Page 75 of The Lady’s No Angel

Mama dissolved, burying her face in a lacy handkerchief.

“Mama, please don’t,” Angel said, guilt tugging at her heart at seeing her mother weep. Mama was always so reserved, so contained, that it was quite shocking. Though she had known her mother would worry for her, she had not fully realised how deeply. They had never been demonstrative, but the outpouring of love and regret with which Mama had showered her when they reunited had made Angel aware of so much they had never said to one another. But now they had time.

Leo had been wonderfully kind to Mama and had known just how to deal with Papa, too. Papa was still in town and had promised to make his own way back in time for the wedding, but Angel could not help but wonder if the lure of the gambling clubs and the nightlife to which he was so addicted would prove stronger than his only daughter’s wedding. She told herself she was prepared for it, if that be the case.

By the time they arrived back at The Crow’s Nest, Mama had composed herself and she looked out of the window at the grand and rather overly ornate building Pops had loved so dearly.

“I always hated this house,” she said, shaking her head. “Such a monstrous design. Far too garish, but Jack never did like to be understated.”

Angel smiled. “No. That he didn’t. What will you do with it? For you could keep it now, if you wished.”

Mama shuddered at the very idea. “No, I thank you. But you could. I know how much Jack meant to you, and it was his, after all.”

Angel considered the house that had been her home all her life and shook her head. “Leo’s father has relented, now he realises that Hart truly doesn’t care if he’s cut off or not. I think he has finally gained a measure of respect for his son after that scene, for he has given him the running of three of the ducal properties. So, we’d never get much time to come here, and I think the house deserves a new family. Perhaps another little girl with big dreams will live here. I like that idea better, so I think we shall rent it out. I have my memories of you and of Pops, even of Papa when he was home and merry, and plump in the pocket. I don’t need a house to keep them safe.”

Mama nodded. “That’s a fine idea. It would be nice to believe the house Jack built for us could be a home to another brave girl, or boy, who dared to look farther than the end of their nose for adventure.”

“Why, Mama,” Angel said, teasing now. “And how you scolded me for doing just that!”

Mama sniffed, glaring at her. “Yes, well, I only hope they don’t turn their poor mama’s hair grey when they do it. A letter, just a few words to tell me you were alive—is that too much, I ask you?”

Angel bit her lip as the footman helped Mama down from the carriage, and they went inside.

Later that same afternoon, Angel walked through the little town that was so familiar to her, nodding greetings to people she knew, and smiling to herself as ladies whispered behind fans the moment she passed. She knew from Izzy’s letters that her forthcoming wedding to the Marquess of Hartwell was all anyone could talk of, and she could not deny she rather enjoyed being the centre of attention.

As the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney had intimated, however, the town was far busier than she was used to, and the newcomers were fashionable ladies and gentlemen who had clearly spurned the last weeks of the season to come here. Though the new hotel being built to house those eager to sample the delights of their little idyll was far from ready, The Mermaid and The Swan were fully booked, and some of the more elegant houses had been vacated by their owners to take advantage of the high rental fees they could now command.

New shops had sprung up in the town as well, shops which had been empty for years, suddenly spruced up with fresh paint and elegant window dressings of pretty bonnets and shoes and fashionable accoutrements. Angel had even heard tell of another modiste moving in and wondered how Madame Auguste had taken the news that she had competition.

Angel smiled as the vicarage came into view. It was a handsome building, and the cottage garden surrounding it a riot of colour, redolent with perfume and the drowsy humming of bees.

She made her way up the path to the front door, the scent of lavender and thyme drifting up as her skirts brushed past the plants and plied the knocker. As she waited, she reached for one of the roses that scrambled over the trellised porch and inhaled the lovely aroma. The distant sound of hurrying footsteps reached her and she turned, ready to greet the maid, Polly, or Mrs Adie, the cook and housekeeper.

But the door opened and a beautiful young woman looked at her inquiringly, her open expression candid and welcoming. “Good afternoon, did you want the reverend?”

“Oh,” Angel said, a little startled. “I er… actually I wished to see Mrs Midwinter, his daughter. I understood that she and her husband were staying here as the castle is not yet habitable.”

“Gracious,” the woman said, her cheeks turning pink in a rather charming addition to her strawberry blonde colouring. “What a ninny I am! You must be Miss Everdene. She said you might be calling. Please forgive me, miss, and do come in. I’m afraid Mrs Midwinter went to the castle with her husband to check on progress. They are hoping to move in next week, you see, but I don’t believe they will be gone much longer. Can I offer you some tea?”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Angel said with a smile, too curious about the young woman to refuse.

“You are wondering who I am,” she guessed as Angel followed her into the cosy parlour. “The reverend is my uncle, you see. I am Miss Caroline Honeywell, and my little sister, Abbie, is here too. We knew Uncle Bertie would be lonely with all his daughters married now, so… so we came to keep him company.”

Angel nodded her understanding, but there was something in the brisk way the girl spoke that made the words sound somewhat rehearsed. She wondered what the real story was, not that she intended to pry. So, Angel settled herself down in a sunny spot while Miss Caroline went to order the tea tray. The weather here was a good deal brighter than it had been in town, where they’d not seen the sun all year. Angel hoped they might see a glimmer of warmth for their wedding.

“And how are you enjoying Little Valentine?” she asked when Caroline returned. “Have you been here long?”

The girl sat down and smoothed her skirts a little nervously. “Since late April, and it’s lovely, though I did not realise how fashionable it is, and how very busy.” Her eyes grew shadowed with worry for a moment, and Angel wondered if she was hiding. In the past, Little Valentine would have been an excellent choice to do just that, but now, not so much.

“Yes, I have not been here since early April, and I can see how much it has changed already. There’s so much building going on.”

“Yes, indeed. The locals have mixed feelings about it, I assure you. There are so many men here, working on the building sites, and so they come through town to go to The Dog and Duck—it can cause a little tension.”

Angel nodded, well able to believe it.

Out in the hallway, the sound of the front door opening and the chatter of voices, punctuated by deep, masculine laughter, filled the air.

“They’re back,” Caroline said with obvious relief, and leapt up to greet them. “You’ve got a visitor, Cousin Izzy.”