What a Reckless Rogue Needs Part 17

The marquess rose. "Very well. Our meeting is concluded."

Colin stood. d.a.m.n you, I will not give up without a fight.

Colin's expression was as grim as the overcast sky.

Angeline kept silent as he escorted her to the carriage. Clearly his meeting with his father had not gone well.

"My father instructed me to take Agnes up in the carriage, but she's sitting beside John."

"She will feel more comfortable keeping John company." More important, Angeline knew Colin was angry, and he needed to air his grievances.

After they boarded the carriage, he sat with his back to the horses and knocked his cane on the ceiling. Minutes later, it rolled off. She was tempted to ask him what had transpired, but he turned his attention to the window.

When the carriage turned onto the main road, he sighed. "I beg your pardon. I ought to have called off the journey to Sommerall, but I could not bring myself to stay at Deerfield for the remainder of the day. I should have informed you that I must call off all further efforts, but I knew that would cause a stir."

"Sit with me so that I don't have to raise my voice," she said.

He moved over to her bench.

"Do you wish to tell me what happened? If not, I will understand."

"My father met with the man who is very interested in the purchase of Sommerall. The marquess will honor the six-week agreement we made. At the end of that time, he will sell to Faraday if the man chooses it over the other one he is considering."

"Surely he's not serious."

"Yes, he is very serious. We agreed I would give him my decision, one way or the other, in six weeks." He blew out his breath and laughed without mirth. "I actually considered going to London and choosing the first lady who crossed my path, but I can't do it. I should have told my father no immediately. His demands are impossible. Now I must reconcile myself to losing Sommerall."

"He ought to trust you. You are his only son."

"Isn't trust earned?" he said.

His cynical expression stunned her. "What do you mean?"

"There are reasons my father doesn't trust me. Make no mistake. I had no intention of attending the house party, and he knows it. The only reason I made the journey was because my father informed me in a letter that he meant to sell Sommerall." He met her gaze. "I would never have traveled here otherwise."

"Not even to see your family?"

A hard look came into his eyes. "Do you want the truth or do you want the fairy-tale version?"

She laced her gloved fingers and stared at her hands. "You wish to persuade me you care nothing for your family." She met his gaze. "But I have seen your affection for your sisters. I do not deny you have a bad reputation, but I do not believe you are quite as wicked as you wish me to think."

"I'll not argue degrees of wickedness," he said, "but you know to be wary of a man like me."

She wondered if his words about himself were meant to push her away. "The marquess is a wealthy man," she said. "He has no urgent reason to sell."

"Of course he does," Colin said. "Look around you. It's a miracle the place is as sound as it is, but eventually neglect will take a toll."

"I understand, but what difference will five months make to him? None. But for you, it is crucial. Marriage cannot be undone, at least not without scandal. He should give you a chance."

He leaned his elbows on his knees. "I've given him reason to mistrust me." He sighed. "I am sorry to have misled you today. If you wish, I can stop the driver and turn back."

He looked defeated. "We will continue on," she said. "Because there is something we can do with the time allotted to us. The house party will not conclude for another three weeks. We will search through every trunk and every box until we find your mother's miniature."

"It may not turn up."

She set her hand on his sleeve. "No matter what happens, we will make every effort." At least he would know that he'd tried, although there was little comfort in it.

He nodded. "It's bound to be in one of those infernal trunks. I have little time to find it."

She prayed that it was in one of the trunks. He would take it hard if they never located it.

They worked tirelessly in the attic. Colin set the paintings of his grandparents aside, along with one of his father. Angeline found one of him holding a puppy. "I love this one of you."

"Ah, Spotty," he said. "He was a good dog."

"How old were you in this portrait?"

"I don't know."

"I can tell it is you."

"No, you cannot," he said.

"Of course I can. I would know those curls anywhere."

He laughed. "I used to go along for the shooting with my father and grandfather. Spotty would fetch any birds they hit, which wasn't very often. Our fathers are truly the worst shots in England."

She laughed. "Was there a portrait of your parents?"

"These are the only ones I've found. The others are probably stored at Deerfield."

He'd saved only a few items in one trunk, including the correspondence they'd forgotten to take yesterday after their heated exchange.

He opened another trunk and said little as he piled crates high with pewter dishes, clocks, bottles, candles, sheets, brushes, shaving accoutrements, soap, and old clothing. There was more, but it all seemed like a blur to her. The detritus of another lifetime filled the room.

When Agnes entered the attic much later, Angeline stood and realized her arms were a bit sore from the work. She removed her gloves and addressed Agnes. "Have you finished cleaning the furnis.h.i.+ngs in the bedchambers?"

"Yes, my lady."

"You might as well take your meal with John."

"I took the liberty earlier. Didn't want to disturb you, my lady."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Agnes."

"If it pleases you, I'd be glad to test the range in the fireplace. I found sand for the floor."

Angeline blinked. "Sand?"

"Yes, my lady. It's for catching any sparks and preventing fires."

She was a scullery maid and would know such things. Angeline looked at Colin. "Do you have any reservations?"

He opened another trunk. "Agnes, I presume you have experience?"

"Yes, my lord. It's my job to start the fire in the kitchen and fireplaces at Deerfield."

Colin dusted his hands. "Ring the bell if there's a problem, even a minor one. Safety first."

"Yes, my lord." She bobbed a curtsy and left.

"That will save us the bother of bringing Cook here," Angeline said.

Colin took out his watch. "It's after two o'clock. You must be starving."

She smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, this is hard work," he said. "I fear this is a fool's errand."

"I disagree," she said. "You found portraits, and the items in the crates will find good homes. We will find the miniature. It's bound to be here somewhere."

His smile faded. "There are only two trunks left."

She must keep positive for his sake. "Well, we just haven't rummaged in the right trunk yet."

He sighed. "Let's repair to the breakfast parlor. I don't want you to swoon from hunger."

She scoffed. "I've never swooned in my life, and I do not plan to start now."

He put his hands on his hips. "And deprive me of rescuing you?"

"No doubt it has escaped your notice, but I'm not one of those dainty, pet.i.te ladies. You're likely to put your back out."

A devilish gleam entered his eyes as he advanced on her. "You think I'm too weak to pick you up?"

"Do not be ridiculous."

"You say that frequently," he said, cornering her.

"Stop that nonsense. I'm hungry."

He caught her by the waist. She squeaked when he put her over his shoulder. "Put me down."

"Say please."

"I'm going to kick you. One...two..."

Her feet hit the floor. She adjusted her bodice and shook her finger. "You will not do that again."

"By now you should know better than to challenge me."

"You had better keep an eye over your shoulder. I intend to get even."

He laughed and led her downstairs to the breakfast parlor. She realized he'd managed to charm her, and she thought how easily she could develop tender feelings for him. In the process, she would look very much the pathetic spinster. No matter what had happened to her, she still had her pride, and she refused to be the object of anyone's pity.

After they finished their meal, she realized his earlier good mood had disappeared.

"Colin, don't worry. We will find the miniature."

"Even if we do, it won't change anything. Sommerall will pa.s.s out of my family."

"Do you want to visit your mother's resting place now?"

"No."

"Perhaps tomorrow?" she said.

"Tomorrow I will give my father notice to sell."

"You can't give up," she said. "You negotiated for six more weeks."

He sighed. "It won't change anything," he said.

His shoulders were slumped and his expression was dispirited. Part of her wanted to encourage him to do everything in his power to retain Sommerall, but he clearly wanted to be done with it forever. She feared he would regret giving up, but it was his decision, not hers.

"Let us go upstairs. I want to finish quickly."

He opened the last two trunks. They knelt side by side. She prayed for a miracle as she set the folded sheets, blankets, and candleholders aside. There was nothing else inside.

"No luck here." Colin stood and extended his hand to her. She took it and felt his loss as if it were her own.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I expected it."

She had no words of comfort and knew they wouldn't help anyway.

"Will you come with me to the drawing room? I don't want to depart just yet," he said.

"Yes, of course."

He led her down the stairs and into the drawing room. She perched on a sofa, and he sat beside her.

"Thank you for your faith in me and for your a.s.sistance," Colin said. "While our efforts were for naught, I am grateful to you."

"I wish you would reconsider approaching your father. You deserve at least six months."

He shook his head. "He is adamant. Once he makes a decision, he rarely changes his mind. In this case, he won't. We will have little opportunity to talk with so many others about, but thanks to you, I will make more of an effort with my family."