a young lady of fifteen or sixteen years! As it was, he had left all the arrangements for Angelina Hawkins’s schooling to his man Hopkins. Something the elderly man had later happily assured Alexander he had done by placing her in what he believed was a “suitable” school in Brighton.
But suitable for what?
Chapter Three
Angelina stood up from the bed, an apologetic look on her face. “I had thought to surprise you by arriving so unexpectedly, but I see now that I should have remained patient and waited for you to come for me.” She reached up to touch the hardness of his clenched jaw. “Do say you are not cross with me, Alexander.”
A nerve pulsed where her fingers had just touched. “I am not cross with you—”
“You are everything that is good and kind!” She beamed up at him warmly.
Good or kind were not descriptions Alexander—or, indeed, anyone else!—was accustomed to hearing in connection to himself.
That Angelina thought him to be so was most unsettling.
Alexander gritted his teeth. “What I am is most displeased with the—the teachings of Miss Bristow!”
Angelina frowned her dismay. “Did I not kiss you properly, Alexander? Were my caresses not to your liking?”
“Of course they were to my liking,” he snapped impatiently. “That is not at all my point—”
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