Wicked Liaison - Meara Platt Page 0,47

like your usual cheery self.”

“I had a bad dream. That’s all. Nothing a hearty breakfast and a cup of hot tea can’t fix.”

“Not to mention the attentions of our handsome host. Don’t think I didn’t notice you were the only lady with whom he took a turn of the parlor last night.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Angelica whispered.

Rose tilted her head and gave her a don’t-be-silly look. “It means he singled you out.”

“Perhaps,” Angelica allowed. But she was fairly certain she’d bungled whatever chance she’d had of him choosing her. First, by offending him and second, by enraging him to the point where he’d appeared ready to do serious violence. “But what if I don’t want him?”

Her mother blanched. “Don’t even jest about such a thing. We need this match, Angelica. You need it.” Rose’s lips quivered ever so slightly at the corners. “I didn’t want to worry you but my funds are limited. Bloomfield has not been as generous as I’d have hoped, and as a result, I may lose the house.”

Angelica’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“The many expenses left me no choice but to borrow against it.”

“You never said a word.” The modest townhouse with its prestigious address on Berkley Square had been purchased by Angelica’s father when her oldest sister, Stephanie, was born. The purpose had been to create a cozier family home than the grand Bloomfield House manor on the edge of Hyde Park would allow. In his will, Angelica’s father had bequeathed the property to his wife. It was Angelica’s childhood home – the house in which she’d always lived – and the thought of losing it because her father’s cousin was being tight fisted made her feel ill.

“Come. Let us sit down before we attract too much attention.”

Angelica couldn’t move. Her mother had just dropped a cannonball on her head, yet she wanted to sit down and eat as if all was normal? “We need to discuss this, Mama. Surely my sisters can help?”

“They already have.”

And she refused to ask them for further assistance? “But even if I marry well, there’s no guarantee my husband will—”

“No,” Rose said. She looked somewhat piqued. “I would never expect him to, nor would I want to be anyone’s burden. What I am saying is that I may have to relocate to something significantly smaller.”

Understanding dawned. Her mother feared her financial straits would force her to move to a place where there wouldn’t be room for her unmarried daughter. Angelica instinctively glanced toward Lord Sterling, who made no effort to hide the fact that he was watching her with keen interest. Her heart quickened a little and she tightened her grip on her plate. How could she possibly marry a man who was capable of such forceful anger?

“Come,” her mother insisted once more, and this time she walked away, returning to the table without waiting for Angelica to follow.

Angelica dropped her gaze to her plate. All she wanted was to toss it against the wall in despair, but that would be wasteful, not to mention ill-bred, and she actually was quite hungry. So she clenched her jaw and went to sit beside Miss Chesterfield since all the other seats were already taken. It was just as well. Lucy would only want to talk and right now that was the last thing Angelica felt like doing.

Instead, she ate while pondering what her mother had told her.

Having finished his food a while ago, Randolph enjoyed his morning coffee. He tried to engage the women seated closest to him in conversation, though not without keeping a constant eye on Lady Angelica. Her face had been drawn when she’d entered the room. Now, after speaking with her mother, concern strained her features. And she was making a very deliberate effort to keep from looking at him. Really, he had to apologize for his behavior last night. After all, his intention was to woo her, not frighten her away.

“Perhaps you would like to know the schedule for the coming week?” He wasn’t foolish enough to invite six young ladies to his home with no plan to entertain them. All directed their gazes at him, chaperones included. Except Lady Angelica, whose attention remained fixed on the contents of her teacup. “Today I’ll be spending a private hour with each of you so we can improve our acquaintance.”

In a way he dreaded it, for he knew at least two of the candidates would have little to say. At least not enough to fill a whole hour. He

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