Easter Mass…
Angel sat next to Geoffrey the next morning, listening to Father Michael as he led them in worship. Geoffrey’s arm was close about her shoulders as if he intended to protect her at all costs. She was glad they were seated near the back of the church; it gave her an opportunity to observe the other parishioners.
Everyone was friendly enough as Geoffrey introduced her. When she met Merriweather and Francis Adams she liked them instantly. The couple were now seated two rows in front of them. Francis glanced down at his wife often, smiling, and when she looked up at him, there was adoration in her eyes.
Suddenly Angel felt Geoffrey’s hand gently stroke her shoulder, and looked up. His eyes gave her a silent rebuke, and she turned her gaze penitently back to Father Michael.
As it finished, however, Geoffrey led her down to meet the Priest.
“Father Michael, I wish to introduce you to my lovely wife, Angel Wellington. Angel, meet Father Michael.”
“Ah, Lady Wellington,” Father Michael bowed. “Your husband has already spoken with me regarding your vow celebration. I shall be delighted. I’m just waiting on a date to be set.”
“Thank you, Father,” she smiled.
“We shall let you know quite soon,” Geoffrey smiled. “Good day, Father.”
“Good day, my son.”
A moment later, Merriweather and Francis approached.
“Please come for tea this afternoon? Two o’clock?” Merriweather seized Angel’s arm affectionately. “We shall enjoy having a chat—just for girls.”
Geoffrey glanced down at Angelica. “My love?”
“I’d like it very much. Thank you.”
Francis nodded toward her. “Beware Angel. My wife is a little impetuous.” But Merriweather only grinned as Francis led her away, saying, “Two o’clock.”
“Two o’clock,” Geoffrey nodded.
At one-thirty, he was putting Angelica into the coach bound for the Adams house.
“Are you quite sure that you feel well enough to go, Angelica?”
“I’m certain. Please don’t worry, sir.”
“I’m always concerned for your welfare. And I’ll be watching you. If I detect you are unwell, I’ll put you in the coach straight for home.”
Angelica turned away, fighting the temptation to swear. She shook her head, instead. “I shall be fine.” But it came out more defiantly and abruptly than she intended, and when she looked up at him a moment later, he was watching her, an eyebrow raised in warning. She looked back down. “Sorry, sir.”
He leaned down into her ear. “Be mindful of your defiance, young lady.”
She met his eyes, penitence in her own.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, swallowing hard. She leaned against him submissively and remained quiet, until they had pulled up into the circle drive leading to the Adams house.
He kissed her temple, and sat her down beside him, until he stepped out of the coach and reached for her.
“Come, my love. They are waiting.”
* * *
Merriweather Adams was excited. As soon as Wendell, the butler showed them inside, she threw her arms about Angel.
“Welcome, Angel! I have been longing to meet you. Francis said that Geoffrey has been describing you to him.”
“Thank you, Merriweather. I hope it was good.”
“Oh, but please don’t call me Merriweather. It’s Merrie to my friends—and I consider you my friend! Francis saw Geoffrey the day before you were to arrive, and made him promise to introduce us as soon as possible. Do come in! Liddy is making tea and crumpets. Geoffrey, Francis is on his way down.” She guided them into the Great room as her husband entered from the stairs. But she continued her bubbly chatter as they took moved into the great room.
Angel studied Francis as he stood next to her husband. Almost as tall as Geoffrey and quite muscular, he had lighter hair and high cheekbones. Merrie was over a foot shorter than her husband; next to him she looked like a delicate little flower. Her large sky-blue eyes flashed with joy, and her long dark curls bounced as she talked.
“Thank you, Liddy. I’ll pour.” Merrie smiled as Liddy entered with the tea tray and set it down on the mahogany table in front of them. Merrie, graciously and without hesitation poured, appearing quite at home as the mistress of the house.
Angel wished for Merrie’s confidence. She was struggling to keep her own hands from trembling as she took the cup and saucer to hold.
As soon as they had finished, however, Francis turned to her.
“Geoffrey has told me you play the pianoforte beautifully. We shall not let you leave until we hear you.” His eyes were twinkling.
Angel’s eyes widened. “Oh, but...” She instantly fought the urge to protest, but Geoffrey reached for her hand. When she looked up she saw encouragement there.
“Francis is teasing you, my love. But it would please me if you’d play. Perhaps play the one you played for us in the drawing room at home? It was beautiful.” He was smiling, and she knew for certain, that he had suggested it because it was short, and realized she was nervous.
She managed a smile and rose. “Thank you, sir.” Slowly, Geoffrey led her over to the Grand Piano by the window, and sat next to her on the bench.
“Feel free to close your eyes, my love,” he said softly. “I’ll be right beside you.”
Knowing he was there, she relaxed, feeling his warmth next to her. She closed her eyes and began.
* * *
Merrie clapped with glee as soon as the piece was over. “That was beautiful, Angel. I’ve never heard that piece before.”
“Very few of us have.” Geoffrey took Angel’s hand and led her back toward them. “Angel composes many of her own melodies.”
Even Francis seemed impressed. Merrie stood to her feet, reaching out her hand. “It was truly lovely. Now, gentlemen, I am kidnapping my lovely friend to the Ladies’ Parlor, so you gentlemen can sit and discuss the world’s problems without offending our sensitivities.” She grinned at her husband as he raised a hand and pointed a finger at her with mock severity. Merrie returned it with a delightful giggle and led Angel from the room.
She left the door open, but said in a low voice, “I thought you might like to get away from the powerful presence of our husbands for a little while. Tell me how you met Geoffrey. His presence is so dominant; every bit as much as Francis.”
Angel, unwilling to share all of her story, said only, “My uncle introduced me to him. He knew Geoffrey’s father, and he brought Geoffrey to tea one day. I stuttered the whole time he was there—something I had not done since I was a child.”
“Oh,” Merrie put a hand to her mouth.
“I know. I was horribly embarrassed. And my uncle insisted I play the piano for him as well. At least my Housekeeper carried the tea in.” Her eyes sparkled, “When I tried to serve it, my hands trembled so, I had dreadful visions of dropping the whole thing in Geoffrey’s lap.” They were both giggling now.
“Well,” Merrie said, “Francis shouldn’t have pressured you to play the pianoforte on your first visit. I shall have to scold him for that.” Her vivid blue eyes sparkled, and dimples were present in her cheeks.
“How did you meet Francis?” Angel asked, eager to guide the conversation away from herself.
“Oh, it was embarrassing,” Merrie lowered her voice further. “I had fallen in love with him when I was a young girl and he rescued my puppy. But then he had the nerve to scold me! After that, I never wished to speak to him again. But when I came home from school last fall, there was a ball. It was my very first—and here, of all places. Francis was dancing with me, and brought up scolding me all those years ago. I was so mortified I backed away from him, right into one of the servants carrying a large tray of goblets filled with champagne. It went everywhere! I ran out of the room and hid in the Ladies’ Room for over an hour.”
“Oh, no,” Angel’s voice was sympathetic.
“Yes,” Merrie’s face grew scarlet as she remembered. “But when I came out, he appeared out of nowhere to rescue me from a former suitor, and I nearly ran into his arms.” She shook her head. “But Francis asked for every dance for the rest of the night. And, of course, the servants avoided me for the rest of the evening, too.”
Angel grinned widely at her. “Oh, Merrie. You do make me feel better,” she giggled. “I have a confession to make. Geoffrey wants to have a ball, and I have ever only danced at one in my whole life. And that was when I was a child.”
“Oh no! Would he agree to teach you?”
“He says he will. I am so thankful for him, Merrie. He’s very good to me.”
“Francis is to me as well. Even when I’m in trouble.” She sighed. “And I seem to be in trouble a lot. But I do love that man.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Six months, and two weeks,” Merrie grinned, “and three days. But who’s counting?” Musical laughter bubbled throughout the room.
“And yet you seem so at home with being Mistress of the house,” Angel said softly. “I don’t think I shall ever get used to it at Pembroke.”
“You will. I felt the same when Francis and I first married. The house was huge, and I was completely convinced that the staff hated me and would poison me at every given opportunity.” She let out a delightful laugh. “When it turned out they liked me, I didn’t believe it. Until one day the Housekeeper, Miss Constance—oh my, Angel, she’s as fierce as Miss Hazel—but she took up for me before Francis. And when she left the room, she turned so he couldn’t see her face and winked at me.”
“Is that truly what happened? I’ll speak to her immediately.” A deep male voice spoke from the doorway.
A gasp came from both Merrie and Angel, but when they turned toward the door to face him, he was grinning. Francis was eyeing his wife with mock censorship. “Behave yourself, my little miscreant; I shall not have you telling stories on me.”
“Miscreant, indeed,” she grinned, moving toward him to look up into his face, “What more handsome and heroic man could I tell stories about than you?”
“Brat.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her mouth.
“Angel,” Geoffrey too, was smiling, “I believe it is time we leave and let these two lovebirds have some time alone. And you, sweetheart, appear in need of a nap. To the coach with you.”
Angel groaned, and Merrie turned to her, grinning.
“You have one of these handsome heroes too, I see.”
“Ah,” Geoffrey grinned, taking Angel’s arm, “but she hasn’t yet learned to think of me as a hero. She still sees me as iron-handed, tyrannical… And overbearing.”
“I, sir?” Angelica giggled.
Geoffrey swatted her bottom playfully on the way to the door, turning back to say, “We thank you, once again. Next time it will be our turn to host.”
“Yes!” Angel ran back to give Merrie a hug before Geoffrey once again corralled her, lifting her off her feet. She looked up into his face as he entered the coach and sat down next to her. “I love Merrie,” she said, looking back at their estate. “She is so full of laughter. Now, Francis is rather intimidating; but perhaps I could get used to him.”
“Francis and I have been friends since we were boys. We used to go exploring in the woods behind Pembroke. Sometimes Charles Ashwirth was with us. We used the empty houses as forts.” He was thoughtful. “Francis and I used to have bets as to which one of us would marry first.”
“So he won?” she said, looking up.
He chuckled. “We stopped betting when we both hit thirty.” Glancing down, he lifted her into his lap and pulled her back against his shoulder. “Now, my love. Relax and close your eyes.”
“Oh, I can certainly do that,” she said softly.
She was asleep long before they reached Pembroke.
* * *
Geoffrey took her hand after tea the next afternoon. “Now that you have finished your lunch, my love, I’m taking you for a surprise.” He began taking her toward the middle of the house. Several rooms later he stopped at the door of the formal ballroom.
Her eyes were wide when they entered the vast room. Sydney, one of the grooms, stood in the corner with his violin in hand.
Excited, Angel turned to her husband. “Geoffrey? You’re teaching me to dance?” She gave off a squeal of delight, nearly knocking him backward when she threw her arms around him.
“I am.” He was laughing softly. “Now. Go and stand on the opposite side facing me, and mirror my steps.” He nodded to Sydney, who began playing, and then to Angelica. “Curtsy… now come forward. Lead with your right foot, my love… now left.”
The afternoon was spent doing just that. Angel was ecstatic as he turned her in his arms and quietly taught her the steps. Feeling his strong arms about her was thrilling. Their steps seemed to fit together well. But she knew when they finished an hour later, that she would need more lessons before dancing in public.
He grinned, waving at Sydney. “I believe that is enough for today, Sydney. We shall do this again day after tomorrow. Thank you.”
“You play so beautifully, Sydney.” Angelica said softly, “You make the instrument sing from its soul.”
Sydney stopped, surprised. “Thank you, my lady,” he said after a moment. With a deep bow, he left the room.
Angelica looked up at Geoffrey. “Does Sydney play with the orchestra at the balls?”
“He does. He’s very modest about his ability. Like you, he has no idea his playing affects others so deeply.”
Abruptly, she stopped and looked up. “What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean, my love, that when you play the pianoforte, your touch reaches deep into my soul. It’s not just that you play so beautifully.” He turned her to face him. “The first day that I came to your house to meet you, and you sat down to play, and closed your eyes…” He looked down deep into hers, “By the time your fingers had finished the first phrase, I was undone. I knew I wanted you desperately.”