False Angel (14 page)

He did not want to believe what he thought he heard that she left unsaid. And it was not until he had gotten her into his carriage over all her protestations that she should walk because her cousin would be furious that he had been inconvenienced, and they were almost at the Viscount Talwin’s house, that he dared question her further.

Thus, when he saw the Lady Leonora as she stumbled down the stairs to her front hall, obviously awakened from an afternoon nap, brushing back her witch-wild, witch-black tresses from her rosy, sleep-warmed cheeks, he could not contain his anger. Or his anger with himself at his own desire for her.

He did look like the devil, Leonora thought dazedly, as he stood before her and scorched her with fury playing like lightning in those wild, deep blue eyes.

“Get her out of those clothes,” he commanded, and then remembering to whom he spoke, his lips quirked, but not with the humor she’d lately been imagining, rather they twisted into an expression of scorn that seemed to find a corollary knot within her own stomach as he added, “... my lady. For if you don’t, you’ll have a funeral here in a week, rather than a ball.”

He dripped rain from his high beaver hat and from his cloak, but when Leonora tore her horrified gaze from his grim features, she saw Annabelle at his side. The girl looked shrunken, for she too was draped in a gentleman’s voluminous, streaming cloak. As Leonora watched, Annabelle unbuttoned the cloak and took it off, handing it back to the marquess. And then she looked like some sort of drowned creature, almost a caricature of the picture of the drowned Ophelia that she so admired in Leonora’s book of Shakespeare.

Her fair hair lay like wet seaweed plastered to her cheeks and neck, and her dress was so transparent with moisture that it clung to her as though it were the covering for some half-human, half-sea creature dragged up from the ocean floor, and her lips and face were white with chill.

“But never fear,” the marquess said coldly, never taking his stare from Leonora’s shocked face, “for she did your bidding before she drowned. She delivered the invitation that could not wait for a sunny day or a footman’s leisure ... as you wished.”

“Oh Annabelle!” Leonora cried. “How could you? Why did you?”

And Annabelle, in a voice as lost and plaintive as a gull’s cry, but with her eyes as wide and empty as a shoreless sea, said at once, “But cousin, what are you saying? I was only trying to please you. It was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Leonora met the marquess’s blazing eyes and then without a word, looked away quickly to her poor drudge of a cousin. It was then that the Marquess of Severne knew, with a dreadful sick sense of triumph, that he had, at last, found the flaw that he had been seeking and never wishing to find.

NINE

It was undeniably an unfortunate trait, he thought as he handed his cloak to a footman, for a lady to be carelessly cruel to her underlings. And certainly, such behavior might well signify a certain overall callousness in the lady’s personality. But then, there were worse things, the Marquess of Severne thought as he greeted his hostess. There were a great many far worse things he decided, as he took the Lady Leonora’s hand, than simply being a bit thoughtless in one’s dealings with some insipid, insignificant little chit that had been landed upon one by an act of charity by one’s family.

As he spoke with her, and heard her delighted, musical laughter, he believed every unspoken word of his silent rationale. As he gazed down into her lovely face, so clearly filled with relief and joy at his presence at her ball, so pleased to reflect back his own smiles, it was easy for him to forget all his disappointment and chagrin with her. But it was a brief respite. No sooner did she reluctantly turn her sunny countenance away from him to greet her next guest, than the shadows of doubt descended again.

For after he’d greeted Talwin and the viscountess and Leonora, of course, there was Lady Sybil and Lord Benjamin, and then, standing a little apart from the rest as though even here she feared a sudden blow for her presumption, was Miss Annabelle Greyling. She, too, greeted him with an immediate look of sheerest joy. But that expression was as unfamiliar to her face as it was transient. In a second she had recovered herself and she wore a look of trepidation as she tentatively offered him her hand, as though she believed her elation would bring punishment upon her.

When he left the reception line, the Marquess of Severne acknowledged several old acquaintances, accepted a glass of champagne from a wandering footman, and ignored the steady stares and sibilant hiss of whispers that his appearance always caused in the section reserved for the aged, infirm, and subservient the seated dowagers, chaperones, and companions who were ranged against the wall.

“We were fashionably late,” a familiar hoarse voice said at his side, “but you were, as always, fashionably later. How I wish I had your timing, my dear Severne. Now Regina, my only love, pray do not echo my sentiments, or my feelings shall be wounded. It is enough that this creature comes loping into the room like a wolf upon the flock and takes all the attention away from me, it would be more than I could bear if you were to begin to entertain fantasies about certain other rumored aspects of his excellent timing as well. I give you good evening, Joss. I knew you had arrived from the moment the wallflowers began to sound like a snakepit at feeding time.”

“Good evening, Jason,” the marquess replied lightly, giving his friend the Duke of Torquay his hand but not his attention.

For, “Good evening, Duchess,” he breathed next, taking the lady’s hand and never taking his eyes from her face. “You grow more lovely each time I see you. It’s no wonder that this selfish gentleman keeps you mewed up in the countryside, safe from all of us desperately enamored fellows.”

“Good evening, my lord,” the Duchess of Torquay said, coloring up in a becoming fashion, as though she’d not had such a compliment in years, when there was little doubt that she was praised each time she took one graceful step into company. With her striking sunset-colored tresses, bright green eyes, and a form that was still shapely after bearing two sons, it might have been significant, the gossips thought with a little thrill, that the lean young marquess still stood gazing at her, seemingly eyeing her hungrily even as her husband looked on.

But experienced social lions shook their heads and turned away. They knew that this duke and his duchess were so unfashionable as to be constant to each other as the tide was to the shore. And the marquess would no sooner think of seducing the lady than he would his own sister, and he was no Byron. It was merely a game the trio played each time that they met, only a gentle sort of raillery between friends. Since each of them had difficulty in winning true friends, they perhaps each feared altering any rituals that had sprung up between them, lest they inadvertently give offense and lose the fellowship that was so rare and valuable to them. The marquess and the duke had earned their relative isolation from the highest sticklers in the ton. But the lovely lady who had wed the infamous duke had done nothing but wed him to ensure her name’s becoming notorious.

To be absolutely fair, the marquess thought as he smiled down at the duchess, she had also done a few other things to have merited her notoriety. She’d been born beautiful, clever, and also penniless and of obscure parentage. Then she’d compounded her sins by constantly defending and praising her wicked husband. She’d also presented the widower duke with a fine brace of boys to accompany his motherless young daughter, and kept his interest so well that he’d never sought another female since the day they’d wed.

“I’m relieved and delighted to see you here,” the marquess said to his friends when their customary spate of mocking mutual flattery was done with, “and surprised, as well. But evidently, when Talwin says ‘Do this,’ it is performed.”

“It’s not just because he is our great Caesar,” the duke replied thoughtfully, “it is because we genuinely do enjoy seeing him. Of course, we cannot say as much for all his exalted company present tonight But then, the duchess and I feel that we don’t have the opportunity to do charity work often enough at home. So when we come to London, we believe it is our obligation to inject some interest and amusement into the miserable lives of the senile, otherwise addled and terminally bored. Hence, our attendance at such affairs as this one.”

“I applaud your missionary zeal,” the marquess said with an admirably serious expression, “and hope for your sake that we are far from the ears of any of his intimates.”

“We are never far enough from the ears of Talwin’s intimates,” the duke replied with a smile, “that is what makes him the valuable sort of fellow that he is. But if it is his family that you’re worrying about, we’ve had a word or two with Lady Leonora, and she, of all this lot, would we believe, agree with our attitude completely. A delightful child, a rare find, a credit to her papa, as well as a beauty, and still unattached. How odd.”

“Not in the least,” the duchess said softly, “not if she is looking for a true match for her heart, as well as her mind and her spirit.”

The duke looked down at his wife fondly. “Such touching sentiment,” he breathed. “That is one of the joys of marrying a much younger female,” he confided sweetly to his friend. “And I get to read her fairy stories each night before bed as well.”

But then, finding himself to be the object of a particularly fixed and speaking look from his duchess, he shrugged and said on a grin, “And now I must have this dance with her, for having had a dance alone, I must pay the piper. The tune will probably cost me another visit to the Pantheon Bazaar tomorrow. Oh Joss, take care what you say to Talwin’s lovely daughter. Domesticity looks economical enough, but it costs dearly.”

As the marquess watched the duke lead his duchess into the opening dance of the night, he thought that he might have reminded his friend that he, of all men, perhaps knew better than most just how high the price of marriage really was. But the duke was his friend and would doubtless have been pained to know he’d caused pain with a thoughtless remark. But then, Joscelin realized, the remark would not have bothered him one whit so much as a few weeks ago. Somehow, sensation was returning to his sensibilities, something was causing the ice about his emotions to crumble and sheer off. Then, seeing the bright glow of the pink of her gown as her father led her into the dance to open her ball, he believed that he saw a glimpse of some of the dark radiance that had begun to thaw him.

He watched her through the first set of dances, and once she looked across the room and saw him as well. The smile she gave him caused him to begin to take a pace forward before he caught himself, and he was relieved to see her father’s surprise when she missed her next step as well. When the music ended, he made his way to her side. And in the one pause between her answers to other admirers, he bent close and said only, “Do not look for me to partner you in the country dances, nor in the gavotte, nor the minuet. I have only two opportunities to take you in my arms, and be sure I shan’t waste them. I’d like two of the waltzes, please, my lady, the first and second ones. If you would be so kind,” he added humbly, like a small boy ordering up pastries at a baker’s shop.

Her radiant smile was her only answer before she turned to reply to a question had been put to her by a frowning Sir Phillip.

He took pleasure in observing her grace as she danced past him, and might have passed the rest of the night thus, for the duke was partnering his lady, his host was busy putting his guests at their ease, and he himself was content to only wait and watch until he could claim his turn with his dark lady.

But he had not been successful at his chosen avocation because he was oblivious to the world around him. So much as he might have tried to deny the nagging thoughts which nibbled at the edges of his attention with the sharp rodent teeth that unpleasant recollections always employed, he could not escape their insistency any more than he could continue to pretend to ignore the long and watchful gaze that had been fixed upon him since the dancing had begun. He turned then, and opened his eyes and his mind despite all his disinclination to do so. And so he admitted Miss Greyling’s unblinking stare even as he acknowledged the unwelcome, unhappy thoughts which it brought to his mind.

The moment that their eyes met, she, of course, dropped her gaze and looked down at her slippers as though they were of paramount interest to her. He made his way across the room and took her hand.

Her fair hair was brushed into a lacy aura about her pale face, and she was dressed in a blue gown the same soft color as her wide eyes. But she only looked a bit neater than usual to him. Her coloring was too bland, he thought, for a man whose eyes had become transfixed by contrasts. For who would trouble to stare at the shy blossom, no matter how delicate, when he had a chance to watch a dark and vivid dancing butterfly?

“Miss Greyling,” he said as he made his bows, “I’m happy to see that you’ve taken no harm from your ill-advised excursion the other day.”

“Oh no!” she said, her wide eyes opened wider than usual, as though he’d proposed some shocking thing to her instead of merely inquiring after her health. “I have a very stout constitution, my lord. I didn’t take chill at all. And so I told my cousin originally. For I would not have undertaken her errand if I had thought it would make me ill enough to take me from her service for any length of time.”

He didn’t wish to hear the reply, but he knew he must ask the next natural question of her.

“Oh no,” she replied in her wisp of a voice, “Cousin Leonora did not remain too angry with me for too long. As you see, I am here tonight, and I have been allowed to dance. In fact, she bade me promise a dance to both Mr. Plumb and Mr. Wood.”

As Mr. Plumb was so stout it was a wonder that he could walk, much less dance, and Mr. Wood was a gentleman who barely qualified for that title, being both ill-mannered and clutch-fisted and old enough to be her grandfather as well, the marquess felt his spirits sink. Was she being punished for her disobedience, as she had told him that she feared she might be? For she had begged him, all through her shivering ride home, not to refine upon the matter too much, since her cousin would be outraged that she had mishandled it. She was only to have delivered the message to him promptly, and bring his prompt reply in return. The fact that he had discovered her acting as messenger and then rescued her from a cloudburst was gallant, she’d whispered, but might do more harm for her than the good he so evidently wished her.

But he didn’t wish her good, he thought now with a surge of annoyance and guilt Her presence reminded him of all he realized he should care about, but didn’t wish to know. She was so fragile, vulnerable, and clearly beset with woes that he knew he ought to be her natural protector. Yet she summoned up not so much gallantry in him but rather a weird amalgamation of pity and impatience with her. From the few hesitant things she’d let slip on that ride home, he had learned that she was put-upon, denigrated, and treated like the lowliest lackey by her imperious cousin. But lord, he thought with regret, that cousin was a sparkling blend of wit and fire and passion, and she, by contrast, a natural whey-faced victim. Which made it no more excusable, he knew, only more difficult for him to deal with.

At least, he thought with a trace of humor as he looked down upon that delicate, bent, white neck, she didn’t bear the marks of a whip or cane upon the pitifully thin and narrow shoulders that her fashionable gown left exposed. Perhaps, he thought with a certain sense of weariness, they starved her instead. But no, she’d said that she was well housed and clothed and fed. What was it then that she had said in that sad, flat tone that afternoon that had made him take in his breath sharply? Ah yes, he remembered ... “My cousin is used to command. And it is not so difficult, my lord, for me to obey. I have no other place to go. So please, oh please, say nothing of this. For I should not have mentioned it if you had not gotten so upset with me for only doing her bidding.” He gazed at her downcast head and for a moment wanted to tell her to pick up her head and look him in the eye, speak up for herself and leave off her hesitant, shy, and backward ways. No, he wanted to shout that at her. But then, he grew ashamed of his bizarre reaction to the poor chit’s unhappy situation, and even more angry at his own willingness to blind himself for the sake of a lovely illusion. So as reparation for the insult he had not given, and as penance from the crime he hadn’t yet committed, he asked her to stand up with him for a dance.