InsaneJournal

Papa had hired someone new, according to her brother. Help with overseeing the staff or maybe the accounts? Something  in any event. The matter of who worked for them had never entered Angel's head much before, but there was nothing else to interest her, so this would suffice. Her brother had said the new man came from the Caribbean, which was exotic. Exotic meant noteworthy. Exotic meant interesting. Interesting meant Angel had to meet him. It had only been a matter of sending her maid to go tell this new person the duke's daughter wished to see him.

Angélique waited in the salon. Light poured into the room through filmy drapes in the huge windows, creating a soft diffused light which touched everything in a gentle glow, from the gold filigree to the ivory and marble. The Worthington fortunes were vast, and the town home was her mother's particular delight: a miniature haven of France, its cues taken from Versailles and the leading hotels in Paris. Angel saw none of the opulence, the luxurious surroundings having no meaning for her. She sat at the pianoforte, playing a quiet little piece by some English composer although she added notes and flashes here and there as she saw fit. Her hands were sure, fingers delicate and placed with expert ease, years of practice guiding her.