Alex smiled tightly. Nathan had said something along those lines. ‘Heaven forbid! I certainly didn’t expect to find someone with an interest in fine literature.’

‘Education has reached America, you know. We are civilised.’

‘Looking as you do just now, Miss Hamilton, I would say you have some way to go before you reach that status,’ he said with an ironic curl of his lips. ‘However, it’s apparent to me that you are extremely clever.’

Angelina’s eyes narrowed. She could feel her ire returning. ‘Something tells me that it is not my interest in fine literature that you speak of,’ she said, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious. ‘It is plain to me that you are displeased about something

Alex crossed to his desk and perched his hip on the edge, crossing his arms with a casualness that aggravated Angelina’s temper still further. His imperturbable gaze studied her stormy eyes. ‘Miss Hamilton, when I read my uncle’s letter informing me he had gone to America, everything about you displeased me at the time,’ he told her firmly.

Angelina’s temper flared at this open affront. ‘I thought it might. And I sense your displeasure has increased since. Is it so very strange for people to look after relatives who find themselves destitute?’

‘It is, when the parties concerned live on opposite sides of the world and there has been no contact between them for some time. I find it strange that after all these years, when not a word or a letter has passed between them, your mother should suddenly write to my uncle and beg him to make you his ward.’

‘You’re mistaken, Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina answered, stung to the quick by his remark about her mother. ‘My mother never begged for anything in her life. She wrote to Uncle Henry because he was her next of kin and she had no one else to turn to.’

Alex knew this not to be the case, but, having been warned by his uncle of the need for secrecy relating to this young woman’s grandmother, he respected the request for silence.

‘If you must know, I opposed it,’ Angelina went on. ‘I had no wish to leave America, but it was my mother’s wish.’

‘A woman with colossal aspirations where her daughter is concerned,’ Alex said coldly. ‘Do not think me ignorant of your situation in Boston, Miss Hamilton, and that your mother sent you to my uncle as a poor relation, seeking to save you from poverty.’

Alex caught the flare of anger his words about her mother brought to her face, but he also saw something that resembled pain and hurt in the depths of her eyes. For a split second her young face looked defenceless and exposed, and already he was beginning to regret his unjustifiable and unpardonable attack.

His cutting remark directed at her mother erupted inside Angelina like a volcano and she longed to lash out at him. Feeling the nightmare of the Indian attack closing around her again, she could see her mother’s face as she lay on the ground after the knife had ripped into her, digging deep, and the rich, proud colour of her blood as it had poured from her wound to be soaked up by the dry earth.

‘You cold-hearted, overbearing, arrogant beast. How dare you? You insult my mother, and I will not allow anyone to besmirch her memory. She was the kindest, gentlest of women ever to draw breath, but that is something a man as conceited and disgustingly rude as yourself would never understand.’ Furiously she turned and marched to the door, her fists clenched by her sides.

For a split second a flicker of amused respect replaced Alex’s anger as he gazed after the young American girl. ‘Have you nothing else to say?’

She turned and glowered at him, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes. Furiously she blinked them away. If she broke down and cried, he would have the mastery over her. She would not grant him that. ‘Not to you. Might I suggest that in future you mind your own business and I will mind mine.’

Alex’s black brows snapped together and his eyes narrowed, but his voice was carefully controlled when he spoke. ‘You may suggest anything you like, but since you have raised the matter, you ought to know that I have full control over all my uncle’s affairs.’

His words were insulting and their meaning cut Angelina like a knife. ‘His business affairs, not his personal affairs,’ Angelina corrected acidly. She should have withered beneath his icy glare, but she was too enraged to be intimidated by him. ‘I should tell you that I have a streak to my nature that fiercely rebels against being ordered what to do.’

‘I have a formidable temper myself,’ he told her with icy calm.

‘I do not come under the category of property, Lord Montgomery, and I am not asking you for anything. In the eyes of the law Uncle Henry is my legal guardian, and if you wish to challenge that then you are free to do so.’

‘I have no intention of doing any such thing.’ His words were like a whiplash, his eyes glacial. ‘My uncle has taken you in and does not need to justify his actions to me or anyone else. What matters is that you are in this house under his guardianship and a member of this family, and because I care a great deal for his happiness, I will do nothing about it. But in time I suspect you will show your true colours without any help from me—so I advise you to take care, unless you want to be shipped back to America, lock, stock and barrel.’

Angelina glared at him, two bright spots of colour burning on her cheeks. She refused to look away, but there was little she could say in her defence. This man had already made up his mind about her, and anything she might say would be futile. He was convinced she was a clever, scheming opportunist out to rid his uncle of his last shilling, and nothing she said was going to change his mind.

‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

‘What’s the point? There is no argument against a closed mind. You made up your mind about me before I set foot on English soil.’

Alex contemplated her with a half-smile. ‘It may surprise you to learn that before I met you I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt.’

‘And now?’

‘That still applies. You accuse me of making up my mind about you before I met you. I accuse you of doing likewise. You also summed up your opinion of me,’ Alex stated. ‘From the moment you entered this house, no doubt you have listened to gossip from below stairs, but whatever you have heard, forget it. You don’t know me.’

Angelina could not look away from him—in fact, unconsciously her feet took her slowly back to where he still perched on the edge of the desk, her rebellious eyes holding his. She stood close, her face on a level with his, her skirts brushing his tan boots.

‘You’re wrong. I may only have been in your presence a few minutes,’ she countered, ‘but I have made a very accurate assessment of your character.’

‘Do you normally form an opinion of a person after so short a time?’ he asked, trying to ignore the delectable attributes that stood just within his easy reach. Instantly, his whole body began to hum an ardent, familiar song that clashed with what he should be feeling.

‘In your case it was not difficult,’ she provided. ‘You are rude, overbearing and dictatorial, and you have the manners of a barbarian.’

Alex arched his brows, faint amusement and a stirring of respect in the icy depths of his eyes. ‘That bad?’

‘Worse. You are cold and heartless and I cannot abide your superior male attitude—your insufferable arrogance and conceit.’

He looked at her with condescending amusement that in time she would come to detest. ‘And you, madam, with a tongue on you that would put a viper to shame, can hardly be called a paragon of perfection.’

‘Go to hell,’ she blazed, which was most uncharacteristic of her. But at that moment she was sorely tempted to fling more than abuse at Alex Montgomery and inflict physical damage. No doubt this infuriating man was already telling himself that she was showing her ‘true colours’. She cast a look of pure loathing at him, noting that her words had brought a satisfied smile to his arrogant mouth.

His dark brows rose and he gave her a lofty, superior look. ‘I shall, but I shall go in my own way and in my own good time.’

‘It cannot be too soon for me.’

Afraid that she was going to crack completely and make a fool of herself, Angelina raised her chin and turned. With all the dignity she could muster she picked up her boots and left the room, her slender hips swaying graciously. She didn’t see the admiring light in Alex’s eyes, or the indefinable smile lurking at the corner of his lips as he observed her less than dignified progress through the hall, for as she stormed towards the stairs she almost knocked over an elderly manservant who was carrying a silver platter.

The poor man halted in his progress and turned and watched her go halfway up the stairs, wondering what could have happened to wipe away her sweet expression and replace it with one of black thunder. His answer came when he glanced through the open door into the library and saw Lord Montgomery still perched on the edge of the desk. Shaking his head, he chuckled. His lordship was home, which explained everything.

Alex couldn’t think of anyone, male or female, who would have stood up to him the way Angelina had just done, verbally attack him and walk away as regal as any queen. The girl had spirit, a fiery spirit that challenged him. Her arrogance was tantamount to disrespect, yet in spite of himself he admired her style. Nor was she afraid of him. That was the intriguing part about her.

He allowed himself to remember her face, an alluring face, captivating and expressive, he decided. Her chin was small and round, with an adorable, tiny little cleft in the centre. But it was her eyes he remembered most—enormous, liquid bright—the kind of eyes a man wanted to see looking up at him when he was about to make love.

Idly he picked up the books she had selected to read and left behind. On opening them he stared, so taken aback that he almost laughed out loud. Alex had a familiarity with the ways of the female sex, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Ornithology! Horses!

When all the women of his acquaintance read romantic poetry and cheap, insipid novelettes that had a deleterious effect on their impressionable minds, Angelina Hamilton preferred reading about birds and horses. He chuckled, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. The girl was a phenomenon.

Setting his jaw, with purposeful strides he left the library and climbed the stairs to her room, rapping sharply on the door. Angelina opened it herself, glowering when she saw who it was.

‘Well? What do you want?’ she snapped, fully prepared for another angry confrontation. ‘Have you come to tell me that the war is over and I’ve won?’

‘No. In view of my former rudeness, I’ve come to make amends,’ he told her, standing in the doorway in a misleading, indolent manner.

Angelina eyed him warily. ‘Have you? You seem unsure.’

Alex raised his eyebrows quizzically. Without being invited to do so he stepped past her, as bold as may be, his eyes settling like a winter chill on her terrified maid. ‘Leave us.’

Pauline looked nervously at Angelina, who nodded. ‘It’s all right, Pauline. I don’t think Lord Montgomery intends to ravish me,’ she said, her voice dripping sarcasm, ‘since the only emotion I seem to rouse in him is a desire to strangle me. Not wishing to be hanged for my murder, I think we can safely assume he will keep his hands to himself.’

Alex’s face was set in an almost smiling challenge. ‘Don’t be so certain. I am sorely tempted. I could break you in half like a twig if I so wished and to hell with the consequences.’

‘Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina retorted sharply, dark eyes locking on grey ones, ‘if you plan another battle, you can leave right this minute.’

‘Nothing so dramatic—merely a mild skirmish.’

Pauline gaped, amazed at her mistress’s courage. No one ever spoke to Lord Montgomery in that tone. Bobbing a hurried curtsy she scuttled out.

‘Well?’ said Angelina, feeling strangely threatened now the closed door separated her from Pauline.

‘You left your books,’ he said, holding them out to her.

Disarmed, she was completely taken aback. ‘Oh! Thank you,’ Taking them from him, she placed them on a chair. ‘Why did you dismiss Pauline?’

‘I do not like my conversations being listened to by servants.’

‘And are we going to have a conversation, Lord Montgomery? Do you mean to tell me that you sought me out in my room for a reason other than to bring me the books I selected from the library—which I could have collected myself?’

‘Miss Hamilton, in common agreement, can we not strive to portray ourselves as being both gracious and mannerly for our uncle’s sake?’

‘A truce, you mean?’

‘Something like that.’

At first she seemed to consider his offer, but then her expression changed and she was on the defensive. ‘No. There will be no concessions. In the first place, I don’t like you.’

Alex arched his eyebrows at her frank admission. ‘And the second?’

‘Until I have an apology from you.’

‘An apology? What are you talking about?’ he asked with infuriating calm.

‘You insulted and degraded my mother. I cannot let it pass. If I were a man, I’d demand satisfaction and call you out. Believe me, I’m sorely tempted to do that anyway, but since your demise would cause Uncle Henry extreme distress, I suppose I shall just have to make do with an apology.’

Alex looked at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. The chit truly was incredible. ‘You? Shoot me?’

‘Yes. And I never miss my target.’

‘Then, faced with determination such as this, you leave me with little choice. Very well. I apologise. It was wrong of me to say what I did.’

Angelina was astonished. She hadn’t expected it would be that easy to extricate an apology from him. ‘You apologise?’

‘Of course. And consider yourself fortunate. Apologies don’t come easily to me.’

‘I gathered that.’

‘You accept it, then?’

‘Providing it isn’t lukewarm and you mean it, I will,’ Angelina replied stonily.

‘Thank you.’

‘Now you may leave,’ she told him firmly, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious.

Alex calmly ignored her and looked about him for a moment, his eyes caught by Will’s skilful carving of Mr Boone, which Angelina had placed on a table beside the bed. Every night since leaving Boston it was the last thing she looked at, and as she closed her eyes and went to sleep it made her feel less wretched and alone. With genuine interest Alex moved towards it, looking at it with admiration and the eye of a connoisseur.

‘This is a fine, interesting piece of craftsmanship—lovingly carved. Yours, I presume?’ he asked, looking at her.

‘Of course it’s mine,’ she snapped, annoyed because he showed no inclination to leave. ‘I haven’t stolen it, if that’s what you mean.’

‘That was not what I meant. I was asking you if the dog was yours—a pet, perhaps.’

Angelina felt foolish for having misunderstood his meaning. ‘Yes. A very dear friend of mine carved his likeness. He carves animals and birds and sells them to make a living—along with his beaver pelts,’ she explained, captivated by Lord Montgomery’s strong, lean fingers as they caressed the wooden object. ‘He presented me with it before I left Boston.’

‘Do you miss him?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend.’

‘Why—yes. Very much.’

‘What was the name of your friend?’

‘Will. Will Casper.’

‘And your dog?’

‘Mr Boone.’

A lazy smile spread over his face, which seemed softer now. ‘So named after Daniel Boone, the intrepid pioneer.’

Angelina was pleasantly surprised to learn that he knew something of America’s history. ‘Yes. You’ve heard of him.’

Alex nodded. ‘I’m a businessman. I make a point of keeping abreast of world news. It proves advantageous where investments are concerned. And did your dog live up to his namesake?’

‘Does. He’s a brave little thing with a heart as big as a lion.’

‘Is?’ Alex’s eyebrows snapped together as a sudden, decidedly unpleasant thought occurred to him. ‘You are not going to tell me you brought him with you—that the animal is here, in this house?’

Alex looked so horrified at the prospect of Mr Boone capering through his stately rooms that Angelina’s composure slipped a notch closer to laughter. She bit her lower lip to still the trembling as she caught his eyes. ‘You needn’t glower in that ferocious fashion, my lord. You will be relieved when I tell you that I left him in Boston with Will.’

His relief was evident. ‘Thank the Lord for that. The last thing I need right now is a dog disrupting the routine of things.’

Angelina made a pretence of looking offended. ‘I will have you know that Mr Boone is extremely well behaved and never disgraces himself. Have you an aversion to dogs, Lord Montgomery?’

‘I keep several of my own at Arlington. But they are used for hunting and well disciplined by their handlers. They are also kept outside in kennels where they belong.’

‘Yes, I expect they are,’ Angelina replied, with a cheeky impudence that Alex found utterly exhilarating. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face as his eyes locked on to hers in silent, amused communication, and he was quite entranced by the idea of sharing her humour.

He walked towards the fire where he stood, hands behind his back, staring down at the glowing heat. ‘How long did you live in Boston?’

‘About two years. We left Ohio when the Shawnee raided our settlement. They—they killed everyone—including my father,’ she told him softly, ‘and wounding my mother.’

Alex moved closer, looking down into the sensitive face before him, but, unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head.

‘And you?’ he asked, placing a finger gently under her chin and tipping her face up to his, his eyes searching, probing, seeing something flicker in those dark, appealing depths: a secret grief, perhaps.

‘As you can see, I was more fortunate. I am alive and I’m grateful.’

Alex saw her eyes register an anguish and horror he couldn’t begin to comprehend, and observed the gallant struggle she made to bring herself under control.

There was silence, inhabited by the living presence of the fire. In spite of herself Angelina found her eyes captured and held by Lord Montgomery’s silver gaze. Then, aware of Lord Montgomery’s finger still poised beneath her chin, she suddenly recollected herself and recoiled with an instinctive fear that he might get too close.

‘Lord Montgomery,’ she said, her voice tight, ‘I have known you long enough to realise that you didn’t consider your manner towards me earlier as warranting an apology. Will you please come to the point and tell me the real reason for coming to my room? I am not so dim-witted as to believe it was your interest in my dog or my life before coming to England. I may have accepted your apology, but it doesn’t change anything, does it? You still don’t approve of me and think I’m out to hurt your uncle in some way.’

His eyes became as hard as granite. ‘Contrary to what you may think, I sought you out because I could see that some form of atonement for my earlier behaviour was in order. However, since you are determined to harp on about it, I will remind you I am concerned about Uncle Henry’s happiness and well being. As you will know, having spent the past few weeks in his company, he does not always enjoy the best of health.’

‘That I do know, having seen how he is often plagued with rheumatic pains.’

‘Correct. So naturally I was concerned when I returned to London after an absence of several weeks in the country and discovered he’d taken off for America without discussing the matter with me first.’

‘I cannot for the life of me see why he should. Your uncle is of an age to act without your permission.’

As he rested his hands on his hips and looking down into her stormy eyes, Alex’s own were so cold that Angelina was sure they could annihilate a man.

‘My uncle is the finest, most generous man I have ever known, Miss Hamilton. What my opinions are concerning you has no bearing on the case, but because he and your mother were once close, and, as you correctly pointed out earlier, he is your next of kin, he will take his responsibilities where you are concerned seriously. If you hurt him in any way, I will personally make your life hell. Do you understand me?’

The look that passed between them crackled with hidden fire. Just for a moment Alex saw something savage and raw stir in the depths of Angelina’s eyes, before they blazed with outrage.

‘Perfectly,’ she replied. With her fists clenched and her chin raised, she faced Alex like a raging hurricane, while he took a step back before the onslaught of her fury. ‘Allow me to tell you a little about my background, Lord Montgomery. In Boston I was living with my mother in a two-roomed shack. Everything I owned I sold to pay for the doctor and her medicine. We had no money and the food we ate I provided. I do all manner of things a young lady ought not to do. I shoot, I fish, and I skin and gut whatever I kill. I dare say the properly reared young ladies of your acquaintance would be horrified and fall into a swoon at such behaviour and liken me to the savage you obviously think I am. I may seem gauche to you and lacking in social graces, but I am not ashamed of the way we lived.

‘When your uncle came to Boston he was courtesy and kindness itself—and I give you my word that I shall not abuse his kindness. When my mother died it was a great comfort to me having him there. In the short time we have been together I have come to love him dearly and would sooner end my life than cause him pain. Despite what you believe, I haven’t asked him for anything and I do not expect anything. I am simply grateful for a roof over my head wherever that happens to be. For this and his support at a time when I had nothing, I owe him much—much more than I can repay. Your uncle knows this and now you know it too, so if it’s not a problem for him it needn’t be a problem for you.’

Alex stared at the proud, tempestuous young woman in silent, icy composure. Her words reverberated round the room, ricocheting off the walls and hitting him with all the brutal impact of a battering ram, but it failed to pierce the armour of his wrath and not a flicker of emotion registered on his impassive features.

‘That, Miss Hamilton, was quite an outburst. Have you finished?’

Pausing to take an infuriated breath, Angelina finally said, ‘Far from it. You may have been born with blue blood in your veins and all the advantages that come with it, but you have a lot to learn. It isn’t where a person comes from that matters. It’s what a person is that counts. You are being vindictive without just cause, but if you want to carry on hating me then please do so. It does not matter one jot to me.’

Their minds and their eyes clashed in a battle of wills.

‘I do not hate you.’

‘No? Well, I hate you,’ she told him, glaring at him wrathfully.

‘I know you do,’ he replied quietly. Not only had he heard, but also he sensed it. Cool and remote, Alex studied her for a moment, as though trying to discern something, and then crossed towards the door and went out.

Angelina stood looking blindly at the closed door for a long time, her heart palpitating with a raging fury. A whole array of confusing emotions washed over her—anger, humiliation, and a piercing, agonizing loneliness she had not felt since she was fifteen years old in Ohio.

Chapter Three

Henry and Alex were partaking of a glass of wine while they waited for Angelina to join them. Whenever Henry looked at his nephew, he was overwhelmed with pride.

At best, Alex was a fiercely private man, guarded and solitary, accountable to no one. At worst, he was a man with a wide streak of ruthlessness and an iron control that was almost chilling. To those who knew him he was clever, with an almost mystical ability to see what motivated others. To his business partners it was a gift beyond value, because it provided insight into the guarded ambitions of his adversaries. He could be cold, calculating and unemotional, which was how his rivals saw him.

‘Angelina’s a lovely young thing, don’t you agree, Alex?’

Alex’s look darkened. ‘Lovely? She’s certainly out of the ordinary. The girl’s a hoyden. Good Lord, Uncle, what can you be thinking of? I’ve never seen you so taken with anyone as you are with this American girl.’

‘You’re quite right, but then I’ve never had a ward before, and so far I’m thoroughly enjoying the experience. Angelina’s a delight. She’s a thoroughly charming and engaging young woman with a remarkable intelligence. In the short time I’ve known her, I vow she’s lopped ten years off my life.’

Alex’s reply was a sardonic lift of his dark brows. ‘You may find her charming, Uncle, but it is not the kind that passes for charm in the ladies of my acquaintance. Miss Hamilton’s charm is more sinister and elusive than that. It is the kind that weaves spells and puts curses on people.’

An inexplicable smile traced its way across Henry’s face. ‘If that be the case, then take care she doesn’t put a spell on you, dear boy.’

‘I’m immune,’ Alex said, bestowing the kind of lazy smile on his uncle that turned female hearts to water. ‘Whatever she is, you’re going to have your hands full.’

‘Try and be more understanding towards her, Alex. Until she marries I am committed to her—and, as you know, I am not a man to shirk my duty. I’ve told you everything that I know of what happened to her in America—and the reasons why her grandmother’s existence must be kept from her, so you will bear with her, won’t you? I know how difficult you can be.’

Alex gave him a narrow look, deflecting his uncle’s question by answering it with another. ‘Did you tell her about me—listing all my transgressions?’

Henry chuckled, encouraged by his nephew’s lack of argument. ‘I did. I considered it wise to have her well prepared in every aspect of what her life would be like in England.’

‘And?’

‘When I told her I had all but despaired of seeing you suitably married, she asked me—with all the candid innocence of her youth—what was wrong with you.’

‘Really.’ Alex gave his uncle a mildly sardonic look. ‘Evidently she regarded me as being way past the age of eligibility for marriage at twenty-eight.’

‘No. I think she probably thought you were some fire-breathing monster with two horns and a tail. And when I told her you dealt with practically all my business affairs—’

‘Let me guess,’ Alex interrupted drolly. ‘Did she by any chance ask if you trusted me?’

‘She did.’

‘I see,’ he said drily, swearing that he’d not be bested by the dark-eyed witch.

‘So you will try to curb your temper when you are together and be gentle with her, won’t you?’ Henry asked, casting his nephew an anxious look of appeal.

Alex hesitated for an endless moment and then nodded, a reluctant smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. ‘Since I have no intention of laying a finger on her or being in her company for longer than I have to, I assure you, Uncle, that she will be perfectly safe from me. However, I feel I should warn you that I have already had a run-in with your ward; if that encounter is anything to go by, I cannot promise to be charm and graciousness personified where she is concerned. We may very well need a referee to keep us from murdering each other—which is where you will come in.’

Angelina swept into the dining room, intending to make a determined effort to be pleasant and agreeable to Lord Montgomery for Uncle Henry’s sake. A chandelier suspended above the table filled the room with flickering light, reflecting on the large, ornate silver pieces set on the mahogany sideboard, next to where the two gentlemen stood drinking wine.

Breaking off his discussion with Alex, Henry placed his glass on the sideboard and came to meet her, his eyes twinkling in admiration. ‘You look lovely, Angelina,’ he said, taking her hand and drawing her towards his nephew. ‘Alex tells me the two of you have already met.’

‘Yes—and as you can see, Uncle…’ she smiled with a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes ‘…I have survived the encounter without coming to grief.’

Henry lifted a brow to Angelina in a silent salute and smiled.

Angelina met Lord Montgomery’s sardonically mocking gaze. With his eyes as intense as a hunting falcon’s locked on hers, he moved forward, bowing his head with a studied degree of politeness, which to Angelina was a masterpiece of gracious arrogance.

Alex looked down at the tempestuous young woman in her lilac gown. Her face, which arrested and compelled his eyes, was both delicate and vibrant, and her large amethyst eyes still stormy.

‘Miss Hamilton was looking for something to read,’ Alex told his uncle without taking his eyes from hers.

‘Then I hope you found something to your liking, Angelina.’

‘How could I not? There were so many interesting books to choose from. I had absolutely no idea that so much knowledge could exist in one place.’

‘Alex must take the credit for that.’

‘Yes, I thought he might,’ she replied ironically.

Handing Angelina a glass of wine, Alex’s lips curled with a hint of a smile. ‘Miss Hamilton selected two illustrated editions—one on birds and the other on horses. Perhaps you prefer looking at pictures to reading, Miss Hamilton.’

Angelina’s eyes narrowed when she took his meaning and bristled at the intended slight. ‘I don’t just look at the pictures, Lord Montgomery. Contrary to what you might think, I am not illiterate.’

Henry chuckled. ‘Don’t underestimate Angelina’s intelligence, Alex. She reads anything you care to name and is conversant in French, Greek and Latin.’

‘Perhaps if I had chosen Voltaire or Socrates you would have been more impressed. Usually I read for enlightenment, for knowledge, but yesterday I fancied something light. I cannot see why you should pour scorn on my choice of reading. It just so happens that I like birds and horses.’

‘You speak French and Greek?’ Alex asked incredulously, with surprise and doubt.

‘You seem surprised,’ said Angelina.

‘I confess that I am. There are few ladies of my acquaintance who are familiar with the classics—and I am hard pressed to think of any one of them who is conversant in any language other than their own native English, and perhaps a smattering of French.’

Now it was Angelina’s turn to be surprised. ‘Then I can only assume that your experience with the female sex is somewhat limited, Lord Montgomery.’

A gleam of suppressed laughter lit Alex’s eyes, and Angelina could only assume, correctly, that her remark about his inexperience with women had not been taken in the way she had intended.

‘Angelina also plays an excellent game of chess,’ Henry championed, giving Angelina a conspiratorial wink to remind her of all those times they had played together on board ship, when she had more often than not finished the victor. ‘She can swim like a fish, outshoot most men, and handle a horse better than any female I’ve ever seen.’

Alex arched a sleek black brow in mock amusement when his gaze met Angelina’s. ‘I’m impressed! And to add to all these admirable attributes the cut and thrust of her tongue is sharper and deadlier than any rapier,’ he drawled.

‘I’m glad you’ve noticed,’ Angelina replied with an impudent smile and a delicate lift to her brows, taking a sip of her wine.

Alex lost the battle to suppress his smile. The girl had spirit, he had to give her that. ‘As you can see, Uncle, Miss Hamilton’s opinion of me is far from favourable. Earlier she accused me of being rude, overbearing, dictatorial—and she told me that I have the manners of a barbarian.’

‘And I fear I have to agree with her.’

‘Really, Uncle! Where’s your loyalty?’ Alex demanded with mock severity.

‘Forgive me, Alex. But that’s a difficult dilemma.’

‘I can’t see why it should be.’

‘I find my loyalties torn asunder. You see, they lie with you both. You are both family. Angelina is my ward—my cousin’s daughter—and you are my nephew. Surely you can understand the pressure I am under.’

‘Lord Montgomery is the other half of your family, Uncle Henry. Not mine,’ Angelina pointed out forcefully.

‘Noted for our obstinacy,’ retorted Alex.

‘Much good may it do you, my lord. I am no less obstinate, I assure you.’ The smile Angelina turned on Henry was full of sweetness. ‘It’s a pity one can’t be more selective with one’s family as one can be with one’s friends, don’t you think?’

‘I couldn’t agree more, my dear. But I am going to ask you both to lower your swords as a favour to me—at least until after dinner so that we can do justice to Mrs Price’s excellent cooking. It wouldn’t do for all three of us to end up with indigestion, now, would it? However, I grant Alex can be a touch overbearing at times, Angelina.’

Angelina raised a sceptical brow, tempted to say that Lord Montgomery was a complete and total ass, but instead she said, ‘Only a touch, Uncle Henry?’

‘Well, perhaps a little more than a touch.’

Angelina caught Lord Montgomery’s silver gaze that seemed to slice the air between them, warning her not to overstep the mark. She met his gaze calmly, with a defiant lift of her chin. ‘And Lord Montgomery has no need of a sword, Uncle. He can accomplish as much with his eyes as he can with the point of a sword. I swear he could slay a man at twenty paces.’

‘And you, my dear, have the unique distinction of putting his back up.’

Henry smiled indulgently and pulled out a chair for her at the table. Alex would sit opposite her and he would sit at the end—to act as referee if they were to continue sparring with each other. The air crackled and sparked between his nephew and his ward, and their looks and conversation were like daggers being hurled back and forth. It was better than he could have hoped for.

‘But you must forgive Alex,’ he continued. ‘The ladies of his acquaintance are usually more languishing. He can be quite charming.’

Angelina favoured Lord Montgomery with a look of pure mockery as he took his seat across from her. ‘Is that so?’

‘Most ladies do find me charming and pleasant—and some actually enjoy my company.’

‘And no doubt live to regret it,’ she bit back.

With a mixture of languor and self-assurance, Alex started to relax and lounged back in his chair, absently fingering the stem of his wineglass as his gaze swept over her in an appraising, contemplative way.

His instinct detected untapped depths of passion in the alluring young woman across from him that sent silent signals instantly recognisable to a lusty, hot-blooded male like himself. The impact of these signals brought a smouldering glow to his eyes. So much innocence excited him, made him imagine those pleasures and sensations Miss Hamilton could never have experienced being aroused by him. The lazy, dazzling smile he bestowed on her transformed his face.

Angelina found herself staring at him, momentarily captivated by it, unaware of the lascivious thoughts that had induced it. It was the most wonderful smile she had ever seen and full of provocative charm. Oh, yes, she thought, feeling her heart do a little somersault, when he smiled like that and spoke in a soft-as-honey voice and looked at a woman from under those drooping lids, he could make a feral cat lie down and purr.

Angelina found hot colour washing her cheeks under his close scrutiny and she hated herself for that betrayal. Alex saw it and smiled infuriatingly. His strategy had worked. Little Angelina Hamilton was just like all the rest of her sex when it came to the matter of seduction. It would not be too difficult a task demolishing her pride and cold resentment and have her melting with desire in his arms, and the idea of conquering her appealed to his sardonic sense of humour—if that was what he had a mind to do, for he must remember that, for him, she was untouchable, being his uncle’s ward.

‘I’m sorry. Do I unsettle you, Miss Hamilton?’ he asked with a slight lift to his sleek eyebrows.

‘You don’t unsettle me in the least.’

‘Come now, you’re blushing,’ he taunted gently, being well schooled in the way women’s minds worked.

‘I am not.’ Her unease was growing by the second, but she tried not to show it, attempting to maintain a façade of uninterest and indifference.

‘Yes, you are. Your cheeks are as pink as those roses,’ he said, indicating the lovely bowl of deep blush-coloured roses on the table between them.

‘Good gracious.’ Angelina laughed. ‘If that’s the kind of melodramatic rubbish you engage in with the ladies of your acquaintance, I’m surprised they don’t vomit.’

‘I assure you they don’t.’

‘No—well—perhaps if they’re all vacuous peahens unable to see further than your impeccable credentials, they wouldn’t, would they?’

Alex was so astounded by her reply that he almost threw back his head and burst out laughing. ‘No,’ he replied his smile widening. ‘They wouldn’t dare. Now,’ he said when a footman came in carrying platters of food, ‘shall we accede to our uncle’s request by lowering our weapons and agree to a truce while we eat?’

‘Very well—but only while we eat,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve never tasted such wonderful food as Mrs Price turns out and have no intention of letting you spoil it. However,’ she murmured, looking at him from beneath the thick fringe of her lashes, ‘my sword may be sheathed, Lord Montgomery, but please remember that it is still there and every bit as sharp and lethal.’

Alex’s eyes narrowed. ‘I do not doubt that for one moment,’ he replied—and, he thought with wry amusement, it will make the play between us all the more exciting.

Angelina bestowed a smile on him that was utterly devastating, and she was certain she glimpsed approval lurking in those inscrutable silver eyes.

A footman under the stern eye of Bramwell served the delicious meal. Angelina did full justice to the food and tried not to feel intimidated by Lord Montgomery when his eyes settled on her now and then, his lids hooded like those of a hawk. Just the cold pupils peered out from his closed face, but throughout the meal she could feel him tugging at her from across the table. It really was most unsettling.

From his vantage point at the head of the table Henry was more observant about what was passing between the two of them than either of them realised. He carefully noted the absorbed way Alex watched Angelina as she ate, recognising something in his expression that he hadn’t seen in a long time, and he was utterly delighted and encouraged by it.

‘You had a large complement of post while you were away, Uncle,’ Alex commented while they waited for dessert to be served, tearing his gaze away from the tantalising creature sitting opposite. ‘Was there anything of importance?’

‘No, just the usual—most of it from Mowbray Park. Oh, and I’ve received a letter from Robert Boothroyd—Sir Robert is a very close friend of mine, Angelina, who resides in Cornwall,’ he explained. ‘As you know, Alex, I had planned to visit him before I went to America, but on receiving Lydia’s letter it had to be postponed.’

Alex sensed his hesitation and threw him a questioning look. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Robert has not been at all well. It’s his heart, I’m afraid. He doesn’t enjoy good health at the best of times, but this latest setback is causing both him and his family considerable concern. He has asked if I will go to Cornwall as soon as I am able—but of course I shall write and tell him it’s impossible for me to leave London at this time. I couldn’t possibly leave Angelina when she’s only just arrived in England.’

‘She could go and stay with Nathan and Verity at Hanover Square—when Verity returns from Surrey, that is. Failing that, she could go and stay with Aunt Patience at Richmond,’ Alex suggested. ‘Which she should do, anyway. It’s most improper for her to be living alone in a house with two unmarried gentlemen.’

‘Yes, I have considered that, but both Verity and Patience lead a hectic social life and Angelina would inevitably become drawn in. I would like to give her time to adjust—to settle into her new life gradually. I consider it too soon for her to go out into society just yet.’

Henry was not at all in agreement with Alex’s solution, for he had no intention of removing Angelina from his nephew’s immediate sphere. Before Lydia had died, he had promised her he would make the best possible match for her daughter, and he had known immediately who that would be. Angelina and Alex had much in common, both being wilful and spirited. Tragedy had touched them both at fifteen years old, and it was his hope that together they might find solace.

However, anyone listening to his ward and his nephew in verbal combat would say they were too much alike to ever come to a complete and harmonious understanding of one another. But Henry thought otherwise and was determined to bring them together. To achieve this it was important they spend some time alone away from London, and he had contrived for them to do just that.

‘Of course,’ he went on casually, taking a sip of his wine and deliberately avoiding his nephew’s eyes and looking down at his dish as he began spooning his dessert, ‘I suppose she could accompany you when you go to Arlington next week. And the country air will do her good.’

Alex’s arm froze midway between his dish and his mouth as he was about to eat his strawberry soufflé. He stared at Henry as if he’d taken leave of his senses, returning the spoon to the dish with a resounding clatter. ‘You are not seriously suggesting—’

‘I couldn’t possibly,’ Angelina objected in growing alarm, appalled at what her uncle suggested.

‘What in God’s name would I do with Miss Hamilton at Arlington? Really, Uncle, it’s quite impossible.’

‘I don’t see why.’

‘I do. It’s out of the question. Besides, it would be most improper for her to stay with me without a chaperon.’

Angelina glared at him. ‘Don’t worry, Lord Montgomery. The prospect is as distasteful to me as it is to you.’ Looking with concern at Henry’s downcast face, she hated being the reason that prevented him visiting his sick friend. ‘But, Uncle Henry, of course you must go to Cornwall. Perhaps I could accompany you?’ she asked hopefully, finding the prospect of being alone with his nephew absolutely horrifying.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ Henry replied with a smile, reaching out and patting her hand in a fond gesture. ‘But I won’t hear of it.’

Alex was suddenly contrite, knowing how fond his uncle was of Robert Boothroyd. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle. Of course you must go. Miss Hamilton will accompany me to Arlington. To still the gossip, I shall ask Aunt Patience to come and stay. With her and a house full of servants, that should be more than ample to uphold the proprieties.’

‘To protect me, you mean,’ Angelina couldn’t help retorting.

Having suddenly lost his appetite, Alex threw his napkin on to the table. He scowled darkly across the table at her and their eyes met and held, irresistible force colliding with immovable object. ‘Let me assure you that you do not need protecting from me,’ he said with scathing contempt. ‘By nature I am not a violent man, but if you inconvenience me in any way or disobey me, you may have good reason to seek protection from me. Is that understood?’

Angelina merely glowered at him.

Henry seemed to be torn two ways, but in the end he gave in to their persuasion to go to Cornwall—a little too easily, Alex thought, giving his uncle a narrow, suspicious look. Henry would join them both at Arlington at a later date. ‘And don’t worry, Angelina,’ he said when he saw the worried look in her eyes. ‘You will like Arlington—and, if you find Alex’s presence irksome, the house is so large that you can go for weeks at a time without bumping into one another.’

‘That sounds appealing,’ she responded, throwing Lord Montgomery a glance like a poison dart. ‘And after your visit to Cornwall, are we to return to London?’

‘Yes. It is important that we return to prepare for the Season in April. You will have to master all manner of accomplishments so we must allow ourselves enough time. I shall employ a tutor to instruct you in social protocol, conduct, polite conversation and that sort of thing. You must also have dancing lessons and arrangements will have to be made for a complete wardrobe—a responsibility I shall be more than happy to place in my dear sister’s capable hands. We must see that you are well prepared when you make your curtsy. I am convinced you will be a tremendous success and will be inundated with suitors. Eventually you will make a perfect match.’

Angelina felt a terrible, unexplained dread mounting inside her. The whole idea of the Season terrified her. ‘Uncle Henry, I know you think that what you are doing is in my best interests—and please don’t think I’m not grateful because I am. I—I do so want to be worthy of you, to make you proud of me, but…’

‘But what, my dear?’

‘It’s just that I have no interest in being paraded in front of society merely to acquire a suitable husband. Besides, I cannot see the point of going to all that bother and expense when I have no intention of marrying.’

Stunned into silence, both men looked at her.

‘If it’s all the same to you, I’m quite happy as I am. I don’t want to be married. I’m never going to get married.’

Henry was troubled by the intensity of her statement. It was said with deep conviction, and more than a little pain. Recalling what Will had told him about rescuing her from the Shawnee, he wondered what had happened to her that she refused to speak of. Whatever it was, she hid it well, and he was certain it had something to do with her decision not to marry.

‘Don’t be alarmed, Angelina,’ he said gently. ‘It is not my intention to make you do anything you have an aversion to. You need time to adjust to things. Perhaps, after a few weeks spent at Arlington, you will come to see everything in a different light.’

‘No, Uncle Henry, I won’t,’ she told him with a quiet firmness.

‘I do not believe you realise the seriousness of what you are refusing,’ Alex commented, listening with a great deal of interest to what was being said.

Angelina looked across at him calmly. ‘What are you saying?’

‘The point I am trying to make is that, as the ward of the Duke of Mowbray, when you fail to make an appearance when the Season starts people will want to know why. You will leave yourself wide open to a great deal of gossip and speculation.’

‘I have little interest in what people think.’

‘No, but my uncle has. There is more to this than you seem to be concerned about. There are standards to be upheld. Of course you must marry some time.’

‘No. I meant what I said.’

‘I applaud your honesty. Have you no desire for a family of your own—children? Is that not an incentive to marry?’

‘Not to me.’

‘Then what is it you want from life?’ he asked, his steady gaze locking on to hers.

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, the sheer desperation and pain of the look she gave him making Alex forget all his hostility towards her. He was made uneasy by it. Something reached out and touched him in half-forgotten obscure places.

‘It would seem, Alex,’ said Henry, sensing the distress signals coming from Angelina and rallying to her rescue, ‘that someone else is of the same opinion as yourself regarding the honourable institution of marriage.’

‘On the contrary, Uncle. I’ve decided to marry after all.’

Henry looked at his nephew sharply, surprise registering in his eyes, and more than a pang of disappointment settling on his heart. ‘Really? Now that is a surprise. You have been busy while I’ve been in America.’

‘I imagine you are pleased that I have decided to marry and provide you with the heir you are constantly plaguing me about.’

‘That depends on the lady you intend to marry. Who is she?’

‘Lavinia Howard.’

‘Lord Howard’s eldest daughter?’

‘Yes,’ Alex replied, watching his uncle closely.

Henry nodded slowly as he digested the information. ‘I see. Well, she is eminently suitable, I grant you, and her father has been hankering after a match between the two of you for long enough. She is a fine young woman of excellent character. Have you spoken to her father?’

‘Nothing has been decided. I’m giving a small weekend house party at Arlington in two weeks’ time and I have invited her along with her parents and a party of friends. If I am still of the same mind, I will speak to Lord Howard then.’

‘His daughter will certainly preside over Arlington with grace and poise and has been trained to manage the demanding responsibilities of such a large house. However, it is evident to me that you are thinking with your head and not your heart, Alex. I see you are considering marriage to Miss Howard with the same kind of dispassion and practised precision you employ when dealing with your business transactions.’

Alex shrugged. ‘Did you expect anything else? I am no more sentimental about marriage than anyone else. It’s a contract like any other. Besides, considering my success in that area, the odds for our marriage being successful are highly favourable.’

‘I think “excruciatingly boring” would be a more appropriate term to use. In this you are ill advised, Alex. Marriage is not a business transaction.’

Angelina met Lord Montgomery’s gaze, amazed by his indifference to such an important matter. ‘You are not in love with Miss Howard?’

Henry chuckled softly. ‘Alex cast a blight on love a long time ago, my dear.’

‘Why, those are my sentiments entirely, Lord Montgomery.’

‘I’m glad we are agreed on one thing at least,’ Alex responded.

For a moment they regarded one another in silence, finding it strange that they were in accord over something that to everyone else was the most important thing in their lives.

‘Maybe we are. But I do feel that where something as important as marriage is concerned, then it is essential that the two people concerned love each other.’

Alex suddenly smiled. ‘In my opinion, that is sentimental nonsense. Aren’t you going to congratulate me on my forthcoming nuptials, Miss Hamilton?’

‘No. You said yourself that as yet nothing has been decided. When it has and Miss Howard accepts your proposal of marriage, I feel the only sentiment I shall be able to offer will be my commiserations.’

The following morning Henry’s widowed sister, Lady Patience Fortesque, arrived at Brook Street. She was eager to see her brother after his journey to America, and to meet his ward. Two years his junior, Patience resembled Henry in many ways. There was a fragile quality about her and she radiated a kindness and gentility that was immediately endearing to anyone who met her, but when she pleased she could be awe-inspiring.

Patience politely restrained herself from saying anything until Henry had finished telling her all about what had happened in America. The secret fears of what Angelina might have suffered at the hands of the Shawnee he kept to himself.

When he had completed his tale, he looked across at his sister who was calmly assessing what he had told her. ‘Well, Patience? Am I a sentimental old fool? Was I behaving like a lovesick youth when I went tearing across the Atlantic the moment I received Lydia’s letter? Should I have ignored it after all these years?’

‘No, Henry,’ Patience replied with gentle understanding. ‘Lydia meant a great deal to you, I know that. Is Angelina aware how deeply you felt about her mother?’

‘If you mean does she know I was in love with her, then the answer is no. Angelina is a remarkable young woman, Patience. When I first saw her and how proud she was, how resilient and brave after all she had been through, she stirred all my protective instincts. I find her such joy to be with. She is a rare jewel and with just a little polish she will outshine most of her sex. Lydia taught her well.’

‘I am concerned about the matter of Angelina’s grandmother. I know that since the death of her husband Lady Anne never comes to town. But there is the possibility that she will find out about her granddaughter coming to England when she makes her curtsy next year. It could be a major problem if she decides to see her.’

‘I know, but we will deal with that if it arises.’

‘What about Alex?’

The name seemed to hang in the air a moment before Henry replied. ‘Ah—Alex!’

‘Oh, dear! I take it from the tone of your voice that he does not welcome the intrusion of this American girl into his life.’

Henry chuckled. ‘You’ve hit the nail right on the head. Battle lines were drawn and the artillery positioned the minute they set eyes on each other. Already they’ve had their first skirmish. Angelina refuses to be subdued and is unimpressed by both Alex and his title. At present I do not want her to go out into society—and nor does she wish to. She refuses to consider a Season, but I’m hoping that she can be persuaded. I feel some time spent in the country will be beneficial to her until she’s had time to settle down—which is why I would like you to accompany her to Arlington.’

‘Arlington? But why not to Mowbray Park?’

‘Because I am to leave for Cornwall early next week to visit my good friend Robert Boothroyd. Besides,’ he murmured, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, which did not go unnoticed by his sister, ‘Alex is to go to Arlington in a few days to check on the renovations he’s having done to the house.’

Patience studied her brother carefully. ‘Henry, are you matchmaking by any chance? If so, you must think very carefully and proceed with the utmost caution. Alex will not take kindly to your meddling.’

‘Meddling?’ Henry arched his brows in mock offence. ‘I have no intention of meddling in anything. There is nothing I want more than for the two of them to wed,’ he told her, taking her into his confidence. He needed his sister’s unquestioning co-operation and willingness to comply with anything he suggested if he was to bring Alex and Angelina together.

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