A Stark Mismatch

III. The Worthingtons

THE FOLLOWING day, her brother found her in the quiet drawing room of his villa, one he purchased years ago to be far from their father's doting presence. And perhaps, in Angela's opinion, to gain more freedom to chase skirts, one thing he could not easily do in the country where one's secret was spread with much dedication.

Jonathan skidded to a stop and looked around. "Why is it dark in here?"

"The sun is too bright," she murmured, eyes on the book she had not been reading, but now was, as soon as he came in. Hidden between the book and her lap was the schedule of activities for the Season Fair.

Jonathan strode to the curtains and none-so-gently threw the drapes to the side. In less than a breath, light besieged the entire drawing room, highlighting the green and red damask walls. Angela sighed and looked at her brother who positioned himself across from her in a settee.

His grey eyes regarded her coolly. "You did not tell me last night why you disappeared into the garden," he pointed out.

"You did not ask."

He cocked his brows. He was asking now.

She returned her gaze on the page of her book. "I was sitting beside a woman with an empty dance card."

She could tell he was frowning. "I do not understand."

Careful to keep the small poster out of sight, she closed her book and sighed, squinting at the bright window to view the long driveway. "Whoever brought dance cards to Sutherland must have thought it a necessary additional flair to standards."

"I still do not understand what you mean, my dear. You are talking to the wrong brother."

She turned and met her brother's eyes. Lady Margaret was right to aspire to have Jonathan for her daughter. Four years older than her at the age of eight and twenty, Jonathan was at his prime. His grey eyes and black hair in combination with his wit and humor were indeed quite appealing. Perhaps his education in London was an added value. And of course, the current title and the one he was waiting to inherit.

On the other hand, Edward, merely a year younger than Jonathan, was different. He was not here for the same reason Angela did not want to be here: they both hated being around people they could not understand.

Angela was only here because she was on a mission. And Edward, in his missives, had given her his permission after she swore to him in writing that Jonathan shall never have to know.

If she were to judge her brothers in the eyes of the ladies of the polite society, she would most definitely choose Jonathan. Jonathan was endearing the way Angela and Edward could never be. He liked to dress extravagantly, befitting the Worthington name and his title.

But looking at Jonathan now, Angela wondered for a passing moment what he would do if he discovered the true reason of why she came to Coulway. He may be a tad less stiff than Edward, but he could effectively impose his authority at any given time. He was far from the arrogant and conceited aristocrat, but he could induce fear if need be. And he was truly wise if he found the need to use his brain.

Jonathan was not without his imperfections, of course. For one, despite being one of probably only five people who knew her too well, Jonathan still struggled to make sense of his siblings—most particularly Angela. And so, she tried her best to convey her logic in the simplest way she knew how.

"During the season, a woman is judged by two things," she began to explain. His brows rose higher, waiting. "Their social status and their dance cards. I have heard that Miss Shirley keeps hers as souvenirs. Millie also told me that the woman is having a display cabinet built for them."