Page 5 of The Heiress in Disguise
“I wish you could stay,” Grace said wistfully. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have anyone I can talk to.”
Angelique knew the feeling. But she also knew that if she allowed her friendship with Grace to grow to meaningful, they would both be punished for it. As much as she did like her youngest cousin, it was best for everyone if they kept their distance.
Chapter 2
Antoine Beauchamp-Fitzalans stared out the window of Burgham Manor, his family’s London estate. It felt strange to be back there after so many years. He’d thought he had seen the last of this place when his family had sold it in his childhood so that they could move to France.
But when he had heard that the estate next door, Darlington House, belonging to his family’s old friends the Bourbon-Spencers, had come into the possession of Angelique’s aunt and uncle, he had felt compelled to hurry home and see what was happening. Perhaps, he thought now, looking at Darlington house out his window, he shouldn’t have come.
He couldn’t help wondering whether his return home had been misguided. His informants, friends and associates who had informed him that the Russells were now residing in Darlington House, had also told them that Angelique was no longer with them. According to the people Antoine was in contact with, no one had seen or heard from her in years.
It troubled Antoine. What could have happened to her? He had assumed that her aunt and uncle would go on caring for her until she grew up, with her parents were gone. If that wasn’t what was happening, whodidhave care of her, and how would he ever find her again? It seemed unlikely that he could.
So he wasn’t sure why he had come here. It wasn’t as if he expected to find Angelique in Darlington house. But maybe he would find someone who knew how to contact her. He felt so much guilt about the fact that he had let time and distance come between them. He’d promised her that he would always be there for her, and he hadn’t been. Now who knew whether they would ever find one another again.
He would have to try to get into Darlington House. The trouble was that no one would ever let him in if they knew who he was. The Russells wouldn’t like to admit that they no longer had their niece with them, and they certainly wouldn’t reveal where she had gone.
Not to Antoine. They’d know who he was. It was clear by the fact that his mother’s letters to the family had gone unanswered for years that they intended to cut off contact. No one would welcome Antoine’s presence in that house.
Unless, of course, he managed to disguise his identity.
He changed into the drabbest clothes he owned, knowing that he would be able to pass for a servant. He would borrow the identity of his own stable hand, Philip, he decided. Nobody knew who Philip was. And as for Antoine, he would be known by his name, certainly, but not by his appearance. No one in that family had laid eyes on him in over a decade. They wouldn’t recognize him now.
He went outside and found his horse. He hesitated before setting his plan into action. Was this really a good idea? It didn’t seem altogether unlikely that something might go wrong, and that worried him.
But he had come all this way. He couldn’t pass up the chance to find out what had happened to Angelique now that he was there. He had to know.
He untied his horse, and set it loose. For a moment it stood still, looking at him, as if to question what he thought he was doing.
“I’m really not sure,” Antoine answered the unspoken question under his breath. He gave the horse a swat on its hindquarters, signaling it to run.
The horse took the signal and broke into a trot, then a canter, toward Darlington house.
There was no going back now. The plan was in action. Antoine took off running after his horse, calling after it to come back, making certain not to run so fast that he stood a chance of overtaking it. He didn’t really want to catch the horse. Not yet.
They crossed onto the property of Darlington House. Antoine’s horse ran toward the stables, perhaps smelling the other horses. Antoine continued his pursuit.
The stable door opened, and a young servant girl stepped out.
Antoine stopped short. There was something familiar about her face—he rather thought she looked like the Marchioness of Somerset, Angelique’s mother. For a moment he actually believed itwasLady Somerset, even though he knew she was dead—but it couldn’t be her, of course. And as he drew closer, he saw that this girl was younger than he had ever known Lady Somerset to be.
Someone else, then. And yet the resemblance was very strange. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
The girl had caught hold of Antoine’s horse and was stroking its neck, doing her best to soothe it. Antoine was impressed. He knew that he had a difficult horse, one most experienced stable hands found unmanageable, and yet this girl seemed to have a way with animals.
“Good afternoon,” he said by way of greeting.
“Good afternoon,” the girl said curiously, looking him up and down. “Are you one of the stable hands here?”
“Not here,” Antoine said. “I work next door.” That was an odd thing to say. If she worked here, shouldn’t she be aware of whoelse did? Shouldn’t she know that he wasn’t part of the staff here?
“At Burgham Manor,” the girl said knowingly.
“You know the place?”
“Oh, not well,” she said, blushing. “It’s been pointed out to me, that’s all.”
“You look very familiar.”
