promise to Lydia.
‘Your grandparents on your mother’s side were killed in a carriage accident some years ago,’ he told her in a gentle, straightforward voice, praying she would never discover the truth.
‘My grandparents never wrote to her, and she would never speak of them. Do you know why?’
He nodded, silently cursing Jonathan Adams, Lydia’s father. Anne, his wife and Henry’s own aunt, had been a gentle woman, who had lived in awe of her husband, and had been unable to stand against him when he had coldly cut Lydia out of their lives.
‘When your mother married your father and left England, Angelina, it was against your grandfather’s wishes. He was a hard, unforgiving man and meant to punish her for disobeying him. He cut off all connection with her—and insisted that your grandmother did the same. You mother never forgave them.’
How true this was, Henry thought sadly. Lydia’s lack of forgiveness was no temporary state of affairs. With great intensity she had insisted that there must be no connection between Angelina and her grandmother. Not wishing to distress her further, Henry had promised he would abide by her wishes.
Angelina sat on the top step of the veranda with her back propped against a wooden rail. ‘Won’t someone like me be a burden to you in England—a financial one?’
Henry was mildly amused at her words so innocently and frankly spoken. ‘I can well afford it. It will be a pleasure. And you are far too lovely and independent to be a burden. You will learn to be a fine lady,’ he told her, wanting to tell her not to change, that she was just perfect the way she was. But, if she was to live in the social world he inhabited, regretfully it was necessary.
‘How should I address you? For me to call you “my Lord” every time I speak to you is too formal and quite ridiculous.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Uncle Henry will be appropriate.’
She considered this for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes. Uncle Henry it is then.’
Angelina’s new uncle had a warmth of manner that made her feel as if she had known him a long time. His physical impression might be one of age, yet his twinkling eyes and willing smile were the epitome of eternal youth. Over the distance they smiled at each other, comfortable together, sharing a moment of accord on the veranda that seemed to bind them together.
‘It is obvious to me that your education seems to have been taken care of, so we’ll have no trouble in that quarter,’ Henry remarked at length. ‘Your pronunciation of the English language is excellent.’
‘Thank you. I am also conversant in French, Latin and some Greek, too,’ Angelina confessed proudly. ‘Despite the everyday hardships of living in Ohio, my mother saw to that.’
Henry’s admiration for her was growing all the time.
‘Do you have a wife?’ Angelina asked suddenly, with the natural curiosity of a child.
‘No,’ he answered, startled by the abruptness of her question, but not offended by it. ‘I never found a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with—except, perhaps, one,’ he said softly, his eyes clouding with memory, wondering how Angelina would feel if she knew that her beloved father had been accepted by her mother as a hasty second best.
‘But isn’t it the custom for gentlemen of your standing to marry to beget an heir?’
‘I had no intention of adhering to custom by chaining myself to any woman I might only have a passing fancy for, in order to beget an heir. Besides, I have a perfectly acceptable heir in my nephew, Alex—my brother’s son.’
Angelina’s eyes became alert. ‘Alex?’
‘Alexander Henry Frederick Montgomery, the seventh Earl of Arlington and Lord Montgomery—which are just two of his titles. His friends call him Alex.’
Angelina’s eyes widened in awe. ‘Gracious me! What an awesome responsibility it must be to have so many names. Doesn’t he feel weighted down by so many titles?’
‘Not in the least. He was born to them and learned to accept and ignore them from an early age. One day he will become the sixth Duke of Mowbray—following my demise, you understand. His title as the seventh Earl of Arlington he inherited from his mother’s family. The sixth earl died several years ago, and as the estate is unentailed he left it directly to Alex—with provision made for his mother, who was an only child. He made representations to the King that Alex be given the title of seventh Earl on his demise. You’ll meet him when we get to England. He is the only son of my brother, who died when Alex was fifteen. Alex is now twenty-eight—and I swear that young man is the reason for my hair turning white,’ he chuckled softly.
‘Is he married?’
‘Despite being one of the most eligible bachelors in England, I’ve all but despaired of ever seeing him suitably married.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with him?’
‘Nothing. He hasn’t got two heads or anything like that.’ Henry chuckled aloud. ‘It is his unequivocal wish to remain a bachelor and childless. I cannot hide the fact that he’s an exacting man, who insists on the highest standards from all those he employs. However, he can be quite charming, when it suits him.’
‘What does he do?’ Angelina asked, already in awe of Alex Montgomery.
‘Alex handles all my business and financial affairs—as well as his own. He has a brilliant mind and a head for figures that shames me. He drives himself hard, demanding too much of himself—and others. Ever since he took over he’s increased all my holdings considerably. Now I’m in my dotage I’m perfectly content to sit back and let him handle everything. Oh, he consults me now and then, but business is not my forte.’
‘And do you trust him?’
‘Implicitly. Besides, my dear…’he chuckled softly, his grey eyes twinkling merrily ‘…if I didn’t, I wouldn’t dare tell him so.’
Angelina frowned. He sounds quite formidable. He’s bound to resent me. How do you think he’ll react?’
Henry grinned. ‘He’ll be outraged when he finds out I have made myself your guardian—but he’ll soon get used to having you around. Besides, there’s not a lot he can do about it.’ He relaxed, regarding her warmly. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll soon get used to Alex.’
Just two days after Henry Montgomery had come to Boston, Lydia slipped quietly away in her sleep.
Angelina’s heart was heavy with sadness, but she didn’t give in to her grief. Her mother had suffered greatly, and now she was at peace. Henry gave no outward sign to Angelina of his own private emotions, but his face was lined, his eyes dull with a deep sorrow.
It was difficult for Will to stand on the bustling quayside and watch Angelina board the ship. Her leaving would leave a huge hole in his heart.
Feeling quite forlorn, a hard lump of tears formed in Angelina’s throat as she looked into Will’s rheumy eyes. He looked lost and torn and old. Although it broke her heart to do so, she had decided to leave Mr Boone behind, in the hope that he
