Heiress in Regency Society: The Defiant Debutante. Helen Dickson
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I don’t mean.’ She glanced up at him towering over her, clutching her knees tighter. There was an uncompromising authority and arrogance in his bold look and set of his jaw that she didn’t like. ‘I told you to go away. Are you deaf?’
‘No, and neither am I blind,’ he answered, preoccupied with her cross little face and rosy mouth.
She looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Only that you are lovely to look at—even when you are scowling.’ He gazed down into her stormy eyes and proudly beautiful face. ‘When I returned to the house I got to thinking about your unusual behaviour this afternoon.’
‘Really? And what was your conclusion?’ she scoffed, trying hard to ignore his compliment about her looks—if that’s what it was, which she very much doubted.
‘That you are hell bent on self-destruction or you are testing me.’
‘It was neither.’
‘No?’ he replied in mock horror. ‘Then this is more serious than I thought and needs further investigation.’
Lowering himself on to the grassy bank, he stretched out beside her. Bending his arm and propping his head on his hand, he lazily admired her profile as she continued to watch the water.
‘Please go away. I know you dislike me as much as I dislike you.’
‘You are mistaken. I don’t dislike you,’ he countered softly. Reaching out, he took the end of her plait in his fingers and began gently twisting it round his hand, idly contemplating its thickness, its softness.
‘You don’t? Then I can only assume that your opinion of me must be worse than I thought. You see, I always believe in first impressions, and your desire to offend me at the beginning of our acquaintance did nothing to endear you to me. So let us not pretend. In future we will strive to keep out of each other’s way as much as possible.’
‘We will?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, feeling the gentle tug on her hair. She turned slightly, and, seeing him twining her plait round his fingers, it dawned on her that he was far more interested in her at that moment than anything else. Considering what had happened between them earlier, she thought he seemed infuriatingly and disgustingly at ease. Casting him a sidelong glare, she yanked the plait out of his grasp. ‘Please don’t do that. Kindly leave my hair alone.’
Alex grinned leisurely as his perusal swept her face, watching as the crisp breeze flirted with tendrils of her hair, which had escaped their cruel confinement around her face. ‘You have beautiful hair. It should not be restrained in a plait. You really ought to wear it loose.’
‘I prefer to wear it like this,’ she snapped, trying to ignore his virile body stretched beside her on the grass and the lean, hard muscles of his thighs flexing beneath the tight-fitting buckskin breeches that clung to him like a second skin.
Alex sighed. ‘How can I defend myself when faced with so much determination and hostility?’
‘You can’t, so don’t try. I’m sorry about what I did this afternoon,’ she said, feeling the need to explain her actions to him.
‘What—for threatening to shoot me or killing the rabbit?’
‘Both—but I wouldn’t have—shot you, I mean. Killing the rabbit was stupid, I realise that now, but—you see, I knew nothing about your laws governing poaching. Where I come from it is so very different. It’s not because we are uncivilised, it’s because some of us have to hunt to survive.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you?’
Alex nodded, his expression serious as he listened to her.
‘That’s how I was raised, you see—how it was for me and my mother when we left Ohio and returned to Massachusetts, and I can see nothing wrong with it. All I knew was hunting rabbits and wild turkeys and following fox. It was necessary. I make no apologies for that. However, I apologise if I offended you. When Mrs Hall told me your gamekeepers had not brought her any rabbits for some time, I thought I would oblige. Had I been told it was a criminal act to shoot rabbits, I would not have done it. Do you believe me?’
‘Yes,’ Alex replied, struggling to repress a smile, wanting to reach out and touch her fine-boned profile, tilted obstinately to betray her mutinous thoughts.
‘And do you promise not to destroy my rifle? It once belonged to a frontiersman and Will gave it to me, you see.’
‘I won’t destroy it. I promise,’ he answered, having some idea just how much that rifle meant to her. ‘When I returned to the house I put it in the gunroom along with the rest. That is where it will remain. You may look at it whenever you wish, providing that’s all you do—look.’
‘Thank you. That rifle and I have travelled many miles together—and it saved my life on more than one occasion on the journey over the mountains. Without it the wolves or black bears would have made a meal out of me in no time.’
Alex stared at her, astounded. ‘You shot bears and wolves?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, quite matter of fact, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. ‘I had to. It was either them or me.’
‘Good Lord!’ Alex felt a stirring of admiration. He could not help but wonder at the grit of this young woman. She was truly remarkable. He had known no other like her, and the disturbing fact was that she seemed capable of disrupting his entire life, no matter what character she portrayed.
‘So you can see why I’ve grown rather fond of it.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘I suppose that, knowing all this about me, I’ve sunk even lower in your opinion.’
‘Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. There isn’t a man I know who would have the courage to go out and shoot a wild bear,’ he replied, without a hint of mockery.
Angelina looked at him fully, probing the translucent depths of those clear grey eyes. ‘I expect you would.’
‘If I were confronted by one and I had a gun in my hand, yes, I would.’
She sighed. ‘But it’s not the sort of thing women do over here. You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
Alex smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Your secret is quite safe with me.’
‘I can see I shall just have to try harder at being a lady.’
He grinned. ‘You’ll make it. Have you finished?’
She nodded.
‘Then will you allow me to have my say?’
‘If you must. But it will make no difference to how I feel.’
‘And how do you feel, Angelina?’ he asked softly.
‘I will tell you.’ She met his gaze coolly. ‘I don’t want anything from you. I don’t belong here. I never will. I want to go home, back to America—but I can’t go home. My mother saw to that when she made Uncle Henry my guardian.’
‘You are right. Accept it. Your former life is over—permanently. And as much as you are against it, as the ward of the Duke of Mowbray you must face the fact that you will have to make your début into society.’
‘I don’t want a Season,’ she cried explosively. ‘I will not have you browbeating me into it.’
Her dark eyes sparkled with anger, and Alex thought what a waste it would be for her to hide herself away, but then, better that than having to endure half the hot young bloods in London targeting her. He decided not to pursue that subject for the time being. ‘What is it that has made you feel you don’t belong here?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just feel it.’
‘I thought you liked Arlington.’
‘I