headed back to Angelica’s bedchamber.
Relief whipped through him when he found her still there, resting against her pillow with open eyes. His heart eased into a steadier rhythm than it had experienced so far since he’d woken, allowing him to keep a steady hand while filling the glasses. He handed one to Lady Bloomfield.
“Thank you.” She took a small sip, licked her lips, and drank again before rising. “If you need anything, please let me know.”
“I will see you in the morning, Mama.”
Lady Bloomfield nodded and forced a smile. “Very well.”
Randolph waited for the connecting door to close before pulling the chair around so it stood right next to the bed. He sat and took Angelica’s hand in his. “Would you like some?” He held his glass toward her.
“No. I need to be able to...ugh…think.”
“Turn your head a little.” Carefully, he helped her move. “Easy. Just like that. Well done.”
He parted her matted hair and examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, but it was still bleeding. Grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket he dipped it in his brandy and carefully dabbed at the wound. Angelica hissed in response. Her body tensed, but she let him finish what he was doing without complaint.
When she was resting on her back once more, Randolph gently squeezed her hand. “Tell me what happened.”
And as she did, Randolph learned what it truly meant to hate someone, for the anger growing inside him with each word she uttered was worse than what he’d ever felt toward Katrina. This feeling was different. It was dark and gnarly, a deformed creature with twisted limbs, hell-bent on seeking satisfaction. And by God, he’d find it one way or the other. What Mrs. Essex had done to Katrina and to Angelica could not go unpunished.
It took more than a week for Angelica to fully recover from her ordeal. After she finished her account of what had transpired, Randolph had woken three footmen: one to guard the door to Mrs. Essex’s bedchamber, the second to fetch the local magistrate, and the third to make sure a physician was brought to check on Angelica. The examination had declared her extremely lucky to still be alive considering the nature of her fall and the blow to her head. Her ankles and shins were blistered from the burns she’d sustained, one of her ribs was possibly cracked, and her left hip severely bruised.
According to what her mother had told her, Mrs. Essex had been removed from the premises by the authorities and was now awaiting trial. To this end, the magistrate had interviewed Angelica who’d corroborated the story. Proving Mrs. Essex’s involvement in Katrina’s death would also be possible with Marcus’s help. Finding the former groom had been a challenge, but after questioning those who’d known him, Randolph had managed to seek him out on a farm a day’s ride north of Colchester Hall. And while the young man had initially tried to flee, he eventually agreed to help, provided he could do so anonymously.
Randolph agreed and in the weeks that followed, amidst the increasingly tedious wedding preparations, Angelica did her best to help him recover from the guilt gnawing at his soul.
“Marrying you would make me happier than anything else in the world,” he’d told her the evening after her fall. “But I understand if recent events have made you reluctant to choose me as your husband and Colchester Hall as your home.”
“That’s not a proposal,” she’d told him bluntly.
He’d smiled. “Angelica, would you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She’d answered him with a kiss and a whispered, “Yes,” against his lips.
“You’re sure?” he’d asked while resting his forehead against hers and holding her close.
“Without a doubt,” she’d assured him. And then, because she knew how important it was, she’d pulled back enough to meet his gaze with all the love she felt in her heart. “And Colchester Hall isn’t nearly as bad as I once suggested.”
It was hard to explain, but the misery weighing the old stones down had withdrawn the moment Mrs. Essex was gone. In its place was a light and buoyantly romantic atmosphere, leaving no doubt in Angelica’s mind about Katrina finally being at peace.
In the end, they’d decided to take things one day at a time and remain wherever their mood chose. And with all the ensuing wedding preparations, Angelica’s slow recuperation, a week-long trip to London, and the legalities surrounding Mrs. Essex’s arrest, they’d hardly had time to discuss their future again before