Angel's Devil (9 page)

She grinned
ruefully. "A bit flustered, actually."

Trying to
ignore the fact that her admission had pleased him greatly, James retrieved the
package he had procured earlier and held it out to her. "I wanted to thank
you," he said, "for assisting me in my search."

Angelique's
eyes snapped to his face. "You mean you've found someone?"
           
.

"Not
yet," he smiled, not surprised at her displeasure. No doubt she had
several other eccentric females yet to foist on him. He looked forward to
meeting them. "I remain hopeful, however."

With a grin,
she opened the box. Angelique gave him a delighted look as she uncovered the
contents, then broke into a gale of laughter that he found quite engaging and
returned with a chuckle of his . own. She lifted her prize for closer
examination.

"Oh, it's
perfect," she managed, holding it up to the light. "I did try,"
he answered. It was quite possibly the most splendid dog collar he had ever set
eyes on, with a dozen
multi-hued stones set into a thick leather collar.
The. shopkeeper bad looked stunned when the Devil bad entered her curio shop,
and even more so when he bad gone directly to the thing and asked the woman to
wrap it up, because he would be taking it with him. "I thought it might
perk him up," he commented, reaching out to polish one of the
faux
gems
with his cuff.

"I don't
know about Brutus," she exclaimed, laughing harder, "but I adore
it."

James smiled.
"Then I am content," he said softly.

"Are
you?" She blushed prettily, then raised her longlashed gaze to his. He
was seized by a desire to kiss her so compelling that he took a step forward
before he could stop himself.

James froze,
horrified and dismayed at his reaction to her. If
there
was one woman on the face of the earth that he had no right to even think of
kissing, it was Angelique Graham. She was Simon's, for God's sake.

The front door
opened, and he jumped. Henry charged in, running circles around his father,
while Helen and Lady Niston walked behind them. "Oh, Papa, I want a grand
horse like that. I shall name him Devil, or perhaps Lucifer. May I?"

"Certainly
not," his mother countered sternly,

Lord Niston
nodded as he saw them. "James," he said, shaking Abbonley's hand.
"Splendid animal."

James took a
breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "Thank you, Niston. You have a
splendid family."

With a woof
Brutus bounded through the doorway. "Brutus, no!" Angelique ordered.
The dog skidded to a halt at James's feet and demanded to be petted. James
complied, grateful that for once the mastiff hadn't chosen to sit on him.

"I say, my
lord marquis, have you let Demon stand at stud yet? Could I have one of the
foals?" Henry asked.

Beside him
Angelique chuckled. "I have, and no, I don't believe any are available at
the moment," he answered with a grin. "You ride then, Master
Henry?"

"Oh, yes.
Only my Ajax is slow, and he won't jump."

"And Papa
won't get him another," Helen supplied, coming forward to look at what
her sister held. "What's that? It's ugly."

Angel lifted
the collar and grinned. "It's a gift from the marquis." She leaned
over and showed it to Brutus, who apparently approved of it enough to give the
collar and her hand a wet lick. That in itself would have been enough to cause
some proper females to lose their composure, but Angelique only smiled and
fastened the jeweled band around the mastiff's neck.

"If it's
from the marquis, then it ain't ugly," Henry said firmly, though he eyed
it dubiously.

"It
is," Helen retorted defiantly.

"It
ain't!"

"My lord,
I must apologize for these hooligans," Niston grimaced.

James smiled.
"No need. I've been told I'm quite the hooligan myself." He nodded,
noting that Angel was smiling at him. The grandfather clock on the landing
chimed twelve, and he shook himself. "Please excuse me. I promised Simon
I'd go with him to one of his stuffy clubs for some luncheon."

"It was
splendid to meet you, my lord," Henry enthused, offering his hand.

"And you,
as well." James reached down and shook it solemnly, then winked at young
Helen. "Good day, and thank you again, Lady Angelique," he intoned
with a grin. "I am grateful to you."

He lasted only
twenty minutes in Simon's club before the dull and pointless conversation the
other members were earnestly engaged in drove him to leave and head for
White's, where at least he could get a meal without being made to fall asleep.
When he had decided to become respectable, he hadn't realized that being so
frequently bored would accompany it.

His reputation
did earn him a prime spot at the horse auctions the next morning, though Simon
saw fit to point out that it was because of the size of his purse and not of
his temper. "Forgive me if I'm not terribly flattered by that," James
commented offhandedly, eyeing his information sheet and the matched pair of
coach horses being paraded about the yard before him while the auctioneer
sorted out the noisy bids of his fellows.

"You like
them?" Simon queried, resting his arms along the corral railing.

"No,"
he answered, looking across the yard. The sight of a young boy and girl perched
up on the railing there caught his attention, and he straightened, trying to
see behind them. "Short-chested. No wind."

"You think
so?"

"Mm-hm."
The two youngsters had been joined by their father and their lovely older
sister. Angelique was in a pretty green muslin that brought out her hair's
copper highlights, and she seemed to be using her parasol to bat at her boisterous
brother rather than to shade her face. The auction was an unusual place to find
a young woman of quality, but then a great many things about this particular
lady seemed to be out of the ordinary. Henry gestured excitedly at the next animal
brought out, but after a moment Angelique shook her head and frowned, saying
something to her father.

"This
one?" Simon asked, looking over at him.

"Hm? Oh.
Weak left foreleg," James murmured absently.

"Probably
been kicked."

His cousin
pursed his lips. "Speaking of being kicked," he ventured, "why
isn't Grandmama assisting you in your search for a wife? I would think that
would be more fitting."

"She's
refused to aid me. And my next closest female relative would appear to be
either your mother—"

"Oh,"
Simon grimaced.

"Or your
betrothed. Besides, Lady Angelique rather volun—"

"The
engagement is a secret, remember?" Simon glanced at the crowd around them,
but no one appeared to be paying attention to their conversation. "It's
just that I'm not convinced Angel's choices would be suitable for what you want
in a wife."

James raised an
eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And why do you say that?"

His cousin
shrugged. "Well, she can be rather . . . whimsical, some-times."

"Really? I
hadn't noticed."

"Yes,
really. And do keep in mind that your search for love is to wait until after
you've finished helping us."

"For a
wife," James corrected sharply. "Not love."

The look Simon
gave him wasn't at all the expression one should be wearing when discussing
matrimony, and James suspected he was about to be lectured. "It's been
almost five years," Simon muttered predictably. "Stop torturing yourself.
You're allowed to fall-"

"In love
again?" James finished for him. "How do you know that, Simon? How
long is one expected to do penance for a murder?"

"It wasn't
a murder. It was a fair fight, James."

"Tell that
to Luey."

For a moment
Simon looked at him, then shook his head and stepped back from the railing.
"I know you'd take it back if you could. Perhaps Luester realizes that as
well." He sighed when James declined to respond. "You said you'd go
to tea at Grandmama Elizabeth's at three. Don't be late." His cousin
turned and walked away.

"Tea," James grumbled. "How very conventional of me."

He glanced up
to see Angelique looking at him, a smile on her face. With her parasol blocking
her from her father's view, she motioned him over. After a moment James took a
breath and nodded back, tilting his beaver hat at her. Belatedly he wondered
if he shouldn't have informed Simon that his betrothed was in attendance. He
shrugged. His cousin should have noticed her, himself.

He pushed away
from the fence to make his way through the crowd to the Grahams. "Good
day, Niston," he smiled. "Lady Angelique, little Grahams."

Helen giggled,
but Henry leaned down from his perch on the railing and tapped James on the
shoulder. "My lord marquis?"
               
 

James
reluctantly looked away from Angelique and over at her brother.
"Yes?"

"Have you
bid on anything yet?"

He shook his
head. "No, but I'm about to."

"On
what?"

"That
one." He pointed at the magnificent bay being led out and held his
information sheet so Henry could see it.

.
"Pharaoh," the boy read, and looked over at the stallion again.
"He's a goer, ain't he?" he said admiringly.

"Oh,
my," Angel murmured, resting her chin on her arms and sighing as she
leaned up against the railing. "He's splendid."

James found
that he was somewhat distracted. "Perhaps you can ride him some day."

She turned her
head to look up at him. "You don't own him yet," she pointed out.

"I
will."

"That is
the greatest piece of nonsense I have yet heard this Season," she said
with a grin.

James chuckled.
"And what might the second greatest piece of nonsense be, my future
cousin?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

"Anything
Percival Alcott says," she returned promptly. James put a hand to his
heart. "I don't know whether to be flattered or offended by my place in
the ranking."

,"My
lord?' Henry queried from his other side. Angelique wrinkled her nose.
"You're correct. Percival Alcott is a much greater piece of nonsense. I
apologize."

"My
lord," Henry protested, pulling on his sleeve, "they're
bidding!"

James shook
himself and turned around. With a grin he, handed the rolled information sheet
over to Henry. "Wave this in the air when I tell you," he instructed.

"Yes,
sir!"

The auctioneer
called out a hundred pounds, already a steep price, and he nodded. Henry
obediently waved the paper in the air, and James raised a hand.

"One
hundred to the Marquis of Abbonley," the auctioneer droned. "Do I
hear one twenty-five?"

"One
twenty-five," came from across the paddock. "Uh-oh," Angel
muttered. "The fifth Earl of Branford wants your hunter."

"Well, he
can't have him," James returned, and nodded at Henry.

"One
hundred fifty to the Marquis of Abbonley. Do I hear one hundred
seventy-five?"

"Two
hundred," Branford bellowed.

"Three,"
James murmured before the anctioneer could repeat the amount.

Henry craned
himself up to his full height. "Three hundred!" he shouted.

The crowd
quieted to an expectant murmur. "Three hundred fifty," the earl
called out, eyeing James with some hostility.

"Four,"
James returned, and Henry seconded it at greater volume.

"That's
quite high, don't you think?" Angel murmured, her sleeve brushing against
his.

"I want
him," James responded softly.

"You want
him, or you don't want Branford to have him?" she returned.

He glanced over
at her. "It's the same thing."

"My lord
marquis, the bidding stands at four hundred fifty pounds," the auctioneer
informed him. "Do you have another bid?"

He nodded.
"Let's get this over with. Henry? One thousand pounds."

Henry grinned.
"One thousand pounds!" he yelled into the silence.

The auctioneer
was stunned enough that he delayed a moment before responding. "One
thousand pounds from the Marquis of Abbonley. Are there any other bids?"

Branford glared
at James for a moment, then shook his head. "You can have the nag,"
he called, and turned away:

"Thank
you," James returned, and as the auctioneer slammed his mallet onto the
crate in front of him the crowd exploded into cheers and applause.

"Sold, Pharaoh, to the Marquis of Abbonley, for one thousand
pounds." The auctioneer sketched a deep bow. "Thank
you,
my lord."

James grinned
and raised his hat. "I'd best go pay for my nag."

"Can we
go?" Henry asked, jumping down from the fence.