“Lady Angeline,” Miss Goddard said quietly and gently, “Edward and I are friends.”
“Of course you are,” Angeline said, blinking her eyes and realizing that they had come to a stop before a fat little stone cherub whose sightless eyes seemed to be gazing skyward. “That is the whole beauty of it. When he briefly courted me, entirely because I was the bride his family picked out for him because I am so eligible, they did not know me. They had not even met me. When he briefly courted me, he kissed me, just once and just briefly, you understand, because we were at Vauxhall and the path was secluded and the moon was almost full and one does tend to do silly things under such circumstances, I—What was I saying?” She ought not to have told Miss Goddard the earl had kissed her.
“When Edward briefly courted you,” Miss Goddard said, reaching out a hand to touch the sculpted curls of the cherub.
“Well,” Angeline said, “we were not friends at all, you see. He said he was fond of me, which really means nothing at all, does it? For I had asked him if he loved me, and he could hardly just say no, could he? At least, he could have, but he would not because he is a gentleman and he would not wish to hurt my feelings. And I daresay if I had said yes and married him, he would have been fond of me for the rest of my life. He would not have allowed himself to do any less. But we would never have been friends. I think a husband and wife really ought to be friends, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” Miss Goddard said as they strolled onward.
“But he was playing cards last evening with Cousin Rosalie as a partner,” Angeline said, “and you with Sir Webster Jordan. And so it might go on for five days. I do have a plan, but I need to tell you about it so that you can do your part. It is not wrong, you know, actively to pursue what you want. And it is not wrong for you to want the Earl of Heyward. It is not his fault he had to inherit the title.”
“What is your plan?” Miss Goddard asked after a short silence.
“Lord Windrow,” Angeline said.
“Lord Windrow?”
They had stopped walking again, but not to look at anything in particular. Just at each other. Miss Goddard’s eyebrows were arched above her eyes, and she looked nothing like a startled hare. Only like someone who did not understand what was being said to her.
“At the garden party,” Angeline said, “Lord Heyward came rushing up just as Lord Windrow rowed you out onto the river. He asked if Lord Windrow had been bothering me, but it was you he was concerned about. When I said I was quite safe and that you always seemed to be there to save me, he asked who would save you. And he did not take his eyes off you.”
“He was there waiting when we returned,” Miss Goddard said. “I was really rather annoyed, for I do not need Edward or any other man to rush to my defense every time another man pays me some attention—which is not often, you know. He took me up to the terrace for refreshments and we enjoyed half an hour of each other’s company.”
“I saw,” Angeline said. “When we were going home from the party I asked Cousin Rosalie to invite Lord Windrow here so that we can do it again. And again if necessary. Lure him into your company, that is, so that Lord Heyward will go wild with worry for your safety, though you will not be in any real danger, you know, as you will never be far from everyone else, and besides, I do not believe Lord Windrow is a real rogue. He likes to tease and he likes to flirt. But deep down he is a gentleman—not as honorable a one as Lord Heyward himself, perhaps, and he does have a tendency to want to settle arguments with his fists, but men are brought up to think that is a manly way to behave and so one cannot entirely blame them, can one? My brothers are just the same. We will … Will you do it?”
“Lure Lord Windrow into my lair and flirt with him?” Miss Goddard asked.
“Oh, not flirt,” Angeline said. “But appear to be … trapped in his company. Appear … oh, not unsafe exactly, but uncomfortable and a little anxious. Lord Heyward will then rush to your rescue as he did at the garden party, and he will realize, if he is not already realizing it, that the only way to keep you permanently safe is to marry you. And his family will see how he cares for you, and … Well.”
Miss Goddard looked gravely at her until a smile grew deep down in her eyes. It never arrived full-blown in the rest of her face, but it was definitely there.
“Lady Angeline,” she said softly. She tipped her head to one side. “Oh, Lady Angeline.”
And absurdly Angeline wanted to cry. Fortunately she did not do so.
“Will you?” she asked.
Miss Goddard nodded slowly.
“I will,” she said.
Experiencing contradictory feelings was nothing new to Angeline. She could feel pride and triumph over any of her brothers’ mad exploits at the same moment as she felt that every nerve in her body was vibrating with terror at what might have happened and fury that they would subject themselves so foolishly to such danger. But nothing compared with what she felt now.
Elation, yes, certainly.
And such a terrible despair that she bit her upper lip hard enough to draw blood.
EDWARD HAD FALLEN asleep late and woken up early. It was not a great combination, leaving him tired as it did. However, he had used the early morning hours to think a few things through and to make a few decisions, and he found himself facing the new day in a better frame of mind than he had been in yesterday.
For one thing he had made up his mind that he was going to forget about his antagonism toward Windrow. The man had behaved badly on the road to London, it was true, and Edward could not regret that he had called him to account for it. He would do the same if it happened again. But the man was no monster of depravity. He was something of a rake, that was all. At that inn he had mistaken Lady Angeline, not for a maid—there was really no way he could have done that since she had looked nothing like a servant—but for a woman traveler of careless enough behavior that perhaps she was also of loose morals. The bright, bold color of her dress had probably contributed to the impression. If she had taken him up on his offer of a shared meal and a shared chair, he doubtless would have pushed his advantage and tumbled her somewhere upstairs before going on his way.
But she would have had to be willing. He would not have forced her. Rakes were not necessarily rapists. They were very rarely so, in fact. They had no need to be. There were always enough willing women to give them satisfaction for a price—or sometimes even for no price but their own gratification.
When Windrow had realized his mistake, he had gone on his way after a careless apology and the suggestion of a threat to Edward in order to save face, all of which had appeared to amuse him. He would doubtless have enjoyed a bout of fisticuffs if his challenge had been accepted. He would certainly have enjoyed a tumble upstairs. But since neither had been forthcoming, he had probably forgotten the incident within the first few miles of his journey, as well as the two persons involved—until he encountered them again at the Tresham ball. Then he had chosen to behave with a certain impudent amusement at the colossal nature of the error he had made.
He had chosen to beg a set of dances from both Lady Angeline and Eunice. He had done the same thing at the Hicks ball. He had taken Eunice boating on the river at the Loverall garden party and would probably have taken Lady Angeline out too if he had not intervened and driven her away.