Read Online A Guardians Angel by Jo Ann Ferguson - Free Book Online Page B

to precede him out of the room. By Jove, the sway of her skirts could catch the attention of a monk. And he was no monk. A wry grin tugged at his mouth. Or mayhap he had become one since his life had been turned inside out by the whims of cruel fate. He glanced toward the stairs. At this hour, Delicia would be taking her nap, so he could concentrate on one problem at a time.
    All urge to smile disappeared. He wanted to think about the only true problem he had. Oslington’s dictates to his wards did not matter as much as the recommendation from the latest doctor Justin had contacted. Under no circumstances would he put Delicia in an asylum. The child deserved better than that, although he was not sure how he could guarantee she would receive it.
    “Justin?” Angela’s impatient tone suggested she had spoken to him without him noticing.
    “This way.” He opened a door at the end of the corridor. He needed to get his thoughts under control with all due speed, and Angela’s call must not waylay him from what was truly important.
    Angela fought to keep from frowning. Justin had flouted the canons of Society, but he had never been so rude as to refuse to answer her question. And it had been an innocuous one about the drawing of a butterfly that was hanging on the wall.
    As he gestured for her to precede him through the door, she ignored a twinge of disquiet about what his failure to answer might mean. Her eyes widened when she saw the trio of tables in the middle of a room that was smaller than his cozy book-room. On the tables were mounted butterflies and open books and drawing materials. She crossed the room to look at an easel where a half-drawn picture was unquestionably of a butterfly similar to the one Lord Harrington had pointed out to her the day after her arrival. The style matched the one she had seen in the hallway.
    “Did you draw these?” she asked.
    “Not me.”
    “Master Thomas?” She carefully picked up a finished painting from the table. Tilting it toward the window, she marveled at the fragile lines of the butterfly’s sketched wings. Even in the dim light, the watercolor tints on the outspread wings and the curve of the antennae had an aura of life. “This is wonderful.”
    “He has a true gift.”
    “I am sure if the duke knew of this, he would change his mind about Master Thomas studying with you.”
    “Oslington knows.”
    Angela lowered the painting and looked at Justin. His jaw was as rigid as Master Thomas’s had been when she spoke to him by the gate. Glancing at the beautiful paintings, which exhibited both an artistic beauty and a technical perfection, she shook her head. “If His Grace saw one of these paintings, I cannot believe that he would not sanction Master Thomas continuing this work.”
    “I am quite certain that Oslington has seen the boy’s work, and you know his decision.” Justin’s eyes were icy cold.
    Slowly she turned away to put the painting back on the table. “I would be glad to speak to His Grace.”
    “You would be wasting your time.”
    “It is mine to use as I see fit.”
    “True.” His shoulders sagged from their stiff pose. “Forgive me, Angela. You are not the one I should be furious with.”
    She glanced back at the paintings. “Master Thomas needs to have an opportunity to explore his talent.”
    “Your opinion and mine, but you shall never convince Oslington of that.”
    “I can try. There must be—”
    “Nothing you can do.” His smile returned, but was as cold as the duke’s. “Don’t you understand, Angela? You will not change Oslington’s mind on any matter concerning me. Not ever.”

Six
    Angela hurried through the gracious foyer of Oslington Court and toward the stairs. She needed to talk with Mr. Weare about what she had learned about Master Thomas at Harrington Grange, but first she must sort out her thoughts. How could she express her thoughts to the tutor and Master Thomas’s guardian and not appear to be helping Master Thomas