Chapter 11

eleven

T HE ONLY GOOD thing about the day for Royston was the nice weather. The lemonade tasted delicious, too.

He shouldn't have come to the event. From the moment he'd arrived, Havisham had never left his side, asking Royston if he'd changed his mind, Lady Redvers had introduced him to her daughter no less than three times, and Havisham's footmen, who had once been Royston's mates, now treated him like a stranger, which he understood.

Maybe he was a completely different person now that he had money and a title. He still had to decide if becoming a baron and making a lot of money had been a blessing or a curse. For now, it seemed that everyone wanted something from him, but no one wanted to help his cause.

"So this is your last word," Havisham said, sipping a glass of lemonade.

Royston exhaled. "I can't do it, Havisham. If you'll excuse me." He put his empty glass on the table and walked towards the archery field.

The earl nodded sadly, following him. "Listen, I didn't want to do it, but I have some information on Mrs. Haywood that might change your mind."

"I won't change my mind," Royston said.

Havisham took his arm, forcing him to stop. "I didn't want to throw more mud at Mrs. Haywood, but I realise now that you must know the truth." He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "She uses desperate young women for her blackmail scheme. She'd do anything to gather compromising material on rich gentlemen, including abusing fallen women."

Royston's stomach seemed to be filled with ice. He'd heard of some brothel madams who used and abused their girls to blackmail their clients. If what Havisham had said was true, the news struck a deep chord within Royston. Wherever he turned, he found someone who wanted to attack and take advantage of unfortunate women like his mother.

"There's more." Havisham's face hardened. "I paid a private investigator to follow Mrs. Haywood."

"What?" Royston sounded outraged to his own ears.

Havisham looked hurt. "You refused to help me. I wanted to find some information about Mrs. Haywood I could use as leverage to get her off my back. Can you blame me?"

Well, no. "What did the private investigator discover?"

"Mrs. Haywood went to a few women's shelters to recruit women desperate enough to do her bidding with the promise of large sums of money. I asked the private investigator to dig deeper, and it turned out that one of these shelters is managed by a Mrs. Walsh who receives generous donations from you."

A quick pang stabbed Royston's aching chest; it was as if he'd been punched. "It can't be."

Havisham lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry, Wharton, but it's the truth. If you don't believe me, ask Mrs. Walsh."

"I don't know what to say." The pain was real. He could barely speak.

"Mrs. Haywood isn't the good person you believe she is. Think about it." Havisham patted Royston's shoulder. "I'll see you in the archery field. Good luck with the competition," he said before leaving.

Royston needed more than luck to survive the nobility.

He remained still for a few moments, digesting the news. Angeline had never talked about her father, but he'd heard he'd died. If her father had left his family in need, Mrs. Haywood might have become desperate enough to resort to blackmail. He couldn't judge that. He'd resorted to crime, too. But taking advantage of desperate fallen women, who had seen nothing but abuse, was cruel.

He ran a hand through his hair, not sure about what to do. On the one hand, he didn't want to damage Mrs. Haywood, if what Havisham discovered was true, but on the other, he couldn't allow her to hurt fallen women.

Still, recovering Havisham's documents had nothing to do with helping fallen women, but if he could get a bloody seat and increase his political power, he might use it to stop people like Mrs. Haywood.

He released a breath, resuming walking. Too many thoughts crammed his mind. He needed a moment of peace and quiet to think.

To reach the archery field, he took a meandering path through the gardens to avoid Lady Redvers and her daughter on the main path. Perhaps he should leave. He'd made his donation for the fundraising. He wasn't interested in anything else unless he could talk to Angeline, and not because of his doubts about her mother.

Right then, Angeline swept into view when he got closer to the edge of the archery field. Dressed in a lovely bottle-green dress, she stood out like a crown jewel. He smiled for no reason other than he was looking at her. An unusual flutter started in his chest.

She tested the bows set on the rails at the edge of the field. Other gentlemen were already practising shooting arrows at the hay targets for the upcoming elimination rounds.

"Careful with that arrow, miss," a man said.

"The lady had to pull some strings to be here," another one said, laughing.

More mutters and loud jokes came from a few men. She ignored them though.

Her focused expression caused her delicate eyebrows to draw together. The sunlight glinted off her raven hair; it was so deeply black that it shone with blue hues. He changed his mind about leaving. Thoroughly. With her fiery temperament and determination, she was likely a great archer, and he looked forward to seeing her shoot.

He strode across the field and stopped in front of her. "Angeline. I'm pleased to see you again."

Her frown deepened. "Royston." She dropped the quickest and shallowest curtsy in history. She must have beaten a record in curtsying speed.

"You are going to participate in the archery competition," he said.

"I am. Does that bother you?"

"Not at all. Is something the matter?"

Her frown didn't relax. "No. Everything is fine."

He selected a bow and a set of arrows. "I'm looking forward to competing with you."

A gentleman walked over to them and picked up a bow. He cast a glance at Angeline. "Miss, you should leave now before you get hurt."

"I was about to say the same thing to you, sir," she said to the man.

Royston chuckled. The gentleman had to lack a sense of humour because he strode away.

A heated glint flashed in her gaze. Perhaps she was more competitive than he thought. Never mind. It was actually better that way. He loved a fierce competitor and a passionate lady.

As the crowd gathered around the field for the competition, he watched Angeline choose her bow. She selected a relatively small one, surely perfect for her height and arm's length. She tried it, acquiring a good shooting pose.

He chose a recurve bow made of walnut wood. "I see I'm going to have a serious competitor."

She flushed. "What makes you think that?"

"You obviously know how to handle a bow."

"I do." Staring at him, she plucked out her gloves.

His gaze dipped to the scar marring her creamy skin. The scar tissue was lighter than the surrounding skin and with bumps like large blisters and indentations. Her stare dared him to make a comment, but if she feared that, he ought to reassure her.

He offered her his hand. "May I?"

Her confident expression wavered, and her breathing quickened when she slid her scarred hand into his.

He lowered his head and kissed her knuckles, which was a big mistake in retrospect. Not because the marred skin repulsed him, but because he didn't want to let her hand go. And because everyone must have seen what he'd done. So much for being more careful.

Every time she was close, his logic deserted him. She drew in a breath that could mean anything from outrage to pleasant surprise.

He released her hand quickly. "Apologies."

She muttered, "Don't worry," so low he barely caught it.

Mrs. Haywood stood under the shade of a tree, seemingly not bothered by the fact an unmarried man had kissed her daughter's hand. He wouldn't consider himself an expert in etiquette. , but as a former footman, he'd been around ladies and gentlemen for enough time to understand what behaviours were considered appropriate.

Mrs. Haywood gave him a graceful nod of her head. He reluctantly returned it.

Doubts about Mrs. Haywood bothered him. He still couldn't believe she could be so callous as to exploit unfortunate women. He needed to see Mrs. Walsh.

Havisham strode to the middle of the field and spread out his arms. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're about to begin the first elimination round. Two archers will take turns with one target, so you'll need to swap places. Thank you everyone for being here. Your participation is much appreciated."

Royston gave Angeline an encouraging smile for no particular reason. She returned it this time, but it was strained.

"May I ask why you're so upset today?" he asked. "I saw North at the rowing race. Did he bother you again? If he did, tell me what I can do to help you."

"It's not Mr. North." She rolled her plump bottom lip between her teeth, which was distracting. "I have to say that?—"

"Let the best archer win!" Havisham flourished a handkerchief and left the field while the referees entered.

"We'll talk later," Angeline said.

The giggles and chatter from the crowd behind Royston made it difficult to focus, but there wasn't a gust of wind and the air was crystal clear. Perfect conditions.

"Good luck, Miss Haywood."

Another sad smile. "Good luck, Lord Wharton."

"After you." He stretched out an arm towards the target.

"Please start. I need to warm up my fingers. They need time."

"Fine." He wished he could help her feel better.

Other competitors lined up in front of the row of targets. He nocked the arrow, took aim, and released the string.

The arrow hit the centre of the target with a hiss renting the air. A round of applause rose from the audience, with Lady Redvers clapping quite loudly.

"Miss." Royston stepped aside to give Angeline room.

Before nocking the arrow, she angled towards her mother who replied with a slight nod. Angeline lifted the bow and set her shoulders in an elegant position.

And that was pretty much the last thing he understood about what she was doing. Her movements became a blur of activity. She shot three arrows, one after the other. Two hit the centre, knocking off his arrow. The third missed the centre by half an inch, but her precision was still impressive.

"I say!" He let out a whistle. "That was— Angeline."

She put her bow back on the rail and stormed off of the field.

"Miss Haywood?" Havisham said. "Why are you leaving? You hit the mark three times."

"Angeline, wait." Royston put his bow back on the rail and chased her.

She was fast even when walking.

"Angeline." He overtook her and stopped in front of her.

She was a storm bottled in a pretty gown, and he had no idea why she was so upset.

"What happened? Why did you leave? You didn't give me the chance to reply to your great shots." He meant it as a joke, but a moment of anxiety made his words sound strained and pretentious.

"I'm sorry…" She gazed everywhere but him. "I didn't mean to leave like that."

"You seem furious. Was it something I did?"

She didn't reply.

"Should I apologise? Well, just in case. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Her angry expression softened. "Oh, no. It wasn't you."

He offered her his arm. "Care for a walk? We can talk if you like."

She slid her hand tentatively over his as if worried he might yell at her.

They promenaded along the path among romping children and stalls of food and flowers.

"You'll think my predicament is silly," she whispered.

"Can't you tell me first what it is?"

She released a long breath. "It's not a secret that I'm a spinster."

He didn't see what her marital status had to do with archery, but anyway.

"My mother and… another lady started bickering about the fact a proper lady shouldn't shoot arrows. The lady claimed I wouldn't be able to find a husband if I showed everyone I used a bow. Mama defended me in her own way, but I got angry and…" She waved a hand. "I'm sorry. Telling the story out loud makes me realise how silly the whole affair is."

He disagreed. "I wouldn't consider myself an expert in how people get married or when a lady should be considered a spinster, but it seems obvious you've had enough of hearing about your chances of finding a husband. The conversation between your mother and the lady was the last straw."

She gave him a genuine, bright smile that lit her whole face. "I shouldn't have stormed out of the field."

"I really liked your energy." He mimicked her shooting an arrow. "Your precision when shooting is commendable. Your speed is astonishing. You made quite a scene and left the other competitors stunned. Well done."

Her smile vanished. "I'm not sure it's a good thing. See, deep down, I think the lady is right. I've never had a suitor, and today's performance won't help."

"Do you want to marry?"

It was astonishing that she didn't have a queue of suitors at her door. Not that he complained. Thinking about Angeline married to someone like North was no small source of anxiety.

A blush the colour of dawn crept over her cheeks. "Yes, but I want to find someone who really loves me, someone I can build a family with. I want children and dogs, too." She chuckled nervously. "I don't want to marry just to marry. It's a simple dream, but it's all mine."

"Simple but powerful. You want to be happy. Who doesn't?"

"And you? Are you looking for a wife?" Her big obsidian eyes became larger, perhaps with interest.

"I don't know."

He stroked the fluffy seed of a dandelion carried by the wind. It soared over Angeline's shoulder and caressed her cheek before drifting off towards the trees.

She laughed at the feather-like seed, and the sound was like that of blown-glass bells. He acted on pure instinct and caressed the gentle curve of her cheek with a finger.

She froze, her eyes growing even larger.

He lowered his hand. "Sorry. It was the blowball." Well, not his finest explanation.

She touched her cheek. "It was nice," she whispered. "I would say… thank you."

"I would say you're welcome."

They burst out laughing, and the tension between them dissolved.

She leant closer to him as they walked onwards through other promenading couples and vendors.

"Why don't you know if you're looking for a wife?" she said.

"Growing up in a brothel showed me the worst of our society. My mother was always miserable. Her jockeys didn't help her feel better. It's a dark past I don't know how to leave behind. A burden I'm not sure I should share. And I'm focusing on my business at the moment."

The whole speech sounded like a pile of rubbish to his own ears although he was scared of sharing his past with a wife. But, a voice inside him argued, the right person would understand, and he wouldn't have anything to fear. No judgement, only love.

"But…" She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. "Forgive me."

"Please, go on. What did you want to say?"

"If your father hadn't left your mother but had married her, her life would have been different. Your life would have been different. Happy families are quite common."

"That's true, but married men are the largest part of a brothel's clientele, which makes me think about how depressing marriages could be. Frustrated wives, bored husbands, everyone lies to everyone. I'm sorry. My words don't make any sense."

"No, I think I understand. You don't believe you can build a happy family." She stared at him solemnly. "You would never lie to your wife, though. You have a kind heart."

A pang of guilt bit him. If he decided to go along with Havisham's plan, he was going to steal from her mother. She couldn't be involved in her mother's scheme, could she? She wasn't a blackmailer. If she was, she was the best actress he'd ever met, and he might be her next victim.

No, he refused to believe that. Her voice never wavered. Her expressions were genuine. She didn't play a part.

"Angeline, my past isn't that of a kind man." He didn't know if she was lying to him or not, but he wanted to be honest about his past. "I did things I'm ashamed of, and the worst thing is that I'm not sure I've changed."

She stopped under the shadow of a tree. "Trust me, I understand the need to survive against all odds. I don't judge you for your past, but I think I know your heart. You saved me from certain death. No one forced you to enter the blazing theatre over and over to save people you didn't know. I don't care what you did in the past, but I trust your present."

That was likely the best compliment he'd ever received.

He got lost in her gaze and the deep pink of her lips. He wondered if they were as velvety as her cheek. Once again, she chased away his dark thoughts with the ease of a zephyr blowing away the clouds. And that was the best gift he'd ever received.

"Besides." She lowered her gaze. "I have my share of sins, too. There are things I did that made me feel ashamed of myself. Well, not exactly things I did, but I helped someone else do those things." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. Now my words don't make any sense."

No, he got a good hunch of what she meant. A part of him wanted to blurt out what Havisham had told him and demand an explanation. Another part advised caution. He needed to know more about Mrs. Haywood's blackmail scheme and to see Mrs. Walsh.

"I didn't have a good example of a happy family either," she said in a low tone. "I don't remember anything about my father. He abandoned my mother when I was a child. But exactly for that reason, I want to build my own happy family. It would be like breaking a curse."

So yes, dire circumstances had driven Mrs. Haywood to crime. People got easily lost in a life of crime.

"I understand. If you need to talk, I'll always be here for you," he said.

"If I could tell you everything, I would." She opened her mouth to say something else, but whatever she meant to say was cut off by her mother walking towards them.

He stepped away from Angeline, aware he'd spent too much time alone with her. But Mrs. Haywood didn't show the angry face of an outraged mama. She smiled when she stopped next to them.

"Darling, are you all right? You ran away." Mrs. Haywood bowed her head at him. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter, my lord."

"My pleasure, madam."

Angeline gazed around. "I needed a moment, Mama."

"It's all right," Mrs. Haywood said. "I'm glad Lord Wharton kept you company. Mr. Wright is giving a piano concert to end the event. Would you care to join us, my lord?"

"I'll be delighted." Anything to spend more time with Angeline.

"It's decided then. Shall we?" Mrs. Haywood's happiness reminded him of that of those mobsters in the rookery after they'd collected protection money.

Definitely, he had to understand what she was doing.