Angel's Devil (22 page)

"And turned you into the Devil," Angel murmured, shivering.

"Yes." He looked across the moonlit garden. "On my
father's advice I went to France, and then my darling Desiree married
Kensington." He shrugged. "I suppose even a barony was better than
what she thought she might have had with me."

Angelique reached up to touch his cheek. He turned to looked down at
her, and she leaned up to kiss him. His arms went around her, pulling her
against him. This was so wrong, so very wrong, and so very right. She tangled
her fingers through his black hair, wishing she could erase every memory he
had of Desiree Kensington.

"Angel! Where has that girl got to, now?"

Angelique tore her mouth from James's. "Oh, no," she breathed,
looking toward the manor and her father's voice. "James, let me go."

He kept his hands around her waist. "Never," he whispered,
shifting over to nibble at her ear.

"Oh, my." She shivered at the sensation, which seemed to run
through her entire body. "James, if you ruin me they'll send me off to
Australia"

He sighed and let her loose. "I would follow you," he
murmured, standing and pulling her up beside him.

"Would you?" Angelique shook herself. "Oh, never mind.
Get away, please."

"Do you love me?"

"James," she begged.

"Do you love me?" he repeated huskily.

She felt compelled to answer. "Yes, but—"

"That's enough. For now." He leaned over and softly touched
his lips to hers, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the garden.

Her gown was rumpled, and she dazedly smoothed at it. If Simon had come
upon them, James might have found himself embroiled in the duel he very much
wanted to avoid. Something had to be done, before they all were hurt. Brutus
came padding up to her, and absently she scratched his head. James loved her.
And that made everything even more complicated than it had been before. She
couldn't break with Simon, for she had given her word. Once James had suggested
it, though, she found it impossible to banish the notion from her thoughts. Oh,
her parents were right. She was entirely incapable of behaving in a proper and
mature manner.

Something rustled in the bushes to her left, and she whipped around, her
heart pounding. She saw nothing, and when Brutus sauntered over to root among
the leaves she thought perhaps it had been a rabbit or a mouse. When he
emerged, there was something dangling from his massive jaws. Whatever it was
caught the moonlight and glinted.

"Brutus, give," she ordered, holding out her hand, and he
dropped his prize into her palm. It was a monocle. She lifted it for closer
inspection, and her heart skipped a beat. The gold rim was engraved with the
initials P.A.

12

J
ames
Faring didn't sleep at all. He'd been about as subtle as a bee sting with
Angelique. A green boy just down from university would have performed a
seduction with more panache than he had. The only comfort was that Angelique
had said she loved him. True, there were a multitude of conditions and
complications attached, and he'd practically beaten the confession out of her,
but she'd said it

It was her damned parents' fault. He'd thought to have at least another
fortnight to wheedle her away from her thoughts of Simon, during which time he
would have gently broken the news that his cousin was in love with Lily Stanfred.

It did cross his mind to simply sit back and hope that Simon would
summon enough impropriety to call off the marriage, but there were two reasons
he couldn't risk that. Firstly, Simon's sense of honor was so deeply entrenched
that it had likely never occurred to his cousin that he could change his mind.
And second, Angelique was no one's castoff, and he would never allow her to be
treated as such.

She didn't appear for breakfast, and he found himself as angry at Simon
for apparently not noticing her absence as he was at himself for upsetting her
enough to keep her away. He went down to the stables in time to see Simon and
Lily riding off toward the lake together. "Damned insensitive . . .
"

Heaven was in the near paddock as Angel appeared from the direction of
the garden. She cooed at the mare and produced a lump of sugar, while James
quietly stepped forward to lean against the railing a few yards from her.
Several strands of her long hair had escaped from their pins, and unconsciously
she pulled them back behind one ear with her fingers. She was wearing a light
green patterned muslin, a shawl knotted over her shoulders against the cool morning,
and he would always remember every detail of her.

Heaven finished the treat and then trotted back to the far side of the
paddock. Demon stood crowded up against the railing of the neighboring corral,
his neck craned in Heaven's direction and his ears tipped forward at the mare.
"It seems Demon has aspirations to reach Heaven," he offered.

Angel turned to look at him. "So it seems," she returned, with
a smile. "You pun well."

"Thank you," he answered, smiling back. "I have to admit
I can sympathize with my poor beast's yen for so divine
 
a creature." James ventured a step
closer, but wasn't surprised when she raised a hand as if to ward him off.
She'd had a night to regain her sensibilities. And if she had any sense she
would club him over the head and run for assistance.

"Stay right there," she ordered, blushing. "Do not begin
this again."

"But last night—"

"Last night we were seen," she interrupted.

Good Lord, he'd ruined her. "Who was it?" he murmured,
wishing he could kiss the troubled furrow from her brow.

She fished something from her pocket. "I heard rustling in the
bushes, and Brutus brought me this."

He stepped forward, and she deposited a monocle in his hand.
"Percival Alcott," James said darkly. He looked up at her. "Are
you certain he didn't simply drop this on another occasion? He and his brother
have been tramping about my garden for days."

She shook her head, turning back to the corral. "With the way this
entire scheme has been proceeding, what do you think?"

"Hm," the marquis murmured. "You're right. But he doesn't
know you're engaged, Angelique."

She sighed and lowered her head. "That doesn't matter. I've been
behaving like such a hoyden. No wonder my parents are concerned."

James reached out and lifted her chin. "I've been doing my damndest
to seduce you," he murmured. "And believe me, I've had a great deal
of practice. It's no fault of yours, Angelique.”

"It
is
my fault," she protested. "I wanted you to
seduce me. I still do."

James gave a slow smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

He leaned forward, but she put a hand against his chest "No."

"Well, we seem to be in a bit of a spot, then," he commented,
running his thumb along her cheekbone. "What do you suggest we do?"

She shivered. "Nothing."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Nothing?"

"When a lady is given a choice between being involved in a scandal
and doing nothing, she does nothing," Angelique informed him firmly.

"And who told you that?"

"My mother."

"Ah. I should have guessed." James glanced toward the corral
where Demon eyed Heaven longingly. "Well, my sweet, you may be a lady,
but, as I have been told on numerous occasions, I am no gentleman. And this
Devil has no intention of letting you go that easily."

"James—"

"Break the engagement, Angelique. Be with me."

"Be with you how?"

"Any way you wish," he returned, his voice quite unsteady.
"Though I would suggest marriage as a reasonable choice."

For a long moment she simply looked at him. "But what about . . .
what about Simon?" she whispered.

She was giving in, he realized joyfully. "I'm certain he'll make
do."

"But he loves—"

James tilted her chin up further and stopped the rest of her protest
with his lips. Her hand, which had been resting against his chest, wrapped
around the lapel of his jacket and pulled him against her, and he knew he'd
won. He could tell her, about Simon and Lily.

"Angel!"

At the sound of her mother's voice Angel jerked away from him. Her face
turned alarmingly white. James cursed as Lady Niston, led by Percival Alcott
and followed by his grandmother, strode across the grass toward them.

"Mama," Angelique stammered.

"You see?" Percival sniffed, "I told you this would happen
in the Devil's den."

Reflexively James reached out to steady Angelique, but at her appalled
look he stilled his hand. Instead he turned to her mother, prepared to take as
much of the blame as she cared to confer. "Lady Niston," he drawled,
"I was merely demonstrating how Lady Angel might wish to proceed with
Simon. It seems she has little experience with—"

"Not a word!" her mother growled. Lady Niston grabbed
Angelique's arm and dragged the girl back toward the manor. "You . . .
devil! Stay away from her!"

"Yes, my lady," James bowed, though he had no intention of
doing any such thing.

Angelique expected to be bellowed at for lowering herself to behave in
such a completely disgraceful manner. Instead her mother glared at her, tight-lipped,
and then suggested she go up to her bedchamber and wait. As soon as Angel shut
the door behind her she ran to the window, to see James standing out by the
corral where she had left him.

A light breeze lifted the dark hair from his brow as he stood looking
out over the lake. He looked so alone, and her heart ached. She should never
have let herself fall in love with the Devil Marquis of Abbonley. Nearly anyone
else would have been acceptable if she had changed her mind about Simon, but
not him. The irony was, that without James Faring, she would probably still be
deluding herself into believing that she could force herself to be happy in
Simon's idea of proper life.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned and looked up at her window. If she
were Juliet and he Romeo, she would expect him to climb up and rescue her. She
sighed, pressing her palm against the cool glass. There was no balcony, and no
trellis, and at the moment even the problems of the Capulets and Montagues
seemed more manageable than what faced her and James.

The marquis turned as his grandmother approached. They spoke for a brief
moment, James obviously agitated. He started toward the house, but Lady
Elizabeth grabbed his arm and said something more to him. He stopped and looked
down at his grandmother, turned to look up at Angel again, and then strode for
the stables and vanished inside.

By the time her mother pushed open her door it was late afternoon, and
Angel was beginning to wonder whether she should try an escape, and where in
the world she would go if she managed to get away. Her heart was here, with
James. She would simply have to hope her parents would understand. And perhaps
Simon would forgive her some day.

"Mama," she began, rising.

"Not a word," her mother snapped. "Come with me."
Apprehensive, Angel followed her mother down to the drawing room. She was
surprised to see that her father and Lady Elizabeth were already there,
waiting. Simon and James were in attendance as well, standing at opposite ends
of the room and obviously trying to ignore one another.

"Angelique, your father and I have discussed your behavior over
the past two months. We were wrong to bring you here, so some of what has
happened rests on our heads, as well." Lady Niston gestured at her
husband, who glanced at Angel and James and then cleared his throat. He didn't
look; entirely comfortable with the proceedings. Perhaps he could be reasoned
with, when her mother wasn't about.

Lady Niston continued. "We have decided to return to Niston as we
planned. And, in light of today's incident, we have decided to delay the
wedding until next September."