Damnation, another black mark against him! He’d forgotten all about telling his London secretary to see about filling the position. Corin didn’t take his seat—the wretched female hadn’t invited him to, and for now it was her house—but crossed to the window, which was open. This time he knew better than to close it, although he didn’t see the old bulldog, only the three little beggars at Miss Armstead’s feet, under the tea tray. The day was warm enough anyway, though growing overcast, and his war-injured thigh was telling him foul weather was approaching. About as foul as his mood, to be so in the wrong so often with this cursed ape leader, in whose debt he now found himself. Knowing the answer beforehand, he still had to ask, “Who is it, then, who gives the children their lessons?”
Angelina merely nodded.
“Damn. I mean it was devilish good of you to take on the chore, Miss Armstead. I’ll find someone for the position as soon as possible.”
Angelina was busy crumbling bits of scone for the Yorkshire terriers. She nodded again, hoping his lordship would leave.
Corin couldn’t go, not without getting the dogs and their
duenna
out of this house. Blast the woman for being a moralizing idealist anyway, with all her talk of loving the little beasties and honoring his aunt’s last wishes. Hah! Most likely she was simply afraid of losing her lucrative sinecure. Miss Armstead could stay here, collecting her ridiculously exorbitant salary, for what? Ten or twelve years or however long one of these creatures lived. She’d be a moderately wealthy woman if she didn’t spend her blunt before then, but she’d also be ten years older, ten years less likely to snabble a husband, whereas if she had even half the cash now, and a more fashionable appearance ... His lordship sat down abruptly, invited or not. “Miss Armstead, I have a proposition for you.”
The rest of the scone fell out of Angelina’s fingers, but Corin was too rapt in his new scheme to notice. Money was the answer, by George. “I propose to pay you what you would have earned here in five years if you’ll give me the dogs. They’ll be well cared for, and you can set yourself up in a cozy house someplace else, someplace like Bath or even London, where you might meet eligible gentlemen while you still have your, ah, first blush of youth.”
Angelina was blushing, all right, but at her own assumptions, not the viscount’s heavy-handed attempt to buy her out of Primrose Cottage. Lord Knowle’s reputation, though, and the way he’d stared at her, had her expecting a slip on the shoulder. She should have known better. His lordship was known to patronize only the highest-flying birds-of-paradise, not drab ladies’ companions. Then again, he should have known better than to offer her money. “My lord, your aunt was kinder to me than anyone else in my life. I could not repay her so shabbily.”
Shabbily? “Seven years’ salary and a new wardrobe.”
“You forget yourself. Lord Knowle. Money might mean everything in your world. It does not in mine.”
“Very well, ten years’, and my mother will introduce you to some of her cronies’ sons and nephews.”
Angelina’s cheeks were scarlet by now. How dare the insufferable man be discussing her future as if she were a brood mare and he were paying the stud fees? Besides, she knew all about the viscount’s mama from her sister-in-law. If Lady Knowle was so accommodating, Lady Sophie would have remained at Knowle Castle all these years. The viscount would be the owner of Primrose Cottage instead of sitting in its parlor, importuning its meantime mistress. “I told you, my lord, that I do not want your money. And, although this is a highly improper conversation, I shall tell you that I hadn’t thought to look for a husband.”
“Nonsense, all women want to get married.” Corin thought Lena might even be pretty, with the added color in her cheeks. Take away the wretched cap, add a few pounds or a bust improver, and his mother could easily find her a second son or a half-pay officer to wed.
“I assure you, I hadn’t given the matter much consideration.” How could she? No one married penniless females with no connections and less countenance. Angelina had never thought to have an establishment of her own, either, yet now she did. She’d been running Lady Sophie’s household for years, of course, but always as her mistress’s deputy. Now she was mistress. Tradesmen deferred to her, neighbors called on her, the staff catered to her wishes. Even Lady Sophie’s superior abigail had offered to help with Angelina’s clothing and hair. Who would have believed it? Not scrawny little Lena Armstead, slaving for every crust of bread. But a husband? She never thought a home and family was to be her lot in life. Perhaps in a few years, when the shelter for homeless pets was built and she’d repaid some of her debt to Lady Sophie, Angelina would think about it. For now, she was content with the cottage, the dogs, and a project of her own.
Corin was getting desperate, for he couldn’t recall ever having met a woman who wouldn’t be swayed by the offer of money or, if not the cash itself, then the possibility of a match with a full purse. He absentmindedly rubbed his aching thigh. What else did women want? “Children. What about children, Miss Armstead? Haven’t you thought about that?”
“Yes, I have, every morning when the noisy, uncooperative little rascals go home.”
He smiled. “I understand from my married friends that one’s own offspring are the most intelligent, adorable, and well-behaved creatures on the earth, each and every one of them. Surely you’d like infants of your own, ma’am, instead of the tenants’ brats, instead of my aunt’s animals?”
“Perhaps, but I am content for now.” Angelina patted Lucky’s head. The viscount was speaking so fondly of babies that she decided the rumors were correct, then, that his lordship was shortly to bring a prospective bride to the Knoll. Lady Sophie had thought it was well past time for her profligate nephew to settle down and start his nursery. He must think so, too. Then, why, she wondered, was he so concerned with Primrose Cottage? He’d been speaking with such familiarity, on such personal matters as husbands and children, that Angelina felt entitled to ask.
“Because I have made plans for the cottage, that’s all you need to know.”
Angelina could just imagine what his lordship’s plans might be: a gentleman’s usual use for a separate, secluded residence near his family seat. The dastard would set up his mistress in Lady Sophie’s cottage whilst he entertained his betrothed at the castle! Not while Angelina Armstead had breath in her body, he wouldn’t. “I am sorry for your plans, my lord, but I also have intentions concerning the cottage, and that is all
you
need to know. Accept it, my lord, Primrose Cottage does not belong to you.” Angelina was clutching Lucky so hard that he yelped and jumped out of her lap.
The viscount hurriedly stood when it appeared the little dog might jump into
his
lap. His valet was already threatening to give notice over the shredded gloves. Dog hairs would send Doddsworth packing. Corin frowned down at Miss Armstead, who was all sparks and sizzle in her indignation. “By Zeus,” he shouted at her, “it was my grandfather’s and then my father’s!”
“And now it is your aunt’s!”
“No, Miss Armstead, it’s not. I couldn’t have cared less if Aunt Sophie had lived here for another sixty-five years. In fact, she’d have had my blessings, the tough old bird. But she’s gone, and I don’t own the cottage. You don’t own the cottage. Her blasted dogs own the blasted cottage!”
So one of the owners bit him.
Chapter Five
“What do you mean, I shouldn’t have shouted?” the viscount shouted. “Now it’s
my
fault that your vicious little beast bit me?”
“You were towering over him, raising your voice, and gesturing with your hands. Of course Lucky felt threatened. Besides, my lord, it’s only a small gouge in your boot. It’s not as though a six-pound dog were going for your jugular vein.”
Only a small gouge? There was a six-inch scrape on one of his new Hessians. Now Corin needed a new valet in addition to a new schoolteacher. And a new career. He rubbed at the spot with the black cloth she handed him, until he realized Miss Armstead hadn’t done any such thing. When she had bent down to inspect the damages, her hideous mobcap had tumbled off her head and into his hand.
His lordship might apologize for mistaking Lena’s headpiece for a rag, but that was one faux pas he wouldn’t regret. Now he could see why her hair was always coming loose: it was a mass of ungovernable ringlets. Who would have thought that the starched-up companion would have such wanton curls, like she’d just gotten out of bed, and a warm, well-tumbled bed at that? “My apologies, ma’am. I’ll replace your cap, of course.”
“No, no,” Angelina quickly contradicted, her hands vainly trying to bring some order to her hair. “The cap is nothing, an old one of Lady Sophie’s. No. It is the damage to your boots that concerns me.”
Corin regarded her thoughtfully, wondering how her soft brown curls would look threaded through with ribbons and rosebuds, or spread upon his pillow.
Embarrassed by his scrutiny, knowing she looked the veriest frump with her hair every which way and unconfined, Angelina tried to bring the conversation back to its original topic, before Lucky’s unfortunate interruption. “I still do not see why you are so wrought about Primrose Cottage that you are acting like the dog in the manger.”
“I am not wrought, Miss Armstead,” Corin stated, catching himself from wringing the black cloth between his hands, in lieu of the companion’s neck. “And I am not acting like any dog in any manger.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but you certainly are. With all your holdings, you do not need this one small property, yet you’re like the dog trying to keep the oxen from the hay he himself cannot use. They are Lady Sophie’s pets, Lord Knowle. Why do you dislike them so?”
“I do not dislike them in the least.” Well, he wasn’t fond of the runt with fangs or the glove gnawer, for that matter, but that wasn’t the point. The vacant cottage was. How the deuce was he to convince this old maid to take her menagerie and leave? Corin wanted to get up and pace, which always helped him think better, but she’d only accuse him of being agitated. Besides, he could feel his sore leg stiffening into the limp that presaged a storm. Devil a bit if he would show Miss Armstead yet another weakness, moral or physical. Morals, that was it! He’d appeal to Miss Armstead’s better nature, if she had one. Jupiter knew he’d tried appealing to everything else.
“You are an intelligent woman, Miss Armstead, caring and responsible. I appreciate your devotion to my aunt’s ideals, but how can you justify all this”—he waved a manicured hand at the room, the two fires going, the elegant appointments, the platters of cakes and tea—”to serve someone’s pets, when there are children starving in orphanages?”
Angelina blinked. The man had a diamond in his neck cloth, and he was speaking of starving children? “I know all about orphanages, my lord. I was threatened with one half my life. Were you? And how can you justify the existence you lead, which is so much more lavish, yet which benefits no one but yourself?”
Deuce take it, how could she put him in the wrong again? “What, are you an anarchist besides?”
Besides what, she wanted to know, but didn’t ask. “I don’t believe any child should go hungry, ever, no more than I believe honest men should have to beg in the streets because they cannot find work. Veterans should be given fair pensions, farmers should not be thrown off their lands to make way for sheep or factories. There are a myriad injustices in this world, my lord, more than I with my entire inheritance could ever hope to affect in the least, much less resolve. Climbing boys, child prostitutes, impressed sailors—there isn’t one blessed thing I can do about them. I cannot even vote for social reform.” She stood in front of him, shaking her finger in his face to emphasize her passionate discourse. “You could do something about them, however, with your power, your voice in Parliament, and, yes, your fortune. What are you doing with all of your influence and wealth, other than denying some poor dogs a peaceful retirement?”
“I didn’t de—”
“Furthermore, we are all God’s creatures, all deserving of charity and mercy. Your aunt believed that, and I believe that. You can make a difference in a great many lives simply by giving the poor what you spend on wagering. I can make a difference, can relieve a tiny pocket of suffering, by helping to found Lady Sophie’s shelter for homeless animals. I feel it is our God-given duty to help where we—”
So he kissed her. To shut her up, to taste those fire-breathing lips, to satisfy his own base urges, Corin didn’t know which. Surely he wasn’t attracted to the rag-mannered female.
It wasn’t much of a kiss. He didn’t even have time to touch those tempting curls. It was one hell of a slap Miss Armstead dealt him, however. Corin could taste the blood on the inside of his cheek, which was no more than he deserved, of course. “My apologies, ma’am.”
“Why did you do that?” Angelina gasped. ‘Twas a foolish question, she realized, for Lord Knowle was a rake, and taking liberties was what a rake did. But not with females past their last prayers. Angelina wasn’t precisely past her last prayers, for she’d never had any prayers—certainly not of being mauled about by a well-born womanizer, no matter how handsome his countenance or how broad his shoulders.
I did it because ... because I wanted to show you how inappropriate your remaining here at Primrose Cottage is. Yes, that’s it. You cannot remain here without a chaperon. No lady with a care to her reputation would stay alone.”
“My lord, I am not a lady, I am a companion, so I have no need for one.”
“Your reputation still matters. This used to be my grandfather’s love nest, you know. A single woman, on the edge of my property... everyone will assume the worst.”
“Everyone will assume I am doing what I’ve been doing for the last five years: caring for Lady Sophie’s dogs, not her nephew! How dare you, my lord! First you accused me of cheating you out of your rightful inheritance by wheedling a legacy out of your aunt. You even declared her insane for writing her will as she did. Then you thought my loyalty to her and her pets could be bought. Now you are suggesting that I am a loose woman!”