five
Two years later
TWO YEARS HAD passed since the tragic Theatre Royal incident, and what had changed in Angeline’s life? Almost nothing.
She still lived in London in the same house, she was still a spinster, and her mama was still the dirty secret of many, many rich and powerful men. After many promises, broken promises, many ‘this is the last time I blackmail someone, I swear it,’ and several nervous breakdowns, Mama’s blackmailing enterprise was still up and running.
Two years ago, Angeline and her mother had been forced to leave London in a hurry after Mama had bedded and blackmailed the wrong man. What His Grace Dimitri Gruzinsky, Grand Duke of all the Russias, lacked in sense of humour, he made up for in absolute rage. Not at all intimidated by Mama’s compromising photographs, damning documents, and threats to expose him to his Grand Duchess, he’d gone berserk and sworn to kill Mama and Angeline, burn down their house, curse their souls to hell, and declare war on Britain.
Now she understood why Napoleon had so miserably failed to conquer Great Mother Russia. He had all her sympathy.
And to think she’d considered Mr. Alexander to be short-tempered. He was an amateur compared to the Grand Duke.
After Angeline’s last visit to Mr. Alexander, she and her mother had left London at night like thieves and hadn’t returned until His Disgrace had grown tired of searching for them and returned to his gilded palace in Saint Petersburg.
Angeline had hoped that such a close brush with death and months spent running from one small town to another would have prompted Mama to change. But no. The only change was that Mama had taken to studying medicinal herbs and potions with more passion, becoming a true expert. She’d also become close friends with an Austrian physician, a Dr. Karl Bauer, who had taught her everything about medicinal plants from all around the world.
But that was the only significant change in her mother’s routine. Angeline started to believe Mama was addicted to her paid tumbles and blackmail business. She also suspected Mama couldn’t stop lying.
On top of everything else, she hadn’t seen Mr. Alexander since their last chess game. Busy hiding from the deranged grand duke, she hadn’t dared send a message to Mr. Alexander for fear it could fall into the wrong hands.
The only thing she knew about him was that his eyes had healed. Aside from that, she had no idea where he was and what he was doing since the newspapers had stopped talking about him. No, she knew something else. He didn’t work for Lord Havisham anymore.
For some reason, she missed him. He’d dragged her out of the burning theatre, and she hadn’t been able to see him again. Worse, he likely believed her sudden absence was due to their last encounter when she’d asked him to dance and he’d raised his voice. But between angry Russian aristocrats and Mama’s intrigues, she’d lost contact with London’s society for a while.
Since they’d returned, Mama had been determined to make up for the lost time by attending every party, afternoon tea, and soirée, no matter how small or insignificant.
Sitting in the carriage that was taking her to Lady Redvers’s house, Angeline tugged at the neckline of her silk gown. The devil kept slipping lower, even though she breathed slowly. If she sneezed, she’d undress herself. Her gloves, instead, were particularly long and thick. The burn had left an ugly, bumpy scar on her arm too many people found revolting. If she was going to be honest, she found it revolting, too. It’d taken her months to get used to the feel of the rough skin under her fingers whenever she’d touched the scar. It looked like a snake had sunbathed for too long.
“Stop fiddling with your neckline.” Mama swatted her hand.
“I’m practically naked. I might as well remove the bodice altogether.”
“Don’t be silly.” Mama tightened the silk sash around her shoulders. She shifted on the seat, glanced out of the window, shifted again, and glanced outside the other window.
Angeline had seen that circumspect behaviour during the days of the Russian incident, and she didn’t like it.
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Are we being followed? Is it the grand duke again?”
Mama let out a nervous chuckle. “No, no. Silly you. Everything is fine.”
“No, it’s not. Tell me the truth, or I won’t come with you to Lady Redvers’s ball. Oh goodness. Did you blackmail Lord Redvers? Is he one of your gentlemen?”
“Heavens, no. I didn’t do business with him. It was his brother. Very nice man. I mean he’s nice for a man. Anyway, it’s thanks to him that we’ve been invited.”
Business was a nice way to call blackmail.
“What is it, then?” she asked.
Mama smoothed a crease on her skirt. “I’m afraid you’ll be angry with me.”
“Tell me,” she gritted out. “Every conversation that starts with that line leads to a disaster.”
Mama took her time, keeping her gaze low. “There’s a gentleman I want you to meet.”
Angeline held her breath in surprise. A suitor? Had Mama finally agreed to help her find a husband? Could she finally think of settling down with a family of her own?
On impulse, she grabbed Mama’s hand. “I’m so glad you changed your mind about my search for a husband. There’s nothing, nothing I want more than to become a wife and a mother, take care of my family, and be surrounded by love. Oh, I’d love to have a couple of dogs as well, and a cat, of course. Cats are such clever animals.”
