The Solemn Bell(59)

It was Peter Lawton. “Aren’t you two a pair.”

Captain Neill put his arm around her shoulder, pressing her into his side. He must have felt her tremble at the sound of the man’s voice. “You know, Peter, I really am enjoying sobriety. You ought to try it.”

“No thanks, old bean. Life’s too short to waste good whiskey.” Mr. Lawton placed one crystal glass on the side table at Angelica’s elbow. “Careful, Miss Grey. That one’s for Marcus.”

He left them in peace.

“The thought of that man putting his hands on me…” She shuddered. “It makes me sick.”

“Men will always make advances, Angelica. Some will be forceful. Others will be insidious—and far more effective. Peter made you think you wanted him. He knows just how to talk and tease until he gets his way. I’ve watched him convince grown men to destroy their own lives. A sweet girl like you didn’t stand a chance.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sweet.”

“Yes, you are. I thought, at first, that you’d lost that sweetness, that innocence, somewhere along the way. But you haven’t. No matter how many naughty, debauched things you’ve done—or allowed to be done to you—your heart is still as pure as the night I first put my hands on you.”

Angelica lay her head on his the lapel of his soft, wool dinner jacket. “Your heart is pure, too.”

“Think so?”

“Oh, yes. I feel it in your touch, your kiss, and in those moments when you whisper my name. No other man has ever shown himself to me that way. I want it to always be you and me, guarding our hearts against the world.”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “You and me. Always.”





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE





“Listen, Brody, we have to talk.” Marcus caught him at a rare moment away from Angelica’s side. He didn’t want to risk leaving her in Peter’s clutches. Yes, he’d warned the man, but he still didn’t trust him.

He smiled at his brother. “What is it?”

Marcus didn’t smile back. “Let’s step outside.”

The two men left the library, crossed the entrance hall, and stepped out the front doors. Out in the forecourt, the moon was bright. Brody could see his brother’s dire face as clearly as if it had been lit by lights. Whatever it was, this wasn’t going to be good news.

“Alright,” he said, impatiently. “Spill it.”

“I know you’re serious about coming to the office on Monday—”

“Of course. I was dreading it, at first, but now I’m starting to get excited about the idea. I want to make things right with Father, and I want to provide for Angelica and our baby, if there is going to be one.”

Marcus ran his hands through his hair, cursing. “I knew it. I told Father you’d meant it.”

“He knows I’m looking for a job?”

His brother nodded. “It isn’t something we should just spring on him, you know? And, after tonight, I finally got the nerve to say something about your feelings for Angelica. Needless to say, the old man didn’t take it so well.”

“What did he say?” Brody tried to keep his voice calm, but inwardly, he panicked.

“That he offered you work before, and you thought yourself too good to take it. He won’t make that mistake again.”

“But that was morphine-Brody talking. I’ll go in there on my knees, if I have to. I’m not too good or too proud now.”

Marcus shrugged. “After seven years of spitting in his face, the damage has already been done. I think your time would be better spent looking for work elsewhere.”

Brody kicked at the gravel. “I’m not qualified for anything. I didn’t even finish university.”

“Plenty of people lack an education, yet they still find ways of supporting themselves. Live off your allowance for as long as you can while you look for something. Take your time, and do it right. There’s no rush.”

“No rush? What if there’s a baby?”

“If there’s a baby, I’ll be the first one to shake your hand,” Marcus said. “It shouldn’t take you more than six months to find a position. Prove that you can support yourself, and Father is bound to come ‘round.”

Who would ever hire an undereducated, ex-morphine addict? If thousands of honest, hard-working, able bodied men couldn’t find steady employment, there was no hope for Brody.

“Couldn’t you get me work elsewhere within the company? Not anywhere that Father might see me, but perhaps at one of the collieries themselves. I’m not opposed to working with my hands—”

His brother hung his head. “I wish I could.”

“All I want is a chance. Let me make things right. Please, Markie, for Angelica’s sake.” Damn, this situation was growing more desperate by the hour. He should have never come here. He should have stayed at Angelica’s house, and told the world to go to the devil. “Because I will never give her up.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Father does,” he spat.

“Our father is a relic from another time. Remember, they did things differently before the war.”

Brody nodded. “I remember.”