Chapter Twenty
"Faster, Angelica, or you'll never catch me!"
Angelica barely heard the words as Cecily sped past her, bent low over her horse's neck. The lands around Loxwell Park were excellent for riding – at least, for the likes of Cecily. Angelica had never seen such an accomplished horsewoman. Cecily took her mount sailing over gates and fences that Angelica would never dream of attempting. It was obvious that, no matter what her complaints about boredom and seclusion, country life suited Cecily.
The three young ladies were racing. At least, Cecily was racing, Angelica was doing her best to keep up, and Jemima was trotting along sedately at the rear.
"I am the last of the Stanhopes," she said primly every time Cecily tried to cajole a little speed out of her. "It is my duty to continue the family legacy. How am I to do that if I break my neck riding?"
It was a brisk and delightful spring morning. Cecily rode every day, no matter what the weather, but Angelica only let herself be persuaded when the sun was shining. And today it was glorious – sparkling off Loxwell Lake like gold.
The ride, the rush of adrenaline, and the wind in her face were almost enough to drive all thoughts of Edward from Angelica's mind.
She'd had no word from London. Well, how could she? And wasn't that what she wanted, anyway, to be far away from it all – from him?
There was an Edward who existed in her imagination who was warm and loving, who was kind to her family, who kissed like a devil and treated her like an angel. That was the man who tormented Angelica's distracted days and wakeful nights.
She was still not certain whether or not that man was real.
The three girls dismounted their horses at the stables and returned to the house red-cheeked and laughing. Jemima's black riding habit stuck out sorely on the lovely day.
"I cannot wait to be out of mourning," said Jemima. "Though I can't help but feel that, for the sake of my poor brother, I ought to wear black for the rest of my life."
"He would not want you to closet yourself away," Cecily assured her. Jemima managed a smile.
"He certainly never kept himself quiet while he was alive – even while we were both in mourning for my parents!"
"Don't think on such things," said Cecily, taking Jemima's arm in one hand and Angelica's in the other. "You know that it only makes you feel lonely, and, well – you are not alone."
"Certainly not," Angelica agreed.
The secret they shared had served to bond the girls closely in the days Angelica had spent at Loxwell Park. She was glad she had decided to come to Cecily, even though she was missing Edward. The country air seemed to blow more common sense into her head every moment, and the friendship she had found reminded her that a broken heart was not such a great barrier to overcome.
Angelica felt that, in just a few days' time, she would be able to write to her father and explain herself with equanimity. Not yet, of course. A day or two more was all she needed.... Another few days riding in the sunshine...
The Duke of Loxwell was waiting for the girls in the hallway. As Cecily ran up to plant a kiss on his bristly cheek, he held out a hand to halt her in her tracks.
It was then that the three girls noticed that he was red in the face – an even brighter crimson than usual – and fuming with anger.
"There is no time to change out of your riding things at present," he said, in a low and thunderous tone. "I wish to speak with Miss Stirling immediately in my study."
Cecily and Jemima glanced at Angelica in alarm. "Who is Miss Stirling, Papa?" asked Cecily, without much hope.
The Duke crooked his finger at Angelica. "Come along, young Miss. Your adventure, I'm afraid, is quite over."
Cecily jumped in front of Angelica. "If you are going to speak to Angelica, you must speak to me, too! I am the one at fault here. I concealed her from you."
She beckoned urgently to Jemima, who rolled her eyes and sighed,
"Yes, I suppose I ought to take the blame as well. Don't punish Cecily, Your Grace. The fault is entirely mine. I was the first to lie to you."
"You have all behaved abominably!" snapped the Duke. "To think that my own daughter and my beloved ward would take advantage of my kindness in this way! It is too much, girls! Entirely too much!"
"Papa, we are not children," said Cecily. "We had good reason to act as we did. You will understand when I have explained it to you –"
"Let me explain," said Angelica, pushing past her friends. She looked the Duke in the eye. "Your Grace, Cecily and Jemima would never have lied at all if I had not asked them to. You must not blame them too severely. They were only trying to protect me."
"The only thing I can see that you needed protecting from is the loving, desperately worried father whose letter arrived this morning!" growled the Duke. "He has been writing to the parents of every one of your acquaintances – to the severe detriment of your reputation, I might add! Yet what else was the man to do? You left him in an impossible situation, Miss Stirling!"
Angelica lifted her chin. "Did he mention that, despite his love, he intends to marry me off to the Duke of Redhaven, whether I wish it or not?"
"What your father does with you is not my place to question," said the Duke.
On impulse, Angelica clasped her hands together and sank to her knees. "Your Grace, I fling myself upon your mercy! If I go back to London, I will have to marry the Duke of Redhaven!"
"That is, if he will still have you," the Duke pointed out, unmoved. "And at this rate, no-one else in society will. Do you truly believe anyone is looking for a runaway bride?"
Cecily and Jemima both sank to their knees behind Angelica.
"Papa, please!"
"Your Grace, think of Redhaven's reputation!"
"He doesn't even love her, Papa! He played the most abominable deception!"
"I am not unmoved by your plight," the Duke admitted, "but I cannot stand in the way of a father hoping to be reunited with his lost daughter. Get up, all of you. You will spoil your pretty riding clothes on the ground."
"As if we care about clothes, Papa!" Cecily protested, but she rose to her feet all the same.
"Miss Stirling, you will kindly come with me," said the Duke, extending his arm. "I do not relish taking this step, but I am afraid I see no other option. You have not proven yourself trustworthy. I will confine you to your chambers until your parents arrive to take you away."
"Papa, how can you?" Cecily gasped. Angelica shook her head.
"Don't fret, Cecily. It can't be helped." Swallowing down her shame, she took the Duke's arm. "I am entirely at your service, Your Grace."
As they walked together up the elegant spiral staircase of Loxwell House, Angelica could not help but feel that she was walking towards her doom. The click of the lock as the Duke shut her in was the final blow to her freedom.
No more riding in the sunlight. No more laughing all day with Cecily and Jemima. No more time to think.
No escape from her marriage to the man who had won her heart without any intention of returning her affection.
Angelica flung herself on to the bed. She considered bursting into tears, but, on reflection, that seemed entirely too dramatic. Instead, she took up a book from the shelf the Duke and Duchess had provided for their guests, and began to read.
If the words on the page blurred every now and again as tears filled her eyes, it was of no consequence.
At least the heroines in her novels were guaranteed a happy ending.