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“I am certain that is not true.” He glanced around the empty hallway. “Where is the guard dog?”

Angel frowned.

“The nephew. He is usually here nipping at my heels.”

She lifted her chin. No doubt the only reason Reuben had such a dislike of this man was because Mr. Cartwright wanted what Reuben wanted. Goodness, they were both despicable. She almost preferred Mr. Cartwright at this point. At least his deviancy was obvious.

“I do not know.”

Mr. Cartwright’s smile expanded. “Did he find you too intimidating? Could he not handle a beauty such as yourself?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do such words ever work on women? Because, Mr. Cartwright, I must tell you, they do not work on me.”

“Give them time.”

The drawing room door opened, and Mrs. Stone thrust her head out. “I thought I heard you, Mr. Cartwright. Will you not join me for a quick repast? I am taking a break from the warmth of the day.”

“Have you been painting again, Mrs. Stone?” Mr. Cartwright asked, his face warm and his smile almost genuine-looking.

What a snake he was. Angel would need to think of another way of getting rid of him. She doubted tea on his lap would work again. Perhaps she could faint, and Mrs. Stone would have to fuss over her. She grimaced to herself as Mr. Cartwright settled into his usual chair. No, he would probably relish the opportunity to play some sort of dashing hero, and Mrs. Stone would like him even more.

“I shall fetch some more lemonade,” Angel offered. She had never done so much fetching and carrying in her life, but it would give her a moment away from Mr. Cartwright’s watchful gaze and time to think on how to rid Mrs. Stone of him.

She returned with a pitcher of lemonade and paused outside the door. Apparently today was the day when everyone revealed their secrets behind closed doors. Mr. Cartwrightmuttered something about an investment, and she heard Mrs. Stone reply with her interest. Angel clasped the handle of the jug so tightly that it shook in her hands. This was not good at all. Mrs. Stone was going to hand over some money, to be sure.

“Angel—”

She jolted away from the wall, sloshing a little lemonade on the floor. Her heart gave a painful spasm at the sight of Reuben. She could not let him see her like this or else she might reveal all she knew with the mood she was in. Biting down on her tongue, lest she give him a lashing with it, she thrust the lemonade at him, not even caring that it spilled a little on his shirt.

“Take this to your aunt,” she mumbled before fleeing away from him.

Angel dashed into the gardens and did not stop until she reached where the pristine lawns gave way to wild grass and the shade of trees offered respite from the late summer sun. Sinking down onto the ground, she rested her back against the mighty trunk of one of them and pushed fingers into her hair.

Mr. Cartwright had to go. She tilted her head back and looked up at the leafy branches, spreading their way across the sky. She was no fool. Well, she had not thought she was anyway. When it came to love, perhaps she was. But in other areas, she was not. There had to be some way she could ensure Mr. Cartwright never saw Mrs. Stone again.

Once he was dealt with, she would also have to deal with the issue of Mr. Reuben Hunter. She rubbed at the aching spot in her chest and forced herself to take several deep breaths. He would not be so easy to deal with. Mrs. Stone adored him and…

Angel bit down on her bottom lip. Blast. And Angel had thought she was in love with him.

She swiped angrily at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Now was not the time for tears but action. If she could send Mr. Cartwright away, that would be one less pressing issueto handle. But how would she do it? What would appeal to him? Women? Money? Prestige.

She allowed herself a small, slightly pathetic smile. She had an idea, but it would take some money—all she had left most likely. However, it would be worth it.

Chapter Twelve

Reuben watched his belongings being loaded onto the carriage from the drawing room window. The drawing room where he’d assumed Angel might be. He’d tried the library too, and the gardens first thing. Somehow—and for some reason—he had not managed to steal a single second with her since deciding it was time to leave. Perhaps she thought him a cad, kissing her then fleeing. But, damn it, if she had a problem with him, surely she would say something? Angel was hardly one to hold her tongue after all.

He’d have to do another search of the house. She and his aunt had to be somewhere, but for some reason, he kept missing them.

Spotting the butler in the hallway, Reuben followed after him. “Have you seen my aunt and Lady Angel, by any chance, Smith?”

“Out on the lawns, sir. Partaking in a spot of archery.” The butler lifted an eyebrow. “Be careful if you step outside, sir. A few arrows have found their way into places they should not.”

Reuben shook his head. He could just imagine Aunt Jean shooting off arrows all over the place, and Angel likely encouraging her. Despite the danger, the image summoned a smile to his face. Suffice to say, Angel had brought more smiles and laughter to this house than he thought possible. Hell, even he was smiling at something that would have had him frowning deeply indeed not long ago.

Keeping a wary eye for stray arrows, he made his way around the house to the long stretch of lawns behind it. His aunt and Angel were near the far end, shooting toward the trees and wild grass that circled the house. Clouds filled the sky, some edged with gray, so both women wore pelisses—his aunt in a dark purple, and Angel in a vibrant pink. His gut clenched at the sight of her even though she was barely more than a speck on the horizon. Today he would declare his intentions. He was done waiting for a second to get her alone. If he had been unable to pin her down over the past two days, he would have to demand a moment with her.

He marched toward the women with a determined stride, jaw clenched. His gut knotted so tight he wasn’t sure it would ever untangle.