The Solemn Bell(35)

“She was merely doing her job.”

“I don’t need a handler.”

Brody sat back on his elbows, which was damned hard to do, starched, pressed, and stuffed into a dinner jacket. “Most ladies keep personal servants. Didn’t your mother have a lady’s maid?”

“Well, yes. But my mother was a married lady…”

“All the same, I’d like the girl to look after you—at least while you’re here. It will make things so much easier.”

Angelica hung her head. “What if she doesn’t want to work for a woman living in sin? Just because we don’t care about it, doesn’t mean she won’t. Other people have morals, Brody.”

“Either she’ll do it, or we’ll find someone who will. I don’t really care, so long as they treat you respectfully. Now, can we please go down to dinner? I’m starved.”

He stood, straightened his waistcoat, and offered her his arm. Angelica dutifully allowed him to lead her out of her room, down the stairs, and into the drawing room where the others waited. He liked having her on his arm. He liked the way Mary Rose’s face blanched at the sight of poor, blind Miss Grey looking impossibly chic, and how Marcus stumbled over himself to greet them.

It wasn’t sporting to laugh at his one-legged brother’s clumsiness, but he couldn’t help it. Usually, Marcus was the one who held it all together while he staggered and slurred. Brody was thankful to finally have something to be proud of—for other people to be envious of—even if it was only for as long as Angelica would let him.

She’d grow tired of him, eventually. She’d find a man who could love her better. A man who could make love to her better, and then the dream would be over. For tonight, at least, she was his, and he was delighted to have her by his side.

Mary Rose studied them from her place on the sofa. She sipped her cocktail and frowned. “Is that frock from Grocott’s?”

Angelica smiled. “Yes, it is…” Suddenly, she turned to Brody, anxiety flashed across her features. “Isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” When Angelica breathed a sigh of relief, he addressed his sister, “We stopped in on our way through Shrewsbury.”

Mary Rose still frowned. “I recognize the frock from the window display. I think I might have even tried it on, but it didn’t suit.”

Brody didn’t care for the condescending way she’d said that, as if Angelica wouldn’t care if a dress looked good or not, because she couldn’t see it on herself. He thought the dress suited her perfectly—it hugged her curves in all the right ways, the low sash accentuating her plump little bottom. Angelica looked like she’d been born for such a dress. He couldn’t wait to see what else she had bought at Grocott’s.

Instead of being offended, Angelica kept her smile bright. “I don’t know how things look, but I know how they feel. And this one feels like it suits me. But, of course, each woman is different. I can’t imagine what looks good on one will necessarily look good on another.”

Mary Rose took a long pull from her glass. “I’m glad someone finally bought it. The thing sat in the window for weeks. Before long, it will be out of fashion.”

“Well, I’m happy to put it to good use,” she said, still smiling, “for however long it’s got left.”

Brody smiled down at her, even though she could not see it. She was a brave girl for sparring with his spoiled sister. If Angelica continued to stand up for herself, the others would see her as a capable, compatible partner for him, rather than a helpless, blind mouse he carried home to save.

With Mary Rose safely silenced, Marcus called over from the drinks cabinet, “Can I give you anything?”

“Nothing for me.” Brody had not touched drink since the night of his accident. Addiction was a slippery slope, and he’d rather be stone sober than tempted. Besides, if he was going to lead Angelica around, he needed to be sharp.

He dipped his head to her ear. “Would you like a glass of something?”

“I’ve never had drink before,” she said. “Not even a sip of champagne.”

Mary Rose perked up. “Oh, golly, then you’re in for a treat!”

Brody laughed, nervously. The last thing he needed was for his siblings to get Angelica squiffy. “Better ease her into it, Markie,” he warned.

Marcus mixed something up, and then brought it over. He awkwardly placed the glass in Angelica’s hand. “Uh, just a bit of gin and lemonade. Let me know if it’s too strong.”

She held it for a long time before bringing the concoction to her lips. He hoped she didn’t feel the need to drink simply because it had been offered.

After a brave moment, she took a small sip, and immediately puckered her face. “Oooh!” They all laughed—mostly because her reaction had been so damned adorable. Angelica took another sip, and then passed the glass back to Marcus. “I don’t think drink is for me.”

Marcus grinned and downed the cocktail in one gulp. Those two were getting along swimmingly. He could tell his brother liked her, and Angelica was a good sport for being his ‘guinea-pig’.

“You sure you don’t want anything, Brody?”

He shook his head. Usually, he’d have a glass of something to tide him over between injections, but he was determined not to venture down that path. He had responsibilities now—he had Angelica, and perhaps a baby on the way. “I’m trying to…oh, you know…cut back on all that.”