must have decided to sneak away to visit his friend. She suspected the prohibition by the duke was only strengthening the bond between the boy and the viscount.
“I could speak to—”
If possible, the tutor’s face grew even more pallid. “I implore you to refrain from bringing this to His Grace’s attention. The duke has made it clear from my arrival at the Court that he has no taste for his neighbor. I believe that is why he has forbidden the children from calling there.”
Angela went to the room’s sole window. Beneath the heavy clouds and across the meadows dotted by puffs of sheep, she could see the roof that belonged to Harrington Grange. “Master Thomas heeds little that I say,” she said without turning. “If I ask him again to obey his guardian, I doubt he will listen any better than he has in the past.”
“You know the viscount, don’t you?”
“I have spoken to him two or three times.” She was glad her back was to the tutor, for she did not trust her face. It might betray how her heart beat faster at the very recollection of those brief conversations.
“Would you consider going to him and asking him to end his relationship with Master Thomas?”
Angela faced Mr. Weare. “I already have asked that.”
“Oh.” His mouth worked as if he were about to weep.
“If you wish, I will speak with him again. I fear it will do no more good than it did before.” She bit her lower lip. Why had she offered to do that? She had enough to do with preparing Miss Sutton for her Season.
With a sigh, he bent to sit on a bench. “Thank you, Miss Needham. I would not ask, save that I am desperate for a solution. If Lord Harrington fails to heed you this time, I suspect I shall have no choice but to go to His Grace.” Raising his gaze to meet hers, he said, “I fear that will cause even more trouble.”
Angela nodded. “I understand.”
“May I ask one more favor of you?”
“Of course.”
“Please, as soon as you return, let me know how your call goes with him this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?”
He came to his feet. “I thought you understood the urgency, Miss Needham. Master Thomas may be on his way to the viscount’s house even as we speak.”
As she emerged from Oslington Court into the misty afternoon, Angela wondered if she should have suggested waiting a bit before giving chase. Not wanting to alert His Grace to her destination, she had refrained from calling for a carriage. By the time she was halfway across the field to Harrington Grange, the mist had congealed into rain. She should return to the comfort of her rooms and spend the afternoon in pleasant conversation with Miss Sutton. Her duties were only, as Master Thomas had stated in anger, teaching the young woman how to make an entrance into the Polite World.
She paused by the low gate in the stone wall which was almost concealed by rose vines that twisted along and over it. Harrington Grange was not the cottage she had expected from seeing its thatched roof through the trees. It was the breadth of a half-dozen town houses in London, but only three stories high. Dozens of windows glowed with lamps that were fighting back the thickening storm. Outbuildings were gray lumps through the rain.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the latch on the gate. Bother! She could not call upon Lord Harrington when she was trembling like a frightened child or a young miss breaking the rules of Society. Yes, she was calling without a chaperon, but she was here on the duke’s behalf. If Master Thomas was here against his guardian’s wishes, then Lord Harrington must be set to rights about aiding the child in disobeying.
Closing the gate behind her, Angela grimaced as she stepped into a puddle. Her slipper soaked through instantly. She swallowed the curse that ricocheted through her mouth. How she would enjoy putting this all on Lord Harrington’s head!
She walked along the path between rows of flowering shrubs. Why had the viscount
“I could speak to—”
If possible, the tutor’s face grew even more pallid. “I implore you to refrain from bringing this to His Grace’s attention. The duke has made it clear from my arrival at the Court that he has no taste for his neighbor. I believe that is why he has forbidden the children from calling there.”
Angela went to the room’s sole window. Beneath the heavy clouds and across the meadows dotted by puffs of sheep, she could see the roof that belonged to Harrington Grange. “Master Thomas heeds little that I say,” she said without turning. “If I ask him again to obey his guardian, I doubt he will listen any better than he has in the past.”
“You know the viscount, don’t you?”
“I have spoken to him two or three times.” She was glad her back was to the tutor, for she did not trust her face. It might betray how her heart beat faster at the very recollection of those brief conversations.
“Would you consider going to him and asking him to end his relationship with Master Thomas?”
Angela faced Mr. Weare. “I already have asked that.”
“Oh.” His mouth worked as if he were about to weep.
“If you wish, I will speak with him again. I fear it will do no more good than it did before.” She bit her lower lip. Why had she offered to do that? She had enough to do with preparing Miss Sutton for her Season.
With a sigh, he bent to sit on a bench. “Thank you, Miss Needham. I would not ask, save that I am desperate for a solution. If Lord Harrington fails to heed you this time, I suspect I shall have no choice but to go to His Grace.” Raising his gaze to meet hers, he said, “I fear that will cause even more trouble.”
Angela nodded. “I understand.”
“May I ask one more favor of you?”
“Of course.”
“Please, as soon as you return, let me know how your call goes with him this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?”
He came to his feet. “I thought you understood the urgency, Miss Needham. Master Thomas may be on his way to the viscount’s house even as we speak.”
As she emerged from Oslington Court into the misty afternoon, Angela wondered if she should have suggested waiting a bit before giving chase. Not wanting to alert His Grace to her destination, she had refrained from calling for a carriage. By the time she was halfway across the field to Harrington Grange, the mist had congealed into rain. She should return to the comfort of her rooms and spend the afternoon in pleasant conversation with Miss Sutton. Her duties were only, as Master Thomas had stated in anger, teaching the young woman how to make an entrance into the Polite World.
She paused by the low gate in the stone wall which was almost concealed by rose vines that twisted along and over it. Harrington Grange was not the cottage she had expected from seeing its thatched roof through the trees. It was the breadth of a half-dozen town houses in London, but only three stories high. Dozens of windows glowed with lamps that were fighting back the thickening storm. Outbuildings were gray lumps through the rain.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the latch on the gate. Bother! She could not call upon Lord Harrington when she was trembling like a frightened child or a young miss breaking the rules of Society. Yes, she was calling without a chaperon, but she was here on the duke’s behalf. If Master Thomas was here against his guardian’s wishes, then Lord Harrington must be set to rights about aiding the child in disobeying.
Closing the gate behind her, Angela grimaced as she stepped into a puddle. Her slipper soaked through instantly. She swallowed the curse that ricocheted through her mouth. How she would enjoy putting this all on Lord Harrington’s head!
She walked along the path between rows of flowering shrubs. Why had the viscount
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