thank goodness. He’d figure out later how to explain all the officers and diplomats who planned on calling on the escaped spy. He was sure there’d be more gentlemen, once they learned mademoiselle’s real name.
If all else failed, his lordship was prepared to invoke the power of the military, which he did not possess, but the Duke of Fellstone did. ‘Twould be a novel experience, having Miss Armstead do his bidding for once. The deuced female was too independent for his taste. She was prickly and opinionated and disrespectful of his position.
And she was crying.
* * * *
Angelina had been busy while his lordship was away, so busy that she didn’t have time to think about him, not more than thrice an hour. Fashioning a fashionable wardrobe took a lot of her time, and all of Mavis’s efforts. And it was the month for spring cleaning, which at Primrose Cottage meant giving all the dogs baths and haircuts.
In addition, Mr. Averill Browne made frequent calls to consult with Angelina about details of the construction, stopping at the cottage on his way to the Remington place in the mornings, and back to the castle at the end of the day. Angelina invited him to share her breakfast and afternoon tea so the young man did not have to take all of his meals in solitude. Conscious of Lord Knowle’s warnings, she made sure to leave the doors open, or to have Mavis nearby.
She needn’t have bothered. The architect seemed to like the dogs better than he liked her. They reminded him of his boyhood, he said. Mr. Browne often took one or two dogs to the construction site with him in his gig, claiming they gave him a different perspective on the building, a new inspiration. Bunny got to chase rabbits to her heart’s content, and Digger was permitted to help with the excavation instead of being yelled at for uprooting the roses. Averill’s favorite animal, though, was Calliope, a beautiful Irish setter he was hoping to take with him when he went to his next commission. That wouldn’t be soon, Angelina couldn’t help thinking, if Mr. Browne kept romping with the dogs all day. Calliope had long, flowing hair almost the color of Mr. Browne’s own artfully disarranged auburn tresses. The setter was also as deaf as a doorknob, but the architect didn’t care. Lady Sophie had chosen well.
Angelina was also busy interviewing sisters. Her advertisement had been very specific about Mena’s name, date of birth, and coloring. It was amazing how many young women there were like that, liking the chance for the reward. Mr. Truesdale wrote that he was having as little luck, what with the Kirkbridges both dead, their solicitor having passed on, and all of their old servants pensioned off elsewhere. No one he could find knew what had become of the little girl. Most weren’t aware there had ever been an orphaned child at Kirkbridge House.
Why did they have to be so cruel as to keep Lena and Mena apart? It wasn’t the sisters’ fault that their parents had disobliged everyone by wedding. Neither set of grandparents wanted the reminder, but what harm could a letter now and again do? Lena had tried once, as soon as she knew how to write well enough, but her letter had been returned unopened, and she’d been assigned an extra hour of prayers and two more hours of chores. She had tried again from her school after the Armsteads left for Africa, selling her Sunday desserts to frank the letter. That one never even came back. When she wrote from Lady Sophie’s house, she did get a reply, but it was from a solicitor. Their Graces were deceased, he wrote, with no acknowledged grandchildren. She was, therefore, not entitled to any part of the estate. Angelina didn’t want any of their wretched money, which hadn’t brought anyone much happiness that she could see. She wanted to find her sister.
Instead she was finding a great many needy young women. Some she gave their coach fare, some a few coins. Some were grateful for a hot meal. But this last
If all else failed, his lordship was prepared to invoke the power of the military, which he did not possess, but the Duke of Fellstone did. ‘Twould be a novel experience, having Miss Armstead do his bidding for once. The deuced female was too independent for his taste. She was prickly and opinionated and disrespectful of his position.
And she was crying.
* * * *
Angelina had been busy while his lordship was away, so busy that she didn’t have time to think about him, not more than thrice an hour. Fashioning a fashionable wardrobe took a lot of her time, and all of Mavis’s efforts. And it was the month for spring cleaning, which at Primrose Cottage meant giving all the dogs baths and haircuts.
In addition, Mr. Averill Browne made frequent calls to consult with Angelina about details of the construction, stopping at the cottage on his way to the Remington place in the mornings, and back to the castle at the end of the day. Angelina invited him to share her breakfast and afternoon tea so the young man did not have to take all of his meals in solitude. Conscious of Lord Knowle’s warnings, she made sure to leave the doors open, or to have Mavis nearby.
She needn’t have bothered. The architect seemed to like the dogs better than he liked her. They reminded him of his boyhood, he said. Mr. Browne often took one or two dogs to the construction site with him in his gig, claiming they gave him a different perspective on the building, a new inspiration. Bunny got to chase rabbits to her heart’s content, and Digger was permitted to help with the excavation instead of being yelled at for uprooting the roses. Averill’s favorite animal, though, was Calliope, a beautiful Irish setter he was hoping to take with him when he went to his next commission. That wouldn’t be soon, Angelina couldn’t help thinking, if Mr. Browne kept romping with the dogs all day. Calliope had long, flowing hair almost the color of Mr. Browne’s own artfully disarranged auburn tresses. The setter was also as deaf as a doorknob, but the architect didn’t care. Lady Sophie had chosen well.
Angelina was also busy interviewing sisters. Her advertisement had been very specific about Mena’s name, date of birth, and coloring. It was amazing how many young women there were like that, liking the chance for the reward. Mr. Truesdale wrote that he was having as little luck, what with the Kirkbridges both dead, their solicitor having passed on, and all of their old servants pensioned off elsewhere. No one he could find knew what had become of the little girl. Most weren’t aware there had ever been an orphaned child at Kirkbridge House.
Why did they have to be so cruel as to keep Lena and Mena apart? It wasn’t the sisters’ fault that their parents had disobliged everyone by wedding. Neither set of grandparents wanted the reminder, but what harm could a letter now and again do? Lena had tried once, as soon as she knew how to write well enough, but her letter had been returned unopened, and she’d been assigned an extra hour of prayers and two more hours of chores. She had tried again from her school after the Armsteads left for Africa, selling her Sunday desserts to frank the letter. That one never even came back. When she wrote from Lady Sophie’s house, she did get a reply, but it was from a solicitor. Their Graces were deceased, he wrote, with no acknowledged grandchildren. She was, therefore, not entitled to any part of the estate. Angelina didn’t want any of their wretched money, which hadn’t brought anyone much happiness that she could see. She wanted to find her sister.
Instead she was finding a great many needy young women. Some she gave their coach fare, some a few coins. Some were grateful for a hot meal. But this last
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