Silver Angel Read Free Page A

dinner and some kidneys for breakfast. Oh, and Mrs. Smith told me to tell you again ”—she rolled her eyes—“that ifyou keep sending me to market, she’ll soon be ruined.”
    “Is that why you’re smiling?”
    Chantelle grinned cheekily. “Last week I was giving her headaches. This week I’m ruining her. I wonder what I’ll be responsible for next week.”
    “Insomnia? She’s used that one on me before.”
    Chantelle laughed. “She’s wonderful. I’ve never met anyone who gets so much pleasure out of haggling.”
    “Yourself, perhaps?”
    “Well, it is fun,” Chantelle said defensively, ignoring the fact that her throat was slightly sore from spending an hour whittling down the price of one piece of meat. But it had become a sort of challenge, getting the very best prices at the market, better prices than the regulars who had haggling down to a fine art. “And besides, look how much I saved today.”
    Ellen closed her eyes briefly. So Chantelle did know that Ellen had been reduced to pinching pennies. Damn Charles Burke.
    “I’m sorry, dear—”
    “Don’t be silly, Aunt Ellen. As soon as Charles sends the money I’ve requested, I’ll make it up to you.”
    “You wrote him?”
    “Of course. I would have done so sooner if I’d realized—well, at any rate, I’ll soon set things right. Was there a letter today, by chance?”
    “No, not today,” Ellen replied, feeling a certain uneasiness at Chantelle’s show of initiative. How would Charles react to demands from them both?
    “Well, there will be one soon,” Chantelle said withcheery confidence. “He can’t very well ignore me, now, can he?”
    He couldn’t? He had certainly done an excellent job of it so far. And both women were about to regret that he didn’t continue to ignore them.

Chapter Three
    T hey had locked her in her room, but Chantelle wasn’t worried, not yet. It wouldn’t be the first time she had gone out through the window, though many years had passed since she had last left the house that way. But it could be done. She did have that option. She just wasn’t ready to go yet. She had to wait for the house to quiet, gather a few things, form a plan—but mainly she had to calm down, for at the moment she was so angry she felt she could actually kill Charles Burke.
    She had arrived home only that afternoon, but it seemed she had been angry for the past week, ever since Charles’ letter had come. Instead of the money she was expecting, she had received an order to return immediately to Dover, and that high-handed idiot hadn’t even included the wherewithal for the journey. Ellen had to sell another piece of jewelry, which had really been the last straw.
    Chantelle was so furious she hadn’t even waited for her aunt to close up the cottage to accompany her. Against Ellen’s protests, she had left the very next day. She was going to show cousin Charles that she wasn’t some silly twit who could be treated this way. He had a lot to answer for, especially his leaving her dependent on her aunt when Ellen couldn’t afford it. She had planned to have it out with him. But that wasn’t how it had turned out.
    She had been shown into the parlor as if she were a guest in her own house. The butler was new. Thecarpeting, the furniture, were new. She felt like a guest. And the entire clan had been there.
    Chantelle remembered them all from their one visit to her in Norfolk, soon after their arrival in England. And the difference between then and now was not immediately noticeable. Before, they had been the poor relations from America come to offer their condolences, mindful that Chantelle was a lady born and bred, whereas not even Charles among them could claim nobility, until now, that is.
    Charles was her father’s uncle’s second son, Charles’ own father having been no more than a carpenter’s apprentice. It had been Chantelle’s grandfather who had won the baronetcy from a grateful monarch, but he had been a rich man