The Solemn Bell(25)

Angelica nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Good. This coming week-end is my sister’s twenty-first birthday. Most of my family will be there, and I had thought it a good time to introduce my future wife,” he paused, adding, “That was before, obviously. But I cannot miss my sister’s party, and I can’t leave you here by yourself, so you’ll have to come with me.”

Surely, she’d misheard him. “You’re taking me to meet your family? On your sister’s birthday?”

“Would you rather stay here alone?”

“No.” The last thing she ever wanted was to be alone. Not in a strange place. Without him.

She was so confused. Last night, she was sure she hated him. Now, hearing his voice, and feeling his warm presence, Angelica could only remember the sweet pleasure of their first, strange night together. She’d been chasing that pleasure for months, and had not found so much as a taste of what he’d given her.

Perhaps it wasn’t the pleasure that she was missing, but, rather…him.

That unwelcome realization confused her all the more.

She didn’t want to miss Captain Neill. Admitting her infatuation gave him more power over her than she felt comfortable with. He’d broken her heart once before. She never, ever wanted to feel that way again.

Captain Neill sank onto the foot of the bed, keeping a safe distance between them. “I think we’ll both feel more comfortable knowing you’re not alone. Come with me to my parents’ house. It won’t be all bad. You might actually have a bit of fun.”

If Angelica could prove to herself that what she felt for him was sexual—nothing more—she could go through with his ridiculous plan. She absently let the bedcovers fall from her chest. By the sharp intake of his breath, Angelica knew he liked what he saw. Her other lover had liked it, too. In fact, that man’s hands had never seemed far from her breasts, always clutching, tugging, and lifting them up to suckle. He couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

Surely, Captain Neill would feel the same way. If he took her now, they could clear whatever this tension was that hovered between them. Then, afterward, they could both move on with their lives.

He swore, and stammered, “Angelica. Will you please—”

“What?” She played the fool. What did a blind girl know about seduction? “Could I please what?”

“Will you please put the covers back up where they were? Better yet, why don’t you get dressed? We have a lot to do today if we’re going to get you ready for a week-long house party.”

She leaned forward, intrigued. She’d never been to a house party before. “Like what?”

He groaned, as if in pain. “Proper clothes, for one. We can’t have you showing your bosoms to my nearest and dearest. You’ll need an entire wardrobe, and toiletries, and…everything, really. Well, my girl, what do you say?”

Angelica sat, speechless. This wasn’t what she had in mind at all.





CHAPTER NINETEEN





He was taking her shopping. This man, who thought her used body so repugnant, was buying her an entirely new wardrobe. Puzzling, to say the least. Not to mention the fact that he intended to introduce her to his family. The plan made no sense, yet Angelica didn’t question him about his motives. She merely took his arm, and allowed Captain Neill to escort her into the High Street dress shop.

Inside, she smelled fragrance—delicate, costly perfume—and the scent of fur, leather, and crisp, clean cotton. Angelica had loved going shopping with her mother. She enjoyed touching the different fabrics, pressing her cheek to the soft silks and stiff brocades. She liked how the ladies who ran the dress shop had fussed over her and given her sweets. She had dreamed of the days when she would be a grown-up, and could wear all the pretty fripperies and furbelows.

She eventually outgrew her girlhood frocks, and began to raid her mother’s wardrobe. Sadly, in those days, her mother had only worn black—mourning for Father, who’d been taken by the Spanish Flu. Angelica continued the tradition, mourning the loss of her old life, snatched from her by sickness, war, and privation.

The color was not important to her. She could not remember red from green, or blue from yellow. But the idea behind the garb of woe appealed to her. She liked black. Blackness was her world. It was all she knew.

Returning her thoughts to the High Street shop, Angelica let Captain Neill guide her between the racks of frocks and coats. She knew people were staring—they always did—but, bundled up in his greatcoat, she must have looked like an urchin he’d pulled in off the street.

“Wait here, Angelica.” He steered her aside, and went in search of a sales clerk. After a moment, she heard his low voice whispering discreetly, though she could not discern his words. Then, he came back to her and placed a woman’s soft, cream-scented hand on her arm. “This is Magda. She is going to take you to a fitting room and help you shop. Choose whatever you need. My family has an account here.”

For the next few hours, Magda and the other sales girls treated Angelica like a pretty doll. They picked the things they liked best, dressing her as if they too had an unlimited budget.

She was shocked to discover how short everything was now—short hair, short skirts, short sleeves in the summer. The first frock Magda slipped her into barely passed her kneecaps!