What a Reckless Rogue Needs by Vicky Dreiling

love,” the marchioness said. “I wish it for Angeline. She deserves the ultimate happiness.”
    “I agree, but I would fail my daughter if I did not council practicality,” the duchess said. “If she is fortunate, there will be affection, but you know my concerns.”
    “All will work out. I am sure of it.”
    “I received a letter from my son today,” the duchess said.
    “I hope Lady Landale is well.”
    “My son’s wife is nearing her confinement. I shall have a grandchild soon.”
    The marchioness leaned forward. “Why are you not rejoicing?”
    “I dread telling Angeline when the baby is born.”
    “She will be happy for her brother and sister-in-law,” the marchioness said.
    “Yes, she will express outward happiness for her brother and his wife, but it is only natural to wish for one’s own fulfillment. In her situation, she may find the news a reminder of her recent troubles and her lack of a husband.”
    “I cannot credit it,” the marchioness said. “She is better off without that deceiver.”
    “I agree, but we want our daughters to find happiness in marriage.”
    “And our sons,” the marchioness said, “though Colin is not my natural son. I wish that our relationship was not so…guarded.”
    “Nonsense, you did an admirable job, but he was eight years old when you married Chadwick. He spent much of his time at school, and you were ill for a long time after losing an infant. You had to regain your strength. Colin’s life was no different than that of any other boy at Eton.”
    Margaret clasped her friend’s hand. “You came to nurse and comfort me.”
    “You were rewarded with two lovely, spirited girls.”
    “I am blessed,” the marchioness said. “I only wish those same blessings for all of our children.” She sighed. “I do wish Colin and Angeline would form an attachment.”
    “It has been my dearest wish all these years,” the duchess said. “I suppose we were too obvious today.”
    Margaret laughed. “I fear so.”
    “It is so frustrating,” the duchess said. “It would be a brilliant match.”
    “I would council leaving the matter to Providence,” the marchioness said, “but I suspect Chadwick has taken matters into his own hands.”
    “What do you mean?” the duchess said.
    “I saw Colin storm out of the house earlier, and when I confronted my husband, he said that he had everything under control. I’m sure he made a muddle of things. Chadwick is as stubborn as a mule, but I shall speak to him. If he presses too hard, I fear Colin will leave and never return.”
    “Surely he would not do such a thing,” the duchess said.
    “If Chadwick goes too far, I fear a permanent break. I know that Colin has sowed wild oats, but I will never forgive myself if I do not intervene. I feel a responsibility.”
    “Be that as it may,” the duchess said, “there is only so much you can do.”
    “I have more than a little influence on Chadwick,” she said. “He will listen to me.”
    “You are so amiable, Margaret,” the duchess said, “but you do have a backbone.”
    “No, I have an interest in seeing my family happy.”

Chapter Three
    A ngeline strode with great purpose through the woods. Once away from the confines of the drawing room, her lungs expanded, allowing her to really breathe. It was a ridiculous notion, but she felt liberated nevertheless.
    The birch branches stretched out shadowy elongated limbs. With each gust of wind, the branches shed spectacular copper and gold leaves. She shaded her bonnet rim and hurried her step when she saw the folly up ahead. Usually follies were nothing more than ornamental curiosities, but this one formed a Palladian bridge across the stream. After reaching it, she leaned against the rail, opened her sketchbook where she’d placed her pencil, and started drawing. The angle, however, wasn’t quite right. She decided to walk through the covered part and try from the other side of the bridge.
    Heavy footsteps startled