Almost an Angel (14 page)

The thought made him squirm. But there was nothing he could do. He would not blight Carolly's happiness. If she enjoyed Garrett's company more than his, then so be it. He would play the courteous host to the best of his ability.

His gaze shifted to the other occupants of the table. Miss Hornswallow sat as polite and correct as ever. Her gown—a demure, high-necked gray thing—reflected her somber attitude. She chanced to look up at him. Their gazes met, and she smiled. Her expression was filled with compassion, and James was momentarily startled by the understanding he read in her dark brown eyes. Surely his thoughts had not been so obvious. But of course Miss Hornswallow would understand them, he realized. Forced by circumstances to become a drab creature at best, the austere governess would easily comprehend the feelings of someone relegated to the shadows.

He smiled warmly at her and felt a rush of pleasure when she blushed a becoming shade of rose. Perhaps Carolly had spoken the truth. Content in his pleasant cocoon, James had missed the possibilities right under his nose.

After that, the meal progressed almost pleasantly. Unable to compete with Garrett, James turned his attention to his niece. She sat slouched in her chair, casting hopelessly lovelorn glances at Garrett. For the first time ever, she reminded James of himself as a child. He could recall dinners spent slumped in his chair, staring with desperate shyness at some pretty maid while his older brother teased and cajoled the girl into a kiss.

Now his niece lived through that same horror. James leaned forward and touched the girl on her arm. She jerked slightly, then gave him a surprised look.

"I understand you and Carolly went hunting for insects today. Did you find anything of consequence?" he asked.

"No." The word was flat with resentment.

"Nothing at all?"

"No."

He frowned, wondering what he should do next. He glanced up, noting that Garrett and Carolly had fallen silent, and poor Margaret had taken center stage. Unfortunately, that was the last place the girl wanted to be, so she shrank even lower into her seat.

James glanced at Miss Hornswallow, hoping she could help, but she was busy frowning at Margaret, clearly disappointed at the girl's poor showing. Garrett was simply amused, his loud sigh of resignation easily heard by all in the room. Finally, James sent a desperate look at Carolly, who merely smiled encouragingly. She clearly wanted him to continue, except he had no idea what to say.

"Let me see," he began, counting off the facts as a way to stall for time. "You went out early this afternoon, returning only just before supper in exceedingly high spirits. Yet you say you caught nothing of consequence." He let his gaze linger thoughtfully on his wine glass. "It must be, then, that you were doing something different than catching insects."

"Oh, no," Margaret cried, clearly insulted. "We were looking . . ." Her voice trailed away as she looked around the room, clearly focusing on Garrett's bored expression. "It was nothing," she said in a stifled whisper.

"Or perhaps," James tried again, "you were chatting more than looking?" He watched his niece blush a fiery red. There had to be some way to cajole her out of her shyness. What had his brother done, what did Carolly do, he wondered, when faced with a shy girl?

Suddenly, he remembered. They descended into utter mischief, speaking outrageously about nonsense. Perhaps he could give it a try.

Pretending to ponder the question of what had so occupied Carolly and Margaret, he tapped his finger against his mouth, then suddenly brightened. "I have it! You were doing one of those secret rites for females."

Margaret blinked. "What?"

"Of course you were. It is what females do all the time in their boudoirs and late at night when they giggle under their bedcovers." He leaned in close to his stunned niece. "Tell me the truth," he whispered, "what do you really do? Do you dress up in odd clothes and whisper in a secret language?"

"My lord!" exclaimed Miss Hornswallow, clearly shocked. "You must know—"

"Don't tell him, Mags!" interrupted Carolly in dramatic accents. "Men must never find out."

Margaret's gaze hopped between her uncle, Carolly, and a frowning Miss Hornswallow. In the end, she landed with mischievous intent on James as he smiled encouragingly, inviting her to share in his outrageousness. "I shall tell you, uncle," she finally whispered.

"Oh, no, our secret is out!" wailed Carolly, pressing her hand to her chest in feigned horror.

"We . . . We . . ." Margaret was obviously trying to think of something preposterous, and James waited with breathless anticipation to find out what she would say. "We sneak food from the pantry and . . . and talk about underclothes and hair pieces!"

"Margaret!" That came from Miss Hornswallow, but James ignored her, putting on an expression of shocked amazement.

"Truly?" he said breathlessly. "I have always wondered." He leaned back and frowned as he picked up his fork. That is most interesting, Margaret. Did you know that is almost exactly like the male secret ritual?”

Margaret sat up in her seat, her eyes bright. “Truly?”

"Oh, absolutely. Hairpieces and underclothing. Although we discuss horses as well."

Margaret wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Well, I already knew about that."

James shifted, slightly surprised. "I thought you liked horses."

"Oh, they are fine for riding, but they are not nearly as interesting as insects. Why Baron Lansford says there is little variety in horses compared to the insect world. And they are not nearly as smart."

Across the table, James could hear Carolly nearly choking on merriment. But it was Garrett who spoke up, his words cutting and cruel. "What a deuced odd thing to say!"

James did not need to look to see the animation leave his niece. The object of her adoration had just called her odd in the most insulting of ways. He actually heard Margaret sink deeper into her chair, fading back into the formless lump she had been not more than five minutes ago. Across the table, he saw Carolly's eyes flash as she girded herself for battle. She was obviously prepared to set to Garrett with all the fire in her passionate soul. Except James could not allow it. A scene would only increase Margaret's mortification and cause as much damage as Garrett's thoughtless comment.

Carolly opened her mouth. "How—"

"Odd?" he interrupted smoothly. "Perhaps, but it was also quite correct." He glanced down at his niece. "And I will take a truthful oddity over fashionable nonsense any day."

He saw Carolly shut her mouth with a snap, surprised. He merely smiled.

"You are obviously well-versed regarding insects," James continued to his niece. "Does Baron Lansford tell you all these things?”

"Yes," Margaret began slowly. James nodded encouragingly, and the girl continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. "He has the most amazing collection. Miss Hornswallow and I go there often. We spent the entire afternoon there only yesterday."

"Is that so?" James said, noting Miss Hornswallow's bright pink cheeks.

The prim governess shifted uneasily. "I have always found it beneficial to encourage a child's interests."

"Of course." James nodded sagely. "But I must insist that horses be given equal time." He looked back at Margaret. "How would you like to go riding with me tomorrow? Perhaps Shadow and I can teach you to appreciate the finer aspects of horseflesh."

Margaret nearly hopped up and down in her seat. "I can go with you tomorrow?”

"Absolutely." How could he resist such honest enthusiasm? Especially since it was the first such excitement he had ever seen in his ward. That it was directed at him was more rewarding than he could have thought possible. That Carolly's eyes shone with a misty delight only added to the sweetness. "Provided, of course," he admonished, "that you dress appropriately. In your riding habit."

"But I don't like my habit!" she wailed. "It's hot. And it pinches."

James shook his head. "I will not allow you to join me improperly attired. I know it is hot, but lighter dresses will not protect you from scratchy branches. And if it rains, you will stay warm. Besides," he added with a wink, "I think you may find that it isn't tight anymore."

"Really?" asked Margaret, her eyes shining with surprise and pleasure.

"Really," answered James.

From across the table, Carolly knew it was true. Happiness and good exercise had helped Mags slim down. And, she thought with an embarrassed grimace, she now knew why

James had walked away from his niece that first morning. He hadn't allowed Margaret to be anything less than appropriately dressed. For her own welfare. Not to mention that, with the villagers already against her, the girl had to show well, had to be excruciatingly correct. Even if that meant wearing a riding habit she hated.

As Margaret and James began to discuss where they would go in the morning, Carolly leaned back in her chair and felt a grin spread across her cheeks. Finally, uncle and niece were moving toward each other. The rapport was tentative at best, but Carolly had no doubt it would grow quickly. After all, whether they realized it or not, they yearned for affection from each other. If Carolly just kept herself and everyone else out of the way, James and Mags would develop a strong bond.

She glanced at Miss Hornswallow. She was no problem. The woman excelled at dissolving into the shadows. Besides, she appeared thrilled at the growing relationship between James and Mags. Beneath that starched and prickly exterior beat the heart of a very compassionate woman who cared deeply for her charge. Miss Hornswallow would not interfere.

Garrett, on the other hand, could be difficult. Poor man, she thought with a sigh. He had no idea how poor an appearance he made next to James. He had been clearly aware of Margaret's puppy love, but had done nothing to ease it or direct it elsewhere. He'd simply ignored the girl in favor of more adult entertainments. And now that Mags's childish infatuation seemed to be shifting, he acted insulted, taking solace in his wine glass and nastiness.

Was this what James had meant when he said his cousin was bred for the city? True, Garrett was handsome and elegant with an almost overwhelming charm. But beneath his debonair exterior, the man lacked the solid core Carolly found so appealing in James. Though she might flirt more easily with Garrett, she could rely on James. And although Garrett worked at being a delightful companion, James was the honest and worthy one.

Still, in this case, she would have to forgo the better man in favor of the lesser. James needed time to get to know Margaret, and that meant Carolly would have to vigilantly keep Garrett out of the way. She reached for her glass, listening with half an ear as the child regaled her uncle with the mysteries of the insect world. Then her gaze drifted to Garrett, who suddenly winked at her.

Out of habit, Carolly winked back. She smiled. She supposed there were worse things than being forced into the company of a charming man. Still, her heart was heavy as her attention wandered back to her host. All in all, she'd much rather discuss the wonders of insect larvae with James and Margaret.

***

James stared at his book. He tried to focus on Homer's epic poem, but instead he saw the smile Carolly gave Garrett just before they had left for their stroll—nearly three hours ago. He had been occupied with Margaret at the time, but he could hardly miss their silent exchange.

Now Margaret and Miss Hornswallow had left for bed, and he had no other soul with whom to while away the time. He looked at his book. Just over his right shoulder, on the parlor mantel, an elegant ormolu clock ticked away the seconds. He turned the page, but the image of Carolly strolling intimately with Garrett remained in his mind's eye.

The candle sputtered and died. It was several moments before he noticed.

Standing quietly, he crossed to an end table and pulled open the drawer. Retrieving a fresh candle, he returned to his seat, carefully replacing the spent taper. As he moved, his cassimere pantaloons shifted with a slight sigh of fabric, and the sound seemed overly large in the empty parlor. Once the new candle caught fire, James reopened his book. The clock ticked. The house remained silent.

In his mind's eye, Carolly and Garrett exchanged more than
on-dits.

James had turned two more meaningless pages before a new sound broke the stillness. It was Carolly, her low laughter stirring his senses as it floated on the night air. Soon it was followed by soft footsteps and male tones, and then, eventually, finally, the French windows burst open and she and Garrett sauntered in.

James did not have to move to see their entrance. His seat gave the perfect position from which to observe.

"Oh, James!" Carolly exclaimed as she crossed the threshold. "I had not realized you would still be awake. I hope we are not disturbing your reading."

James rose from his seat, closing his book and setting it aside as he did. "Homer is ever dull after midnight."

"Before midnight too, if you ask me," suggested his cousin.

Carolly merely smiled and lit a nearby candelabra. "Goodness, James, doesn't it bother your eyes to read in the dark?"

James did not respond. He spent his energies studying his two companions. Garrett had loosened his cravat, his hair was windswept, and his clothing appeared in noticeable disarray. He wore the cheeky grin of a man satisfied with an evening's work and the smug expression of a libertine waiting to brag of his next conquest.

Carolly, too, looked mussed. Her short hair, though coiled at the nape of her neck, seemed to tumble over the ribbon that tried to restrain it. Her eyes were bright, her smile easy and sweet. She did not appear overly shy nor excessively nervous, in the way of women playing the coquette, but then she did not need to play at anything to be appealing. Indeed, in the candlelight, even her skin seemed to glow with golden beauty.

Was this the face of a woman who had engaged in a tryst? With most women, he would have known immediately, but with Carolly, he could not judge her reactions. Her clothing appeared slightly disheveled, and her skirt sported dirt and leaves. If he were not mistaken, she had torn the hem. But, for all he knew, she could have done that climbing trees this afternoon with Margaret.