Read Impulse for Free Online Page B

a moment, Angela could not remember what had happened or why she was lying on a sofa. She was aware only of a ferocious pain in her head and a certain queasiness in her stomach. She blinked and looked up from her maid’s face to the people behind Kate.
    Jeremy and Mr. Pettigrew were standing back and to either side, flanking a frowning, dark stranger. Angela remembered now what had happened. “Cam…”
    â€œYes, my lady. I beg your pardon. I am usually not so fearsome as to drive young women to collapse.”
    â€œI am not usually a young woman who collapses,” Angela retorted, pride compelling her to sit up.
    She regretted it immediately, for her head swam, and Kate reached out to place a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Take it slow, my lady. No need to be getting up yet, now, is there?”
    Kate then rounded on their visitor, setting her hands on her hips pugnaciously. “Cam Monroe, what do youmean coming in like this, never giving a soul a hint of it? I would have thought you’d have better sense. It’s no wonder Her Ladyship fainted.”
    Jeremy colored and said in a quelling voice, “Kate… Mr. Monroe is our guest.”
    On the other side of Monroe, Pettigrew gazed at her with a mixture of awe and amazement. Kate dipped a curtsy toward Jeremy, murmuring a faint “Sorry, sir,” but she did not apologize to Cam. She had grown up next door to him, and she had no fear of him.
    â€œWhat the devil is going on?” the dowager countess snapped, banging her cane once on the floor for emphasis. “Angela, what’s the matter with you? And who is this man?”
    Jeremy turned toward the old lady. “Angela was a trifle startled, Grandmama,” he assured her. “We have not seen Mr. Monroe in several years.”
    â€œMonroe?” The countess frowned fiercely. “I don’t know any Monroes.”
    â€œMy mother and I used to live in the village, my lady,” Cam told her easily. “Grace Monroe.”
    The old lady gazed at him blankly for a moment. Then her brow cleared. “The seamstress?” she asked, her voice vaulting upward. “You are the seamstress’s son?”
    â€œYes, my lady. I am.” He stared back at her stonily.
    The countess’s eyebrows vaulted upward, and she turned a sharp gaze upon her grandson. “Jeremy?”
    â€œYes, Grandmama. Mr. Monroe is our guest.” He moved forward to her chair, dropping his voice a little. “I am sure you will welcome him. He has come here all the way from the United States. He is Mr. Pettigrew’s employer.”
    She shot a dark look at Mr. Pettigrew. “I’ve yet todetermine what this Pettigrew is doing here. What are you about, Jeremy?”
    â€œâ€™Tis business, Grandmama. Perhaps you remember that Cameron Monroe moved to the United States several years ago. He is the head of a company that, ah, I have been dealing with.”
    â€œWhat he is saying, Grandmama,” Angela said crisply, “is that Mr. Monroe is apparently quite wealthy now, so we must be pleasant to him. Isn’t that right, Jeremy?”
    She cast a sardonic look up at her brother, then at Cam, who was still standing in front of the couch, gazing down at her. Cam raised a quizzical eyebrow at her words, but his expression was more amused than offended.
    â€œAngela!” Jeremy whispered, sending Monroe an apologetic glance. “I must apologize for the women of the family. They are used to a solitary life here at Bridbury.”
    â€œThat’s right. We don’t get out much, so we don’t know how to act,” Angela went on with false sweetness. “I am afraid that I have never before been called upon to meet a suitor who holds a gun to my head as he asks for my hand.”
    â€œWhat?” Lady Margaret’s mouth dropped open in shock.
    â€œAngela…” Jeremy groaned.
    Mr. Pettigrew blushed to his hairline and looked away.