Angel's Devil (5 page)

 
Angel shook her head. "I'm expecting her
any day now. I already wrote and asked her to be my bridesmaid, and—"

Simon laughed.
"Angel, we do have nine months yet to plan this."

She shrugged.
"I know, but it makes the wedding seem closer if I can do something to
prepare for it."

"I know
what you mean. In fact, I was thinking of asking James . . . " Simon
trailed off, looking past her shoulder. At the same moment Angel noted that the
room was buzzing with muted conversation.

"Lady
Angelique."

She turned
around. The Marquis of Abbonley stood before her. He was dressed all in black,
with only his white cravat and a beautiful emerald pin that exactly matched his
eyes to leaven the stark effect. She suddenly realized. why the nickname Devil
had stuck to him.

"My
lord," she answered, curtseying and wondering why he looked as though he
was angry at her.

"I had
hoped there would be a place left on your dance card for me," he murmured
coolly, indicating with a flick of his long fingers the paper she held in one
hand. "Under the circumstances, I thought perhaps we should become better
acquainted."

She glanced
down at her card. There were two spaces still unclaimed, but despite his
completely legitimate reasoning, she debated whether or not to tell him. He
seemed definitely put out about something, though she couldn't imagine what.
Abbonley was watching her closely, no doubt expecting her to beg off.

"I have a
waltz and a quadrille still unclaimed," she said, not one to back down
from a challenge. "You may have your pick."

For a brief
moment the look in his eyes changed, the only indication he gave that he might
be surprised. "Then I choose the waltz," he replied, and with a
slight bow made his exit.

With those
words the music for the first quadrille of the evening began, and Simon led her
out onto the floor. She glanced over toward the far wall to find the Marquis of
Abbonley leaning there and watching her, and she wondered again what she had
done. After a long moment she looked away to find Simon smiling at her from his
place a few steps away, and she mentally shook herself. Whatever James Faring
might think was certainly no concern of hers.

3

J
ames
Faring was not amused. The rumors of his supposed attraction to his cousin's
lady had come to his ears the day after he had gone walking in Hyde Park.
Simon's intended or not, the gossiping chit could have waited until the rest of
the
ton
had a chance to decide for themselves if he had become civilized
before she started in on what was left of his reputation. Behaving was
difficult enough without that dragging him down.

In the past he
would have spent the evening upstairs at the gaming tables, but he was avoiding
those as strenuously as he was the liquor that flowed in abundance through the
room. Most of his acquaintances, and even a few of his socially acceptable
former mistresses. had stopped to greet him and welcome him home, but he wasn't
much in the mood for frivolous conversation. He was saving all of his attention
for Angel Graham.

By the time he
claimed her for their waltz his leg ached, and he was nearly as tired as he was
angry. For the first few turns they waltzed in silence, her slender hand tense
in his as she obviously sensed his annoyance.

"No cane
tonight?" she asked finally, raising her brown eyes to his.

"It was
mostly for show," he returned shortly. "I should like to know, Lady
Angelique," he said evenly, "how it has come to pass that half the
wags in London are discussing my interest in the woman my cousin has been
courting?"

She blanched.
"What?"

"You
appear to be surprised."

"I
am." She frowned. "Louisa and Mary only asked how we knew one
another, and I said we'd returned to London together. I don't know where they
got the idea that you were interested in me, or I, you. I should have known
better than to say anything to those silly gossips with their odious innuendos."

"Yes, you
should have," he agreed.

Angelique
glared at him, apparently not in any better humor than he was. "I
apologize, my lord, but surely you don't expect me to believe that you haven't
had much worse said about you."

"Rather
blunt, aren't we tonight, my lady?" he responded cynically. "I shall
be as well. Ordinarily I wouldn't give a flying leap what anyone might think
about my actions, but I've been away for quite some time. I'd rather hoped to
be able to redeem myself with my fellows." His voice sank into the murmur
that, in the past, had caused several worthy gentlemen to give up frequenting
White's while he was in town. "You've now made things even more difficult
for me. I do not appreciate that."

"Then you
likely shouldn't have accepted the offer of a ride back to London with
us," she stated, her dark green skirts swirling against his legs.

He hadn't expected
her to challenge him. Angelique Graham, though, didn't exactly seem the type
to retreat. "If you had informed me that you were engaged to my cousin, I
might not have accepted that ride."

Angelique
glanced over at Simon, waltzing with Miss Jenny Smith. "As he is your
cousin, and as we have been engaged for three months, I thought he might have
informed you already." She sniffed. "And besides, when I invited you
to share our coach, I had no idea who you were."

He pursed his
lips. Even her discovery of his identity had had little discernable effect on
her. "So we should be blaming Simon for this mess."

She shook her
head. "My parents, I think. They're the ones trying to keep the engagement
a secret." She grimaced. "They are obsessed with respectability, and
are convinced I'll do something outrageous before the wedding and Simon will
beg off."

"I
see," he murmured, impressed and disarmed by her honesty. “Apparently
then, you took quite a risk, inviting both Brutus and myself to join you."
He paused as the rotation of the dance took them close to the line of
bystanders and their sharp ears.

With the long
evening, straying strands of Angelique Graham's copper hair, coiled into a bun
at the back of her head, had come loose to caress her high cheekbones. The hint
of a smile touched her full, red lips. "Actually, I thought that with a
stranger sharing the coach ride, Mama wouldn't be able to rail at me as much
for taking in another pet."

He raised an
eyebrow, though where Angel was concerned, he had little difficulty imagining
a version of the Dover rescue occurring on several other occasions.
"Another pet?" he repeated.

"Well,
there haven't been all that many, but Mama remembers every one, and all of the
supposed problems they might have caused."

"I
see," he returned with a grin. "So I was merely a distraction to keep
your parents from realizing the true issue at hand:'

She chuckled.
"Exactly. Though I hadn't realized how much of a distraction you would be.
A stranger would have done quite well, but the Devil—" Angelique stopped,
flushing. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"It's all
right," he murmured, abruptly wondering how she would look with her long
hair loose. He cleared his throat. "I worked quite hard to earn the
epithet."

"So I've
been hearing," she returned.

"Now you
disapprove of me," he said, irked that her criticism bothered him. "I
told you I've been attempting to reform."

"To use a
clich
é
, talk, sir, is cheap."

"I begin
to understand your parents' concerns, my lady.” Two could play at insults, if
that's what she wished.

Angelique
flushed. "How dare you?"

"You see,
my lady, I can be far more blunt than you."

She lifted her
chin. "If this is how you become respect able, I can see why you're having
such difficulty being accepted." Angelique glanced over at Simon.
"Perhaps you need a wife to show you how to speak properly to woman."

"Ah, a splendid idea. Perhaps you could find one for me.”

 
That stopped her, as he had
thought it might. “What?"

"A
wife."
He gave a goading smile. "Someone who would suit me and my needs."

She looked up at him suspiciously. Her eyes had small flecks of green
deep inside them, he noticed. "What would suit you then, my lord?"

"Someone .
. . mild, and respectable, from a good family," he responded slowly, though
he found that that was no at all what he wished to say.

"Someone
not like me, you mean," she scoffed.

"You are
spoken for," he pointed out, wondering if Simon had any idea what a
spitfire his future bride was.

"I am
aware of that, sir." She cleared her throat. "What other qualities
must this perfect wife possess, then?"·

"I require
nothing else."

"Sense of
humor, intelligence, shared interests? Beauty?”

she pursued,
her expression becoming skeptical.

"Not
necessary."

She hesitated.
"Love?"

"There's
no such thing," he returned bluntly, beginning to regret having brought up
the matter, even in jest. She asked more questions than his grandmother.

"You don't
believe that," she protested.

"How do
you know what I believe, Lady Angelique?" he responded coolly.
 
“I require a wife who will bear me an heir and
stand beside me at social functions. I do not expect, nor do I require,
anything further."

The waltz
ended. Angelique freed her band from his grip, then after a moment wrapped her
fingers around his forearm. She looked about the room with a frown. Abruptly,
her expression cleared. "Well then, my lord, allow me to assist
you."

"Why so
suddenly cooperative, my lady?"

“You and I are
to be cousins, after all," she returned. “Your respectability will reflect
on me."

"I
see." Exceedingly leery, James nevertheless allowed her to guide him to
one side of the ballroom where several young women stood.

"Pearl?"
she said, and one of the girls turned around.

"Angel?"
the young lady replied, obviously surprised, then looked over at James and
blushed.

"Pearl,
may I present James Faring, the Marquis of Abbonley? My lord, Miss Pearl
Wainwright."

"My
lord," the girl curtsied.

"Miss
Wainwright," James acknowledged, looking sideways at Angelique. Miss
Wainwright was blond and slim, and not at all unattractive, and be couldn't
guess what Simon's chit might be up to. The music for a quadrille began, and
he glanced back at the girl. "Would you care to dance?"

"Yes, my
lord," she responded, and took his proffered hand.

As Angelique
watched them step into line with the other dancers, she barely refrained from
laughing. If all James Faring required was a quiet, proper female, she would
see that he found a plentitude. Then he would see whether affection or
attraction had any importance in his match. No such thing as love, indeed.

"Angel,"
her mother motioned from the line of chairs set against one wall. '

With a last
glance at the couple, Angel stepped over to the countess. "Yes,
Mama?"

"You know
your father and I disapprove of that man. Why do you insist on defying our
wishes?"

"I wasn't
defying you, Mama," Angel protested. "He asked me to dance."

"You
should have declined."

"But once
Simon and I are married, he will be my cousin. I can't—"

"You and
Mr. Talbott will not be married for nine months. Once you are safely wed, then
you may converse with the Marquis of Abbonley—as long as there is someone else
present at all times. Even a married woman would find her reputation sullied
in the presence of such a rake."