Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante

Angelina’s expression became grave. ‘It’s a long time since I did anything for the fun of it, Aunt Patience.’

‘Launching a young woman into society is a serious and expensive business, Aunt,’ Alex stated sternly. ‘I dare say it can be “fun”, but one must not forget that all that time and effort is taken for the sole purpose of procuring a husband.’

Angelina glared at him. ‘I know that, which is precisely why I told you yesterday that it would be a waste of both time and money.’

‘Well—whether you have a Season or not is immaterial, my dear,’ said Patience lightly, attempting to defuse a situation that threatened to become explosive. ‘As the ward of the Duke of Mowbray you cannot hide yourself away indefinitely. It is imperative that you have a fashionable wardrobe.’

‘To pass her off in society, Aunt, she will need more than a fashionable wardrobe to be accepted,’ Alex said curtly. ‘She will also need instruction on manners and breeding, which, in my opinion, will take some considerable time.’

Patience studied her nephew’s stony countenance with something akin to surprise. ‘I disagree. Henry and I intend to employ a tutor to instruct her on all she needs to know. She is highly intelligent and cultured—which is more than can be said of some of the vain henwits who are turned out year after year for the Season, so it will take no time at all. What do you think, Angelina?’

Angelina knew Lord Montgomery was jeering at her, but refused to let him see how much the intended rudeness of his remark had hurt her. Glancing up at him, something in his look challenged her spirit and increased her courage in a surge of dislike. She managed to force her lips into a smile.

‘I think that is an excellent idea, Aunt Patience. Perhaps your nephew would care to sit in on my lessons. Unfortunately, it may take him a good while longer since he has more to learn than I. He is a man of high birth but low manners.’

Alex’s eyes narrowed and took on a most humorous glint, which Angelina took pains to ignore. She suddenly smiled radiantly, her soft lips parting to reveal her small, sparkling white teeth that dazzled her adversary. ‘If you have an aversion to joining me at my lessons, you could take them by yourself,’ she generously suggested, her expression serious but her dark eyes dancing with intended mischief, ‘if you can find the time between your many amorous affairs and business commitments.’

Alex stared at her, caught somewhere between fury, astonishment and admiration for her defiant courage. It was the first time he had seen her really smile and the effect was startling. It started in her eyes, warming them, before drifting to her generous lips, stretching them, parting them, her teeth small, perfect and white. In danger of becoming entrapped by his baser instincts, he straightened abruptly from his stance by the fireplace and walked forward, ignoring Angelina as he glanced from his aunt to his uncle, who was enjoying himself immensely.

‘Excuse me. I must go and change. I must also leave before I relinquish my carefully held temper and do something to your ward that will embarrass you both—something I would not regret, I might add,’ he snapped, clenching his crop between both his hands and leaving Angelina in no doubt what he would like to do with it.

When he reached the door he turned and looked back at Angelina, fixing her with a hard stare. ‘If there is anything I can do to make your stay in this house more pleasant, please don’t ask. I should hate to show discourtesy by refusing. But if you want to win my approval, you are going to have to change your attitude and make yourself more agreeable to me. That should be your first concern.’

Angelina’s ire at his condescending superiority was almost more than she could contain, but she gazed at him with a cool hauteur that belied her agitation and managed to speak calmly. ‘Why on earth should I want your approval? And as for my attitude, no one else finds it a problem. Perhaps it is your own attitude that is at fault.’

Alex glared at her before turning to leave. ‘I’ll see you all at dinner.’

‘Of course, my lord,’ Angelina quipped.

He swung round in the open doorway, his face glacial. ‘My name is Alex. We agreed to dispense with formalities.’

‘No. You did,’ she replied, turning her head away, having told him she did not want the intimacy of addressing him by his given name.

When the door had closed behind him she relaxed, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Looking from Henry to Patience, who were watching her calmly, not in the least put out by the heated interchange between her and their nephew, a little impish smile tugged at her lips. ‘Oh, dear. I don’t think your nephew likes me very much, does he?’

For most of the journey to Arlington, Angelina stared out of the window, uncomfortable beneath Lord Montgomery’s watchful gaze. He sat across from her next to a sleeping Patience, with his long legs stretched out in the luxurious conveyance, studying her imperturbably.

He had discarded his coat and his pristine white shirt and neckcloth contrasted sharply with his black hair and dark countenance. His body, a perfect harmony of form and strength, was like a work of Grecian art and most unsettling to Angelina’s virgin heart. To rid herself of his studied gaze she closed her eyes, but even then the vision persisted and she could see and feel those piercing eyes boring holes into her. Unable to endure his scrutiny a moment longer, she snapped her eyes open and locked them on his.

‘Well? Have you had an edifying look?’ she demanded irately.

Quite unexpectedly he smiled, a white, buccaneer smile, and his eyes danced with devilish humour. ‘You don’t have to look so angry to find yourself the object of my attention. As a matter of fact I was admiring you.’

Unaccustomed as she was to any kind of compliment from him, the unfamiliar warmth in his tone brought heat creeping into her cheeks. In fact, she decided that she liked this softer side she was seeing even less than the one she was accustomed to. This other Alex Montgomery was beyond her sphere and she didn’t know how to deal with him.

‘If you think to use flattery as a new tactic to subdue me, it won’t work.’

‘I was merely thinking that when you aren’t scowling you really are quite pretty.’

‘And how many women have you said that to?’ Angelina asked, raising her nose to a lofty elevation.

‘Several. And it’s always the truth.’

‘Oh dear,’ Patience said, fighting a sneeze, which brought her back to awareness. ‘I do hope the two of you aren’t going to argue again. If so, kindly wait until we reach Arlington. I don’t think my nerves will stand it.’

Angelina was concerned about Patience, who had been suffering a chill for the past twenty-four hours. Unfortunately it seemed to be getting worse. Her eyes were bright and feverish, her nose streaming.

‘I’m sorry, Aunt, we didn’t mean to wake you. As soon as we reach the house you must go straight to bed. Lord Montgomery will send for the doctor.’ Leaning forward, she tucked the rug over her aunt’s knees.

Wiping her streaming eyes Patience looked too poorly to argue. ‘I shall not be sorry to get to bed. I do hope I am in my old room, Alex, and away from the noise of the workmen.’

Reaching out, Alex gently touched his aunt’s cheek with long caressing fingers, causing Angelina to stare in astonishment at the smiling, tender expression on his face, which was not in keeping with the man she knew.

‘You are,’ he said in reply to his aunt’s question. ‘As yet work hasn’t started on the west wing. And Angelina is right. You must go to bed the instant we arrive.’

‘Where have you put Angelina?’

‘I hope you have accorded me the same consideration and I’m away from the noise too,’ Angelina retorted quickly.

‘The carpenters and masons do not work around the clock. They go home at night, so you will not be disturbed—unless you are in the habit of sleeping through the day,’ Alex said with a hint of sarcasm.

Angelina threw him a wrathful look, but refrained from answering when Patience gave way to another fit of sneezing.

Nothing had prepared Angelina for the exquisite splendour that was Arlington Hall in the heart of the Hertfordshire countryside. She saw it from a distance sitting like a grand old lady on the crest of a hill, timeless and brooding, its elegant beauty expressing power and pride.

‘Oh, my,’ she breathed, with a growing sense of unreality. Her mother had told her about the grand houses the English nobility lived in, but never had she envisaged anything as lovely as this. Arlington Hall was certainly not a house of modest proportions. ‘Why—it’s beautiful. Is it very old?’

Alex smiled at the dazed expression of disbelief on her face, well satisfied with her reaction. ‘I’m afraid it is,’ he replied, folding his arms across his chest, preferring to watch a myriad of expressions on Angelina’s face rather than the approaching house. ‘Built during Queen Elizabeth’s reign about two hundred and fifty years ago, the main structure survives relatively unaltered.’

‘It must have taken years to build.’

‘Actually, it rose at amazing speed.’

‘And all those windows,’ she murmured, watching as the evening sun caught the three stories of huge windows, lighting them up like a wall of flame, contrasting beautifully with the green and yellow tints and fiery shades of the finest, early autumn foliage.

‘People were enthusiastic for enormous windows in those days. Glass was very expensive, so it became a status symbol. People used it in large quantities to show how rich they were.’

Angelina looked at Alex with large eyes, her animosity forgotten for the moment. ‘Your ancestors must have been very rich.’

‘They were. The first Earl of Arlington was a powerful politician and a trusted adviser of Queen Elizabeth.’

‘And did Queen Elizabeth ever come to Arlington?’

‘Frequently. She liked living at her subjects’ expense. I’m having considerable alterations and improvements made just now—woodwork has to be renewed, rooms redecorated, and I’m having the modern convenience of running water installed. It’s being done in stages and at the moment it’s the east wing that’s being renovated. Needless to say there’s an army of workmen tramping all over the place so you’ll just have to bear with it.’

‘Is Uncle Henry’s house anything like Arlington Hall?’

‘No. Mowbray Park was built at a later time and is quite different. It was designed on a much larger scale and is very grand. But you’ll see it for yourself before too long.’

‘And will you inherit Mowbray Park one day?’

‘Yes.’

She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Then—who will live at Arlington?’ It was a simple question, one she regretted asking when she saw his jaw tense and his eyes cloud over. ‘Will you sell it? After all, you can’t very well live here and at Mowbray Park.’

Alex hesitated, and for a moment Angelina thought she saw pain in his eyes. ‘No, I don’t suppose I can,’ he answered quietly. ‘But I will never sell Arlington. If I marry, I will pass it on to my heirs.’

Angelina shook her head and sighed with sympathy for their mutual plight. ‘So you don’t have any family either—apart from Aunt Patience and Uncle Henry. You say your mother’s ancestors built Arlington Hall. Does she still live here?’ she asked, recalling Uncle Henry telling her that Lord Montgomery’s father was dead. Immediately she sensed his withdrawal. It was as if a veil had come over his features. Her eyes saw the changing expression on his face, a look that at once seemed to warn her not to pry and to shut her out.

Again Alex hesitated. When he replied to her question his tone was harsher than he intended. ‘I would prefer it if you did not mention my mother to me, Angelina. I cannot imagine that she would interest you.’

‘I—I just wondered—’

‘Then don’t,’ he said coldly. ‘My parents are both dead.’

There was so much finality and suppressed anger and bitterness in his voice that she refrained from asking any further questions.

The four bay mounts pulling the crested coach at last danced to a stop in front of the house and Alex got out, gallantly extending his hand to help his aunt and Angelina. Just for a moment Angelina’s fingers touched his, and she felt as if the warm grasp of his hand scorched her own. The two following coaches carrying staff and baggage drew to a halt.

Scarlet-and-gold-liveried footmen appeared out of the house and descended on the coaches to strip them of the mountain of baggage. In a hurry to be inside the house, Patience went ahead of them. Alex turned to Angelina.

‘Welcome to Arlington Hall.’

Side by side they climbed the steps and entered the house.

At a glance Angelina became aware of the rich trappings of the interior, the sumptuous carpets and wainscoted panelled walls and great beams crossing the ceiling. An ornately carved oak staircase opposite the entrance cantilevered up to the floors above. The butler, Jenkins, a lean dignified man with dark brown hair and rather austere features, stood aside as they entered, keeping a keen eye on the footmen to remind them of their duties as their eyes kept straying with frank approval to the young woman who stood beside the Earl. Angelina turned when Patience patted her arm.

‘Forgive me, Angelina, but I really must go to my room. Mrs Morrisey, who is the housekeeper at Arlington Hall, will show you to your room,’ she said, looking quite distressed and turning to a middle-aged woman who came towards them with a rustle of stiff black skirts. ‘Go and settle in and refresh yourself before dinner.’

‘Angelina, wait,’ Alex commanded brusquely when she was about to follow Mrs Morrisey across the hall to the stairs.

Angelina’s spine stiffened and she turned to him. Taking her arm he drew her aside. Gazing up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes, she met his piercing eyes. Inwardly she shivered, seeing something ruthless in that controlled, hard silver gaze. She stood perfectly still and tense, waiting for him to speak.

‘I will see you at dinner?’

‘If you don’t mind, I think I will eat with Aunt Patience in her room,’ she replied stiffly, averting her eyes.

‘I do mind,’ he told her quietly. ‘Your opinion of me matters not at all, but I refuse to have the servants see my guest has an aversion to me. I would appreciate it if you would try to practise a little courtesy while you are in my house. Is that too much to ask of you?’

Angelina heaved a heavy sigh. It would be difficult to do as he asked, but she saw no reason why they should not at least be cordial to one another. ‘No, of course not,’ she conceded.

‘Thank you. Dinner is at half past seven.’

Abruptly he turned and strode away, leaving Angelina to follow Mrs Morrisey up the stairs. The opulence and elegance of the blue and white room into which she was shown took her breath away.

‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ she enthused with delight.

‘Lord Montgomery instructed me to have this particular one prepared for you because it offers such a splendid view of the garden. It also faces south and has an abundant supply of sunshine—especially during the summer months.’

‘How considerate of Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina replied, strangely touched to discover he had spared the time to think of her comfort.

Later, she joined Lord Montgomery in a small candlelit dining room off the main hall. Presenting a pleasing appearance, having donned one of the gowns Patience had purchased for her in London—a violet silk which complemented her figure and her eyes—she managed to maintain an outward show of calm, despite the tumult raging inside her.

Lord Montgomery was standing by the sideboard, pouring red wine into two glasses. Angelina was struck by his stern profile outlined against the golden glow of the candles. She saw a kind of beauty in it, but quickly dismissed the thought. It was totally out of keeping with her opinion of him. He turned when she entered and moved towards her, his narrow gaze sweeping over her with approval.

‘I hope I’m not late. I went to look in on Aunt Patience.’

‘How is she?’ Alex handed her a glass of wine. Having lost all desire to quarrel with her tonight, he was relieved to hear she sounded more calm than aggressive.

‘Sleeping—but she really does look quite poorly.’

‘Then you will be relieved to know the doctor has seen her and has left some medication that should help relieve her discomfort. Is your room to your liking?’ he asked, pulling out her chair at the damask-covered table decorated with orchids.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Angelina replied, slipping into it and taking a sip of wine, hoping the meal would be over quickly so she could escape.

‘I’m glad you decided to join me for dinner,’ Alex said, seating himself across from her. ‘I hoped you would.’

‘I could hardly ignore a royal command, could I?’ Angelina replied, unable to resist taking a gentle stab at him, the impish curve to her lips softening the tartness of her reply.

His glance darted across the table. ‘It was not a royal command.’

‘No? That’s how it sounded.’

Reining in his mounting irritation, Alex stirred impatiently. ‘Angelina, don’t be aggressive,’ he told her quietly. ‘I am in no mood for a quarrel.’

Angelina laughed shortly, a mischievous light twinkling in her eyes. ‘Why, what kind of miracle is this! To what do we owe it?’ When he shot her an annoying look she sighed in capitulation, though in the light of his previous animosity towards her during their brief acquaintance, she remained suspicious of this softening to his attitude. ‘No. Neither am I,’ she answered, smiling at an aloof-looking footman who was standing to attention like a soldier close to a large dresser containing platters of food.

‘Good. Now that is settled, perhaps we can enjoy our dinner in peace.’

‘I shall endeavour to do so.’

‘As long as you don’t upset my cook by not eating. Mrs Hall is very efficient—and, being a woman, she is extremely temperamental and takes it as a personal criticism if anyone refuses to eat.’

‘What! Even you?’ Her eyes sparked with laughter.

‘Even me.’ He smiled in response, spreading a napkin over his knees.

It was a simple, lovely meal, excellently cooked and served by the aloof footman who came and went. Alex talked amiably about Arlington Hall and the surrounding countryside, giving Angelina a brief insight of the people who lived and worked in and around the village of Arlington, just one mile from the hall.

‘Do you often go to London?’ she asked, wondering how he could bear to leave such a lovely place for the hurly-burly of London.

‘I have to take my seat in the House of Lords occasionally—more so at this present time with Europe in a state of turmoil and the war with the United States.’ A faint smile touched his lips when he observed Angelina’s expression of bewilderment, and realised that, coming from America, she would know very little about English politics.

‘You are a politician?’

‘No—at least not in the professional sense. It is simply that I, and all peers of the realm, have been trained to regard it as our right and duty to participate in governing the country. We enter Parliament as we do university and gentlemen’s clubs—such as White’s or Brooks’s.’

Angelina was impressed. ‘It all sounds very grand to me. And what do you debate in the House of Lords?’

‘The issues at this time are many and varied—and of an extremely serious nature. Fortunately we have managed to stand against Napoleon, despite his attempts to throttle our trade. The present economic crisis is foremost in the debates, and the textile trade, which is getting worse. Following two bad harvests, there is general unrest in this country—especially in the north and the Midlands. And on top of all this comes the need to pay out gold to support the war in Portugal and Spain and our naval battle with America.’

‘Dear me. What a muddle it all is. I wonder at you having time to leave London and come to Arlington.’

‘I’m not required to spend all my time in the House of Lords, and much of my business can be taken care of here.’ He went on to explain the basics of British politics and the English Court, telling her that King George III had lapsed into incurable madness and his son, the Prince of Wales, had been made Regent the previous year. ‘There are times when I have to go to Carlton House and other haunts of the Prince Regent and the beau monde. But I must point out that political exigencies take me there, rather than personal tastes.’

‘Uncle Henry told me that George III and his Queen set a standard of decorum and domestic virtue, but that their court was a very dull place to be—much different to that of their son.’

Alex smiled broadly. ‘Uncle Henry was right. As soon as the old King was struck down with madness and fastened into his strait-waistcoat, the Prince of Wales took to wearing corsets and the ladies to shedding their petticoats. There are those who say the country is falling into a decline in moral standards—if not the onset of national decadence.’

‘I was of the opinion that the English aristocracy has always been a profligate lot, who has indulged in loose living and has never ceased to do what it likes and cares only for its own whims. Why—I know you enjoy a certain reputation yourself, my lord,’ she said softly, glancing across at him obliquely.

Alex looked at her sharply. ‘Correction,’ he defended curtly. ‘I may have acquired a certain reputation, but I did not look for it and certainly do not enjoy it.’

Angelina shrugged, swallowing a juicy baby carrot. ‘Whatever the case, it is no secret that you are something of a womaniser and that you keep a mistress—a notorious beauty by all accounts.’

Alex’s gaze narrowed and slid to her seemingly innocent face. ‘Really,’ he said drily. ‘You are well informed, Angelina. Did Uncle Henry tell you that too?’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘Of course not. Uncle Henry is too much of a gentleman to indulge in tittle-tattle. But I do have ears—and servants talk. What’s she like?’ Angelina asked, popping another baby carrot into her mouth whilst lowering her eyes to hide their mischievous intent, secretly delighting in his discomfort.

Alex’s jaw tensed and a flash of annoyance darkened his eyes. ‘Who?’

Calmly Angelina met his gaze. ‘Your mistress.’ As he arrogantly raised one brow a dangerous glitter entered his eyes, which warned her that his temper was not far from surfacing.

‘She’s very sweet, as a matter of fact,’ he drawled.

‘Then instead of marrying Miss Howard, why not marry your mistress?’

‘Gentlemen do not marry their mistresses, Angelina.’

‘Why—I cannot for the life of me see why not. If a man considers a woman suitable to take to his bed, why not marry her?’

Alex’s grey eyes observed her with ill-concealed displeasure from beneath dark brows. ‘I think we will drop this particular subject. It is pointless and leading nowhere.’

Restraining the urge to giggle, Angelina shrugged flippantly. ‘As you like.’

When he turned the conversation back round to his home, she listened with a good deal of interest, and mostly in silence when she realised just how much Arlington and its people meant to him. It brought to mind her own home and all she had left behind. Memory clouded her eyes and Alex seemed to sense her despondency.

‘Tell me, are you homesick for America?’ he asked suddenly, correctly guessing the cause of her dejected attitude.

Angelina raised her eyes and looked at him sharply. His question was unexpected. ‘Very much,’ she admitted, unsure whether she wanted his sympathy, but comforted by it nevertheless.

‘And you miss Mr Boone and your friend Will, I suppose.’

‘Yes, I do miss Will. He was a part of my life for a long time.’

‘And now? What do you think he is doing?’

‘Trapping beaver somewhere among the Great Lakes of North America, I suppose,’ she murmured, unable to conceal the yearning she still felt for her homeland.