The Solemn Bell(36)

Marcus understood. Mary Rose, however, eyed him suspiciously. “You used to be the fun one…”

“We all have to grow up sometime, M.R.”

She shrugged and laughed. “Not me! I’m going to drink, smoke, and dance forever.”

At that, the drawing room doors swung open, and his parents—so rarely seen together—stepped into the room. Mother was awash in blue silk and sequins. Father wore evening clothes and a pained expression on his face. When he saw Angelica, he didn’t so much as flinch.

Mother had prepared him.

“My parents,” Brody whispered. He turned her to face them. “Angelica, may I present my father? Father, this is Miss Grey.”

His father looked her up and down. Angelica stood there, shoulders back and head held tall

Finally, the old man cleared his throat and said, “Welcome, Miss Grey.”

She smiled, sweetly. Brody wondered how long she’d practiced making her facial expressions appear natural. He imagined her lifting her lips as her governess critiqued her. Angelica’s parents’ determination to see their daughter behave normally had paid off in the end. She could work a room almost as well as any sighted girl.

“Now that’s over with,” Father said, dismissing her completely, “Shall we go through?”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





Brody breathed a silent prayer of thanks that someone—Mother, their butler, or the Good Lord himself—had placed Angelica next to him at the table. He didn’t trust Mary Rose to do it, and knew his parents would be horrified to help his guest navigate the table setting. Seated together, he could discreetly guide her if she needed it.

She didn’t need it.

Angelica carefully touched the plate, the silver, and the flared bases of both the water and wine glass. She did not fumble or upset anything. She buttered her bread, and wrangled her peas with little fuss. Brody couldn’t help but glow with pride. Only once or twice did she lean over and ask him to identify a particularly confusing dish.

If they weren’t all watching her like hawks, he doubted anyone would have even noticed. But, Mother noticed. She glared at Angelica from her place up-table, eyes wide with shock, disgust, or general displeasure—he could never be sure.

Had he really believed his parents would approve of her, or was his judgment as poor as they’d always said? What was supposed to be an enjoyable family dinner together had turned disheartening. He wanted so badly for her to be accepted, and to feel like she belonged here with him. Brody was beginning to feel like he’d made a terrible mistake, until the plates were cleared away, and dessert served.

Angelica took one bite and edged toward him, excitedly. “Chocolate, Brody!”

He grinned over at her. “Do you like chocolate?”

“Oh my goodness, I haven’t had any in years!”

She ate each bite of génoise au chocolat with delicious abandon. If chocolate made her smile like that, he’d hand-feed it to her every night. The others thought it odd that she’d be so exhilarated by a simple piece of cake, but they didn’t know how impoverished Angelica had been. They couldn’t fathom foraging for roots and dandelions, or eating apples that had been carefully rationed to last the winter. They were not survivors like his shadow-angel.

After dinner, the family returned to the drawing room for brandies and coffee. When Brody again turned down the decanter, his father grunted. He’d disappointed the old man, as usual. Marcus, on the other hand, stretched out his wooden leg and crossed his ankles, enjoying a drink and a cigar at Father’s side. Brody had not lied when he told Angelica he was the black sheep. He was never going to win his way back into his sire’s good graces—not with two good legs and no war medals.

“Am I doing all right?” Angelica whispered.

He’d been quiet for a long time, and she must have misunderstood his displeasure. “You’re perfect.”

“You say it like you believe it…”

“Oh, you have no idea. I believe it so much, I’m practically a disciple.”

She grinned over her coffee cup—that smile had definitely not been rehearsed. “Blasphemer. You shouldn’t talk like that, especially not after the last time we tried to take on the Devil. We barely made it through the night with our souls intact.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Angelica gasped. “What do you mean?”

“I swear I lost my soul in your kitchen, on your pallet by the stove. And, if not my soul, then at least my heart.”

She nearly dropped her coffee cup. He caught it before disaster struck, but they’d drawn attention to themselves. Mother frowned as she inspected her carpet for stains. Father shook his head and turned back to focus on Marcus. Mary Rose chewed her lip, which had gone numb from one too many cocktails.

He hadn’t meant to blurt the words out, but he couldn’t help himself. He had lost his heart on her kitchen floor. He had also lost his damned mind. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

He’d forgot this was all an act. They weren’t lovers—well, not like that. They were only trying to make it through this one miserable week, and then they could get on with their lives.

She slid her trembling coffee cup and saucer onto a side table. “I’m feeling very tired.”