Chapter Seven
"But I don't want to go to the theatre!" Angelica gasped, as Kitty fastened the buttons on yet another elegant evening dress. To think she'd spent so much time choosing the wardrobe for her first London Season, and it was all shortly going to be wasted on the provincial townspeople of wherever-on-earth Redhaven Castle might be.
"No, my darling, you do want to go," her mother corrected her smoothly. "A little tighter at the waist, Kitty. Have you a pin?" She turned back to Angelica. "It is the perfect opportunity for you to get to know your fiancé."
"That man is not my fiancé!"
"Your father has spoken, Angelica." Mrs Stirling sighed. "Lily, please say something. I don't know how to get through to your sister anymore."
Lily gently pushed Kitty aside and took over pinning Angelica's skirt. "You look like a princess," she said quietly. "Everyone will be looking at you tonight, Angelica. You'll be the centre of attention."
"Only because Papa has agreed to marry me off to a murderous rogue!" Angelica had not been able to get any more details about her future husband's reputation than that. He was a recluse, a rogue, and he had – possibly – killed somebody. The rest was not suitable for a young lady's delicate ears. Even the servants could not be persuaded to tell what they knew.
Angelica thought it was all most unfair. Her delicate ears, after all, were being sold off for the sake of said murderer's title. Why shouldn't they hear the worst?
"What will I talk to him about?" Angelica asked, sinking her head onto Lily's shoulder. Lily stroked her hair, careful not to muss it.
"Talk about whatever you please. Find out what books he reads. Ask him which plays he has seen. What is his favourite play by Shakespeare? You will soon be chatting away like old friends."
"I can give him my opinion of Hamlet," said Angelica, brightening.
"That would be most unwise," interrupted Mrs Stirling. "I doubt the subject matter of Hamlet will appeal." She motioned for Angelica to sit. Angelica remained stubbornly standing. "My darling, before we leave tonight, I think I should acquaint you with some of the...less fortunate talk about His Grace."
Angelica raised her eyebrows and caught Lily's eye. "At last! I am simply dying to hear it. Is it truly dreadful?"
"None of it is true," said Mrs Stirling sternly. "That is the most important thing to remember. Sit down, Angelica."
This time, Angelica obeyed. Lily sat beside her, their hands clasped in each other's laps.
"I am ready, Mama," said Angelica, with her best impression of deference.
Mrs Stirling pressed her lips together until they formed a tight, hard line. Angelica's mother was too well-bred to reveal her true feelings, even in front of her daughters, but this was the surest sign that something was bothering her. Angelica wondered whether her mother really approved of the match as much as her father did.
"Ten years ago, the Duke of Redhaven was involved in a duel. It is said – only said, mind you, never proved – that the other young man involved was in love with his sister, Lady Adelaide. That young man – Lord Oliver Barnet – was terribly injured by His Grace. Of course, this is all based on gossip. Lord Oliver never pursued the matter legally."
"I know Lord Oliver!" cried Lily. "He is hardly able to walk, the poor man! Are you really saying that Angelica's fiancé is to blame?"
"And all because he loved the Duke's sister," murmured Angelica. "How horrible!" Her mind was already leaping ahead to the time when she would meet her future sister-in-law. She was determined to get the truth from this Lady Adelaide.
"That is not the worst of it. The sad fact is, Lady Adelaide passed away a short time after the duel. Some say she died of grief." Mrs Stirling coughed uncomfortably. "Others say... No, I will not repeat it. It is simply too horrible to mention."
Angelica's eyes widened. "Lady Cecily told me there was a rumour the Duke murdered someone. If Lord Oliver is still alive, that must mean..."
"Your father is absolutely certain that His Grace never harmed a hair on his sister's head," said her mother sharply. "It is vicious gossip, nothing more. Lord Oliver was popular, you see, and the Duke of Redhaven... well, even in his younger days, he did not have a wide circle of friends. All that is certain is that, since his sister's death, he has never returned to London. Not until now."
"Then how did Lady Adelaide really die?" asked Angelica, almost too frightened to hear the answer. "No-one can actually die of grief, can they?"
"Heartbreak, perhaps," said Lily, placing a hand on her chest. "I can imagine that."
"There is a difference between rheumatic fever and a broken heart," said Angelica. Lily smiled wryly.
"I have had both, Angelica. Though I suppose I am lucky that my broken heart was caused by the fever, and not some careless duelling gentleman."
Angelica let go of Lily's hand to fiddle with the buttons on her gloves. "I cannot find any way to excuse the foolishness of a duel. Violence is never the answer, no matter what injury has been given. And what could possibly have injured the Duke when his sister merely fell in love?"
"Angelica, I see what's in your mind," said Mrs Stirling, taking the hand which was worrying at the button and firmly placing it back in Angelica's lap. "I forbid you to mention this to the Duke. Do you understand?"
"If I am not to ask him about it, what was the point in telling me at all?"
"You need to be prepared, my darling. Society loves nothing more than a scandalous piece of gossip. People talk about the Duke, and, when you are Duchess, people will talk about you. I do not want you to be taken off guard."
"But you do want me to marry him."
Mrs Stirling's eyes flickered away for the briefest second. "Your father wants you to marry him. And I am your father's wife. You will soon learn that a wife's role is to support her husband."
Angelica jutted out her chin defiantly. "That's not the kind of wife I want to be."
"Then your life will be more difficult than it needs to be," sighed Mrs Stirling. "And all I want for you, Angelica, is a life of ease and happiness. You too, Lily."
"I am sure the Duke will make Angelica happy, Mama," said Lily piously. Angelica rolled her eyes.
"You mean his money and his title will make me happy. The man himself... we'll have to see."
"You had better get rid of that attitude, young lady," said Mrs Stirling, narrowing her eyes. "It's time to leave. The Duke's carriage will be outside to collect us any minute. Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," said Angelica, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She glanced into the mirror. She was still not used to seeing the young lady who looked back. "A princess, did you say, Lily?"
"Even better. You look like a queen," her sister promised her. Angelica tried to take heart. On the inside, she felt rather too much like a frightened little girl. If she had succeeded in keeping her fears from her face, that was some comfort.
"I am ready, Mama. Let's go and spend a wonderful evening with my...my fiancé."
"Excellent." Mrs Stirling glided out into the hallway. After exchanging a sympathetic look with Lily, Angelica followed.
Lily loved the theatre. It had been years since she'd been inside one – not since her rheumatic fever had taken hold. Now that she needed to spend so much time lying down, it was simply out of the question for her to spend hours sitting in a crowded auditorium. There would be no worse place for her to have a fit of breathlessness, or worse, fainting.
Angelica liked the theatre too, but not for the glamour and bustle of people which Lily enjoyed. For Angelica, it was the stories – wild tales of pirates, shipwrecks, danger and derring do. She had the same feeling watching a play as she did reading her books. The feeling that she had been utterly transported to another land – a brighter, better land – where anything and everything was possible.
"Don't you agree, Your Grace?" she said, half-breathless with excitement, as the carriage began to rattle through the spacious Mayfair streets. The Duke had not spoken a word beyond hello and a polite how do you do to her mother since they had got into his carriage. And what a carriage it was! Angelica could not deny that she was used to the finer things in life, but she had to admit to a little thrill when she saw the ornate livery on the doors and settled back into the plush velvet seats. It was far and away the most comfortable carriage ride she'd ever had.
"Agree with what, Miss Stirling?"
"That there is simply nothing to match a well-performed play!"
Edward inclined his head to get a better look at her. "You enjoy the theatre?"
"Very much!"
"I hope you have other enjoyments. There is little theatre to be had in the region of Redhaven Castle."
"Oh." Angelica bit her lip. Find out what books he reads, Lily had said. "Do you...do you enjoy reading, Your Grace?"
"I do not."
Angelica blinked. "What, not at all? Not even – not even the papers?"
"I find much of modern day reporting to be too full of scandal and supposition to suit my tastes, Miss Stirling."
"I like reading very much," said Angelica, ignoring the stern look it drew from her mother. "Perhaps I can introduce you to some of my favourite novels."
"Novels are not a gentlemanly pastime," said Edward, turning to look out of the window again. It was as if she bored him.
Angelica knew she was many undesirable things, but boring was certainly not one of them.
"If I were a gentleman, I would behave exactly as it pleased me, and I would not care whether other people thought my pastimes suitable or not."
"Angelica!" her mother hissed.
Edward's eyes flickered lazily over Angelica's face. She felt as though she were being pinned to her seat by that powerful deep green. "It seems to me, Miss Stirling, that you already do not care what other people make of you."
Angelica lifted her chin proudly. "There are very few people whose opinions matter to me."
"That is just as well." And he turned away again. Angelica bit down on her frustration.
Was the man really so disinterested in conversation? How was she ever going to survive a marriage if he refused to talk to her? Not just speak – he was too polite to ignore her, after all – but really, truly talk?
Angelica had always nurtured a dream, childish though it might have been, that her eventual marriage would be a meeting of minds. She wanted someone to spar with, someone to exchange witty nothings with, to stay up all night discussing deep matters with.
Edward, apparently, wanted someone who was silent.
Suddenly, the entire carriage lurched rapidly to the side. Angelica slid sideways onto her mother's lap with a shout of surprise. Edward rammed his leg against the door to stop himself toppling.
"What's going on out there?" he called, and, without waiting for an answer, he had thrown off his jacket and leapt out of the slanting doorway.
"My apologies, Your Grace," stuttered his driver. "The wheel has come apart from the axle. I don't know how it happened – the carriage was in perfect condition when I checked it this morning."
"No matter. These things happen." Edward shouldered the door open. "Ladies, let me offer you a hand."
Angelica felt her arm being roughly grasped, and in a moment she had been turfed out of the wobbling carriage like a sack of potatoes. She turned back to see her mother being handled much more gently.
"Let's see the damage," said Edward, crouching down beside the driver to inspect the wheel. "Ah. It's only sprung out of place. We must have hit that pothole, there. It should slot back in without much trouble."
"That's if we can lift it, Your Grace –"
"Leave that to me. You handle the wheel."
To Angelica's astonishment, Edward crouched down, bending at the knee, and gripped the side of the carriage firmly with both hands. His jaw clenched with effort. Slowly but steadily, the carriage began to rise.
"Have you got it?" he asked, only the faintest touch of strain in his voice. Angelica couldn't help but notice the way his shoulder muscles bulged underneath his shirt.
"It's back in, Your Grace!"
"Very good." He dropped the carriage back onto the street. A few passers-by who had stopped to watch applauded his feat of strength.
Edward turned back and offered his hand to Angelica. "Miss Stirling?"
"I'll sit myself inside, thank you," she sniffed. "I don't want to be picked up and flung about like an old rag doll!"
Edward regarded her with a strange expression, his jaw still tight, though the weight of the carriage had long left his arms. "I apologise if I was rough. I was concerned for your mother."
"Well," said Angelica, deflating, "well, in that case..."
Before she had finished speaking, Edward had taken her hand in a warm, firm, but gentle grip. Angelica stuttered, for once, into silence.
"Allow me," Edward murmured, and handed her up into the carriage with all the strength and grace of a dancer at the Royal Ballet.
The remainder of the journey passed without incident. Angelica did not quite know how she felt, and, as a result, remained silent until she could organise her thoughts properly. She felt her mother relax more with every passing moment without an attempt at conversation.
Her fiancé did not like books. But he knew how to fix a carriage, and he treated his servants with respect where another man might have shouted at the driver for running the carriage over the pothole.
How exactly did those things weigh in Angelica's esteem?
"I know he isn't perfect," her mother whispered, once they were sitting in the box at the theatre. Edward had gone to fetch them some refreshments. "But nobody is, Angelica. You will be very miserable if perfection is all that will satisfy you."
Just as Lily had predicted, there was not an eye in the theatre which did not turn in Angelica's direction. When she looked out across the audience, she caught sight of hundreds of people quickly turning their heads away from her, pretending they hadn't been staring.
There she is, she imagined them whispering. There's the girl set to marry the Duke of Redhaven.
Did they think she was foolish, brave, or something in between?
What did Angelica think of herself?
"Are you quite settled, ladies?" asked Edward, coming back into the box. Below them, the curtain began to rise.
Angelica leaned across to her fiancé and whispered one very important question in his ear.
"What do you think of Shakespeare?"
Edward startled. The last thing he must have expected was to feel Angelica's breath tickling his earlobe.
"I am prepared to learn to appreciate him, Miss Stirling," he said, after a moment's consideration.
Angelica sat back in her seat, a slow smile spreading over her face in the dim light. There was no time for more talk. The play had already begun.