The Angel and the Aristocrat by Merry Farmer

Chapter 6

The race was on. Angeline was determined to get Rafe to smile, even if it was the last thing she ever did. He didn’t smile once during the tennis match, though. Not even when she deliberately made a ninny of herself by twirling and posing and adding dance moves to her playing. Clementine and Mr. Radcliffe were in stitches, but Rafe didn’t smile once.

Rafe didn’t smile when she made a little scene on her plate out of her vegetables during supper that night, then made certain he saw it. He didn’t smile at all that week, not when they took another walk together and she told humorous stories of her cousins, Shannon, Marie, Colleen, and Chloe. He didn’t smile the next week, when Miss Julia had them perform comedic scenes from Shakespeare and she played Olivia opposite Raina’s Viola in a scene from Twelfth Night. He didn’t even smile in church two Sundays later, when she sneezed in the middle of the long and boring sermon. None of their group could keep a straight face for the entire rest of the sermon, which ended with them being glared at as they left Yorkminster.

But the result of Angeline’s efforts to make Rafe smile over the next several weeks was that she had ample opportunity to spend time with him, getting to know him and sketching his character. Not a day went by for four whole weeks in which they didn’t spend at least some time with each other. Even on days when the gentlemen wandered off to partake in their own activities separately from the ladies. And with each conversation that they had about the Roman excavation on the property, the latest books that Miss Julia insisted everyone read, the goings on of Parliament, and a few spirited debates about The Irish Question, Angeline fell even more in love with Rafe. He was dour at times and guarded, but the more she spent time with him, drawing him out of his shell, the more she could see the good, noble, somewhat sad man that he was underneath his gruff exterior.

“Do you know, Lord Rothbury,” she said one Tuesday afternoon in the fifth week of the house party, as the ladies all sat at easels, sketching the gentlemen, “I think this may be the very first time when your grave countenance is perfectly appropriate.”

She couldn’t tell if Rafe was entirely pleased with her teasing comment. She rather thought he wasn’t. Or perhaps he simply wasn’t pleased by the fact that Miss Julia had required all of the gentlemen to dress up in Roman togas and to assume “Cesarian poses”, as she’d called them, so that the ladies could sketch them against the backdrop of the excavation site. Though, frankly, the excavation site was mostly muddy holes in the ground, not sprawling Roman temple complexes or ruins of any kind. Like most of the other gentlemen—except Mr. Howard, for some reason—Rafe looked decidedly put out to be standing before a row of sketching ladies in nothing but a clumsily-tied bedsheet, leaning against a curtain rod that was meant to suggest a spear.

“There is nothing at all appropriate about this scenario, Lady Angeline,” Rafe growled. His brow was already knit into a frown, but she fancied it dropped even further.

“Oh, I don’t know, Lord Rothbury,” she went on, tilting her head to one side, pencil on the rough sketch of her canvas. She drank in the sight of Rafe’s powerful arms, which were pleasingly bared as part of his costume. She had more than a little peek at his chest as well, which was as aesthetically pleasing as any of the statues she’d seen in the British Museum. Rafe kept himself in fine form, if she did say so herself. The entire artistic exercise made the warm summer day even hotter than it would have been otherwise. “You would have made a very good Roman Senator.”

She grinned at him, wondering if letting him see how transported she was by the sight of him would be the thing that finally made him smile. She wasn’t sure it would, but his cheeks grew rather pink when she absentmindedly bit the end of her pencil while studying his bare calves as they stuck out from the bottom of his toga.

“I suppose that would all depend on which era of Roman history I was a senator for,” Rafe said, entirely too seriously. “In the reign of Caesar Augustus, I think I would have done well. In the Emperor Caligula’s time, however, I would likely have ended up with my head on a platter.”

“Do you think so?” Angeline went on, adding a few more clumsy lines to her sketch. “I would have thought you’d have done quite well in Caligula’s court. All that intrigue, all the naughtiness.” She glanced up and met his eyes with a wicked look.

Rafe coughed for no reason whatsoever. “And what do you know of…Roman history?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

“We studied it a bit at Twittingham Academy,” Angeline said with pretend innocence. “And then some of us engaged in independent study once we were alone in our dormitory at night.”

She thought her comment was fairly innocuous. All she’d meant was that Raina had secreted away some books from the library that detailed the depravities of Caligula’s reign—books they knew full well ladies weren’t supposed to look at. Rafe turned a particularly interesting shade of purple at her comment, though.

“Er…is that the sort of thing young ladies get up to at finishing school?” he asked in the oddest voice.

“What sort of things?” Angeline asked, blinking at him. “Do stay still, Lord Rothbury.”

He had shifted in the strangest way, pulling his hips back so that his pose appeared more awkward than senatorial. He cleared his throat. “Nocturnal activities?” he suggested. “Between friends?”

Angeline cocked her head to one side. “Raina used to take books from the library that she shouldn’t have,” she said. “Books about the ancient world. We would read aloud to each other after curfew. Raina was particularly good at making dry academia sound interesting.”

“Oh, oh, I see,” Rafe said, letting out an enormous breath and looking mortified.

Angeline returned to her sketch, but paused with a sudden grin to ask, “What did you think I meant?”

“Um…er…I didn’t…I assumed….”

“That we practiced kissing with each other?” Angeline asked, as casual as you please. “Well, we did that too.”

She couldn’t see his expression as she’d gone back to looking at her sketch, but Rafe made the most interesting sound, something like a strangled moan. Angeline made certain her face was hidden by her easel before grinning to the point of giggles. She would never understand men and their fascination with something as banal as friends kissing. As far as she was concerned, she would rather have kissed him a thousand times over than any of her friends. It absolutely was not the same.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid we must cease our artistic activities and return to the house,” Miss Julia announced, interrupting them all. “It will take some time to walk back, and if we do not keep to our schedule, we will not be in time for supper tonight. So please do leave your drawings here, and I will make certain the Fangfoss staff pack everything up and transport it to the house.”

“And what about us?” Mr. Phineas Prince asked, glancing down at his toga. “I’m not walking across Yorkshire dressed like this.”

“The ladies can go on ahead while the gentlemen resume their normal attire,” Miss Julia said.

“I suppose that means I will see you back at the house, Lord Rothbury,” Angeline told Rafe with a smile.

“I suppose,” Rafe said with his usual frown. He made a beeline for the outbuilding where the gentlemen had their clothes, his face still red.

Angeline giggled as she stepped away from her easel, making her way to Melanie so she could have a companion to walk back to the house with. Olive was still frantically sketching away, and Miss Julia looked as though she was about to scold her into leaving her drawing to return to the house. Angeline wasn’t certain she wanted to be there for that.

“I saw you flirting away with Lord Rothbury, don’t think I didn’t,” Melanie said with a teasing look. “And I heard what you said to him.”

“You did?” Angeline’s face heated, and she suppressed a giggle.

“You know what men think when you tell them things like that about boarding house dormitories,” Melanie said.

“That was the point,” Angeline whispered, picking up her pace to put some distance between her and Melanie and the rest of the party. “I have been trying to get the man to smile for weeks now.”

“I assume that’s not all you’ve been trying to get him to do.” Melanie arched one eyebrow.

Angeline sighed and hugged her friend’s arm tightly. “Oh, Mel. I’m so in love with him. Lord Rothbury is everything I’ve always dreamed of in a man.”

“Truly? You’ve dreamed of a gruff and grouchy curmudgeon who cannot be bothered to converse with anyone properly?” Melanie asked.

Angeline laughed. “He’s been wronged, you know. By his former fiancée. He’s merely shy now. But he’s such a kind-hearted man underneath all his prickles. And as I’ve just discovered, he’s quite fetching underneath all his clothes as well.”

“Why, Angeline O’Shea, you’re as bad as your cousins,” Melanie laughed. She paused, then said, “Though I do think Miss Julia was unexpectedly wise to make the gentlemen pose in dishabille. It might just spur things on a bit.”

“I certainly hope so,” Angeline sighed. “Because I am quite certain that I want to marry the man.”

“Are you?” Melanie’s brow went up.

“Completely certain. In fact, I need to ask Avery to arrange it immediately,” Angeline said, filling with energy at the idea.

“Then you might want to ask him later rather than sooner,” Melanie said. “From what I’ve observed, your brother isn’t particularly keen on Lord Rothbury. The more time you give him to get used to the idea, the more likely you are to get him to agree to things.”

“You know, I think you’re right.”

Angeline was so convinced of it that as soon as they reached the house and she was able to track down her brother—along with several of the other men who had somehow managed to avoid dressing in a sheet to pose for the ladies—she dragged him aside into one of the small parlors to force the issue.

“Avery, I will be blunt with you,” she said, chin lifted, feeling confident in herself and what she wanted. “I would like to marry Lord Rothbury, and I wish for you to arrange it.”

Avery gaped at her as though she’d expressed a wish to travel to the steppes of Asia to fight Genghis Khan. “No,” he said. “Just, no.”

Angeline’s joy flopped to her feet. “No?”

“Did I not enunciate clearly?” Avery asked. “No.”

Angeline pursed her lips and huffed through her nose. “Avery, that isn’t fair of you. Lord Rothbury and I get along so well. Have you not seen the two of us spending so much time together these past four or five weeks?”

“I have, and you have not heeded my instructions to stop and spend time with some of the other male guests at this house party,” Avery said.

“There are no other male guests I wish to spend time with,” Angeline argued. “Only Lord Rothbury. What possible objection could you have to your sister marrying a marquess?”

“I object to my sister marrying a rake of dubious reputation who has already ruined one woman he was engaged to,” Avery said. His tone was harsh enough that Angeline flinched away from him. That made Avery wince and go one with, “I’m sorry to tell you the truth so bluntly, but there it is. The man is not worthy of you, Angel.”

“In the first place,” Angeline said with a sigh, “I know that Rafe has a broken engagement.”

“Rafe?” Avery reacted as though she’d cursed.

“In the second place, if you disapprove so heartily of my marrying him, why have you not tried to keep us apart and prevent us from associating so closely for more than a month now?” Avery opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Angeline rode over him with, “I think it is because, at heart, you approve of the match.”

“I do not—” Avery stopped, pressing a hand to his forehead, and appearing to gather himself for a moment. When he glanced at Angeline again, his expression was tight. “Lord Rothbury was engaged to a Lady Farrah Beauregard.”

“Yes, I know.” Angeline kept her head tilted up, telling herself she wouldn’t be jealous of a woman who was no longer part of Rafe’s life.

“Angel, he ruined her. They were caught in bed together,” Avery said. Angeline’s mouth dropped open. “And then he broke the engagement and refused to marry her.”

The sizzling moment of hot and cold emotion that shot through Angeline’s blood was replaced a moment later by incredulity. “But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Why would a man ruin a woman, then refuse to marry her when they were already engaged?”

Avery made an impatient sound. “I don’t know, but that’s what happened.”

“And who told you this story?” she asked.

“It’s all over Yorkshire and London,” Avery said. “I wrote to some of my friends in London, and they confirmed the rumor.”

“And did you ask Lord Rothbury himself?” Angeline demanded.

“I did,” Rafe said, “but I did not find his answer satisfactory.”

“Because he told you it was a lie, but you refused to believe him,” Angeline assumed. “I knew it.”

“Angel, you don’t know anything,” Avery said. That comment got her back up far enough, but then he went on with, “You will not marry Lord Rothbury.”

“We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” she asked, then turned and stormed out of the room.

Her burst of defiance carried her all the way from one end of the house to the other, but by the time she reached the hyacinth parlor, where her friends were, her spirits were flagging again.

“Oh dear, has something happened?” Clementine asked. “Has Lord Rothbury said something to upset you?”

“No,” Angeline said with a mournful sniffle. “My horrible, dictatorial brother has.”

Angeline flopped her way to the settee, and her friends instantly gathered around her.

“Can I wager a guess that he doesn’t approve of Lord Rothbury and that he said you couldn’t marry him?” Melanie said, wincing a bit. “I was the one who suggested she ask,” Melanie told the others.

“That’s precisely what happened,” Angeline sighed. “Avery said no. Just no.”

“I don’t think that’s very fair of him,” Olive said. “What reason did he give?”

“Apparently, there is a rumor in London that Lord Rothbury ruined his former fiancée, Lady Farrah Beauregard, and after the fact, he refused to marry her.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Raina said, handing Angeline a cup of tea.

“That’s what I told him,” Angeline said, accepting the tea graciously. “The entire story must be wrong. I’ve come to know Lord Rothbury quite well in the last month, and the man isn’t capable of anything like that.”

“Isn’t capable of ruining a woman or isn’t capable of refusing to marry her once he has?” Clementine asked.

“Both,” Angeline said with a burst of energy.

Clementine looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Perhaps you would be better off if he were capable of the first one, but not the second one.”

Angeline blinked at her over the lip of her teacup as she took a sip.

“I think you have a point,” Raina said, her eyes bright.

“What point?” Melanie asked, looking as though she wanted in on the fun.

Clementine moved to sit by Angeline’s side. “How desperately do you want to marry Lord Rothbury.”

“As desperately as it is possible to be,” Angeline answered, nearly ashamed of the emotion in her voice.

“And how far would you be willing to go to force your brother’s hand into letting you marry him?” Clementine asked on.

“As far as I can go,” Angeline said. Giddy tendrils of excitement began to fill her insides. She had a feeling she knew what Clementine might have been suggesting.

“Oh, I see,” Melanie said, her expression brightening. “I definitely see.”

“What do you see?” Charity asked, coming to join the conversation.

“There’s nothing for it,” Melanie said with a shrug. “You’re going to have to seduce Lord Rothbury, get him to ruin you, then force Avery to accept the marriage so that your reputation is not destroyed.”

“Oh, my,” Angeline said, both thrilled and terrified at the prospect.

But even that was a curiosity for her. She’d spent so much of her life being frightened by one thing or another, but in the past few weeks of keeping company with Rafe, she hadn’t been afraid once. Rafe was too large and looming for her to be afraid of anything. He made her feel safe, even when he was being dour, and he made her feel cared for, even if he had yet to smile at her.

“I think I could do it,” she said breathlessly, hardly believing herself.

“I think you could too,” Melanie said with a shrug.

“I’m going to do it.” Angeline put her teacup down and straightened.

“Excellent,” Clementine said.

“How?” Angeline added, deflating slightly. “I’ve never seduced a man before. I’ve never done any of those things with a man before.”

“It’s not that difficult, trust me,” Raina said with a mischievous look. “If he knows what he’s doing, he’ll guide you through most of it.”

“And Lord Rothbury looks as though he knows what he’s doing,” Charity added with a wink.

“But how do I make it happen?” Angeline said. “The act itself is one thing, but how do I arrange for things to come together that way?”

“I have an idea,” Melanie said, gathering them all in close.

Angeline had a feeling she was in for a night of wild excitement.