enough, and she had no feeling for him.â
Despite what had happened, Cam was certain on that particular point. Whatever she had lied about when he was in love with her, he had felt the passion in her for him. He had also seen her with Lord Dunstan once or twice that weekend, and she had been completely uninterested in him. No, marriage to Dunstan had been for family reasons, for money. Cam had been certain she would be guided by the same motives here. Had Dunstan soured her so on the state of marriage? Or was it that she had discovered she could never be content with just one man? Cam quickly shut that thought out of his mind; he did not like to think of Angelaâs promiscuity. The idea of her being with even one other man had tormented his nights when he first went to America. The thought that she had in reality had at least three other lovers, maybemore, had gnawed at him from the first moment that he read the lawyerâs report.
âDo you think the allegations at the divorce trial were true?â he asked abruptly, startling Pettigrew, whose thoughts had not followed the same trail.
âWhat? Oh, well, uh, she did not deny them.â Pettigrew was well aware that he was treading on very delicate ground. No man, least of all one as proud as Cameron Monroe, would like to think that he was going to marry a hussy. He thought hastily. âOn the other hand, she certainly does not look like the sort of woman who wouldâ¦ahâ¦â
âNo,â Cam agreed quickly. âShe looksâwell, except for sometimes when she seems to forget herself and gets angry and her eyes flashâshe looks almost mousy. But Angela never had an ounce of fear in her.â He smiled faintly. âI remember how she used to ride, even when she was little, how sheâd throw her heart over the fences.â
Pettigrew looked at his employer narrowly. He heard the tinge of affection in Camâs voice, and not for the first time, he wondered what had linked Monroe with this woman in the past. He knew no more than anyone else in the United States did what Cameron Monroeâs history had been before he came to America. He had heard stories, of course, about his grit and determination, about his courage in the oil fields of Pennsylvania and his shrewd business sense. But about the time before he had arrived in New York, at the age of twenty, Pettigrew knew nothing.
âYou, ah, taught her to ride?â he asked colorlessly.
Cam shook his head. âNo. That was old Wickerâs job, and he was quite jealous of it. He taught all the Stanhopes to ride. I came to work in the stables when I was eleven. I used to watch her riding about the ringon her little pony, Wicker holding the leading rein. She always wanted him to let her go. She was only seven. Later, when she was older, I would ride out with her to make sure she came to no harmâas if anyone around here would have touched a hair on her head. They all loved her.â
Jason was growing more and more interested. He was beginning to suspect that his employer had been one of those many people who loved her. Had he loved her all these years? But then, Jason reminded himself, the means that Monroe had chosen to persuade Angela Stanhope to marry him would hardly qualify as lover- like. No, only anger and bitterness could have engendered his harsh methods.
âPerhaps, sir,â he suggested cautiously, âyou might want to woo the lady in question.â
âWoo her?â Camâs eyebrows vaulted upward.
âYes. Women seem to like that. Perhaps she does not like to feel as if you were, ah, purchasing her, no matter how pragmatic she may be in marrying for money. Or it is possible that she might resent the manner in which you forced her hand.â
Cam cast him an amused glance. âAre you trying to say, in your diplomatic way, that the lady despises me because I am forcing her into marriage? I am well aware of that. I am not asking for
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