Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante

‘Thank you, Jenkins,’ Alex replied. Brushing past the butler he stalked towards the door. ‘I have an urgent matter to attend to at the stables. Apologise for my absence and tell them I will be along directly.’

On reaching the stables he cornered one of the lads. ‘Who gave Miss Hamilton permission to ride Forest Shadow?’ he demanded.

‘I don’t know, milord. She just appeared—saying she was going to ride him. We thought you must have told her she could. She wasn’t afraid to ride him, milord.’

‘No, I don’t imagine for one minute that she was,’ he seethed.

‘Miss Hamilton’s good with the horses. Seems to have taken a special fancy to the Shadow—and the Shadow to Miss Hamilton. She understands him. She seems to have a natural communication with him.’

‘Indeed!’

‘Yes, milord. At first, though, when she mounted him, we thought he was going to throw her, but the oddest thing was that when she talked to him—quiet like, into his ear—he seemed to know what she wanted him to do and settled down.’

‘And didn’t anyone think to go with her?’

‘Yes, milord. But she refused the offer of a groom. Will you be wanting Lancer saddled?’ the lad asked, hoping not, having just finished rubbing the stallion down and giving him his feed after returning from St Albans with his lordship. He considered it prudent to keep to himself the stir the young American miss had created by appearing at the stables in breeches—breeches that had seen better days, by the look of them—and of how she had grasped a handful of the Shadow’s mane and leapt on to his back with the casual grace of a well-trained acrobat.

‘No,’ Alex snapped, striding out of the stables like a raging hurricane. He could see no point in riding all over the estate looking for the pesky wench when he knew damn well that she’d come back of her own accord anyway, and when she did he’d teach her obedience if he had to beat it into her.

Walking quickly back to the house, Alex knew a wrath that was beyond anything he had ever felt in his life. That was the moment he encountered Nathan, who had left Verity chatting to her mother and come to look for him. After greeting each other Nathan fell into step beside him.

‘Patience tells me your uncle is in Cornwall,’ said Nathan.

‘He’s visiting a sick friend.’

‘Convenient, don’t you think,’ he remarked, observing his friend thoughtfully, ‘leaving you and Patience to care for Miss Hamilton?’

‘Absolutely,’ Alex growled.

Nathan sensed that Alex was definitely put out about something, and he suspected the cause of it might be about to appear out of the woods on which Alex’s eyes were fixed. Rather than wait for an explanation, he plunged straight in.

‘At the risk of intruding into your thoughts, Alex, might I ask why you are wearing such a formidable frown? Your thoughts appear to be damnably unpleasant—in fact, you look fit to commit murder.’

‘I am,’ Alex ground out.

Nathan smiled. ‘So you have not found the peace at Arlington you sought when you left London.’

‘Peace? I cannot envisage any peace with someone like the American chit around. Never did I realise that when I quit London for Arlington—where peace and quiet has reigned supreme for centuries—that it would lead to such frustration and aggravation. But then I never could have imagined a girl quite like Angelina Hamilton either.’

‘I think this business with your uncle’s ward is preying too much on your mind.’

‘I seldom think of her—if it can be avoided.’ Which was true—but impossible. It seemed that whenever he thought of Angelina his thoughts became angrily chaotic. She was like some dancing, irrepressible shadow imbedded in his mind.

Nathan gave him a laughing, sidelong look. ‘So you would have me think. But I did notice before you left London that your conversations were often sprinkled with varied references to Miss Hamilton.’

Alex threw him a black look. ‘Really?’ he growled with a hint of mockery. ‘I didn’t realise you were being so observant, Nathan—but since you are, you will have noticed that the only references I have made to that pesky wench have been unfavourable.’

‘And nothing has changed now you have got to know her a little better?’ he inquired.

‘No—in fact, they have taken a turn for the worse.’

‘Patience told me you were beginning to get on rather well.’

‘We were, until she decided to take one of my best stallions for a ride to God knows where—without an escort or my permission.’

‘Which one?’

‘Forest Shadow.’

Nathan’s blue eyes widened with astonishment. ‘What? You mean that magnificent sorrel you bought at Newmarket recently?’

‘The same.’

‘Good Lord. He’s a peppery beast at the best of times. Much too powerful for a young woman to handle.’

‘One thing I have learned about Miss Hamilton, Nathan, is that she is no ordinary young woman—as you will discover very soon. She is also more trouble than I need right now.’

‘Shouldn’t you go after her?’

‘No. The pesky young whelp is only happy when she’s courting danger and annoying me. If she chooses to test her skills against that restless, high-stepping beast, then so be it.’

Nathan’s chuckling merriment could not be restrained and he laughed out loud. ‘Pesky she may be, Alex, but Patience tells me she has been blessed with the most incredible looks. Considering your reputation as a rake of the first order, you cannot have failed to notice.’

Alex’s frown was formidable. ‘It depends on one’s taste—which is something we never did agree upon. The girl is a menace and has wreaked havoc in my life from the day I met her. She is everything I expected—a savage—and temperamental. She brings out the worst and everything that is alien to my nature. She also has the infuriating ability to rouse all that is evil in me, and she has a tongue that would flay the skin off a man’s back better than any cat.’ Yes, he thought, everything about her annoyed him, everything except her courage, which was a quality he could not help but admire.

‘Perhaps if you were not so hard on her—if you tried to be more understanding towards her—you might find her more amenable,’ Nathan said, blithely ignoring the simmering rage emanating from his friend. ‘Give way a little. Try a softer, more gentle approach. Smooth her feathers and you’ll soon have her purring like a kitten. I’m sure if you do you’ll discover a more docile and agreeable young woman.’

Alex stopped and looked at his friend as though he’d taken leave of his senses. ‘God in heaven, Nathan! There is nothing docile or agreeable about her. She has no respect for authority—and the only feline she resembles is a hellcat. That girl’s the biggest stumbling block my temper has ever known. Try a softer approach, you say! The only softness about her I would like to make contact with right now would be laying the flat of my hand firmly on her derrière. The girl needs a sound thrashing that will leave her unable to sit down for a month. I will not be defied and dictated to in my own home by an eighteen-year-old chit of a girl.’

‘Or anywhere else for that matter,’ chuckled Nathan. It was clear that, where Angelina Hamilton was concerned, Alex’s patience was wearing thin and he was in no mood to negotiate a better relationship with her.

Alex’s mouth tightened. ‘Her defiance cannot be overlooked. She resolved to be difficult from the start. With each day that dawns I wonder what kind of uproar she will cause next. The other day she went shooting rabbits for my dinner, and this very morning I caught her making use of my bathing chamber—and now the brazen wench has ridden off on a high-spirited, excitable horse without my permission.’

Nathan’s brows shot up in astonishment. ‘Do you mean to say she actually shot a rabbit?’

‘She did,’ Alex replied icily, ‘and she very nearly shot me in the process.’

Stupefied, Nathan stared at him, thoroughly amused. It was unbelievable that Alex, who always had absolute control over his emotions, who treated women with a combination of indifference, amused tolerance and indulgence, could have been driven to such an uncharacteristic outburst of feelings by an eighteen-year-old girl.

‘Miss Hamilton has a way with her, I’ve been told. Your uncle is enslaved, and she has your entire staff eating out of her delectable hands. According to Patience, every one of the grooms down to the youngest stable lad are all in love with her. She’s even managed to charm old Jenkins. God help you if she uses it on you, Alex. You may well be lost. There will be no escape—and I very much doubt you will wish to.’

Alex glared at him. ‘Don’t count on it.’

Nathan directed his gaze towards the house, knowing there would be no reasoning with his friend until he had severely chastised Miss Hamilton. ‘I am already feeling sorry for Miss Hamilton. The look on your face tells me you are going for blood, no less.’

‘You’re right,’ Alex replied, lengthening his stride. ‘And after the run-ins we’ve had in the past, she doesn’t have very much left to lose.’

Having ridden further than she intended on the brave, fast horse, Angelina found herself enveloped in a shadowy world of muted sounds, where damp and decay rose from the under-growth and assailed her nostrils, and squirrels skittered in the upper branches of the trees. Without the sun a bitter chill had fallen on this twilight world.

A feeling of unreality crept over her and she shuddered, glad when she saw an opening in the trees ahead where sunlight slanted through. Riding towards the light, she reined in beneath a canopy of oaks. The scent of wood smoke hung heavy in the air. Experiencing a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck and an eerie, familiar feeling, her head snapped up like an animal scenting danger.

She had emerged into some sort of encampment with an assortment of brightly painted caravans and carts, all of which had a shabby appearance. Dogs roamed and several piebald ponies grazed nearby. Men, women and children prowled about furtively in their garishly coloured attire, and some older people sat around a fire where ribbons of smoke spiralled upwards out of the embers.

Angelina knew instinctively that these people were the gypsies Alex had told her about, the gypsies he had told to move on. She sensed that every eye had become fixed on her. Two men with gold rings in their ears and brightly coloured scarves tied loosely around their necks rose from where they were sitting on the wooden steps of the caravan nearest to her. She swallowed nervously as they stood quite still, watching her.

They looked foreign—their skin swarthy and their hair hanging loose, lank and shiny black. Distrust and resentment lurked in their fathomless, totally unrevealing dark eyes. Her heart almost ceased to beat when her eyes were drawn to a knife sheathed at one of the men’s waists, and when she met his gaze she felt a sudden chill, as if a shadow had passed in front of the sun, robbing her of its warmth.

No one made any attempt to speak to her, but the air was charged with an ugly tension, menace bristling all around her, the very silence an enemy. She shuddered, feeling extremely vulnerable and afraid. Through a veil of confusion and fear, what she now saw was a scene from her past. She glimpsed the dark, shadowy images creeping with stealth out of the locked doors of her mind, and she was sure they were catching up with her. All her deepest, darkest nightmares lay among the ghosts these gypsies resurrected, and with her emotions heightened to fever pitch, she feared she was about to be attacked again.

Whirling Forest Shadow about, she kicked him into a gallop. Trembling with fear she was borne homeward, unaware as Forest Shadow’s iron-shod hooves struck the cobbles in the stable yard with ringing tones that her low state was about to be brought even lower.

Chapter Seven

Angelina’s distress on coming face to face with the gypsies had lessened a little when she entered the house, but the threat they posed to her peace of mind was not forgotten.

Hoping to reach her room without encountering anyone, she was disappointed to find Jenkins waiting for her in the hall. When he saw her his body froze and he seemed to lose control of his expression as his gaze swept over her attire. His thick eyebrows rose up his forehead, and Angelina was sure she saw a little smile tug at the corners to the stern line of his mouth. But apart from this he was too respectful to show any other reaction. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm and controlled.

‘Lord Montgomery has asked to see you the minute you return from your ride, Miss Hamilton.’

Angelina’s stomach plummeted to the bottom of her boots with dismay. ‘I’ll go up and change first. I can’t possibly face Lord Montgomery looking like a ragamuffin.’

At that moment a door across the hall was flung open and Alex materialised. ‘Angelina.’

Her head shot round. ‘Yes.’

‘A word, if you please.’

Angelina bristled, not caring for the tone of his voice. ‘And if I don’t please?’

‘Then I shall say what I have to say right here.’

‘But—I was just—’

‘I’m waiting.’

Angelina could see that Alex was furious. The glacial look in his silver eyes and the stern set of his features sent shivers down her spine. There was certainly nothing soft or lover-like in his tone, as there had been when she had left him in his rooms earlier. On a sigh she frowned. Casting a weary glance at Jenkins, she saw sympathy in his eyes.

‘Oh, dear, Jenkins,’ she breathed softly, ‘I think I’m for it.’

‘Chin up, Miss Hamilton, and you’ll be all right,’ he murmured, with his back to his ill-tempered master and with all the skill of a ventriloquist, for Angelina was certain his lips never moved.

She doubted the conviction of Jenkins’s words as she turned and walked across the hall. There was not a single trace of reason in Alex’s expression, only an undeniable aura of restrained fury gathering pace inside him, waiting to be unleashed on her.

He stood at the door to the sitting room like a soldier on sentry duty, waiting for her to pass—which she did, tilting her chin in a haughty manner.

Just through the doorway Angelina stopped. The ominous thud of the door behind her was too much for her lacerated nerves. Turning to face him, she was vaguely aware of two people seated at the opposite end of the long room, but she and Alex might as well have been alone—in fact, they should be, and she was angry that he had not chosen to chastise her in private. Her blood froze at the anger burning in his eyes. He had savaged her emotions once already today and it would seem he was about to do it again, but instead of seducing her into submission, she strongly suspected that this time he was about to go to the other extreme.

With her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her breeches, in a state of grinding tension, for what seemed an eternity she stood perfectly still, glaring at him mutinously, watching as his mercurial mood took a turn for the worst. As his eyes raked over her they opened wide, his sleek black eyebrows climbing higher and higher. Slowly he began walking round her, and she could only surmise that he was contemplating her shapeless flannel shirt and deerskin trousers. She thought to escape and her eyes shot to the door. He saw her intention.

‘Don’t try it,’ he said, his silken voice almost turning Angelina’s blood to ice as he continued to walk round her.

Alex kept his mercurial gaze levelled on her, a nerve jerking at the side of his rigid jaw. Undaunted, she lifted her chin with a small but stubborn toss of her head. It was a gesture of open defiance. Stopping in front of her, he moved closer, the silver eyes boring down into hers. When he could finally bring himself to speak his voice was ice cold.

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