Page 19 of Lords, Ladies and Love

“As is it mine.” Angel smiled serenely. “I would so hate to see anything happen to her.”

It seemed the meaning behind the words was lost on Mr. Cartwright, whose uncomfortable stare remained on her face.

“Angel by name and angel by nature, it seems.” He reached for her hand once more, and she stepped back, barely avoiding his touch. His gaze darted to Mr. Hunter’s then back again. “I will be sure to return soon, and perhaps we can take the time to converse more on your care of Mrs. Stone.”

“Mrs. Stone keeps me quite busy, Mr. Cartwright, with very little time to converse. As you can tell by our little, um, accident, I can hardly manage pouring tea let alone conversing.” She linked her hands in front of her and took another subtle step back.

As she did so, Mr. Hunter came forward. “As Lady Angel said, she is busy indeed. We had better let her return to her duties, do you not think, Cartwright?”

Mr. Cartwright narrowed his gaze, and she thought for a moment he might try to protest his abrupt eviction andsomething horrible might happen. Both men lifted their chests and Mr. Hunter shifted even farther forward, placing his shoulder in front of her just enough to make Mr. Cartwright understand that any flirtation in which he wished to partake was over.

Angel avoided Mr. Cartwright’s gaze and focused on the open front door that the butler was patiently holding open. After several tense minutes, with her heartbeat thudding in her ear, he finally nodded his head.

“I would not wish to distract you from your duties, Angel.” Mr. Cartwright elongated the worddistractand loaded it with meaning. “Needless to say, you are not without your ability to distract either. Be certain I shall be distracted for most of the day.” His lips curved in apparent amusement at himself.

Mr. Hunter took another step forward. “Good day,” he said firmly, and Angel heard the anger simmering in his tone.

Angel bit down on her tongue to avoid saying anything herself, but the temptation to tell him to hang himself and his horrible manners burned in the back of her throat. Here she was, trying to prove herself better, and this man was making it horribly hard. If she upset Mrs. Stone by insulting her friend, her time here could be over and her inheritance would be forfeit. She could not have that.

“Good day, Mr. Cartwright.” She turned away before either of them said anything else. Whatever came out of the man’s mouth was reliably awful. Why Mrs. Stone thought him amusing, she did not know!

Footsteps followed her, and she turned once she heard the door shut. Releasing an audible breath, she gave a shudder. “Why does your aunt insist on having him around?”

Mr. Hunter gave a strained smile. “I have tried to persuade her he is not a good man, many a time, but she insists she enjoys his visits.”

“He is not a good man, is he? I heard him talking…” She glanced around and dropped her voice. “Talking of investments. I think he wants to take money from your aunt.”

He nodded slowly. “He is a known gambler. No doubt he sees my aunt as easy prey for a quick penny. He has had money from her before.”

Angel grimaced. “I thought there was something odd about him.”

His gaze lingered on hers, making her feel a little breathless. “You are a good judge of character.”

“Do not sound so surprised.” She grinned. “I am not without my talents.”

“I can see that.” His eyes darkened slightly.

Yes, she understood people. However, she was not certain she understood Mr. Hunter. The man who had so clearly detested her was fading, replaced with someone far too appealing and likeable in his own stiff, rigid way.

She glanced away as her cheeks heated. “I shall try to talk to your aunt,” she offered.

He blinked and took a slight step back. “That would be greatly appreciated. Aunt Jean respects you.” Before she could come up with a response, he gave a curt dip of his head and left her in the hallway. She eyed the spot where he’d been standing for far too long before shaking herself and heading back into the drawing room.

She frowned to herself and made a non-committal noise when Mrs. Stone asked her something. Did Mrs. Stone really respect her? She could not be certain that anyone had ever truly respected her. Certainly, people had no choice to at times because of her rank, but she did not believe anyone thought her respect-worthy. Yes, people liked her, but more often than not people thought her frivolous and flirtatious. The idea of being respected was entirely new.

She let her frown deepen. Worse still, shewantedthat respect. And she wanted it from Mr. Hunter too.

Chapter Eight

Reuben caught himself pinching the bridge of his nose for what had to be the fourth or fifth time this afternoon. He curled his free hand around the delicate cup and took a deliberately lengthy drink. He should be home. He should be handling work and dealing with estate issues. He should definitely not be here.

Here amongst five of his aunt’s oldest, most gossipy friends. To think he’d believed his aunt was lonely. Apparently she still had quite the social life, and his weekly visits had not told him enough about her current situation. At least one good thing came out of his impromptu decision to stay—he understood his aunt’s needs much better now.

He really should be returning home, however. Yes, he wanted to protect her from Cartwright, but there was only so long one could remain away from home. Most of his work could be managed via letters, for which he was grateful, but there were certain things that needed his presence. And Angel could take care of his aunt, he was sure. She had already shown she could stand up to Cartwright.

He peered in Angel’s direction. Caught between two of his aunt’s most rambunctious friends, Angel’s smile shone like a beacon in the night. Every now and then, her laughter would ring through the room, drawing everyone’s attention. Including his own. He’d never heard a laugh like it. No doubt it caught notice wherever she went. It was the sort of laugh that made onewonder what had triggered it and if one would be able to make her laugh too.

He’d seen her in many situations now, and she seemed to thrive in them all, whether it was painting with his aunt, playing terribly at the piano for her, or tucking her into bed at night. But this was the first time he’d seen her shine. He considered that perhaps, just perhaps, he understood her a little better now. What others thought of as flirtation or silliness was her innate ability to enjoy herself. Even here, amongst several nearly deaf and certainly slightly batty old ladies, she looked as though she had never had more fun.

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