Angel's Devil

1

"
P
apa, I don't remember that we had this
much luggage in Calais."

Angelique
Graham frowned as yet another dock worker appeared, a stack of hat boxes in his
arms. With France still torn and wounded by the ambitions of Bonaparte, going
shopping in Paris had seemed rather frivolous to her, but her mother and Lady
Penston had made the most of the opportunity. And as the women had now strolled
up to the shops at the head of the Dover pier while they waited for the coaches
to be loaded, undoubtedly they were intent on making still more purchases.

Thomas Graham,
the Earl of Niston, chuckled at her. "I do hope two coaches are enough for
us and your mother's things."

Angel smiled.
"I know, If we'd stayed any longer we'd need an entire caravan."

Her father
guided her a few steps away from Lord Penston, who was
busily. directing the loading of their respective coaches. "Your
mother's
already talking about making another trip before your
wedding," he said in a low voice. "I believe she has her heart set on
you walking down the aisle in a French gown."

Angelique
sighed. "If you would let me marry Simon right away, she could have found
one this trip."

Niston glanced
over at the baron. "Angel, we explained that already. A year is hardly an
unusual period of time to wait between an engagement and a wedding."

"But Simon
and I want to be married now," she protested. "You know that."

Niston put a
hand on her shoulder. "And you know that nine months isn't that
long."

"But you
won't even let us announce it!"

"We want
you to be certain of your decision before we make a public declaration,"
he said soothingly.

"You mean
you don't think I'll go through with it, and you don't want to be embarrassed
when I change my mind," she countered.

He frowned,
obviously running out of patience. "We think no such—"

"Well,
I
won't change my mind," Angelique stated "Simon and I are in
love."

"Thomas,"
Lord Penston interrupted, "is that yours, or Nora's?" He pointed at
one of the packages.

"Yours, I
think." Her father stepped over to examine it. The baron nodded, summoning
another dock worker. "I say, boy, that package goes in the other carriage.
No, that box, the one over there, by the
 
wheel."

At the sound of
dogs barking Angelique turned in the direction of the water, where several
ships were being loaded for the return to Calais. Two kennelmen guided a pack
of hounds up one of the ramps. A third man stood at the foot of the gangplank,
wrestling with another half dozen dogs. One of them, a brown mastiff bigger and
bulkier than the lively hounds, was obviously reluctant to board the ship. The
handler hit the animal across the back with a knobbed wooden staff, and the dog
yelped.

Scowling
furiously, Angelique hiked up her skirts and dashed past a cart stacked with
squawking chickens, and stalked up to the kennelman. "Stop that at
once!" she commanded.