What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(7)

Angeline was more than a little flustered, and Colin’s presence did not help. “I do not need your reassurance.”

“I’m merely practicing being a dull, respectable fellow.”

She continued playing. “Is that like putting on an old coat to see if it still fits?”

“I’m simply wanting for temporary amusement.”

“Then I must be boring you,” she said. “There is a dearth of real amusement tonight.”

“One thing about you hasn’t changed,” he said.

“What is that?”

“You never want for a clever retort.”

Or a strategic defense. She regarded him with a cynical smile. Truthfully, she had dreaded encountering Colin, but it was foolish of her. He’d likely heard plenty of rumors about her misbegotten and short-lived engagement, but she had a low opinion of dissipated rakes like him and cared nothing for his opinion, good or bad.

Liar. You hate that he knows you were brought down low.

She had hoped to avoid attending the annual house party, but her mother had insisted that she begin entering English society again in order to “repair” her reputation, though this gathering hardly counted as such. The notion of repair was laughable. The only way she could redeem her reputation would be to make a respectable marriage, and that was highly unlikely.

Even though she yearned to start over, to change what had happened, there was no going back. She couldn’t retrieve her youth. Time had marched on like an obedient soldier, until one day she’d awakened to discover she was thirty years old and on the proverbial shelf. That had played a large part in her foolhardy courtship with Brentmoor.

Angeline played the last notes and reached for the sheet music, but Colin gathered the pages in a neat stack. When he turned to her, she was struck anew by his dark curly hair and brown eyes with amber hues that could melt butter in freezing temperatures—or more likely, a lady’s objections.

Any lady but her.



Why was so much beauty wrapped up in a she-devil package? Perhaps he wasn’t being fair. They had not spoken in ages, but given her acerbic remarks tonight, he doubted she’d changed.

She snatched her gloves. In her haste, she dropped one.

He retrieved it. “You seem a bit flustered. I hope I did not make you vexatious.”

“You flatter yourself.”

“There you are wrong. I have my faults, but excessive vanity is not one of them.”

She covered an obviously feigned yawn. “I shall refrain from asking about your other excesses.”

“Angeline,” the duchess said, “will you play again or do you intend to dawdle?”

The rosy flush staining Angeline’s face spoke volumes, but she recovered quickly and popped up from the bench. “I shall dawdle. I do it so well.”

The twins marched over to the pianoforte and set up their sheets. Colin took the opportunity to escape Angeline. “Pardon me while I turn the pages for my sisters.”



“How very charming of Ravenshire to turn the pages for the twins,” the duchess said. “He shows his care for his sisters.”

Angeline made a concerted effort not to roll her eyes. She’d always struggled to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, but it was particularly difficult when her mother made a big to-do over the simple act of turning pages. The duchess had obviously chosen to forget Colin’s dissipated reputation, but Angeline had not.

She turned her attention away and spotted Penny hunching her shoulders in the window seat. “Excuse me, Mama,” she said, and hurried off before her mother could detain her further. Penny smiled a little when she sat beside her.

“Are you enjoying seeing the twins again?” Angeline asked.

“Oh, yes. They are quite vivacious,” Penny said. “Unlike me.”

Angeline squeezed her sister’s hand. “You have many talents, Penny. You play very well and your watercolors are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Penny said, “but I wish I had the gift of conversing easily. I always think of something clever to say after I’m alone.”

“Better to think before you speak,” Angeline said. “I learned that the hard way, but let us not dwell on our faults. The grounds at Deerfield are beautiful. Perhaps we could go for a walk this week if the weather holds.”

“I would like that very much.” Penny bit her lip.

“What troubles you?” Angeline said.

“It is of no consequence,” she said.

“You know that you can tell me anything.” She worried that her mother might have inadvertently let something slip about her broken betrothal in front of Penny this evening. Angeline knew she couldn’t protect her sister forever, but she did not want to reveal the circumstances while they were away from home.

Penny clasped her hands in her lap. “Bianca and Bernadette were speaking about our come-outs next spring, and all of a sudden I realized that I would be among an enormous crowd. I just know that I’ll be a wallflower.”

She hugged Penny. “Sweet sister, you will do very well.”

“You will be there,” Penny said. “I could not possibly make my debut without you.”


“You mustn’t worry.” But even as Angeline spoke, she wasn’t entirely certain she would be able to attend. While a few of her mother’s steadfast friends had called upon them in Paris, there were more than a few English ladies who had cut their acquaintance. She dreaded broaching the topic. Her sister was sensitive, and Angeline saw no reason to worry Penny months ahead of time, but Angeline was concerned. She prayed her scandal would not touch Penny, because that would hurt far more than Brentmoor’s duplicity.