Heiress in Regency Society. Helen Dickson
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if the past few minutes are anything to go by. I am more astute than my uncle. I prefer to reserve judgment.’
Lifting her chin proudly, Angelina met his gaze, not with defiance but a quiet resolve. ‘You don’t want me here, do you, Lord Montgomery?’
‘I love and hold my uncle in the highest esteem, Miss Hamilton. I may not be happy about what he did, but whether I like it or not you are here now and a member of this family. As such, that is how you will be treated and how you will behave.’
‘I realise that my presence in your house is an inconvenience, but taking everything into account, you must see that I have been more inconvenienced than you.’
‘In which case, since we have no choice in the matter, the obvious solution is that we should both try to make the best of things and be cordial to each other. Don’t you agree?’
‘Yes. I have no wish to upset Uncle Henry,’ she said.
Absently she tucked a stray lock of silky hair behind her ear that had dared escape her tight braid. The unconscious gesture caused Alex to study her properly for the first time, and he was amazed by what he saw. Her hair was the colour of rich mahogany with highlights of red and gold, making him think of harvest corn, chestnuts and autumn fires. Parted at the center, it was drawn back and woven together in one long thick braid that reached her waist. Accustomed to seeing women with neatly arranged curls and ringlets, he found this style unusual, but strangely attractive on this young woman. He had the absurd desire to reach out and set her hair free and let it spill about her shoulders, convinced it would glow with the glorious vibrancy of autumn leaves.
Her eyes, surrounded by thick, curling sooty lashes, were captivating. At first they looked so dark to be almost black, but on closer inspection they were seen to be not black at all, but the colour of two glorious purple velvet-soft pansies. Her skin was flushed with warmth like that of a ripe peach, and she had an enigmatic mouth, ripe and full of wonderful promise. The daffodil-yellow gown she wore revealed a female form that was faultless, slim and strong, with long legs and curves in all the right places. With angular cheekbones her face was alluring, interesting, and overall there was an innocence and vulnerability about her that would put a practised seducer like him beyond the realm of her experience.
‘You are not at all what I expected.’
‘What did you expect?’ she retorted sharply. ‘A creature from the wilds who is half-savage, with brown skin and feathers in her hair?’
Alex smiled tightly. Nathan had said something along those lines. ‘Heaven forbid! I certainly didn’t expect to find someone with an interest in fine literature.’
‘Education has reached America, you know. We are civilised.’
‘Looking as you do just now, Miss Hamilton, I would say you have some way to go before you reach that status,’ he said with an ironic curl of his lips. ‘However, it’s apparent to me that you are extremely clever.’
Angelina’s eyes narrowed. She could feel her ire returning. ‘Something tells me that it is not my interest in fine literature that you speak of,’ she said, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious. ‘It is plain to me that you are displeased about something
Alex crossed to his desk and perched his hip on the edge, crossing his arms with a casualness that aggravated Angelina’s temper still further. His imperturbable gaze studied her stormy eyes. ‘Miss Hamilton, when I read my uncle’s letter informing me he had gone to America, everything about you displeased me at the time,’ he told her firmly.
Angelina’s temper flared at this open affront. ‘I thought it might. And I sense your displeasure has increased since. Is it so very strange for people to look after relatives who find themselves destitute?’
‘It is, when the parties concerned live on opposite sides of the world and there has been no contact between them for some time. I find it strange that after all these years, when not a word or a letter has passed between them, your mother should suddenly write to my uncle and beg him to make you his ward.’
‘You’re mistaken, Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina answered, stung to the quick by his remark about her mother. ‘My mother never begged for anything in her life. She wrote to Uncle Henry because he was her next of kin and she had no one else to turn to.’
Alex knew this not to be the case, but, having been warned by his uncle of the need for secrecy relating to this young woman’s grandmother, he respected the request for silence.
‘If you must know, I opposed it,’ Angelina went on. ‘I had no wish to leave America, but it was my mother’s wish.’
‘A woman with colossal aspirations where her daughter is concerned,’ Alex said coldly. ‘Do not think me ignorant of your situation in Boston, Miss Hamilton, and that your mother sent you to my uncle as a poor relation, seeking to save you from poverty.’
Alex caught the flare of anger his words about her mother brought to her face, but he also saw something that resembled pain and hurt in the depths of her eyes. For a split second her young face looked defenceless and exposed, and already he was beginning to regret his unjustifiable and unpardonable attack.
His cutting remark directed at her mother erupted inside Angelina like a volcano and she longed to lash out at him. Feeling the nightmare of the Indian attack closing around her again, she could see her mother’s face as she lay on the ground after the knife had ripped into her, digging deep, and the rich, proud colour of her blood as it had poured from her wound to be soaked up by the dry earth.
‘You cold-hearted, overbearing, arrogant beast. How dare you? You insult my mother, and I will not allow anyone to besmirch her memory. She was the kindest, gentlest of women ever to draw breath, but that is something a man as conceited and disgustingly rude as yourself would never understand.’ Furiously she turned and marched to the door, her fists clenched by her sides.
For a split second a flicker of amused respect replaced Alex’s anger as he gazed after the young American girl. ‘Have you nothing else to say?’
She turned and glowered at him, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes. Furiously she blinked them away. If she broke down and cried, he would have the mastery over her. She would not grant him that. ‘Not to you. Might I suggest that in future you mind your own business and I will mind mine.’
Alex’s black brows snapped together and his eyes narrowed, but his voice was carefully controlled when he spoke. ‘You may suggest anything you like, but since you have raised the matter, you ought to know that I have full control over all my uncle’s affairs.’
His words were insulting and their meaning cut Angelina like a knife. ‘His business affairs, not his personal affairs,’ Angelina corrected acidly. She should have withered beneath his icy glare, but she was too enraged to be intimidated by him. ‘I should tell you that I have a streak to my nature that fiercely rebels against being ordered what to do.’
‘I have a formidable temper myself,’ he told her with icy calm.
‘I do not come under the category of property, Lord Montgomery, and I am not asking you for anything. In the eyes of the law Uncle Henry is my legal guardian, and if you wish to challenge that then you are free to do so.’
‘I have no intention of doing any such thing.’ His words were like a whiplash, his eyes glacial. ‘My uncle has taken you in and does not need to justify his actions to me or anyone else. What matters is that you are in this house under his guardianship and a member of this family, and because I care a great deal for his happiness, I will do nothing about it. But in time I suspect you will show your true colours without any help from me—so I advise you to take care, unless you want to be shipped back to America, lock, stock and barrel.’
Angelina glared at him, two bright spots of colour burning on her cheeks. She refused to look away, but there was little she could say in her defence. This man had already made up his mind about her, and anything she might say would be futile. He was convinced she was a clever, scheming opportunist