What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(13)

“The only way to prove you will abide by your obligation is to allow you to begin,” she said. “I fail to understand why this is a problem.”

He glanced at her. “My father proposed a different way for me to demonstrate responsibility.”

“What is it? Clearly you find it abhorrent.”

He laughed without mirth. “Marriage.” He should have kept that between his teeth, but his head ached with the anger still infusing his blood.

She stopped him. “That is ludicrous,” she said in an outraged tone. “Forgive me, but your father goes too far.”

“I share the sentiment, but it matters not.” His breath misted in the cold wind. “My father owns the property and can do what he wants.” His father intended to manipulate him like a marionette.

“Marriage does not assure responsibility. We both could name dozens of irresponsible people who are married,” she said. “The king, for example.”

“My father’s demands are unreasonable. Where am I to find a bride in the middle of the countryside?” he said. “It’s not as if I can pluck her like an apple off a tree.” He didn’t want to marry now, and by God, he certainly didn’t want to wed under duress, but he didn’t want to lose Sommerall.

They walked in silence for a while, and then she said, “There is the little season in London.”

“It will look as if I’m desperate.” He huffed. “Considering the circumstances, I suppose I am.”

“You are hardly desperate,” she said. “Dozens of ladies in London would leap at the opportunity to marry an earl.”

“I’d no idea you were so romantic.”

“Oh, yes, I’m waiting for my shining knight in rusty armor.” She regarded him with raised brows. “And you?”

“A local milkmaid.”

“I’m tempted to say you’ll find a way, but that will not help,” she said.

He hesitated, but plunged in anyway. “Why did you break your engagement with Brentmoor?”

She didn’t respond immediately.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “Obviously, it is a painful topic, and I intruded.”

“It could have been far worse,” she said.

He frowned. “How so?”

She met his gaze. “I might have married him.”



I might have married him.

Angeline marched into her room, yanked the ribbon loose beneath her chin, and slapped her burgundy velvet bonnet on the bed. She’d owed him no answer at all, but the words had spilled off her tongue. Had she learned nothing?

Upon seeing the maid’s wide eyes, Angeline took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Marie, will you help me with the spencer?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Angeline lifted her chin while the maid helped her out of the tight sleeves. “Thank you, Marie. That will be all.”


After the maid left, Angeline sat on the edge of the bed. Why had she responded to Colin’s question earlier? She ought to have upbraided him for his impertinence. Unfortunately, his question had caught her off guard, and she’d blurted out the words. She’d likely piqued his curiosity, but she’d no intention of satisfying it.

Angeline realized she was overreacting, because she was sensitive about the subject. While his question had been impertinent, she had commiserated with him. She understood all too well how it felt to have a parent dictating one’s decisions, but she swore that when this house party ended, she would move into the dower house where her grandmother once lived. There would be a dustup, but she could not continue to live like a child in her parents’ home. She was thirty-one years old and determined to live independently for the rest of her life. It would not be easy, but she would live comfortably on the trust her grandmother had left for her.

After all that had happened to her, she’d known that marriage was out of the question. She knew how others would view her, but that was nothing new. Angeline intended to make what she could of her life.

A tap sounded, and her mother opened the door. “Angeline, why are you sitting here? I expected you in the drawing room over an hour ago.”

“I just returned from a walk.”

Her mother’s lips thinned. “Gather your sewing basket and join us in the green drawing room.”

Like all ladies, she’d learned the art of needlework at a young age. She was in no mood to sit for hours with her embroidery, but she knew it would be rude if she did not put in an appearance. There was no need to rush, however. “I will join you after I finish this Chapter in my novel.”

The duchess arched her slim brows. “Directly, Angeline.”

When the door shut, Angeline inhaled sharply at her mother’s command. To be ordered as if she were a young girl set her teeth on edge. It was one more reason to seek her independence. No matter how much she loved her mother, Angeline could not spend a lifetime beneath her thumb.

Perhaps she would have been better off if she had married Brentmoor, even despite his betrayal. She certainly wouldn’t have wanted for independence. Doubtless Brentmoor would have ignored her in favor of his married mistress. She pressed her fingers to her temples as if she could push the awful memory out of her brain. Of course, she could not have married him after what had transpired. Truth be told, it would have been horrible. Ironically, they had both left England after the scandal erupted. He’d fled his creditors, and she’d fled the gossips.