Broken Angel Read online

  Forcing the smile to return, Rachel acquiesced. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

  Mr. Parson gestured to a collection of hand-crafted wooden chairs fashioned of young trees and branches. “Set yourself down, Miss. I’ll get the lemonade.” Then he entered the house again, closing the wooden door while shouting “Toddy! Get yourself to the porch and make conversation while I get the lemonade!”

  As she lowered herself into the chair, Rachel’s expression relaxed into a genuine smile. His gruffness had always been his most endearing quality, for both she and Maggie had always suspected it had served to hide the tender heart within. That he had adopted Todd acted as yet another proof to the older gentleman’s compassion for those less fortunate then himself.

  The door opened to reveal handsome Todd Richards, his caramel-colored curls still falling into his eyes and screaming for a hair-cut. He stepped sideways through the doorway. “Quit shouting at me,” he complained in a mid-tenor voice that brought back memories by the score and had Rachel slowly standing to her feet. “I’m not the deaf one—Rachel?” His startling blue eyes blinked back at her before he suddenly grinned and stepped forward to pull her into a tight embrace. “You’re finally home!”

  Her throat burned with restrained tears as recollections of fun and a once-shared love nearly overwhelmed her.

  Then Todd pulled back, still holding her arms as he continued to smile down at her, his handsome face tanned and oh-so-pleasant a memory. “It’s great to see you, Rach.”

  Adjusting her hold on her emotions, she swallowed a lump. “As it’s wonderful to see you,” she returned in a carefully controlled tone. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, fine.” Still grinning, Todd gave her arms a squeeze. “Rachel Samson back from Europe.” Then he motioned to the chair behind her. “Come on, come on. Sit yourself down again.” He dragged a chair across from her and sat, reaching out to gather her hands into his. “So how’ve you found yourself? What was it like? Did you travel much?”

  Rachel allowed a smile, remembering the safety and warmth he had once made her feel. “I’ve been fine. It was exhausting. And no, studies didn’t permit much traveling.”

  “That’s too bad. I know as how you always wanted to be going over there.” Todd gave her hands a couple of gentle pressures while sending her an impish expression she remembered from years past. “What’re you going to be doin’ now? More studying with your pap? Or can you come out and play some?”

  But there were too many duties and too many changes from past to present for her to allow herself the escape or venture to the memories. Especially now that she had to woo a strange man into a proposal; a man that seemed willing in expression, but not in action.

  She pulled her hands from his grasp as she kept her past longing for his company to a distant murmur. “I’ve only just returned, Todd, so it’s quite impossible.”

  Todd chuckled and sat back in the chair to tightly cross his arms as he regarded her. “Boy, Rach. What’s it been? Ten years?”

  “Eight.” Though it might have well been a lifetime.

  Mr. Parson came out, then, with a chipped and cracked china pitcher as well as some blue and white-speckled mugs that had seen better days. He set them on the small table within the circle of chairs and then sat beside Todd. Rachel accepted the presented mug of lemonade.

  “This is little Rach Samson, Pars. Remember?”

  Mr. Parson blinked. “Well, I’ll be–” He smiled. “Rach, you’ve gone and grown a mite or two since I saw you last, haven’t ye? Don’t do much climbing of trees none, I bet.”

  “No,” she admitted, her lips twitching upward. “Not any longer. Riding carriages and attending parties is the extent of my excitement, I’m afraid.”

  “And hasn’t she just blossomed?” Mr. Parson asked while ribbing Todd. “Purtier than a–”

  “Pars,” Todd interrupted, frowning at the older man. “Shut your hole.”

  Rachel hid her amused smirk behind her mug, immediately regretting the leaving of her fan in the carriage. Mr. Parson and Todd, both, had been the quickest way to encourage a laugh, and she remembered well the times….

  Chuckling, Mr. Parson motioned toward Rachel with his mug. “Heard your pa’s got a nice man all picked out for ye.”

  Todd looked over at Mr. Parson, thereby missing Rachel’s emerald eyes flashing in a brief expression of anger. “Really? We know ’im?”

  Mr. Parson, however, watched Rachel’s face a moment before looking over at Todd. Realizing her slip, Rachel lowered her gaze to the mug of lemonade in her clenched hands. “No, I don’t reckon we do. I don’t seem to recall old man Samson dropping a name here or there. Just know he’s a son of a friend of a friend, or something the like.” Mr. Parson motioned to Rachel, drawing her gaze. “Seems to me a gent was seen going to your pap’s just yesterday. Was that him?”

  “No,” Rachel intoned coldly, her chin lifting. “Robert Trent doesn’t hold to my father’s plans.”

  Todd and Mr. Parson exchanged a glance, which Rachel failed to notice.

  “Robert Trent,” Mr. Parson repeated absently. “Seems to me I’ve heard that name before.”

  “Yeah?” Toddy prompted.

  Mr. Parson snapped his fingers, attracting Rachel’s attention and interest. “He’s been over to the orphanage down on the other side of town some. Heard nice things ’bout him from those there kids.”

  “The orphanage? He goes over there?” Todd asked, sending Rachel a sidelong glance. “Where’s he from?”

  “Virginny? New York?” Mr. Parson shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Seems to me they said he’s from somewhere far enough away to take the train.”

  “Well, I’ll be jiggered.” Todd moved his focus back to Rachel, who occasionally sipped her lemonade, and then grinned. “So, Rach, come on and tell us two ranch hands what Paris was like.”

  As in days past, Todd was able to coax her into a confession of details and descriptions of the city and its surrounding areas. Even going so far as to get her to tell him and Mr. Parson of parties, horse races, and similar adventures that she had only watched with disinterest. The confessions and admittances had Rachel wishing for another face to be present, but she ushered it aside; along with the surprising feeling of guilt at spending this time and telling this tale to a person from her past that she knew should have stayed distant.

  Then Todd stood and motioned down the steps of the front porch. “Come on, Rach. Let’s take a walk. I’ll show you the place. We’ve done lots of work on it.”

  Rachel allowed a small smile as she stood and set her lemonade aside. “That would be lovely.”

  “Be right back,” Todd told Mr. Parson. The two descended the stairs of the front porch, Todd guiding Rachel toward the barn and corral at the rear of the property. “He an alright fella?” he asked finally.

  Rachel adjusted the fingers of her gloves as she walked along beside him. “Who?”

  “Don’t be giving me any of that, Rach girl. The fella your pap’s chose for ye. You’ve met him, right?”

  “No,” she countered in a chilled tone, “and I don’t intend to. I left notice of my refusal yesterday morning.”

  Todd halted and faced her. Rachel tilted her chin up as she met his gaze. “What you meanin’ by that? If he’s to be your–”

  “He won’t be ‘my’ anything, Todd Richards. He’s a stranger who father has deemed as more worthy than any man I would choose. A faithful dog to guard his supposed treasure!”

  Todd hooked his thumbs onto the waist of his trousers as he watched her. “What’re ye gonna do then?”

  Irritation and anger sparkled in her eyes, but her tone sounded calm and cool. “I plan to marry whom and when I choose, that is what I plan to do. I will not wed and bed a man I’ve no knowledge of.”

  “Rach, you know your pap wouldn’t make you marry some gent who’s slimier than an outhouse.”

  Rachel scoffed.

  Todd regarded her with a lopsided smile. �
��Alright, so you won’t marry this son of a friend of a friend. Your pap ain’t gonna let you off with just a ‘no’, and you know it.”

  Rachel crossed her arms and focused at a distant tree with a narrowed and irritated gaze. “I’ve presented him my alternative, whether he approves of him or not.”

  Todd waited for more. When it didn’t come, he motioned toward her with a lift of his chin as he also crossed his arms. “The Robert Trent fella?”

  Rachel inclined her head. Though she still didn’t fully understand his motivation for doing so, whether he confessed to wishing her to have this particular choice and option for her life or no.

  Todd’s eyebrow rose. “No foolin’? What’d your pap say?”

  “No.”

  Face twisting in confusion, Todd scrubbed at his neck. “You ask him why?”

  Rachel scoffed and finally met Todd’s bright blue gaze. “Why do you suppose? Because Mr. Trent wasn’t his choice!” She pressed a finger roughly into Todd’s chest. “But I will not be controlled. Not by him. Not by society’s twisted views of propriety, and certainly not by a man chosen for his pedigree and proper breeding.”

  Todd leaned away from her hard-pressing finger, hands raised. “Calm yourself, Rach girl. I didn’t say you shouldn’t do what you want.”

  But what she wanted had become so convoluted with previously unconfessed expectations that Rachel wasn’t certain what it entailed any longer. Releasing a slow breath, Rachel sent the carriage a sidelong glance. “I had best go, Todd.” She met his gaze and forced a smile. “Come to dinner this evening. I will arrange an introduction to Mr. Trent.”

  “Sure. Only if you bring him over so me and Mr. Parson can meet ’im without ye one of these days.”

  One eyebrow arched. “And have you tell him my less-than-glorious history? I think not.”

  Todd’s expression fell, and he retreated to the handsome and boyish pleading of years gone by. “Come on, Rach girl. What’s the point of having a beau if he doesn’t know every little embarrassing tale about you?”

  “Beau?” Rachel repeated incredulously. “Todd Richards, have you heard nothing I’ve said?”

  “Of course I heard,” he protested. “I heard he was to be your intended rather than this other fella. What else is that but a beau?”

  “That is semantics, Todd, and you know that full well. Ours is an arrangement of convenience. My own choice so that I might prove to my father that I am determined to stand apart from him and live by my own decisions.”

  Todd released a quick breath as he ran a hand through his caramel hair. “Boy. You’re as stubborn as ever,” he muttered before meeting her eyes again. “Arrangement or whatever, don’t you think he’d still like to know a bit about you without you making it sound as sweet as cream pie? Come on, Rach. You know Pars and me won’t make you sound anything but human.”

  Remembering Robert’s comment regarding an appreciation of inclusion in the simple duty of redecorating her room, Rachel acquiesced. “Very well. But if I hear you confessing those tales that are better left unsaid….”

  Todd raised his hands. “Aye, Rach girl, aye.” He laughed. “This Mr. Trent’s gonna need help to keep from takin’ you over his knee.”

  “Todd Richards!” Rachel protested.

  He laughed harder and stepped a bit away from her. “Hey. It’s what I would do if you gave me any lip. And I’ll tell ’im, too.”

  Rachel reluctantly smiled, and then she laughed. “Only you and Maggie could keep me from becoming too serious.” Although she recalled the laughter shared between her and Robert as well….

  Sending her another boyish smile, Todd opened the door to the carriage. “Thanks for the visit, Rach. It’s good to know you’re still on speaking terms with this hot-head.”

  “You were always ever an honest friend to me, Todd.” And for eight years the memories of him and Maggie had been a link to a deeply hidden strength; one that had never allowed her to be completely defeated.

  ~~~

  Robert adjusted his seat on the dapple gelding as he stared at the large iron gates leading into the Samson estate. He had been in the same position for greater than thirty minutes that morning doing his best to decide how best to continue. As of yet, he hadn’t made a decision regarding one of the greatest conflicts he had ever experienced in his life.

  He released a deep breath and urged his mount forward to the curb outside the front gate. He handed the reins to the running footman, his focus once more returning to the large mansion. Absently tapping his riding crop against the side of his leg, he again remembered the reluctance he had seen in her expression yesterday and the day before. He hadn’t expected reluctance, especially not following her confession during their journey together. Although, even that had seemed a reluctant one. Should I encourage a discussion about it? he prayed. There must be a reason she would choose to be alone when offered otherwise.

  Giving a slight shake of his head, he ushered the situation to the Lord and made his way through the gate and up the long cobbled walk toward the front steps. As expected, Oliver opened the great white door before Robert had crested the stairs, greeting him with a slight smile.

  “Good day, Mr. Trent.”

  “Oliver.” Robert stepped inside the hall to present the butler his hat, crop, and riding gloves. “No storms this morning I hope?”

  Oliver’s lips twitched upward. “It has been quiet, Mr. Trent, due mostly to the fact they have kept themselves separated from one another.”

  “Ah. I see.” Robert let his gaze wander to a specific door on the second story. “Is it possible to share coffee with Miss Samson in the back gardens? Or should I wait in the parlor?” Oliver’s answer was silence, which drew Robert’s attention. The butler’s expression held mild confusion. Robert’s smile faded. “She isn’t here?”

  “No, sir. She stepped out early this morning for a visit with a friend. I wasn’t told what time she expected to return. My apologies, Mr. Trent. Had I known there was a standing engagement with you, I would have reminded Miss Samson as she departed.”

  The door on the second story drew his gaze again. “No need, Oliver,” he said absently, retrieving his articles back from the elder man, “for there wasn’t a ‘standing engagement’. I was in the area and decided to risk a venture inside.” Not a complete falsehood, as his risk to an adventure with her had actually brought him into the area. Robert cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Well, rather than making a nuisance of myself I’ll bid you adieu and try at a later time.”

  “Shall I tell her you stopped by?”

  “Yes, please. Be sure she harbors no guilt at missing me. I’m less easily daunted than she would think.”

  Oliver’s small smile returned. “Yes, Mr. Trent.”

  Robert tipped his hat toward the elderly butler and then exited the estate, his brow lowering into a frown as he descended the steps. You didn’t believe you were the only star in the sky, did you, old man? he chided. Robert whipped at a patch of well-kept grass with his riding crop.

  The morning passed, the surprising spark of jealousy giving birth to a nagging irritation which prevented Robert from attempting a second call until later that day. The statement “Visit with a friend” had hounded him the entire day, giving rise to visual possibilities that had him seeing red and imagining a spark burning in emerald eyes.

  Now, Robert frowned and turned his horse from his view of the Samson home, urging it to a quick trot in an effort to clear his thoughts. It wouldn’t work, that he knew, but he didn’t want to give rise to his over-eager imagination that would likely only end causing strife. There was enough tension and conflict in her life; the last she needed was for him to be in a jealous rage over coffee. Keep your wits about you, old man. You know you have lost her forever if you press the control issue.

  As he set that possibility out of his head, Robert’s focus was drawn to the pair of trees directly in his path. They were intriguingly entwined together, one unable to be separated from
the other without causing its death. Robert dismounted and made his way toward them, smiling as he ran his hand along the pale and smooth bark of the joined trees. When he felt an oddness at the rear, he made his way around to find two sets of initials.

  RS + TR. Interesting…. A childhood sweetheart? Robert smiled. How romantic are you, Rachel? Do you prefer flowers or poems? Serenades or secret notes hidden in pockets and shoes?

  It was an aspect of her he wanted to discover. One that had been kept deliberately separate from him, though it would have been welcome to have. Robert lowered his hand from the letters, his smile fading. Letters. Notes. Greetings and hellos. Dinners and rendezvous…. They would have been very welcome, Lord.

  “Strangest lookin’ thing I ever seen.”

  Turning, Robert focused on a man with light brown hair and an eager grin who leaned over the pommel of his saddle. Dressed in a suit that had seen better years but was still presentable, the man’s persona was all ease and welcome, which Robert appreciated immensely. He smiled. “Good day, sir.”

  The man tipped his hat. “It is.” Then he dismounted and dropped the reins, allowing the sorrel mare to lower her head to graze. The man presented a hand. “Todd Richards.”

  Robert shook it, immediately appreciating the firm clasp. “Robert Trent.”

  Todd’s lips twitched upward as he released Robert’s hand to hook his thumbs into the waist of his trousers. “Been out here much?”

  “I come and go.”

  “Sounds like a cough I had one or two times.”

  Robert smirked. “Much like that, yes.”

  When Todd made his way to the tree and brushed some dust and dirt from the engraved letters, Robert watched the action with a flare of interest and– Todd Richards. TR. Robert fought the not-so-surprising return of jealousy. “Visit with a friend.” Robert clenched his jaw.

  Then Todd cast the Samson mansion a glance and motioned toward it with a full swing of his arm. “You headin’ over for a dinner with Rach girl?” Before Robert could respond, Todd gave Robert a playful slug on the arm as well as a boyish grin. “She was in a snit when she left the farm, so you best tread carefully. In fact, I’m of the mind you should bring yourself over and have a sit down with me and Pars after. Sure as we got a basket of stories about Rach and Mags that’ll have you rollin’ on the floor swearing we’re lyin’.”