Page 12 of Nobody's Angel
Lettie scowled at him. “Why are you being so difficult? Jeremiah was most certainlynotreferring to the Wolvertons, but to the de Wolfe family.”
He still wasn’t convinced. “A name you must have heard during your studies, but at the time it made no impression on you. In your sleep, the memory of those studies crept back into your head. That’s the only reason why you’ve conjured them now.”
She moved to the edge of the green silk sofa and leaned close to his chair. “Three days, you said. Will you give me those three days to prove you wrong? We can investigate together. Don’t you wish to know if you’re somehow connected to the de Wolfe family?”
He ought to have said no, for there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was related to so powerful and respected a family. Such families do not drop their children on a stranger’s doorstep in the middle of winter.
Nor were he and Lettie ever likely to discover who his parents were. There simply wasn’t enough time. More important, Lettie was looking for her Bert, or whatever combination of B-E-R-T that might fit to reveal the man of her dreams. It wasn’t him and he wasn’t about to help her find the man who fit that description.
“Please, Brynne. It’s a good plan.”
It was a terrible plan, but Lettie had that determined pout on her pretty face that warned he wasn’t going to win this battle. The names tossed about earlier, Le Bec and de Wolfe, had no letters in common with that of Lettie’s future husband. “I’ll consider it, but you must promise not to get your hopes up. We aren’t likely to succeed.”
“You’re wrong, Brynne. We have Jeremiah on our side.” She laughed softly, then gasped and looked upward, obviously behaving as though Jeremiah– who was fast becoming the bane of Brynne’s existence– was present.
He frowned. “Damn it, Lettie. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She let out a hearty chortle. “Oh, dear!”
“Fine, I’ll go along with your prank.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your incompetent angel telling you now?”
She blushed. “I can’t repeat it. But he wanted me to remind you that he’s awarriorangel, and if you insult him again, he’ll kick your scrawny… well, you get the point. However, he’s ever hopeful that one day you’ll believe he exists.”
No chance. He didn’t believe in angels.
“And he’s sorry about Valiant. There was no other way to make you stay. He wishes to assure you that Valiant is in no pain.”
“Stop it, Lettie.” Valiant happened to injure his foreleg. Jeremiah had nothing to do with it because the guardian angel didn’t exist.
Lettie was no closer to finding her Bert.
And he was no closer to finding out who the hell he was.
“Goodnight,” Lettie saidwith a yawn, closing her book as she rose from her comfortable chair in the Wolverton study to retire to her quarters. The clock on the mantel had just chimed ten o’clock, and though she often stayed up later, the events of the day had tired her out.
“Goodnight, my dear,” Frances said, gazing up to smile at her. She had settled in an embroidered chair beside her writing desk, a lamp on that desk providing sufficient illumination for her aging eyes while she read the local scandal sheet. According to Frances, it was mostly about the quieter goings on at Bath and not nearly as interesting as the London gossip rags.
Brynne was seated in one of the overstuffed leather chairs near the fireplace, nursing a whiskey, no doubt irritated and grudgingly mulling what she’d earlier said about investigating his family connections. He rose at the same time she did, as expected out of courtesy. “Sweet dreams, Lettie,” he said in a husky rumble, surprising her by the tenderness in his tone. He never seemed to lose patience with her, even though she had obviously rankled him earlier with talk of Jeremiah.
“You too, Brynne.” Jeremiah did exist, whether or not he believed it. With her guardian angel’s help, she was going to provide Brynne the answer to the question that had plagued him all of his life.
Who am I?
It was one of the great philosophical questions.
She knew exactly who Brynne was. Oh, she might not know his real name or his family history, but she knewhim, the kind, protective, intelligent man she’d loved since she was a little girl.
She felt his gaze on her back as she left the room.
I wish you loved me, Brynne.
She knew he didn’t, nor would he ever allow himself to fall in love with her.
Sighing, she stepped into her bedchamber and quietly closed the door. Frances had assigned one of the younger maids to attend her and the girl was standing beside the fireplace, patiently awaiting her arrival.
They made quick introductions and were soon chatting amiably. Nell was a young, sturdily built brunette who was excited to be charged with her personal care. This was her first time serving as a lady’s maid.
They continued to chat while Lettie undressed herself and Nell set out her nightclothes on the neatly made bed. A fire had already been lit to ward off the chill in the room, but it was still cold enough that Lettie hastily donned her nightgown and woolen robe, then moved to sit beside the fire while she brushed her hair before braiding it.
