The Defiant Debutante. Helen Dickson

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