The Solemn Bell (22 page)

Peter Lawton had twisted Angelica in so many directions that she didn’t realize she hadn’t been willing. That man was a predator. No woman—or gentleman, if he set his sights on one—was safe.

“Did you think I wouldn’t have believed you?” He wrapped his arms around her. “Angelica, I love you. I know your heart, as surely as I know my own. What Peter did to you wasn’t your fault.”

She sniffled into his shirtfront. “He said you couldn’t love me…”

“Well, he’s wrong.” Brody kissed her dark head. “We’ll show them all how wrong they are about us.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

After seeing Angelica settled into her bath, safe under her maid’s watchful eye, he went in search of Peter Lawton. Brody pounded on his door until it flew open in his face. His old friend was half-dressed. His waistcoat and dinner jacket were draped across the bed behind him, alongside the gold case Brody knew so well.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” Peter said, inviting him in. “What’s your pleasure?”

Brody crossed the threshold, closing the door at his back. “Stay away from Angelica.”

“You mean Miss Grey, your chaste little sweetheart?”

He resisted the urge to murder him where he stood. “She is off limits!”

Peter only laughed. “Did she tell you that? I hate to break it to you, old bean, but if you’re not putting it to her, someone is.”

“I am.”

“Are you, by God? Well, I suppose when you
can
get hard, opium does do wonders for staving off orgasm. Remember that one time when we brought those two whores back to The Langham and—”

Brody put his hands up. “I’m not here to reminisce. I only came to ask you, as my friend, to leave Angelica alone.”

“Why, are you in love with her? Going to marry her and whatnot?”

“I never said that…”

Peter shrugged into his crisp white shirt, and began doing up the studs. “Then you aren’t being very sporting, refusing to share her. We’ve always shared in the past.”

“This girl is different.”

“She’ll never be faithful to you. Believe me when I tell you that it hardly took any effort to have her moaning in my arms. She was ripe for it. I only stopped myself because I’m a gentleman. The next chap who gets his hands up her skirts won’t be.”

“Let me worry about that.”

Peter tied his tie in the mirror. “If you insist. But don’t come crying to me when you get your heart broken.” He studied his reflection, and then shifted his eyes up to meet Brody’s in the glass. “I’ve missed you terribly since you’ve been gone. When things with the girl run their course, you ought to come back to town. You act as if it were all bad, but we had our fun… It could be like that again. Keep the little slattern, if you like, but give up this pretense of being a changed man. We both know what you are. Now, be a good chap and cut us a few lines. You know where I keep the stuff.”

“I told you, I’m done with all that.”

Laughing, Peter turned and opened up the gold case that held his bottle of cocaine, his spoon, a razor blade, and a snorting straw. It was all specially made from one of the finest jewelers in London.
 

His old friend put his golden spoon to his nostril, and sniffed. “It’s going to be a long week-end, old bean. Do let me know if you need anything to keep you going.”

Without a word, Brody turned and fled the room. He had to get away from temptation. He wasn’t in his right mind to fight off Peter and the drugs. He understood now that Angelica wasn’t the real target. She was merely caught in the middle of another one of Peter’s sick, twisted games.
 

He wished—just once—that his old friend would be caught out and exposed for the devil he was. But chaps like Peter never got caught. They lived the rest of their lives preying on the weak and the desperate. And, worse, taking advantage of the people who loved them.

Brody didn’t knock to see if Angelica was dressed. He barged into her bedroom, locking the door behind him. She wore nothing but a fresh pair of lace drawers and matching brassiere. God, he would never grow tired of seeing her in lingerie—he’d rather have that than any drug.

“Peter won’t bother you anymore.”

She turned to him. “Is he dead?”

“No.” Brody actually laughed. She could always cheer him up. “I talked with him.”
 

He crossed the carpet to stand behind her. Bessie patiently slipped a black satin dinner gown over her head. While the maid adjusted the frock to sit perfectly against her figure, he kissed Angelica hungrily.
 

“The poor chap doubted how much I love you. And how much you love me.”

She blushed. Angelica might have been a fallen woman, but she was still shy about kissing him in front of Bessie. “Thank you for trusting me. You are a better man than anyone gives you credit for.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He watched as the maid put the final touches on Angelica’s ensemble. Her black hair shone in the lamplight, pulled back from her face with a simple silver hair clip. She didn’t need the feathers, bandeaux, or diamond stars that plainer girls relied on. Her beauty wasn’t fussy. It was straightforward and unflinching—he’d loved that about her from the moment he first saw her.

When Bessie finished with her work, she quietly slipped out the door, leaving Brody and Angelica alone.
 

He didn’t know what to tell her, but something ought to be said. Peter’s behavior was unacceptable, yet it was partly his own fault. Brody shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Listen, about earlier…”

“If it’s all right with you, I’d rather forget it ever happened.”

“Of course, but I need to explain something first. Only, I’m not sure how to go about it.” He took a deep breath, and bared his soul. “There are times when an addict will do anything for their next dose, even things they’re very ashamed of. I have traded drugs for sex, taking advantage of some poor girl’s desperation. I’ve even traded sex for drugs, letting someone in a similar position to take advantage of me. Honestly, I’m not sure which is worse. But I do know firsthand that there are times when you don’t enjoy the act, yet, for some frightening reason, it still feels good.” His chest felt tight. “God, I’ve never…I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Angelica’s hands flew to her heart. “Oh, Brody.”

“You’re not a whore because you’ve given yourself to men. You’re not a slut because you like sex. I certainly don’t consider myself any of those things,” he confessed. “People might say that you wanted what happened with Peter, or that you deserved it because of the choices you’ve made. Or, hell, even because of the choices that
I’ve
made. But if anything like that ever happens again, don’t be afraid to scream. Don’t be afraid to run. You never have to endure anybody’s hands on you—not even mine. Alright?”

He continued, “I know I said some unkind things when we first got together. Hypocritical things that I had no right to think, let alone speak. If I’ve done anything to make you feel ashamed, then I am sorry. You are a passionate, sensual woman, Angelica. I love everything about you, and I never want you to be anything other than who you are.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

A little of the tension had left her, and he hoped his words brought some comfort. He understood all too well how the guilt lingered. How the demons of one’s past nipped at one’s heels. The last thing Brody wanted was for her to carry the burden of what Peter had done.

What had happened did not change how he saw her, or how he felt about her. Angelica Grey was a strong woman who had lived a difficult life. She’d made some poor decisions, but she didn’t deserve to suffer for them—and she didn’t intend to. If anything, her resilience, her bravery in the face of so much adversity, only made him love her more.

CHAPTER FORTY

As if by some miracle, Marcus and Mr. Lawton switched seats. She felt certain that Captain Neill had pre-arranged the whole thing, and she was forever grateful. Peter Lawton used the change of seating as an opportunity to both flirt with Cynthia, and put himself forward as a potential suitor for Mary Rose.
 

The man played the game very well.

If Marcus knew anything about the debacle, he never said so. He was a true gentleman. Angelica chatted happily between the two brothers, forgetting for a moment that she had nearly destroyed her relationship with Captain Neill. He’d forgiven her, of course, but could never know just how close she’d come to giving in to Peter’s seduction. Her heart and mind had recoiled, yet her body responded shamefully. Perhaps she wasn’t as experienced with men as she’d believed herself to be—she’d only been with two, after all. A man like Peter Lawton had probably bedded hundreds of girls.

Angelica retreated into herself as her thoughts drifted to Mr. Lawton. Conversation carried on around her, but she grew quiet. Only Mrs. Neill’s voice cutting through the din brought her back.

“I trust there will be no more outbursts, Miss Grey?”

She forced herself to smile. “No, ma’am. I certainly hope not.”

“In future, perhaps you’ll feel more comfortable taking your meals in the morning room,” the woman said. “It must be difficult for you, keeping up with both your fork and your manners…”

Angelica swallowed back her shame, willing her cheeks not to burn. She couldn’t see the faces of the others, but they all grew quiet. They were watching her. Waiting. She raced to find a suitable response. The last thing she wanted was to cause another scene.

Captain Neill touched her arm. “No, Angelica. You’ll not be excluded—”

“I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“If they’re uncomfortable, it’s their own damned fault,” he hissed. “Your table manners are better than mine.”

To her left, Marcus laughed. “Agreed.”
 

Both Neill brothers worked to lighten the mood, and to dispel any tension between she and their mother. But the woman was cruel, and she’d made her point—Angelica Grey was not welcome at her table.
 

Cynthia Cartwright spoke up from the place across from her. “How awful not to be able to read, write, or do maths. How do you know if you’re being cheated on your dress bills?”

Angelica smiled. “I don’t.”

“That’s what she has me for,” Captain Neill said.

She could practically feel the anger coming from Mrs. Neill’s rigid form, yet the woman’s tone was civil. “I certainly wouldn’t trust my son to handle your finances, Miss Grey.”

At her left, Marcus barked, “Mother!”

“What? We both know he cannot keep track of his own.”

Angelica wanted desperately to defend him. It was like his own family didn’t know the man that she’d fallen in love with. “I don’t think you give Brody nearly enough credit. He’s one of the most responsible gentlemen I’ve ever met. I have put my faith in him completely. He has never let me down.”

“Thank you, Angelica,” Captain Neill said, sadly. “But it’s no use.”

“No! They only want to see the old you. I know the
real
you—the man you’re working hard to be. I can’t claim to know the man you were before, but if you never hear it from anyone else, I believe in you.”

Captain Neill sat so silently that she thought she’d upset him. In fact, the whole table seemed to be struck dumb. Only Marcus leaned over to announce, “I believe in you, too, Brody.”

“Thank you, Markie. And thank you, Angelica, though I’m sorry you’ve wasted your words.”

“I didn’t say all that for your family’s benefit. I said it for yours.” She frowned down at her plate. He knew he had her love, and he knew he had Marcus’ support. What Captain Neill wanted most was his parents’ approval, yet Angelica feared he would never get it.

That would be the most painful snub of all.

Suddenly, Mary Rose spoke up, “I believe in you, too, Brody! Remember that time I fell into the pond? I know I wasn’t in any real danger, but you never hesitated. You jumped right in after me. Everyone laughed at us afterward, but I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”

His voice was tight as he replied, “You told me I’d embarrassed you.”

“You did! But I only said that in front of the others to shift the focus off me.”

“Well, thanks, M.R.”

“Oh, you’re quite welcome,” the young woman said, laughing. “Now, why don’t we all have our cake and coffee in the library? Peter and Cynthia know all the latest dances, and I want to practice my steps before tomorrow night.”

Six sets of chair legs scraped backward. Only Mr. and Mrs. Neill remained seated at the table. “You go on, dear,” their mother said to her daughter. “Your father and I have some things to discuss.”

Marcus stopped where he stood. Angelica could feel the tension in his muscles as his shoulder brushed hers. “I think I’ll hang back for a bit,” he said. “Not much use for me on the dance floor, I’m afraid.”

Angelica kept her voice low. She remembered his stiff prosthetic leg, and didn’t want him feeling left out of the fun. “You can sit and keep me company.”

He must have smiled. “Happily. Save me a seat by the drinks cabinet.”

Captain Neill took her arm and carefully guided her out of the drawing room and down the hall. The others rushed ahead in their excitement, leaving the two of them mostly alone.

“You’re a brave woman to stand up for me like that—especially to Mother.”

Angelica laughed. “I’m not brave. I’m a fool in love.”

“Well, they won’t doubt us now…”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Laughing, he held the door open for her. “Of course, but my timing was rubbish, as usual.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble between your family.” She stepped into the warm library. Cynthia and Mary Rose already had the gramophone crackling. There was the clink of glass and hiss of the soda-water siphon, and before Angelica took a seat on the sofa, drinks were passed around the room.

Someone must have offered one to she and Captain Neill, but Mary Rose stopped them. “Oh, Miss Grey doesn’t take drink, and Brody’s teetotal now.”

It was Peter Lawton. “Aren’t you two a pair.”

Captain Neill put his arm around her shoulder, pressing her into his side. He must have felt her tremble at the sound of the man’s voice. “You know, Peter, I really am enjoying sobriety. You ought to try it.”