Free Beyond the Veil of Tears by Rita Bradshaw Page A

against his chest and, as she
began to tremble, felt a moment’s thrill of satisfaction. She was his for the taking – and to hell with convention. He had to get her up the aisle without delay. Tonight had been a
warning.
    ‘I think you have guessed how I feel about you, Angeline. From the first moment we met I haven’t been able to hide my adoration, have I?’ He smiled the boyish smile that he
knew charmed the female of the species, from the cradle to the grave.
    Angeline’s blush deepened, but she made no reply.
    ‘My dear, I want to ask you something. No, I
long
to ask you something. I think of little else, but Hector is your guardian, and propriety dictates that I must put my request to
him first.’ Oswald hesitated, as though unsure of himself. ‘I think what I am trying to say, dearest Angeline, is: would you wish me to speak to your uncle?’
    How could Oswald wonder for a moment if she wished for anything else? There was nothing in the world she wanted more. Her head bowed, Angeline nodded, trying to keep the flood of joy and elation
from showing in her voice when she answered as demurely as her mother would have instructed, ‘Yes, Oswald, I would wish it.’
    ‘I shall return tomorrow morning.’
    She kept her eyes on their joined hands. Hers seemed very small in comparison to his, which were long and strong, with thin fingers and meticulously clean nails. She loved his hands, she thought
wonderingly; she loved everything about him. And he cared for her. Even now, after all these weeks, she could scarcely believe it.
    ‘Come, they will wonder what is keeping us.’ There was a lilt to his voice. ‘I shall make my excuses and leave now’ – and, at her exclamation of protest, his smile
widened – ‘and you must go to bed and rest, and nurse your headache, dearest, but I shall see you tomorrow. Each minute will seem like a day, and each day a lifetime, till
then.’
    He said such beautiful things. She accompanied him into the drawing room and stood quietly as he helped his aunt to rise from her chair and they made their leave to Hector. What had she done to
deserve him? Whatever had she done to deserve a man like Oswald Golding?

Chapter Five
    Hector stared at the man in front of him. He had suspected what Oswald had in mind when he had taken him aside on the doorstep the night before and asked if he could talk
privately with him in the morning, but conjecture was different from hearing plain words.
    ‘I think you may be aware of the reason for my visit this morning. I wish to ask for Angeline’s hand in marriage.’ This was what Oswald had just said, and now that it was out
in the open, Hector had to admit he wasn’t as pleased as he had thought he would be. The significance of the events of the past weeks hadn’t been lost on him, of course, and he had
actively encouraged Angeline’s association with Oswald, basking in the reflected glory, but this was so soon, so . . . sudden.
    They were sitting in Hector’s study, with a cup of coffee and a plate of Mrs Upton’s delicious shortbread biscuits in front of each of them, and now Hector took a sip from his cup to
give himself a moment of time. He knew of Oswald’s way of life – at least the way of life he had pursued up until a short while ago. Some would term it scandalous, others would say he
was merely a man of his time and class. And Hector knew which way his brother would have thought. Philip wouldn’t have let this man within ten miles of his daughter.
    Awkwardly – for this was Oswald Golding, after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend him – Hector said, ‘Can I speak frankly, as one friend to another?’ And
at Oswald’s nod, he continued, ‘I have to say I don’t quite understand why a man of your standing and influence would want to marry a young girl like Angeline. I am very fond of
her of course, and she is a young lady in every sense of the word, but brought up as she was by my brother and