Angel's Devil (24 page)

"You don't appear to be pleased," Simon said, coming up to
meet her.

"I'm surprised you're even speaking to me," Angelique said,
stepping forward to put a hand on his arm. "I've been awful to you. I'm so
sorry."

Simon shook his head. "James has led far less naive women than you
astray," he said. "And I haven't been . . . entirely honest with you,
either."

"You haven't?" she prompted when he paused, wondering who,
exactly, James had bothered to trouble himself with leading astray.

"No." He took a breath. "But that hardly matters now,
does it? We will be married. And all of our silly plotting and scheming has
done nothing but cause trouble, and a further delay." At the landing he
paused again. "I should simply have known better than to include James in
this. He thrives on setting everything on its ear. The sooner we all depart
Abbonley, the better."

"You're leaving as well?"

"James rather insisted that Grandmama and I leave when you
do." He shrugged. "It's just as well, for I have no real wish to
remain here with him, anyway."

Angelique gave a sniff, "Nor do I."

"I mean, I love him dearly," Simon went on, throwing out one
arm, "but he's always been so damned . . . wild. He knew we were engaged.
And he should have stayed away from you." He looked away and cleared his
throat. "Has he said anything further to you about Lily?"

"I think he's decided against offering for her," Angel replied
somewhat stiffly. She was furious at James, but relations between the cousins
were strained enough without her adding fuel to the fire by telling Simon
precisely what had transpired between James and her.

"Good."

Everyone else was at luncheon when they arrived outside.

Lily's eyes were red and puffy; and Angel wondered if she had caught a
cold. Angel had spent far too little time with her friend, and far too much
with James Faring. Simon greeted Lily, his manner quite subdued, and his eyes
closely studying her friend's face. Angelique frowned. The expression on his
face rather reminded her of the way James had looked at her. Until last night,
anyway.

Before she could dwell further on that, Henry grabbed her elbow. "I
saved a place for you," he said.

Angel sighed. "All right." She allowed herself to be led to
the table that seated the remainder of the guests, and paused for a moment to
greet Lady Elizabeth, who looked about as ecstatic about events as she felt.
When she realized to which seat she was being led she tried to balk, but it was
too late to do so without making a scene.

Henry pulled her chair out for her, and James stood stiffly, something
she couldn't read flashing in his eyes. "Good day, my lady."

"My lord," she answered, sitting opposite him.

She looked down and started her lunch, intent on finishing and leaving
without saying another word. Before she had taken her second bite, however,
Henry began kicking her leg. She ignored it, then kicked back. Nothing worked.

"Henry, stop it," she hissed.

Her brother was giving her such grimaces that for a moment she thought
he was choking. Reflexively she glanced at James, who was eyeing Henry
curiously. He had touched none of his lunch, and she thought with grim satisfaction
that he must have quite a head after last evening.

"What is it?" she finally asked, hoping her ankle wasn't
bruised.

Her brother gave an audible sigh and shook his head, obviously feeling
he was dealing with a complete imbecile. "We're going fishing this
afternoon. Do you want to come with us?"

"I don't think so, thank you," she said stiffly, bending her
head again.

"But we're not using worms. Lord James, tell her she should go with
us."

"I would think Lady Angelique would want to spend time with her
betrothed," James muttered tonelessly, spearing a dark glance at his
cousin.

Angel glared at him. "I do not need you to tell me the proper way
to conduct myself," she said, angrily popping a strawberry into her mouth.

"Is that so," James supplied in a voice that made her shudder.

"It is so," she murmured fiercely, "and so is this. You
had no right to do or say any of the things you did last night. You have only
yourself to blame for your unhappiness."

"I see," he replied, his voice calm but his eyes glaring at
her.

The children were staring from one of them to the other, dismayed.

Angel stood, drawing herself up to her full height. "And if I were
a man," she spat, "I would have called you out over your
behavior."

As soon as she said the words she regretted them. James came to his feet
so quickly his chair fell over. Mostly to give herself time, for she was
certain he would come after her, she threw her plate at him. It hit him
squarely in the chest, the contents running down the front of his fine gray
coat.

"Angel!" her mother gasped, as the rest of the guests sat
frozen with shock.
           
.

Angel ignored her mother and backed away from James, but after shooting
her a look of almost uncontrolled anger he turned and strode for the manor. As
he passed the serving table, he picked up a large crystal punch bowl and threw
it at the wall. It hit with a resounding crash and shattered. The marquis
didn't even slow down.

"What did he do to you last night?" Simon snapped, stepping
up beside her and grabbing her arm.

"He was just very rude," she said, her voice trembling.
"But what do you expect from the Devil?" she continued, and fled.

She ended up in the garden, and after making certain that Arthur and his
fop of a brother were nowhere to be seen, she sat beneath an oak tree and
sobbed. On the far side of the manor Demon whinnied, no doubt annoyed at being
led out for exercise so close to his meal time. She straightened, wiping at her
eyes. She would show the Devil how much she thought of him.

"What do you wish me to do with this, my lord?" James's valet
queried, lifting the food-covered coat off the floor with two offended fingers.

"I don't give a damn, Perry. Bum it." James shrugged into a
clean coat, his thoughts so much on Angelique that it took him a moment to
realize that, for once, dressing hadn't hurt. Being furious had its merits,
after all.

"A waste, my lord," Perry commented, grimacing. Simms
scratched at the door. "My lord?" "What?" he snarled,
stalking over to yank it open.

His butler's startled expression quickly set itself to one of distress.
"My lord," he said in a voice even more dour than usual. "My
lord, you have a caller."

There were far too many people at Abbonley already, as far as he was
concerned. "Well, who is it?"

Simms cleared his throat. "Lady Kensington, my lord." The
blood drained from James's face, and he had a sudden urge to take a seat. He
resisted, instead staring at his butler and willing him to confess that it had
been a joke. A very little joke. "Is she alone?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Well. I'd best go see what she wants, then."

His mouth dry, he followed Simms to the drawing room. The butler would have
opened the door, but James impatiently motioned him away. He took a breath and
pushed it open. Desiree, clad in a dark burgundy gown, stood by the window
looking out toward the lake. Her long black hair was pulled back by combs, the
trailing ends curling down over one shoulder. Fleetingly, he wondered if 'she
still . smelled of lavender.
      
.

She turned around. "James," she breathed, "I knew you
would see me."

With feigned composure James strolled over to lean against the mantel.
"You're not the most likely visitor I can think of. What brings you to
Abbonley?'

"Didn't you get my note?" she asked, coming closer with a
rustle of skirts.

"I did," he replied. "And you heard what I said to you in
London."

"Yes. And I wanted to explain things to you," she said,
running her fingers along the back of the couch.

"So you said."

"It's been so long since we've spoken, I scarcely know where to
begin."

James tilted his head, trying to read her expression. "Begin with
why you married Lord Kensington four weeks after I killed a man for you, why
don't you," he suggested.

"I never told you to kill anyone," she returned.

"Sweet Lucifer, Desiree," he swore, "you did everything
but put a pistol in my hand."

Desiree looked at him for a moment. "My aunt and uncle wanted me to
marry Luey," she said softly. "I always wanted you. I still do."

"You've a funny way of showing it," he retorted. "You
mean by my marrying Clarence."

"Very astute."

"James, you didn't used to be so cruel," she chastised coolly.

"I didn't used to loathe you," he returned bluntly. Desiree's
fingers stopped tracing patterns on the back of the couch. "After I got
over my shock at the news that you had actually killed Geoffrey, I real—"

"You were flattered," he broke in, listening to her tone,
"that I did it."

"Who wouldn't be?" she returned. "What's more romantic
than a duel?"

"Flowers." The fingers had begun moving again. "At least
no one need die over posies."

"Let me finish, love," she suggested. "I realized that my
aunt would immediately try to marry me off in order to reduce the scandal. You
had fled to France, so—"

"So you married Kensington."

She smiled the beautiful smile that had once induced even him to attempt
poetry. "Yes. When I married Clarence," she began, "he was so
old I thought for certain he'd have died by the time your father allowed you to
return from your banish—"

"Of overexertion, I presume?" James suggested coolly.

"Oh, of something, James," she returned, clearly annoyed at
his interruptions. "And then I would be a wealthy widow, and you and I
could have had anything we wanted. Don't you see?"

"I begin to," James muttered. And he had thought himself
cold-blooded. "Though you might have considered that I, could have
afforded to give you anything you might have wished for, myself. You might have
waited for my return."

"Your father would have cut you off in a minute if you'd married me
after that."

"Ah," James said, examining his nails, "so my wealth and
title do figure into this somewhere."

"Of course they do," she snapped. "I'm not a fool, you
know."

"No. You're not. But I was." A fool to ever have become
tangled in Desiree Langley's arms.

"You begin to understand, then," she murmured, misunderstanding.
"And you see what troubles me now. Clarence hasn't died, even after five
years. Every night I see that wrinkled old man in my bed, when it should be
you."

"Ah,”' he muttered, waiting to hear what abomination would next
come from those ruby lips.

"But now we can be together. We were meant to be together,"
she whispered, and leaned up to kiss him.

That kiss answered one question. He was no longer in love with Desiree.
In fact, what he felt most strongly was revulsion. "Am I to kill him,
then?" he asked slowly.

"Of course not." She kissed him again. "We'll be in London
all winter."

"And?" he murmured, hearing his grandmother calling his name.

"There's no reason you couldn't spend the winter at Faring House in
town."

For a long moment he looked down at her. "I've been away from
Abbonley for two years, Desiree. I think I should like to spend the winter
here."

She returned his gaze. "Who is she?" she asked after a moment.
She continued to look at him. "That girl from the ball, isn't it? I
thought I recognized that look. You used to look at me that way. Angel Graham,
yes?"

"It's no concern of—"

"I've been hearing for the past year how desperately her parents
wish her to settle down and become proper. Do you really think you're the one
to do that?"

"People change, Desiree."

She shook her head, giving a small, sensuous smile. "No, they
don't. Your cousin was courting her as well, wasn't he? Tsk, tsk, James. I'm
beginning to believe you can only be interested in a woman someone else
possesses." She looked at him from beneath her lashes. "Which still
leaves me, my Devil."

"Lord James!" Henry called from somewhere close by.

He took her proffered hands. "People do change. If I've learned
nothing else in five years, I do know better than to listen to anything which
flows past that forked tongue of yours."

"James," she protested, trying to pull free.

He released her. "I may not be the one for Angelique, but neither
am I so foolish as to wish to share your bed, you viper. Get out of my house,
Desiree. I never want to set-eyes on you again."

"But you love me," she protested.

He shook his head. "I loved you once. I do not any longer."
There was someone else he loved, someone whom he would never have, both because
of his own stupidity and because of the woman standing in front of him.
"Get out, before I have you thrown out."