Angel's Devil (13 page)

In half an hour they were at the head of the drive. The huge oak double
doors opened, and the marquis, followed by a retinue of footmen, strode out to
greet them. "Welcome to Abbonley," he said, coming forward to shake
her father's hand. "I trust you had a pleasant trip?"

"Quite so," Lord Niston replied.

That was fine for him to say, Angel thought, for he hadn't had to ride with
the twins.

"And how was your journey?" Abbonley queried, strolling over to
brush her knuckles with his lips.

"Noisy," she replied, smiling. "As usual."

"I see you brought Heaven," he noted, giving a smile of his own.
"There is some fine riding here. I think you'll enjoy it, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord," she responded, studying his face.

He seemed a little more relaxed than the last time she had seen him, and
when Brutus bounded out of the coach to place his paws on the marquis' chest,
Abbonley actually laughed.

"I was hoping you'd brought your monster along," he chuckled,
ruffling the mastiff's ears. "Simon will be thrilled."

Angel hadn't thought Simon all that fond of her pet.

"Where is Simon?"

"He'll be along in a moment," the marquis answered off-handedly,
and then swept a bow to the twins. "Master Henry, Lady Helen,
Millicent," he greeted them, and Angel was surprised he had remembered her
siblings' names, much less that of Helen's doll. James Faring surprised her
quite a bit, though, when he wasn't being completely aggravating .

. "My lord marquis," Henry returned, bowing nearly double.

The Devil leaned down. "James will be fine," he muttered,
grinning.

Henry gasped, and Angelique turned to follow his gaze toward the side of
the manor. Simon came around the corner leading an undersized but perfectly
proportioned chestnut gelding and a small black mare.

"Henry, Helen, meet India and Jasmine," James said. Angel
expected Henry to bolt for the pony, but he walked slowly up to the animal and
talked to it for a moment before he raised his hand to pet it, much as James
had done when he was introduced to Pharaoh. She looked sideways at James.
"If I might ask, what is the Marquis of Abbonley doing with two children's
mounts in his famous stables?"

He gave her an innocent look. "I couldn't very well promise and then
disappoint, now could I?" He raised an eyebrow. "Should I have
brought you a pony as well?"

"I am not as easy to win over as the twins, my lord," she
responded, feeling she had scored a hit.

"And the greater the challenge, the greater the reward," he
murmured, flashing his wicked grin at her, "my lady."

She blushed, which would have been entirely too silly except that her
parents had to have noticed.

Simon approached, smiling. "You look radiant, Angel," he said,
taking her hand. "How was your journey?"

"Thank you, Simon," she said warmly, shooting an annoyed look
over his head at Abbonley, who had the bad manners to chuckle. "It was
quite pleasant."

The marquis turned to her father again. "Shall we go inside?" he
suggested. "As it's so warm today, I'm having luncheon set out in the
courtyard, but I thought you might like to go to your rooms first." This
last was directed at Angel's mother, who nodded gratefully.

Angelique was more than curious to see inside Abbonley. As they reached the
door she felt an inkling of uneasiness, for the butler was quite possibly the
sternest, most dour-looking personage she had ever set eyes on. What she saw
inside, however, surprised her. It was dark and elegant, but the curtains were
open and there were fresh flowers everywhere, making the rooms smell like
springtime and giving the manor a cozy warmth. She couldn't help smiling.

Simon escorted her to one of the rooms in the west wing, while the marquis
showed her parents and siblings to neighboring bed chambers. "James and I
are in the east wing," Simon explained, motioning along the curving
balcony behind them, "but Grandmama is two doors down from you, for she
doesn't like the morning sun. When Lily arrives she'll be next to you,
here."

"Lily?" Angel queried, trying to hide her sudden surprised
dismay.

"Oh, yes. James didn't tell you? He's invited the Stanfreds along, as
well. Thought you might enjoy the company."

Angelique forced a smile. "That was kind of him." Simon smiled as
well. "Yes, I thought so. He's being rather more cooperative than I'd
expected." He kissed her knuckles again. "Someone shall be by to
bring you down to the courtyard."

She stepped into the room, and wasn't surprised to see more flowers sitting
on the stand by the bed. The chamber was decorated in gold and peach, and she
liked it immediately. Fleetingly, she wondered if James had chosen which room
she would occupy. From the window she had a splendid view of the south end of
the lake and of the woods beyond, and until Tess came in to help her freshen up
she sat in the sill and looked out at the water, a blue reflection of the sky.

Outside in the courtyard a long table had been set with fresh fruit, sliced
ham and chicken, and several desserts that immediately had her mouth watering.
She wasn't the only one impressed with the confections, either, for when Henry
and Helen appeared a moment later they bolted for that end of the table.

"Luncheon first, you two," she said, wishing she could head
straight for the strawberry creams resting tantalizingly on a silver platter.

The marquis was already present, listening to a report given by the head
footman. After a moment he nodded and strolled over to her. "Are you pleased
with your accommodations?"

She nodded. "Quite," she answered, wondering why the more at ease
he seemed, the more unsettled she became. London might have been her territory
but Abbonley was definitely his.

"Lord James?" Henry said hesitantly, and the marquis turned.

"Master Henry?"

"Do you
boat on the lake?"

The marquis looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, we used to have
several rowboats," he answered slowly, "but this end of the lake's
become a bit swampy, and I can't for the life of me remember what's happened to
them. I'll check with Simon, and see if there isn't something we can't do. I
haven't been fishing in quite awhile."

"There are fish?" Henry asked, his eyes lighting.

"Oh, yes. When I was younger I caught supper on a regular basis."

"Henry, Helen, come sit down and eat," Camellia called from one
of the tables that had been set up in the shade of the west wing.

"You shouldn't have told him that," Angel commented as the
marquis took a plate from one of the servants and handed it to her before he
accepted another for himself.

"Why not?" he asked, indicating that she should select her
luncheon.

"He'll nag you incessantly, now," she told him, picking up a
strawberry cream and then a second. Strawberries and horses were her greatest
weaknesses.

"Take another," he suggested, seeming to read her mind, and
reached over to place a third one on her plate.

Immediately Angel was distrustful of his solicitude. "Are you trying
to cushion the blow before you inform me that you've invited the Stanfreds
here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Lady Angelique, I
really don't need to inform you of anything. This is
my
estate, and I
may invite whomever I choose to. come and visit me." Angel scowled, and he
raised a hand. "I don't wish to argue with you."

"Well, why not?" she demanded, primed for a fight.

James gave a short grin. "Because, much as I enjoy sallying with you,
I do prefer seeing you smile," he said softly.

That stopped her. "Oh," she managed.

"And I was being nice because I wanted to thank you," he went on.

She looked up at him. "For what?"

"I was rather . . . distracted at the Tremaines. You were very kind,
and I apologize for snapping at you." For a brief moment his expression
darkened. "What is between Desiree and me is not for public view, whatever
she might think."

She was tempted to ask what exactly was between Lady Kensington and him.
Instead she frowned and squinted, trying to-look ignorant. Acknowledging her
part would be decidedly unladylike, and the more proper she was, the less
excuse her parents would have to delay the wedding. "I accept your
thanks," she began, "though I'm not quite certain why, as it was you
claimed my hand for the waltz."

He looked down at her, and after a moment pursed his lips and nodded.
"Ah, How forgetful of me. Thank you again, my future cousin," he
remarked, then excused himself to take a seat.

Angel had only a moment to wonder why she was coming to dislike that
particular epithet before Simon reached her side. "How do you like
Abbonley?" he asked as he accepted a plate.

"It's magnificent," she said with a smile.

"Yes," he agreed ruefully. "I'm afraid it will make the
estate at Turbin Hall look quite shabby. Perhaps I should never have shown you
James' streasure."

Angel touched his sleeve, wishing people would stop referring to her
future home as mouldy and shabby. "You've done a grand job here,
Simon."
 
 

Simon grimaced. "James has done a grand job. I can take credit only
for maintaining it while he was away."

"Well, you've done that grandly," she insisted stubbornly, and
he smiled at her.

"You are too kind, Angel."

"Sounds like a reasonable enough compliment to me," the
viscountess said from behind her. Lady Elizabeth piled strawberries on a plate
held by one of the footmen, "I'm pleased you've come, child."

"Thank you for inviting us, Lady Elizabeth," Angel responded
with a smile.

"Nonsense," the dowager viscountess snapped, eyes twinkling.
"Jamie, come here and greet your grandmother," she demanded.

The marquis obediently rose and strolled over to kiss Lady Elizabeth on the
cheek. "Bossy," he murmured.

"Scamp," the viscountess replied in the same tone. Elizabeth took
a seat with Angel and Simon at the second table, and the luncheon conversation
was lively, to say the least. By the end of the meal Angel's sides hurt from
laughing. Simon for the most part stayed out of the good-natured bantering
between the marquis and his grandmother, but Angel had already noted that
bantering didn't seem to be Simon's style. It was James Faring's, however, and
unfortunately, and to the annoyance of her parents, hers.

James offered a tour of the stables, much to the delight of both Henry and
Angelique. After inviting the boy to go riding in the morning he regretfully
excused himself to go inside and find Algers, his agent, waiting for him in
the study. Simon had done a fine job with Abbonley, but there were still
details that needed to be taken care of, things that had been delayed until his
return and that he now wanted done. The school in the village of Esterley,
which sat on the edge of his land, had been erected in his absence, but awaited
his approval before it could be occupied. It was a special project of his, and
he determined to visit it before the end of the week.

Finally Algers, burdened with enough tasks to keep him busy for a
fortnight, departed. James sat back with a sigh. It used to be that he detested
taking care of the details of the estate, especially in the year right after
his father's death when he had returned from London to find Abbonley in disarray,
and the countryside mourning the death of Richard Faring and dreading having
his wild son ensconced in his place.

Now it was a task he rather enjoyed, seeing the progression of things he
had planned. The school was a prime example. His neighboring landowners might
think him a fool for educating the laborers on his property, but he hadn't seen
any evidence that keeping them ignorant did any good.

Simon knocked and leaned into the room. "Is Algers gone?”

James chuckled. "I told you, you don't have to deal with him any
longer."

His cousin came into the room and seated himself. "It's only that he's
so opinionated. Made me feel every decision I made was going to send Abbonley
sliding into the lake."

James pushed against the window sill. "We still seem to be anchored
fairly firmly," he said with a grin. "Which reminds me. What
happened to the rowboats I used to have?"

"Heavens, I don't know. They've probably been beached somewhere along
the lake." Simon sat back and crossed his ankles. "You surprised me
when you gave in to Grandmama, you know. I'm pleased you've finally decided to
allow guests into Abbonley."

James gazed out the window. "Being alone isn't quite as attractive as
it used to be." He took a seat, mulling over whether or not he should
bring up a subject that had been nagging at him for several weeks. "Why
didn't you ever tell me that my . . . antics were damaging your reputation; as
well?"

Frowning, Simon rose halfway to his feet. "Now look, James—"

James gestured at him. "I'm not implying anything. I was just curious.
Because you can't tell me that my being your relation didn't have something to
do with the Grahams putting off this wedding for as long as they could
possibly manage."