The Earl Claims a Bride Read online

  Angelina looked from Mr. Pete to the bread and milk.

  “All right. A little more bread, but no milk this time. Only water. I can’t overfeed you or you’ll be sick. And don’t eat this one so fast,” she added as if the puppy could understand and would obey her. “After you finish and are feeling a little stronger, I’ll wash your cuts and put some ointment on them.”

  It wasn’t the first time she had pilfered food from the kitchen to feed a stray and she doubted it would be her last. She took another large slice off the loaf and made a plate for him. And contrary to her instructions, he ate the second just as ravenously as the first. She reached down to pick up the empty plate and saw her father’s boots.

  Caught.

  She winced.

  Angelina slowly rose and tried to step in front of the puppy even though she knew there was no way the eagle-eyed Archard Rule hadn’t seen and heard Mr. Pete. Her father was a tall, thin, and handsome man who was almost regal in the proud way he carried himself. His light-brown hair had recently receded slightly from his forehead but nothing else gave away the fact that he was well past forty.

  “Papa, I didn’t know you were home.”

  “Obviously,” her father said as he crossed his arms over his chest and began to gently tap one booted foot on the floor. “Feeding the family dinner to yet another stray?”

  She looked from his frown to what was left of the raided loaf. Her father had been gone more than he had been home for the past three weeks, and when he was home, he was either distracted and aloof or short-tempered and irritated. She didn’t want to add to whatever had been bothering him, but she couldn’t have left Mr. Pete on the side of the road.

  Angelina squared her shoulders. “He’s injured and starving.”

  “All of them are,” he said testily. “We can’t feed every dog left to beg on the streets of London.”

  But that didn’t keep her from wanting to take care of them all.

  “I know you’ve told me more than once not to pick up any more strays, Papa, but he’s just a puppy. He can’t be more than a few weeks old. He doesn’t know how to scavenge for food yet. He’s so little.”

  “We already have three dogs,” he said, the tap of his foot getting louder.

  “Well, really only two in that Molly belongs to Grandmother.”

  “Angelina, your grandmother lives here and so does her dog.”

  She folded her hands together in front of her, sighed, and lowered her lashes over her eyes for a moment. It had always been difficult for Angelina to know when to just be quiet and give her father time to think and adjust to whatever point she was trying to make. But she had to press on if she was to have any hope of keeping Mr. Pete. It would be heartbreaking if she had to put the shivering puppy, sitting so quietly at her feet, back on the street to fend for himself.

  She glanced up at her father and was surprised by the tightness that showed around his mouth and eyes. Clearly something serious was bothering him. If they had been talking about anything other than the future of this puppy, she would have backed away from the conversation and queried as to what was wrong.

  “Mr. Pete looks to be at least part beagle. I know he’ll be a pleasant, mild-mannered pet.”

  Her father’s blue eyes widened and he threw his hands up into the air in disbelief. “You named him?”

  She blinked rapidly. “Well, I—yes, I had to call him something,” she defended. “I don’t think he’ll get very large and he won’t eat much.”

  “He almost ate a whole loaf of bread,” her father said on an exasperated sigh.

  “I doubt he’d eaten in days.”

  “Heaven have mercy, Angelina, you would turn this house into a kennel if I let you.”

  Angelina thought she sensed the sound of weakening in her father’s tone so she said, “I’m sorry, Papa. But see how quiet and well-behaved he is. He hasn’t made a sound since you walked in. I promise he will be no bother to you.”

  “Oh, all right, you can keep him, for now,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve too many other things on my mind at present to deal with this.”

  Angelina threw her arms around her father’s chest and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Papa.”

  “I just hope you will still be thanking me later,” he mumbled near her ear as he hugged her to him for a second before setting her away. “Put him in the room where the others are kept at night and come into the drawing room when you finish. But change your apron first. You look like a ragamuffin. I’ve already asked your grandmother to join us. I have something important to discuss with you.”

  Thrilled that she had won, at least for the time being, Angelina started untying her soiled apron. “I’ll take care of him, wash up, and be right in.”

  A few minutes later Angelina was almost floating with happiness as she walked into the drawing room. Her grandmother Lady Railbridge was sitting in her usual spot on the floral-printed settee.

  “Good afternoon, Granna,” Angelina said to her youthful-looking grandmother. Unlike Angelina who took after her tall and blue-eyed father, Lady Railbridge was petite and brown-eyed with chestnut hair that had only recently begun to show a smattering of silver woven in its thick depths. The only thing that gave away her age was the thick blue veins showing beneath the thin white skin of her hands.

  Her grandmother had come to live with them and help care for Angelina after her mother died four years ago. Lady Railbridge looked so much like her daughter that it had given Angelina tremendous comfort to have her nearby.

  The older woman smiled and reached out her hands to Angelina. “Let’s have a look.”

  Angelina chuckled lightly and placed her palms down in her grandmother’s soft hands. “Very clean, Granna,” she said. “No sign of paint under my nails.” She turned her hands over. “Or in my life lines.”

  “That’s my perfect young lady,” her grandmother said, sporting a pleased smile that always reminded Angelina of her mother.

  For the past year her grandmother had been readying Angelina for the fast-approaching Season. From an early age Angelina had a tutor to teach her writing, reading, and sums as well as the finer things a young lady was supposed to know such as French, embroidery, and playing the pianoforte. But from her very first art lesson, Angelina had fallen in love with painting. She loved to create and re-create scenes from life or her imagination, or sometimes copy from original oils on canvas, ivory, fans, shells, or most anything the paint would adhere to. With the first ball of the Season only a week away, her grandmother was insisting she be more careful when washing the paints off her hands.

  She had teased Angelina a few days ago by saying, “My biggest fear is that you will take your gloves off at a duke’s dinner table and there will be paint stains running up your arms.”

  Angelina kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek and then glanced over at her father. Her stomach tightened. She felt again that something was wrong. He stood in front of the fireplace, his back to them. His head was lowered and the regal tilt of his shoulders slumped. There were times he let grief over losing his wife overwhelm him; today must be one of those times.

  Feeling a spark of guilt for testing his patience about the puppy, she laid an affectionate hand on his shoulder and said, “Papa, don’t worry. I will find another home for Mr. Pete.”

  He sighed heavily and slowly turned toward her. His eyes had narrowed, his forehead was wrinkled into a tight frown, and his lips had formed into a thin grimace. At that moment she thought that he actually looked older than her grandmother.

  He stared at her for so long she became anxious and said, “Papa what’s wrong?”

  “I know it’s a poor choice of words to use, Angelina, but I have good news and bad news.”

  “Oh, dear,” her grandmother whispered behind Angelina.

  The fine hairs on the back of her neck tingled, and she swallowed slowly. “I’ll take the bad news first,” she said calmly, knowing that no news could ever be as bad as when she’d heard fo
ur years ago that her mother had died in her sleep.

  For as long as Angelina could remember her mother was sickly, needing more and more medication as the years passed. Angelina had done her best to help care for her. Still, it was a shock when she went to sleep one night and didn’t wake the next morning.

  A tired, rueful sound passed her father’s lips before he said, “You have always been far braver than me, Angelina.”

  “Nonsense,” she said with more confidence than she was feeling. She wasn’t brave at all. She was terrified she’d hear he had some dreaded disease and little time to live, but instead of telling him her fears she said, “This way, the good news will help soothe the bad.”

  “Archard, stop stalling and tell us what’s wrong,” her grandmother injected in a worried tone. “Angelina, come sit by me.”

  “I’ll stand,” she answered her grandmother, though her legs were already feeling weak.

  “I’ll get right to it then,” her father said, though he hesitated again. “No use in delaying longer. I’m afraid I’m in dire jeopardy of going to debtors’ prison.”

  A jolt of shock jerked her. “What?” Angelina whispered.

  Debtors’ prison? My father?

  “Archard, no!” Granna exclaimed and rose to stand beside Angelina.

  “It’s true,” he answered, not meeting his daughter’s or his mother-in-law’s eyes. “I foolishly invested everything we own in a fool’s game of chance and lost.”

  “Even my accounts?” Granna asked.

  His gaze darted to his mother-in-law. “You must understand that in the end I had to. I had borrowed money to ease the burden of our increasing creditors and then had to borrow more to pay the first lender, and then the second. It’s a nasty group of jackanapes who have me twisting in their grip. I’ve not been able to break free from them. Now there is no one left to borrow from and I have no means of paying back any of them. We’ve lost everything.”

  Amid the crushing blow of helplessness, Angelina immediately wondered what she could do to aid her father. He had changed after her mother died, drinking more than usual and staying away for days at a time. She knew her father spent time at his clubs, and gambled from time to time. But how was it possible that he’d allowed his debts to mount so extensively?

  “What do you mean by ‘everything,’ Archard?” Lady Railbridge asked what Angelina was thinking but couldn’t voice.

  Her father’s regal shoulders flew back and he turned an irate gaze toward her grandmother. “What do you think I mean by it, my lady? Every investment I had, every piece of furniture in this house, every piece of jewelry that would have gone to Angelina, every pence, pound, and shilling. Everything including eighty percent of my yearly allowance going to a tightfisted money lender! The only reason this house isn’t included is because it belongs to my second cousin.”

  Angelina could not hold in her gasp. She squeezed her hands into tight fists and winced. He truly was in danger of prison?

  Her grandmother’s eyes flashed wild with worry. “I don’t understand. What did you do to get in this position? Cards? Dice? Something else?”

  “Must I give all the sordid details, Lady Railbridge?” he asked indignantly. “Will you not leave me some thread of self-respect? Will only the airing of the intimate, sullied details of my downfall satisfy you?”

  “No, Papa, no,” Angelina said, blindly stepping into the conversation. “She doesn’t want that.”

  “Good, because I won’t subject myself to that evil,” he said emphatically. “Neither of you knows what it’s like to be the poorest man in a family of titles, prestige, and legacies, always depending on the generosity of a wealthy relative to take pity on you and give you an allowance, which I might add is so meager that it can scarcely pay the rent, let alone the grocer, tailor, and the few servants. Yet I have been expected to care for my daughter in the grandest of ways and live the life of a gentleman on such a pittance all these years. We wouldn’t have done as well as we have if not for your grandmother moving in, bringing her maid to aid you, and helping with expenses. So yes, yes, I wanted better for you than I’ve been able to give, and I’m not ashamed of doing my best to get it for you.” His voice suddenly faltered. “I regret that I made such a muddle of it, not that I tried.”

  Angelina’s heart went out to her father for the pain he was feeling. She knew it hadn’t been his intention to end up in this horrid situation. She must find a way to help him.

  “Papa, if things were this desperate for you, why did you allow us to spend so much money on gowns, gloves, headpieces, and other clothing for me for the Season? Just last week you brought me more gold and silver dust for my paintings. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say something?”

  His eyes softened and she saw genuine love for her in his eyes. “Can’t I indulge my daughter if I want to without asking anyone’s permission? You wanted it, I wanted to get it for you.”

  She was astounded, silent for a moment. “Surely you know I would rather have you at home and your debts paid than to have the dust and all the finery you’ve purchased for me these many years.”

  “No, no, don’t you see, Angelina,” he said gently taking hold of her shoulders and gripping them affectionately. “All I did was for you. So you would have the best of everything. You deserved a proper Season just like all your cousins have had so you could catch the eye of a titled gentleman.”

  “A title?” she asked, confused, heartbroken, and a little angry. “Papa, you know I’ve been waiting for Captain Maxwell to return from India so we could make a match.”

  “An army officer, Angelina,” her father said, suddenly sounding irritated again. His grip tightened on her. “I’ve never agreed to such a meeting with the captain. Besides, you don’t know when or if he is ever returning. He could even be married to someone else by now. It’s my responsibility to take care of you and see that you have the very best. The day you were born I promised your mother I would see you properly wed, and I’m going to do it.”

  “But what will this news of your possible imprisonment do to Angelina’s chances of making a good match when the Season starts next week?” her grandmother asked.

  “Granna,” Angelina injected. “I’m not worried about the Season right now. I don’t want Papa to go to prison.”

  “I may not have to,” her father said, letting go of her to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before looking at her again. “That is the good news I promised. I have been working on a plan for your future. Though it took me quite a while to accomplish it, the Prince finally agreed to see me a couple of weeks ago.”

  “The Prince?” her grandmother said breathlessly.

  “Yes, even though we’re distant cousins by marriage, as you know, I haven’t seen him since he became the Regent.”

  “I know that’s always bothered you,” Granna said.

  “I admit it,” her father agreed, pulling on the tail of his coat. “Apparently he is much too busy for his poorer cousins now. Not surprising. However, having no other choice, I kept soliciting him and finally met with him a few days ago.”

  “You never said a word to us,” her grandmother commented.

  “There was no reason to. You couldn’t have done any more than I was doing. I was forthright with him about my circumstances. At the time, he had nothing favorable to offer, but then yesterday I had a note from him, asking that I visit him today. His news was better than I could have hoped.” Her father stopped, squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and took in a deep breath. “The Prince knows of an earl who is in need of a suitable wife. With your grandmother being a baroness and me his cousin, the Prince believes you will be a perfect match for the earl, Angelina, and I agree. If you marry him by the end of the Season, the Prince will settle all my debts and I’ll avoid disgracing myself, you, and the family name.”

  Her grandmother whispered, “An earl.”

  Anguish blazed through Angelina, choking her. Not marry the man she had dreamed about for
three years? Her father in debt and facing prison. It was too much to take in. She didn’t want her father to go to debtors’ prison but she didn’t want to marry the earl, either. She wanted to marry Captain Maxwell. What her father said was true, no promises had been made between her and the captain, but she knew he was waiting for her.

  Hoping she’d heard her father wrong, she asked, “An arranged marriage? For me?”

  “Yes, and all my debts will be settled,” he added with a twitch of a smile. “When you meet the Earl of Thornwick next week, if he finds you acceptable, he will marry you.”

  The fine hairs on the back of Angelina’s neck spiked in protest. “If he finds me acceptable?”

  “The Earl of Thornwick, Archard!” her grandmother exclaimed, jumping into the conversation again. “You can’t be serious! That man is an outrage, a scoundrel if there ever was one. You know his reputation. He is not acceptable for her.”

  “That’s not for you to decide, my lady.”

  “Well, it doesn’t appear you are capable of determining that.”

  Angelina’s breaths came short, fast, and heavy. She’d heard about the notorious Earl of Thornwick from some of the ladies in her reading society and her sewing circle. She stepped back and slowly sat down on the settee while her father and grandmother continued to talk.

  From the gossip, she knew the Earl of Thornwick was devilishly handsome, a rake, and that he had only recently become an earl. He was known far and wide by his association with two other rogues. The three of them had scandalized London for years with raucous behavior that kept polite Society in an uproar, racing their curricles through crowded parks and disrespecting rules of convention at every turn. His lordship even had the nerve to walk down several streets in Mayfair with a mistress on each arm.

  To hear the young ladies talk, neither he nor his two friends had a shred of decency among them when they were younger. She had no reason to believe that had changed. But even after all those horrible things were said about Lord Thornwick, every lady attending agreed she was dying for the earl to ask her to dance and hoped that she would be the one he would find favor with and marry.