My Lady Angel. Joanna Maitland

nothing had happened. ‘Indeed so, my dear. And, for a lady of rank, Célestine is the only possible modiste. She is particularly talented when it comes to gowns for great occasions, like Court presentations. Or weddings…’

      ‘Aunt…’ Angel warned.

      ‘But it is true, my love. Why, only last year, three of the grandest brides of the Season were dressed by Célestine and—’

      ‘It does not apply to me. I am a widow, not a new bride. And I am not planning to remarry. I must ask you to speak of something else, Aunt.’

      There was an awkward silence for several minutes. But, as the carriage was now travelling through the villages on the outskirts of London, there was much to distract the ladies, especially Angel, who had not visited London for years.

      ‘My goodness,’ she said, when the carriage slowed to negotiate the increasingly heavy traffic, ‘I had not remembered that the city was as busy as this. At this rate, we shall not reach Rosevale House before dark.’

      ‘Don’t worry, my dear. John Coachman will find our way. Besides, some of the streets are now lit by gas lamps. I am told that it is as bright as day.’

      Angel did not attempt to contradict her.

      ‘It makes the streets much safer, too, I hear. Not that you would be out in the streets after dark, of course. No lady of quality would ever do that. Which reminds me, Angel. I know you are a widow, but you are new to Society and you do have a reputation to lose. It is important that you know exactly how to go on. I shall help you, naturally, but I…er…I ought to remind you, my dear, that you must never go out alone. In fact, it would be best if you always took the carriage—’

      ‘I must take some exercise, Aunt.’

      ‘But not by striding around the countryside like a peasant searching for…for…’

      ‘Lost sheep?’ said Angel mischievously.

      Lady Charlotte tut-tutted. She was in her element now. ‘You may take exercise on horseback. In the park. It is a splendid place to see and be seen.’

      ‘No doubt. But a quiet amble in the park, stopping to chat at every other moment, provides little by way of exercise, Aunt. I shall continue to walk.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘But, to please you, dear Aunt, I shall take a maid with me. Let us hope she can keep up!’

      ‘Angel, no! You must not make such a spectacle of yourself. Truly you must not! If you stride about like a…like a man, you will do your reputation no good at all. Imagine what Society would say of you! You must behave like a lady at all times. You really must. You know how important it is.’

      Angel swallowed the hot words that rose to her lips. She would not let her irritation show, not this time. She must try to be fair to Aunt Charlotte, who certainly had Angel’s best interests at heart. Unfortunately, there would never be a meeting of minds on what those best interests were. Aunt Charlotte was convinced that Angel should behave, in almost all respects, as if she were a demure débutante. And she would continue to urge restraint on Angel at every opportunity. It was intolerable! But it was also understandable. Aunt Charlotte loved her and wanted her to find happiness. Sadly, they disagreed on the role of a husband in that blissful state.

      Angel forced herself to smile at Lady Charlotte. Let the old lady believe she had won the argument and that Angel would behave exactly as her aunt wished. After all, Angel was mistress of her own household. She should certainly be able to find ways of escaping from the oppressive rules her aunt wished to impose.

      There must be a way. She would not be caged!

      Angel stood in the imposing entrance hall of Rosevale House in Berkeley Square, watching her aunt mount the stairs and disappear in the direction of her bedchamber. Angel was still inwardly fuming, but she was determined to control her ire in front of the servants.

      She turned a friendly smile on the waiting butler. ‘Good evening to you, Willett. I am glad to see that you made much better time than we did. I am afraid we were delayed by the traffic. I hope that Cook’s efforts will not be spoiled if dinner is delayed for an hour.’

      ‘Your ladyship’s wishes will be conveyed to the kitchen at once,’ Willett said.

      Angel looked hard at the man. He sounded rather more pompous than usual. And he seemed to be lacking his normal composure. Strange. She would quiz Benton about what was going on. But first, she needed a bath. She felt hot and dirty from the journey.

      As Angel turned towards the staircase, Willett coughed delicately. ‘Your ladyship has a visitor.’

      Angel spun round. Who would be so rude as to intrude on a lady at such a moment? After more than a day on the road, she was in no fit state to greet a guest. Unless it was Pierre? Was he in trouble?

      ‘The Earl of Penrose, m’lady. He is waiting in the bookroom.’

      With a sharp intake of breath, Angel picked up her dusty skirts and marched smartly towards the bookroom. Willett only just reached the door in time to open it for her.

      Cousin Frederick turned as she entered. He was immaculate in a blue coat and pale pantaloons. There was not a speck of dust on his shining hessians. And there was a superior smile on his face that made her want to slap him!

      ‘To what do I owe this singularly ill-timed visit, Cousin? An emergency of some kind, I collect?’

      Penrose’s smile vanished and was instantly replaced by a black scowl. Then his gaze travelled over her dust-stained clothing. She thought she detected a sneer at the corner of his mouth as he bowed to her. It was intolerable!

      Angel did not offer even a nod in reply. She was much too angry. ‘I will thank you to state your business, Cousin, and allow me to go about mine. As you have clearly observed, I am in no fit state to entertain casual callers.’

      Cousin Frederick’s eyes narrowed as he straightened once more. He looked coldly furious. ‘Your pardon, my lady,’ he said in clipped, formal tones. ‘I will relieve you of my unwelcome presence on the instant. I should not wish to inconvenience you in any way.’

      With another perfunctory bow, he strode towards the door where Angel was standing, effectively forcing her to make way for him. How dare he?

      ‘Sir! You—!’

      It was too late. Her impossible cousin had thrown open the door and marched out into the hallway. She heard the click of his heels on the marble floor, and then the sound of the front door.

      Angel sank into the nearest chair and let out a long slow breath. Stupid! Stupid! Why had she not stopped to think before she spoke? She, after all, was the one who had said that they must make peace with Cousin Frederick’s branch of the family. Instead, she had taken one look at his haughty face and lost her temper. Again! What was it about that man? He made her behave like a foolish child rather than a grown woman.

      Whatever the cause, there was no hope of reconciliation after an encounter like that. Her own hasty tongue had made an enemy of the man who was both her cousin and her heir.

      Max strode off round the square at a cracking pace. Ross had had the right of it. Max needed to hit something—or someone—soon, or he would explode. So much for his good intentions! What was the point in trying to make peace with such a termagant? The benighted woman was utterly without manners or common decency. Just wait until the tabbies started in on her! Then she would reap the rewards of her unladylike behaviour.

      And he would happily watch from the sidelines while the lady’s nemesis approached. If she continued in this vein, she would find herself ostracised from Society.

      Did she not deserve it?

      Max did not attempt to pursue that question. He knew that reflection was impossible when he was in a black temper. He would do better to follow Ross’s advice. Unfortunately, at this time of day, he could not go to Jackson’s Boxing Saloon.

      With