Free A Guardians Angel by Jo Ann Ferguson

ignore the duke’s commands?
    “Miss Needham,” said a footman who rushed into the entry hall. “Master Thomas wishes to speak with you.”
    “He does?” Knowing her shock that Master Thomas had sought her out was unseemly, she took a steadying breath and asked, “Where?”
    “On the glassed-in terrace, Miss Needham.”
    “Thank you.” She paused. “Where is the glassed-in terrace?”
    With the directions from the footman, Angela went through the twisting halls. She tried not to think that Master Thomas had conspired with the footman to get her lost. When she saw the lad waiting for her on a terrace enclosed by three walls of glass lined with the falling rain, Angela took a deep breath. This conversation would be no easier than the one with Justin. Both Master Thomas and the viscount were stubborn.
    “I know Mr. Weare sent you to Justin’s house in hopes of catching me where I was not supposed to be,” Master Thomas said in lieu of a greeting.
    “That is true.” She could be as forthright.
    “I was not there.”
    “That is true, but it is also true that you have called there often since the duke requested that you stay away from Harrington Grange.”
    Master Thomas crossed his arms in front of him and raised his chin. “You should not be chasing after me. You are my sister’s guardian angel.” He paused, but she did not reply to the name he seemed to have decided to use whenever he wished to vex her. Disappointment blossomed in his eyes that he had not sent her up to the boughs. “I wish to know what you plan to say to Rodney about this.”
    “I plan to say that you are a talented artist and that your skills should be given a chance to be refined.”
    He stared at her in astonishment, and she knew this was not the answer he had expected. “Will you really? You really think I have talent?”
    Angela smiled when his pose changed from a young tyrant to a child eager for a compliment. “Yes, Master Thomas, I think your work is exceptional. I would be glad to speak to your guardian about obtaining a drawing master for you.” She paused, then added, “If you will recall your promise not to pay calls to Harrington Grange.”
    “That is blackmail.”
    “I am not trying to coerce you into doing something you should not do. I am trying to convince you to do what you should do.”
    “Obey such a jobbernowl order?” He flung out his hands in frustration, then jammed his fists against his hips.
    “You told me that you promised your father that you would be true to your word, and you gave His Grace your word.”
    Master Thomas’s lip quivered, revealing the vulnerable, grieving child beneath his cocky disregard. Tears filled his eyes. She took a step toward him, holding out her hand, but he backed away, once again defiant. “I do not need your pity.”
    “Good, because I was not offering it. However, you do need my friendship.”
    “I do not need that, either.”
    “You do, if you want an ally to help persuade His Grace that you have true talent as an artist.”
    “Why do you want to do that?”
    Angela hesitated. She could not tell him the truth of how her own dreams of meeting a man who would travel the world with her had been squashed by her sister-in-law’s assumption that Angela would be a servant in her brother’s house. Banished to dusky corners when her brother and sister-in-law entertained, she had known that she must set aside that silly hope. She did not want Master Thomas to suffer the same disillusionment.
    “It is what friends do,” she replied simply.
    He gave her another peculiar glance. She did not give him a chance to ask more questions. Walking back into the house, she sighed. This was going to be even more difficult than she had guessed when neither of them—Justin nor Master Thomas—trusted her.
    Angela hoped today would be better than yesterday had been. Everything she had done, everything she had tried to do, had been far less than successful.
    She went out onto the balcony