LITMIR.BIZ

      Throughout dinner Alex presided over the meal with his usual calm composure. He was politely courteous and attentive to his guests, giving no hint of his feelings.

      Afterwards, guests found their way up to the long gallery, where they gathered in intimate little groups to amuse themselves. Angelina heard Alex excuse himself to Lavinia, telling her he was to join a group of gentlemen to play a game of billiards.

      It was to the music room that Angelina was drawn, but not before she had observed Alex walk the length of the long gallery, bypassing the billiard room, and disappear through a door that led to the east wing. In the music room Patience was already ensconced on a sofa. The older woman’s face brightened when she saw her and she patted the space beside her invitingly.

      ‘Sit by me, Angelina. Miss Asquith is about to play for us on the pianoforte.’

      Angelina excused herself on the pretext that she was to fetch her fan. Reaching Alex’s suite of rooms, she knocked gently on the door she knew opened into a small anteroom that led into his office, without the visitor having to pass through his bedroom. When there was no response, she opened it and stepped inside, moving slowly towards the open study door.

      Having removed his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, Alex was standing by the window, a drink in his hand. Angelina’s heart twisted with remorse when she saw the pain etched on his unguarded face. He sensed her presence his shoulders stiffened and he turned, his expression stony and preoccupied.

      ‘If you want me to go away, I will, Alex. You only have to say.’ She was relieved when she saw his granite features relax a little.

      ‘No—please stay.’

      Angelina moved towards him, feeling momentarily at a loss to know what to say, how to comfort this suffering man.

      ‘What made you seek me out?’

      ‘I saw you leave. I was worried…’

      His sudden sweeping smile was disarming and confounded her. ‘What better way to lure you into my chamber.’

      She gasped, thinking how absolutely unpredictable he was. ‘I thought you were upset—because of the news Mr Monkton brought you…’

      His smile faded abruptly and his expression became guarded, his eyes as brittle and cold as glass. Moving away from her towards the fire, he braced his foot on the brass fender. Leaning his shoulder against the mantelpiece, he folded his arms over his chest and looked at her coldly. ‘So, you know about that?’

      ‘Yes. Aunt Patience told me.’

      ‘What did she tell you? How much?’ he demanded tightly.

      Drawing a long breath, Angelina knew she had come too far to stop now. ‘That your mother has died and—’

      ‘How my father shot himself?’

      She did not lower her gaze. ‘Yes. That too. Alex, what happened is no secret. Aunt Patience did not betray a confidence. When I came to see you, I hoped that you would have had time to come to terms with the news and I—thought—’

      ‘What? That now my fury has abated I would be crying into my cups?’ His lips twisted with irony. ‘If you thought that, you do not know me.’

      ‘No. I don’t think I do,’ she said quietly, refusing to back away from this hard, cynical man. ‘Does anyone?’

      ‘No. That’s the way I like it. Angelina, I appreciate your concern, but do not involve yourself in something you know nothing about. I’m dealing with this in my own way. I don’t need your help.’

      Angelina stiffened, but she managed to keep the hurt out of her voice. ‘That’s all right. You don’t have to accept it. I don’t mind.’ She looked towards the door and turned away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.’

      Alex reached out and placed a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Stay. I admire you for having the courage to seek me out at this time. But as you see, you were correct in assuming I’ve had time to come to terms with the news Mr Monkton brought me. I never loved my mother—I loved neither her inconstancy nor her heartlessness.’

      Angelina looked at his proud, lean face, moved by the pain that edged his voice. ‘And you are still tortured by what she did to you, I can see that.’

      ‘That woman inspired me with nothing but disgust and loathing. As long as I live I shall never forget that day when I watched my father kill himself—the horror-sickening shock, the feeling of helplessness, the overwhelming despair, betrayal—and the hatred I felt when I realized that my mother alone was responsible. My father was weak—some might have called him spineless—and my mother, who considered male superiority a myth, mocked him for it. She should never have married him. It was Uncle Henry she wanted—but he—’ Aware of who it was he was talking to Alex suddenly stopped and looked at Angelina. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this.’

      ‘I think you were about to say that Uncle Henry wouldn’t marry her because he was in love with someone else. Is that not so?’

      He nodded slowly, meeting her candid gaze, wondering just how much Angelina knew about the feelings Uncle Henry cherished for her mother to this day. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Did your father do nothing to stand up to her?’

      ‘His continual submissiveness to her amoral behaviour was something I was never able to understand. It infuriated me when he tried to make excuses for her. I wanted him to berate her, to stand up for himself. She humiliated him, spurned and shamed him before his friends, flaunting her lovers in front of him—and instead of teaching her a lesson, my father sought oblivion in drink before shooting himself.’

      ‘And you still carry your hurt and bitterness around your neck like a millstone.’

      Alex’s smile was one of cynicism. ‘Does it show all that much?’

      ‘Sometimes.’

      ‘There are some things, Angelina, that cannot easily be put aside. You, more than any other person I know, should understand that.’ He stopped his pacing and looked down at her. ‘You said you came because you were worried. About me?’

      She nodded.

      ‘So, you came—even though you knew I might send you away.’

      ‘I anticipated that—and I must confess to feeling how Daniel must have felt when he entered the lion’s den.’

      ‘Were you not afraid of my anger?’

      ‘I don’t fear you, Alex,’ she replied, calmly looking into his clear eyes. ‘You should know that by now. Among the many emotions you must be feeling I knew you would be angry and hurt, but seeing you at dinner, so composed, so…’

      ‘Anaesthetised,’ Alex suggested wryly when she hesitated for want of an appropriate word.

      ‘If you like.’

      Alex’s gaze searched her face with something like wonder in his silver eyes. There were depths to Angelina that every other woman he knew lacked, and she never ceased to amaze him. ‘You confound me—do you know that? You try my patience like no other, you shoot rabbits like a barbarian and ride a horse like a gypsy, and yet what an amazingly sensitive, perceptive, wise little thing you’ve become, Angelina Hamilton.’

      ‘If I were wise, I would have come to terms with everything that happened

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