Undone by Lila DiPasqua Page A

her in finery. “I think the attire would suit you beautifully.”
    He saw her visibly stiffen. He noted she didn’t take compliments as other women did. Could she truly not know how lovely she was? Even dressed like that .
    “Gabriella was quite pleased with her dress,” he added.
    “She was?”
    “Indeed. In fact, she seems content to be out of the convent.”
    She shook her head; the candlelight played on her silky locks. “The convent is our home. We’ve been there since we were young girls. We’ve no family, no friends outside of it. We must return.”
    “Surely there’s someone…”
    “No one,” she stated firmly. “You must take us back.”
    “How can you honestly believe that you belong in that mausoleum?”
    She frowned. “It is not a mausoleum. A mausoleum is a tomb that houses the dead.”
    “Exactly. It is as warm and inviting as a tomb. How alive can you feel living there? Do you not want more out of your life than to spend it cloistered?”
    Angelica felt his words strike their intended mark. It stirred her ire. This man was a perfect stranger. He knew nothing of her or her predicament. Who was he to make such comments? “Believe it or not, we serve a purpose there. There are the children that I teach…”
    “There are children you can teach outside of the convent.”
    “Yes, but they are not as needy. I am not interested in tutoring anyone from the upper class.” To her horror, the disdain in her voice rang clear, even to her own ears.
    His chuckle made her flinch. “You’ve had unpleasant experiences with the upper class?” He was smiling, but her face burned, embarrassed and appalled by her own ungracious utterance.
    “Forgive me, I meant no insult. It is just…rather…I apologize.” Perfect, Angelica. He’s a noble. And you’ve just insulted his class—a man whose aid you are trying to secure. Over the years, she’d become a master at controlling her words and masking her emotions. Once again she blamed her headache for her blunder and unprecedented poor manners.
    He chuckled again. “There is no need for embarrassment. There are very few saints among nobles.”
    Relieved he was not insulted, she relaxed a little, until she saw him reach out. He slipped his fingers under her chin. Sensations spiked from his touch. And quivered over every nerve ending in her body.
    She went stock-still, caught in those blue eyes.
    “Angelica, I can make no sense of it. I fear I can’t fathom how it’s right to hide a perfect flower in a place where the sun never shines and no one may gaze upon it to admire its beauty—left to simply wither away. There is far more you’re not telling me than just your name.”
    She pulled away from him, breaking contact, and tried to ignore the tantalizing tingles that remained in the wake of his touch. “Please, do not mock me.” She wasn’t a “perfect flower.” In fact, she was far from perfect. He had no idea the extent.
    His brows shot up. “Mock you? I am not mocking you. You don’t belong locked away in that place. Why are you hiding in that convent? What are you afraid of?”
    She flinched. “I am not hiding, and I am not afraid. The convent is where I should be. Though I thank you for your concern, I don’t believe I need to justify my choices in life to you or anyone else. Sir, I don’t ask you why you choose to spend your days amidst battle and bloodshed.”
    She struck a nerve. She saw it for the barest instant flash in his eyes.
    “Some choices, once made, demands commitment,” he responded tightly. “Would your choice in life be one that would have pleased your parents?”
    The subject of her parents hit close to the heart. Mortified, she felt tears well in her eyes and blinked them back. Tears were a pitiful waste of time. She didn’t cry. Hadn’t cried in years.
    Collecting herself quickly, she countered, “I pray they would understand that I have done my best under the circumstances.” She rose. “I request that you