What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(14)

There was no point in antagonizing her mother by procrastinating any longer. She retrieved her sewing basket and walked to the landing. When she saw her father, she hurried her step. “Papa, wait.”

He frowned. “Is something awry?”

“Oh, no.” She smiled despite his harsh expression. “I was hoping we might—”

“Your mother is expecting you in the drawing room,” he said, and turned away.

Her hand trembled, and she dropped her basket. She knelt, and her eyes blurred as she retrieved the needles and embroidery thread. He’d taught her to play chess and vingt-et-un. They used to read together and discuss books. They had been close, until the awful day she’d broken her engagement. She’d disappointed him, and now he barely spoke to her. A familiar ache settled in her chest. Her father’s rejection hurt one hundred times more than Brentmoor’s betrayal.

Angeline dashed her hand beneath her eyes and rose. She took a deep breath, knowing it was critical that she appear unperturbed in the drawing room. The last thing she wanted was to alert her mother, and she most certainly did not want to worry Penny, who knew little about the awful events that had led the duchess to take Angeline to Paris.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Out of necessity, Angeline had learned to keep her head high, even in the face of condemnation and worse.

When she walked into the drawing room, she greeted everyone and decided to sit with Penny and the twins. The duchess regarded her with lifted brows.

Angeline smiled. “Forgive me for being late. I accidentally dropped my basket.”

“You are here, and that is all that matters,” the marchioness said.

Angeline brought out her sampler and threaded a needle. Her mother insisted that keeping busy helped to lift one’s spirits, but for Angeline, needlework left her with too much time to dwell on the past. She preferred vigorous walks, because she felt free from all the constraints in her life.

“You are quiet, Angeline,” Margaret said.

“Forgive me. I was lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking about?” Bianca asked.

Angeline smiled a little. “That I have not spent time with a needle recently and need to practice my skills. What are you embroidering, Bianca?”

Bianca held up her sampler.

Angeline blinked. She couldn’t make out whether the embroidery represented a tree or an animal. So she settled for an innocuous reply. “Oh, how…unique.”

“It is Hercules,” Bianca said. “I thought I should immaritalize him.”

Bernadette elbowed her sister. “Immortalize, you silly goose.”

Penny clapped her hand over her mouth, but a giggle escaped her. “Sorry, Mama,” she said, lowering her chin.

The marchioness smiled. “Do not fret, Penny. Last week, Bianca embroidered a skull and crossbones.”

“It was only a jest, Mama,” Bianca said, her eyes twinkling.

“You would do better to embroider a proverb,” the marchioness said.

“I don’t know any,” Bianca said.

“Of course you do,” the marchioness said. “A stitch in time saves nine.”

“What does that mean?” Bernadette said.

“Do not put off something, for it will only be more difficult later,” the marchioness said.

Bianca shrugged. “You could wait and do it all very fast at the last minute.”

Angeline’s shoulders shook with laughter as she pulled the needle through her sampler. The twins never ceased to amuse her. She realized she felt better already. Matters with her father were difficult now, but she mustn’t give up. He only needed more time to forgive her. She had to believe that in time she would reconcile with him.

“Penny, what are you embroidering?” Bernadette said.

“A leaf pattern on a handkerchief.”

Angeline looked at her sister’s work. “The whitework embroidery is very pretty, but you have always had a gift with a needle.”

Penny blushed. “Thank you.”

“Everyone has a talent,” the marchioness said. “Angeline has an expertise in converting old-fashioned rooms to fashionable rooms.”

Angeline smiled. “I fear it is my only real talent. My needlework is only average at best, and I’m surprised Hercules did not howl when I played the pianoforte last night.”

“But Colin was much taken with your playing,” Margaret said with a sly smile.

Oh, no. Surely Margaret wasn’t bent on matchmaking. Angeline focused her attention on her needlework. “I’m fairly certain he felt obliged to turn the pages.”

“He rather looked as though he were enjoying it.”

“I must say you looked as if you were enjoying his conversation as well, Angeline,” the duchess said.

God help her. If Margaret and her mother kept this up, she would have to put a stop to it. Otherwise, she and Colin would find this house party even more of a trial. She wondered if she ought to warn him and decided to do so only if Margaret and her mother became even more obvious.


The marchioness looked at Penny’s needlework. “Your stitches are perfect.”

“A thing worth doing is worth doing well,” the duchess said.

“My girls would do well to remember that proverb,” the marchioness said.