Page 1

Chapter One

London, 1818

Angel inched open the door, breath held. Her heart pressed against the bodice of her gown. Perhaps, just perhaps, if she stepped into the room quietly, no one would notice the late hour. The door hinge squeaked, and she winced.

Blast.

Easing one slippered foot through the tiny entrance she’d created, she crept through the gap into her brother’s office. The fair heads of her siblings remained focused on the lawyer who sat facing Angel. The slender man, his gray hair pasted over a balding and splotchy scalp, did not look up.

She let loose a breath and immediately regretted it as the sound seemed to fill the quiet room. Her oldest brother, the Marquis of Eastbrook, gave her the briefest of glances. A lone brow arched. Angel felt her very soul shrivel. Theo was infamous for his stony glares, and she had been on the receiving end of them one too many times.

A smile stretched across her lips. She took a few sideways steps and slipped into the chair next to her mother. The gilded chair gave a little creak when she relaxed into it, and she grimaced. Angel kept her smile in place then glanced at her siblings. Even Seth had a stern expression fixed to his face.

Blast.

She released the smile and pressed her lips into a stern line of aloofness. Lord, the corners of her lips itched to curve already,and her brows felt weighted and unnatural. It was not that she was not deeply sorry their grandfather had passed—the man had doted on them all and had been one of the funniest, sweetest men she had ever known—but there was only so long one could grieve. And frankly, grieving was a messy business, and she did not much fancy partaking in it. Far better to thrust one’s chin up and get on with things in her opinion. She was certain that was the way Grandpapa would have wanted it.

“You are late,” her mother whispered while the lawyer shuffled a few papers.

“Well, you see…there was a problem with my hair. And then I saw Miss Newhurst as I was about to leave, and naturally I could not be rude.Andthere was trouble with my carriage…” She clamped her mouth shut when her mother arched an eyebrow.

Angel peered at the graying brow. So that was where her brother had learned it. Why had she not spotted that before? Perhaps because their Mama was a soft sort of character and rarely scolded any of them, especially not Angel, the youngest of them all.

Minerva at least spared her a brief smile before turning her attention back to the lawyer. Her sister wore her mourning wear with more confidence than she had ever worn a fine gown of lace and silk. The gray gown was formless and frightful, but Angel had never seen her older sister look more comfortable. Minerva was so shy and retiring that she probably adored how it failed to draw a single jot of attention.

Angel fingered her own gray gown. It would not be long before she could return to wearing bright colors and fine fabrics. She could hardly wait. Gray did not go well with her pale complexion and brought out the darkness under her eyes. The rest of her siblings and even her mother did much better in dark colors than her thanks to their fair hair and alabaster skin.Angel’s own mahogany brown hair looked its best when coiled artfully over a sheath of vibrant silk.

The lawyer cleared his throat, and Angel lifted her gaze. A thin sheen of sweat covered the man’s forehead, and he licked his lips, making Angel frown. Mr. Barton had worked for the family for as long as she could recall and had no reason to be nervous. Her brother might be one of the more powerful men in the country and had a countenance that could frighten many a man, but she could not fathom why Mr. Barton appeared so nervous.

“Well, now that we are all here, shall we begin?” he asked, looking to Theo.

Theo gave a stiff nod. “If you please.”

The lawyer tweaked his cravat and pushed spindly glasses back up his nose. “As you are aware, your grandfather had no sons and there are no male relatives to inherit.”

Angel looked away from the lawyer’s sweaty features. Their grandfather had been a baron of excellent means thanks to some fine investments. Why that meant all of them needed to gather, she did not know. With no male heirs, it was assumed most of the wealth would pass to their mother—his only daughter—and maybe Theo as the oldest grandchild. Goodness knows, Angel would far rather be joining Miss Newhurst at Hyde Park and enjoying the fine weather while trying to spot the Duke of Norwick, who was known to drive his curricle through the park on warm days like today. Though she was not certain she wanted him seeing her in such grim clothes. He would never fall at her feet in this unattractive sack of a dress.

Fixing her attention back onto Mr. Barton, she pressed herself to listen. Did the man have to have such a droning voice? It was horribly difficult to concentrate on his words when he spoke in that monotonous tone.

“My daughter will inherit a sum of one thousand a year for the rest of her natural life and my beloved family home—Holbury Hall.” Mr. Barton glanced up, presumably to look for her mother’s reaction, but she remained a mask of dignity even though Angel knew her mother would be glad that the home where they had all enjoyed such wonderful childhood memories was hers.

Mr. Barton licked his lips and drew out a handkerchief to dab his forehead. “And finally, I, George Lockett, decree that my grandchildren, herein named, will inherit the rest of my fortune in its entirety, so long as they fulfill the following terms.”

Angel drew her attention from the pretty gilding that ran along the edge of the room and shared a look with Seth, who made a face and gave a shrug. None of them had anticipated inheriting anything from Grandpapa, but the Templetons could certainly do with the funds. After their brother had been swindled by his late-wife, they all had vowed to take as little as possible from him, but it was not easy to live on little as Angel had discovered.

“Each person must complete their task to my lawyer’s satisfaction or their share of the inheritance shall be forfeit,” Mr. Barton continued.

The man glanced around the room. Angel’s siblings remained still, brows creased. Minerva pursed her lips and opened her mouth before shutting it again. Theo tugged his jacket straight. Seth leaned in then shifted back in his chair.

Angel huffed. It would always be up to her to speak up for them all, which was ridiculous. She was the youngest for goodness sakes, but they were all too held up by the idea of propriety—even Seth, who prided himself on being quite the rake.

She held up a finger. “Mr. Barton, if I may, what on earth do you mean by ‘task’? And to whom will the money be forfeit?”

The lawyer shifted in his seat and scanned the paper in front of him. “I was just…um…about to get to that.”

“Well…?” Angel pressed.

“Angel,” her mama hissed.