When Angels Fall (21 page)

“You don’t have to prove it. You just tell them it’s a lie. They’re the ones who must prove this vicious rumor.” She gave him one last hug and their tears mingled when she kissed him. “Besides, you won’t be dealing with them again. You’re going away to Eton. I won’t allow my brother to look upon the Bakers ever again.” She heard Evvie gasp, but Lissa would explain later. George would be going away to school; she saw that Ivan thoroughly agreed with her. She would have no problem getting him to pay; the only question was, what would he want in return?

“Truly?” George asked, wiping his cheeks.

Lissa felt unspeakably relieved to see how this comforted him. Suddenly she knew it would all be worth it.

“Truly,” she whispered, then kissed his head. “Now,”
she said, taking a deep breath, “you must be hungry. Why don’t you let Evvie make you something in the kitchen?”

“I suppose.” He got up stiffly, and she knew it was going to take a week or so for all his cuts and bruises to heal. If only his emotional pain would heal so quickly. Bastard! she thought. The word alone made her burn. How could people be so cruel?

“Lissa, will you be all right?” Evvie asked pointedly when she had George in hand. With an anxious gesture, she tilted her head in the direction of Ivan. The marquis scowled as if somehow Evvie’s sudden nervousness had irked him.

“I’ll be fine, Evvie. However, I think the marquis and I need to discuss a few matters. You don’t mind looking after George, do you?”

Evvie paused. Lissa knew exactly what she was thinking and her next words only confirmed it. “Lissa, perhaps we should discuss other alternatives?”

Like Holland Jones,
Lissa silently finished for her. But that was out of the question. They couldn’t scare Holland away with these burdens. It was one thing for a brother-in-law to pay for such weighty bills as an Eton education, it was another to ask a suitor. Once Holland married Evvie —if he married Evvie—then God save him. But until then, Lissa was determined not to put anything in his path that might chase him off.

“I think there are some scones left from dinner. Why don’t you heat those up with some honey?” Lissa watched as Evvie frowned. She was evading her, but now was not the time to discuss it. Once she made her agreement with Ivan, then they could discuss it at length.

Sensing her sister’s reasons, Evvie quietly led George from the parlor. Lissa stared after them as the two disappeared into the kitchen. Then she turned to Ivan. He was watching her, his hand stroking his chin as if he were deep in thought.

She wiped the tears from her face, then took another
deep breath. Quietly she began, “I remember that you once said George belonged at Eton.”

“I did,” he answered slowly.

“Then I shall do whatever is necessary to send him there. I shall cook for you or do your wash. I shall even make your bed if you like. But I beg you”—her voice lowered to a whisper—“don’t make me earn it in your bed.”

He stared at her for a long time. He seemed to be unable to tear his gaze away. He took in her homey, dusty, winsome appearance, and a longing briefly lit up his face. The look was certainly sparked by desire, but somehow his expression seemed to want something more, something deeper. But soon the fleeting look was gone and abruptly he got up from his seat.

Scowling, he said, “I have enough money to pay for one boy’s schooling without forcing his sister into servitude. Good day, Miss Alcester. I shall arrange things and get back to you tomorrow.” He walked to the pegs where his overcoat hung. Without hesitation, he donned it and made ready to leave.

“Ivan, wait.” She touched his arm. He turned to face her, and she felt very small as she tipped her head back to look up at him. “I can’t let you pay for George. You must know that. But I shall gladly take the position for which Powerscourt advertised. It hardly sounded like menial labor. Then, when Evvie is married, we shall be able to repay you completely. Please, can we make a bargain?”

“You bargain with me, love, you bargain with the devil.”

She looked at him shocked. “But—but—can’t you see? I won’t let myself be indebted to you—”

He grabbed her arm. “You tempt me, Lissa. And I say leave it be. I have offered to pay for George without compensation. I suggest you leave it that way.”

“But we can make a simple bargain.”

“As if any bargain between you and me could be simple.” Roughly he let go of her arm.

“It can be, if you’d just let it!”

He laughed. “All right. You pushed and I shall agree to take your offer. You shall have a position in my household—though nothing so low as housemaid. You may assist me with my letters and aid the housekeeper with her lists. For that, I shall keep to my promise of one hundred pounds per annum. So let me see . . . how many years will it take for you to pay all of George’s bills? My God, I shudder to think.”

“It shall not be more than half a year. Holland will pay you the rest when he marries Evvie.”

“Holland’s money be damned. It’s all my money anyway and I won’t accept it. Now, do we have a bargain?”

“Why must you be difficult?” she asked him in a panic. “You know I can’t work at the castle indefinitely.”

“And why can’t you? Or do you look forward to your many years living as a fifth wheel with Evvie’s family, and being known only as Mrs. Holland Jones’s spinster sister?”

His cruelty brought tears to her eyes. “Of course not. And how kind of you to bring that up,” she whispered.

“I’m being realistic. Now do we have a bargain?”

“Yes, damn you, we have a bargain. But I shall not repay you working in your bed. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.”

A heated flush of relief rose to her cheeks. She hated to speak of such indelicate matters, but he’d forced her. At least now they were seeing eye to eye. “All right then, we have an agreement. Shall we shake hands on it? Do you give me your word as a gentleman?”

“I give you my word, yet because I’m not a gentleman, we will not seal this bargain with a handshake. Instead I should like a kiss.”

“You are to act like a gentleman. It’s part of the bargain.”

“I shall act like a gentleman. To finalize this,
you
are to kiss
me
.”

Apalled, she stared at him in disbelief.

“So now I ask you, do we still have an agreement?”

She took a moment before she answered him. “Yes,” she said, “but what you ask is just what I told you I won’t tolerate.”

“One kiss. From you. Then I assure you, you may play the part of the consummate virgin, for I’m not in the habit of chasing the help around the furniture. Nor do I plan to be in the future.”

“After this, no more?”

“I’ll leave that up to you, love. So kiss me.”

She paused and decided that what he asked was innocent enough. They were in her parlor, and Evvie was only a call away. He could never compromise her.

She stood on tiptoe and tried to kiss his lips, but he was utterly uncooperative. Without his bending his head, she couldn’t reach his mouth, and so she was finally forced to put her arms around his neck and pull his head down to hers.

As close as he was, she could see the midnight color of his eyes, the way they sparkled with desire yet hid every other emotion brilliantly. The scar she hardly noticed, because it now seemed as much a part of him as his nose or his ears. She licked her lips before she kissed him, for her mouth had become unbearably dry. She was anxious to have this over with, and so she placed her mouth upon his and gave him a quick innocent kiss.

It was done in a second, yet still she was amazed at how disturbing his lips had felt. The inside of her belly seemed to melt, and her own lips tingled and quivered from a desire for more. But as unsettling as her reaction was, Ivan’s was even more so. With her hands still wrapped around his neck, she thought she’d see passion on his face. Instead his expression was distant and cool. His eyes seemed to be daring her to go further, as if enticing her to break down his resistance. She didn’t want to but the temptation was too much, and deep down she felt disappointed that he had not been affected by her kiss. If
she was more truthful, she would have admitted that with his passion there was power. Now that it might no longer be hers, she was not about to let it go.

She pulled him to her for another kiss. Her lips moved across his in an artless seduction. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck. But still there was no response. Above her Ivan remained as cold and implacable as ever.

She kissed him again and instinctively she made this kiss wetter. Her lips hungrily sought his and her mouth grew more bold. Still there was nothing.

By the fourth kiss, she felt him stir. It was almost imperceptible, merely a light slackening of his jaw and a slight movement of his lips. So she kissed him a fifth time, hoping this one would bring forth a response.

It did. Unable to take any more of her teasing, his hands went to her face and he guided her lips ferociously to his. With his unleashing his desire, a fire lit inside her and she shuddered with delight. He was hers after all.

Her hand stroked the dark curls at the nape of his neck while their kiss grew deeper and more sensual. His tongue slid inside her but this time she wasn’t shocked. Kissing Ivan this way seemed as natural as laughter and ever so much more pleasurable. She wanted it to go on forever.

Finally, as the bloom of their kiss faded away leaving them hot and breathless, Lissa closed her eyes and brought her cheek to rest upon his chest.

“It should always be like this,” he whispered to her.

She looked up at him and he tenderly outlined her lips with his finger. Suddenly she felt like crying again, but for what reason, she didn’t know. When he pulled from their embrace, heaved on his overcoat and walked out the door, she had to force herself not to stop him.

Ivan had taken it upon himself to escort George to Eton College. When he returned from Buckinghamshire, Lissa was amazed at the deference given the assumed protegé of the Marquis of Powerscourt. In less than three days a post came from the Provost of Eton who wanted to personally assure them that George Alcester was not only well suited to be a colleger, but that he would most definitely be an asset to the intellectual, spiritual, and social community of the school. The Alcester girls were thrilled and, as if unable to believe their good fortune, Lissa read the letter aloud to Evvie every day for a week.

Meanwhile, an odd thing happened to Clayton and Johnny Baker. Their father, Sir Baker, had always been a flagrant spender, so it was no surprise that rumors soon had it he was becoming a candidate for debtor’s prison. Yet surprisingly, Sir Baker’s debts were paid off just in the nick of time. But then, instead of Sir Baker’s resuming his previous lifestyle, he sold his estate to a mysterious buyer, put Clayton and Johnny in a wretchedly strict boarding school up north, and left town without a word. Needless to say, Lissa had been delighted to hear the Bakers had all left Nodding Knoll, but the entire episode smelled of the marquis. And he already had too much power.

Soon the cost of such luck came due and Lissa was summoned to Powerscourt by the housekeeper, Mrs. Lofts. Upon their second meeting the housekeeper’s attitude toward her soared to the heights of unpleasantness, yet Lissa could not quite figure out why. Since there was no proper way to ask the tight-lipped woman about it, she could only keep her speculations to herself.

In the beginning Lissa found the work quite tolerable. She had been delighted when Mrs. Lofts informed her
that the first rule of employment at Powerscourt was that she was never, ever to be seen by the master unless he specifically called for her presence. As she had guessed, within the castle walls there was an entire network of servants’ passages and silent, baize-covered doors for use only by those who worked in the household. From the other servants, she had learned that Ivan was not so intolerable as some who would fire any servant unlucky enough to have been caught outside the tunnel when the master was about. However, Mrs. Lofts was. The housekeeper seemed pleased to inform Lissa in no uncertain terms that if the marquis saw even her skirts slide behind one of the baize doors and she was to find out about it, Lissa would be out on her heels that very same day.

Ironically it was hardly a week before Ivan caught her. Mrs. Lofts had asked her to bring to the scullery all the glass chimneys that needed cleaning in the drawing room. It was not the kind of task Lissa had thought she’d be performing, but she was not about to complain to Ivan, and most definitely not to the dour Mrs. Lofts. She had just lowered the gasolier when she looked up and found Ivan watching her from the conservatory. Nervously she searched the room for the servants’ exit, but she couldn’t recall where it was. So she took an uneasy step backward and made for the main passage.

“Where are you going?” Ivan’s voice shot out from behind her.

Without turning, she said, “I must leave you alone.”

“Come back here. Tell me about your duties with which I see Mrs. Lofts has you well encumbered.”

“Ivan,” she said, running up to him, “please don’t tell her you saw me. If you did, she said she’d have me—”