Angel's Devil (23 page)

"Papa," Angel protested. Things were becoming completely out
of band. "I need to talk—"

"It's too late for talking, Angel," her mother cut in.
"Simon, an hour ago we posted a letter to London announcing the
engagement of our daughter to you. That should clear up any future . . .
misunderstandings."

James shifted, every muscle tense and his expression angry, but he kept
his silence.

"You've . . . announced the engagement?" Angel said faintly
when no one else appeared to want to speak,

"It should be in the paper by the time we leave for Niston."

That was the end of it, then. The end of James, and the end of what she
bad begun to hope would be a truly happy life. She looked over at Abbonley, but
he wouldn't meet her gaze. After a moment he turned and strode out of the room,
shoving the door shut behind him with a slam that rattled the windows.

He wasn't at supper that evening. Angel wondered where he might be, but
was soon distracted and annoyed by the smug gaze Percival had for everyone at
the table. Simon had said nothing to her since the announcement, but he looked
dismayed. She couldn't blame him. She had behaved abominably. As soon as she
could, she would ask his forgiveness and try to make a new start of things.
Lily looked as though she had been crying, and Angel thought it kind of her to
be so concerned over this mess. Henry ate almost none of the meal, though it
was roast chicken, his favorite.

After dinner, as they repaired to the music room to listen to Lily and
Arthur Alcott play, Henry intercepted her. Taking her by the hand, he dragged
her into the morning room. "Percival says you and Simon are really going
to get married," her brother said, a tear running down his face.

"Henry," she murmured, kneeling in front of him.

"You can't marry Simon," he said brokenly. "He's the
wrong one. You have to marry Lord James."

She hugged him, wishing with all her heart that things could be that
simple. "Henry, I've been engaged to Simon all along. You know that,"
she whispered.

He nodded, wiping at his eyes. "But it's still wrong."

"Marrying James would be wrong, when I've already made a promise to
Simon." She tousled his hair. "It'll be all right, Henry."

"No, it won't. Lord James is mad, and he won't ever want to see us
again."

"Whether he wants to see me or not, Henry, of course he'll want to
see you and Helen. You know that."

She rose to go into the music room, then stopped and sighed. She'd had
her fill of everyone's looks and opinions. "Henry, will you tell everyone
I have a headache and have gone to lie down?"

He nodded. "All right, Angel."

Feeling far too restless for bed, Angel instead headed for the library.
The door was closed and -so she knocked. When there was no answer she pushed
the heavy oak door open and closed it behind her, taking a breath as she
entered the cheery room. All she had wanted was freedom from convention. She
had never counted on falling in love with the most unconventional man in
London.

"Tired of the celebration already?" a voice came from behind
her, and she started and turned around.

At first she didn't see James, for the only light in the room came from
the dying fire, but then he turned up the lamp in the comer where he sat. She
immediately sensed that something was wrong, and as he took a long swallow from
the snifter he held, watching her over the rim, she realized what it was. He
had been drinking, and from the small amount of brandy left in the decanter on
the table beside him and the glassy glitter in his eyes, had been drinking
quite a bit.

"I thought you'd stopped that," she said, gesturing.

"Ah, but this is a special occasion," he sneered, taking
another swallow. "We failed to get you wed by the end of the year, but you
have your announcement now, don't you'?"

"You know that wasn't what I wanted."

He stood and moved toward her. "Wasn't it?" he snarled. She
backed away, uncertain how to deal with the Devil in this state. "Please,
I'd like to leave." Her back came up against the wall next to the window,
and she was forced to stop. '

"You will have a proper marriage, live in a proper house and raise
proper children," he continued, moving still closer. "But will you
feel like this?"

He leaned down and kissed her roughly. Trapped as she was between the
wall and the marquis there was nowhere she could go, but it didn't matter.
Angel didn't want to get away. Her arms went up around his neck, while his
hands at her back pulled her closer against him, molding her body against his
and reminding her of how tall and strong he was. His lips tasted of sweet
brandy.

Slowly he broke the kiss, and looked down at her with those emerald
eyes. He held her close against him, and she leaned into his body. They would
think of some solution. There had to be something. Anything, as long as she
could be with James.

"Very sweet," he murmured. "Do you feel that way when
Simon kisses you?"

She tensed, and he kissed her again. "That's not fair," she
shivered when she could breathe again.

He gave a little bow. "I specialize in being cruel and unfair."
He walked rather unsteadily over to the mantel, and she was reminded that he
was quite drunk. "Your parents handled that rather well, don't you
think?"

"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.

"They maneuvered right around any steps our sterling Simon might
have taken to back out of marrying their hoyden of a daughter," he
explained in a husky voice.

"Hoyden?" she snapped, stalking up to him.

"That's right, Angelique," he breathed. "Wasn't that the
plan? You've made your bed," he murmured, and gave a soft, humorless
chuckle. "Now you have to lie in it. Literally."

Angel slapped him. "If you weren't a drunken . . . pig, you would
know what a fool you are," she spat, tears running down her face. "I
hate you."

His hand trembling a little, James reached up to touch his lip.
"Tears right on cue," he muttered, looking down at the blood on his
fingers. "You're learning. I suppose I shan't be invited to your wedding
now, sweetling?'

"That's right," she answered. "You're not invited."
With that she turned and fled the room. She had thought she loved him, and that
he cared for her. What a gudgeon she was! He was as cruel and heartless as she
had heard. She would never forgive him.

"Angel, what's wrong now?"

Crying as she was, she hadn't seen her parents talking at the head of
the stairs. "Nothing," she sobbed, pushing past them to enter her
bedchamber. "Everything."

"Cammy," Niston began, but his wife raised a hand.

"I know what is best for our daughter, Thomas," she said.
"And he'd never marry her. He'd only ruin her." She turned and
entered their own bedchamber.

"I wonder," the earl muttered, looking at his daughter's door
for a moment before he followed the countess.

James awoke at his desk in the study. From the glare through the
curtains it was morning, and if he needed any proof that he'd had too much to
drink, his throbbing skull made it clear enough. He groaned and straightened.
Every muscle was stiff, the inside of his cheek cut against his teeth where
Angel had slapped him. Five years as the Devil had provided him with a good
repertoire of insults and enough deep anger to use them. It was just
unfortunate it hadn't worked.

Oh, she was angry, all right, and she packed quite a punch for such a
petite thing. He had wanted to convince himself that Angelique was wrong for
him, that they would never suit, and to show her that she was right to marry
someone else. Instead he had only hurt both of them, for the shock and pain in
her eyes had felt like another wound deep inside. And all of his insults and
accusations still hadn't managed to change one apparently inescapable fact-that
he was desperately in love with Angelique Graham.

A quiet scratch came at the door, his skull reverberating with the
sound. "Come in," he whispered.

Apparently he had made himself heard, for his grandmother opened the
door and peered in. "Good God," she exclaimed, then lowered her voice
at James's flinch. "I thought you'd given that up," she muttered,
entering.

"I changed my mind," James replied hoarsely. "Don't worry
yourself."

"Jamie, after all this time worrying about you is part of my
character."

"That's your problem," James murmured. "Not very polite
this morning, are you?"

"I've given it up," he returned flatly. "The whole damned
pretense of respectability. I've no use for it."

Elizabeth took a seat in one of the chairs facing the desk. "So
that's it then, is it? We're back to the drinking and carousing and that
miserable existence you used to pretend amused you?"

"I'm not in the mood for this conversation," he snapped.

"Then change it," she said unsympathetically. "Change
everything.' ,

He glanced up at her. "And you are referring to—what?"

"The engagement, of course."

James closed both eyes. "Oh. That."

Elizabeth leaned forward, putting her face level with his. "What
are you going to do about it?"

"Do?" he repeated bitterly. "I believe the Grahams have
already taken care of
doing
what needed to be done."

"You're going to let them marry, then."

With effort James managed to stand. "What do you suggest I do,
Grandmama, call Simon out? That's how I handle these things, isn't it? He can
have the chit; and be done with both of them."

"But you love her."

"That mannerless hoyden? Not likely," he lied, avoiding her
eyes. "You have your grandsons confused."

She sat back and glared at him. "Perhaps I do. Yesterday you were
ready to storm into Angelique's room and make away with her, and today I find
you whining and moping in defeat."

"Yesterday," he pointed out succinctly, "the engagement
hadn't been announced."

"So that's the way you're going to leave it."

"Yes. I'm fully capable of making my own decisions and living my
own life, miserable and lonely as you may consider it." James looked away.
"And I think that when the Grahams and Stanfreds leave, perhaps you and
Simon should as well."

"No."

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, Grandmam—"

"No. After your mother died, your father became a complete hermit.
If he'd cared about anything, he might have done better by you. Angel isn't
dead. This isn't over. Not by
a—"

"It is over," he snapped. "Simon will give her a better
life than I could, anyway."

Elizabeth stood and turned for the door. "Bah. I've seen you hurt,
and I've seen you angry. But until this moment, I've never seen you quit."

"Then don't look," he grunted.

A short time later James made his way upstairs and into the practiced
care of his valet. He came down afterward to learn he had missed breakfast,
which was actually a relief. When he went out to the lake to see how the dock
was progressing, he found the children there before him.

He stayed out longer than he had time for, knowing full well he was
doing so in order to avoid seeing Angelique.

Perhaps that would make it easier, to know she hated him and wouldn't
have him even if she could. He sighed irritably, tearing an innocent blade of
grass to shreds with his fingertips. Nothing would make it easier.

13

A
ngelique
spent the night imagining all sorts of dastardly things to do to James Faring,
and was disgusted when she couldn't come up with anything clever enough to
suit. She might be a hoyden, but the last person who had any right to criticize
her for it was the Devil. "Oh, hellfire," she muttered as she left her
room to head downstairs.