she never existed.”
Her heart felt as if it had fallen to her feet. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I will help you find it.”
“I don’t know if you can.”
“Perhaps if you describe it to me, I will have success.”
“It’s a miniature…of my mother.”
Oh, dear God. She took a shaky breath, needing to compose herself for his sake. “When did you last see it?” she asked.
“It was on her dressing table, but I might be mistaken. It was long ago.” He sighed. “I have nothing to remember her by.”
She swallowed hard. “It’s bound to be somewhere in the house. Was there anything special about the miniature?”
He frowned. “I’m imagining smooth stones for some reason.”
“You were very young,” she said.
He walked to the window and planted his hands against the wavy glass.
“Colin, what troubles you?”
He turned toward her. “I can’t remember her features.”
She bit her lip, because her tears wouldn’t help him.
He blew out his breath. “It’s been too long.”
She inhaled slowly. “I imagine servants moved everything to the attic.”
“Probably.” He paced the room. “I should have stayed in London and let it be.”
“No,” she said. “Sommerall is important to you.”
“I could have investigated the property years ago. I just assumed I would inherit. God only knows what has rotted or fallen apart.”
“Colin, your father is still the owner, and as such, it was his responsibility.”
“You miss the point. I ignored Sommerall until my father expressed his intention to sell.”
“You mustn’t criticize yourself,” she said. “You could not have predicted that your father would decide to sell.”
He huffed. “If my father hadn’t sent that letter informing me that he meant to sell, I would have made excuses to avoid the house party. Make no mistake, Angeline. I’m a selfish man. I’ve done bad things, but I won’t sully your ears. Believe me, I have earned my rakehell reputation.”
Angeline recognized self-loathing, because she’d experienced it. How many times had she silently rebuked herself for falling for a man she’d known was trouble? Instead, she’d believed his claims that he was a new man because of her. “None of us can change the past, but we do not have to be slaves to it, either.”
He huffed. “Here is something you ought to know. Rakes are irredeemable.”
“I have no intention of trying to reform you. I have made mistakes, and so have you. That doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to find your mother’s miniature, and that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve Sommerall.”
“If you had any sense, you would demand I return you to Deerfield immediately.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Colin.”
“You should be,” he said.
“Yes, you are a big, bad rake.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to help me? Do you imagine it is akin to taking hampers to the poor?”
He was proud and probably regretted admitting his mistakes. “There is an old saying: Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“You are bored with needlework and are only interested in renovating this house.”
“I thought I had made that clear. I have no interest in renovating you.”
A laugh escaped him. “That’s just as well. You are likely to find nothing salvageable in me.”
She had not told him the real reason. She’d tried to imagine how it would feel to lose her family and move away from her childhood home at such a young age. That year in Paris without Penny and Papa had been so hard, and she’d been an adult. At least she’d known she would see them when she returned home.
How would it feel to never see her mother again? How would it feel to never hear her voice ever again? How would it feel to have nothing concrete with which to remember someone you loved? She could not even contemplate the pain for a young child.
He’d been only six years old when he’d lost his mother. Now all he wanted was to find her
Her heart felt as if it had fallen to her feet. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I will help you find it.”
“I don’t know if you can.”
“Perhaps if you describe it to me, I will have success.”
“It’s a miniature…of my mother.”
Oh, dear God. She took a shaky breath, needing to compose herself for his sake. “When did you last see it?” she asked.
“It was on her dressing table, but I might be mistaken. It was long ago.” He sighed. “I have nothing to remember her by.”
She swallowed hard. “It’s bound to be somewhere in the house. Was there anything special about the miniature?”
He frowned. “I’m imagining smooth stones for some reason.”
“You were very young,” she said.
He walked to the window and planted his hands against the wavy glass.
“Colin, what troubles you?”
He turned toward her. “I can’t remember her features.”
She bit her lip, because her tears wouldn’t help him.
He blew out his breath. “It’s been too long.”
She inhaled slowly. “I imagine servants moved everything to the attic.”
“Probably.” He paced the room. “I should have stayed in London and let it be.”
“No,” she said. “Sommerall is important to you.”
“I could have investigated the property years ago. I just assumed I would inherit. God only knows what has rotted or fallen apart.”
“Colin, your father is still the owner, and as such, it was his responsibility.”
“You miss the point. I ignored Sommerall until my father expressed his intention to sell.”
“You mustn’t criticize yourself,” she said. “You could not have predicted that your father would decide to sell.”
He huffed. “If my father hadn’t sent that letter informing me that he meant to sell, I would have made excuses to avoid the house party. Make no mistake, Angeline. I’m a selfish man. I’ve done bad things, but I won’t sully your ears. Believe me, I have earned my rakehell reputation.”
Angeline recognized self-loathing, because she’d experienced it. How many times had she silently rebuked herself for falling for a man she’d known was trouble? Instead, she’d believed his claims that he was a new man because of her. “None of us can change the past, but we do not have to be slaves to it, either.”
He huffed. “Here is something you ought to know. Rakes are irredeemable.”
“I have no intention of trying to reform you. I have made mistakes, and so have you. That doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to find your mother’s miniature, and that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve Sommerall.”
“If you had any sense, you would demand I return you to Deerfield immediately.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Colin.”
“You should be,” he said.
“Yes, you are a big, bad rake.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to help me? Do you imagine it is akin to taking hampers to the poor?”
He was proud and probably regretted admitting his mistakes. “There is an old saying: Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“You are bored with needlework and are only interested in renovating this house.”
“I thought I had made that clear. I have no interest in renovating you.”
A laugh escaped him. “That’s just as well. You are likely to find nothing salvageable in me.”
She had not told him the real reason. She’d tried to imagine how it would feel to lose her family and move away from her childhood home at such a young age. That year in Paris without Penny and Papa had been so hard, and she’d been an adult. At least she’d known she would see them when she returned home.
How would it feel to never see her mother again? How would it feel to never hear her voice ever again? How would it feel to have nothing concrete with which to remember someone you loved? She could not even contemplate the pain for a young child.
He’d been only six years old when he’d lost his mother. Now all he wanted was to find her
Similar Books
