Angel's Devil (26 page)

"Of course. I need to speak to you, as well." She stepped
inside, turning to watch as he shut the door. "I know I've been behaving
abominably," she grimaced, "And I'm truly sorry. It's just that—"

"My behavior has been even worse." Simon faced her, his
expression solemn and anxious.

"What do you mean?" she queried, turning to find a seat. To
her surprise Lily was there as well, seated by the fire.

"It's nothing you've done. I want you to know that. I've always
known of your . . . high spirits. The problem is, well, it's me. You and I are
friends, but—"

Angel groaned. "I knew I'd ruined everything."

Simon took her hand. "No, Angel. It's not you. Truly. I've . . .
oh, damnation," he swore uncharacteristically, and turned a pleading look
on Lily.

"Angel, we didn't mean it to happen," Lily said, taking her
other hand.

"For what to happen?" Angel demanded, confused. The two of
them looked at one another again, and then she knew. "Oooh . . . "

"I won't back out of our marriage," Simon said hurriedly, his
expression tortured. "I gave my word to you. I just, well, I couldn't say
nothing. It wouldn't be fair."

"You love Lily," Angel said slowly, looking from one to the
other. "And Lily loves you."

"Oh, Angel, I feel so awful," Lily said mournfully, tears
welling in her eyes. "I know how you feel about Simon, and-"

"It's all right," Angel said firmly, giving a small smile.
"Really, it's all right." She wasn't certain what one was supposed to
feel upon hearing this sort of news, but she was fairly certain it wasn't
relief. That, however, was exactly what she was feeling.

Simon shut his eyes. "I'm relieved you understand," he
muttered. "Lily and I have decided we will never see one another again. I
will make this up to you, Angel. I promise."

"We both will," Lily sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "Simon,
I can't marry you," Angel said. "I won't even attempt to blame it on
you and Lily, because to be perfectly honest, I'm happy for you."

"But then, why?"

"I don't love you," she said simply.

"You don't—" Simon sat back and looked at her.
"James."

Angel blushed. "What do you mean?"

"You love him, don't you?"

Her blush deepened. "Simon—"

"Don't you?" he pursued.

"Yes," she scowled, for it was quite a troublesome
circumstance, and growing more so by the minute.

He sighed. "He won't give you any respectability."

"I know."

"And he claims to have sworn off love." He looked down for a
moment. "Even with all of the things he's said about Desiree, when she
arrived here today I truly wasn't certain whether he'd turn her away or not.
I'm—"

Angel gasped. "What? Desiree was here?"

Simon nodded. "Grandmama said she wanted James back." He gave
a small smile. "He refused. Adamantly, from what I heard."

"He
is
over her, then!" Angel looked over at her companions
and cleared her throat. "He said he was," she explained, embarrassed

"I wonder why?" Simon murmured.

"Well, at the moment we're not even speaking, so I have no
idea," Angel commented ruefully. She sat forward and rubbed her hands
together. "But what do we do about the two of you?"

"Nothing.”

"That's no answer," she protested, having heard enough of that
word. "You must break the engagement."

"But that will cause a scandal for you," Simon argued, paling.

"Then I shall."

Simon grabbed her hand again. "Angel, you mustn't. Even if there
wasn't the obstacle of the announcement, Lily's parents have become convinced
that James will offer for her. I cannot compare to a marquis, and certainly not
to one as propertied and wealthy as James."

"So elope."

It was Lily's turn to gasp. "Angel. That's so—"

"Scandalous?" Angel finished. "You love one another. For
heaven's sake, show a little spirit."

"But if we're stopped on the way to Scotland, just the two of us . .
. " Lily shuddered.

"You mean you would consider it?" Simon asked eagerly,
kneeling at Lily's feet.

"Well, if it weren't so improper," Lily said slowly, "but
I don't think I could begin my life with you under such circumstances.”

Angel sat for a moment, tallying up how many things she had done wrong
since James Faring had explosively come into her life. It hardly seemed as
though it could get any worse. "What if were to be your chaperon?"
she suggested.

"Oh, Angel, I couldn't ask such a thing," Lily protested.

"Would you?" Simon interjected. "Would you help us?"

Angelique smiled. "Of course."

Simon grinned in obvious relief. "Thank you." His look became
more uncertain. "So how do we go about this?"

Angel sighed. "Do I have to take care of everything?" she
grumbled. "Simon, go have the carriage made ready, then pack yourself a
valise. Lily and I will do the same, and we'll meet you at the stables
in," she looked at the clock on the mantel, "one hour."

"An hour?" Lily repeated, her face pale.

"Unless you've changed your mind," Simon said hurriedly,
taking Lily's hands.

She smiled. "No." She leaned up and kissed him. "One
hour."

Angel hurried into the kitchen and stole a napkin of bread, for she was
rather hungry, then rushed upstairs into her own bedchamber to pack. Apparently
thinking it was bedtime, Brutus padded in and jumped up on the foot of her bed,
where he proceeded to wallow on her best cloak.

"Brutus, get off of there," she ordered, tugging at it. He
woofed at her and rolled over on his back. She gave a reluctant grin.
"Brutus, please, I'm trying to make an escape. You must get off."
That produced no better results, and she sighed. "You always listen to
James," she complained. "Why won't you listen to me?"

At the sound of the marquis's name, the mastiff sat up and wagged his
tail, then jumped off the bed. "You like James, don't you?" she
murmured, tears unexpectedly filling her eyes. "You'll be happy here at
Abbonley, then, because I really don't think Mama wants you about." She
would have been happy here, as well, and angrily she wiped at her tears. If she
had dreamed of a place to spend the rest of her life, it would have been
Abbonley, and the man she spent it with would have been James. She had been
such a shrew to him, though, and he had been so angry with her.

She closed her valise and started for the door to fetch Lily, but
stopped when Brutus came away from the window to follow her. "No,
Brutus," she said. "Now you may lie on the bed."

He tried to push by her, and with another sigh Angelique pulled a piece
of bread out of her pocket and tossed it on the floor for him. When he pounced
on it she slammed the door on him.

Simon's own carriage driver was waiting in his seat when they arrived
out at the stables. Hastings's assistant, Toombs, was standing by the horses
and watching them suspiciously. "Ready?" Simon said, coming away from
the door to help Lily into the carriage. His hands were shaking, and Angel
reflected that she was likely the only one who was going to enjoy the
adventure.

"Yes," she smiled, and glanced over at Toombs. "Are you
certain the Wainsmores wanted us to take tea tonight?"

"The—oh, yes, they were quite specific," Simon returned with a
nervous smile.

"Hey, Angel, where are you going?" Henry called, running down
from the manor.

"Oh, drat," Angel muttered. "We're going to see the
Wainsmores, Henry. We'll be back before midnight"

"Why?"

"A poetry reading," Angel improvised.

"Oh," Henry returned, obviously disappointed. He watched as
Simon helped her into the coach and then climbed in behind her.

"Go into the house, Henry," she ordered him. "It's cold
out here."

Simon signalled his driver, and they headed off toward the main road.
"That's odd," Toombs muttered, looking after them.

"What's odd?" Henry queried.

"Wainsmore Hall is the other direction. They're heading for the
north road."
        
 

"Jamie, you're being an abominable host."

James looked up from the estate books and raised an eyebrow. "Am
I?"

His grandmother stepped the rest of the way into the library. "You
are. So quit sulking and go entertain your guests."

"I'm not sulking," he returned.

"What do you call it, then?"

"I'm being contemplative."

His grandmother snorted. "I have no sympathy for you any longer. If
you refuse to take my advice, then the results are your own stubborn
fault"

"Your advice being for me to kill Simon and make off with his
intended, I presume?"

"Jamie, you know full well that—"

"I already followed your damned advice once," James
interrupted, slamming the book shut. "You told me to fall in love with
someone. Well, I have, and I'm much, much happier now. Thank you, Grandmama.”

"Jamie—"

"I'm trying to be civilized about this," he growled, "and
at the moment the best way for me to do that would seem to be to stay away from
her. Go talk to Simon. He's won the day, so let him be the bloody host for one
night."

"I already tried that. I can't find him."

"Well, perhaps he's with Lil—Angelique," he offered with a
frown. "They are engaged, after all.'

Someone scratched at the door. "My lord, Lady Elizabeth,"
Hastings said, stepping into the room.

James stood. "Good God, Hastings, what happened to you?"

The groom was covered with road dust and grime, and looked as though he
hadn't slept in days. "Just back from running an errand for Lady
Elizabeth, my lord," Hastings returned, and pulled a letter from his coat
to hand to the viscountess.

Elizabeth turned it over to read the address, then touched the groom's
arm. "Thank you, Hastings. You said you would make it in time, and you
have."

The groom grinned and doffed his hat at her. "I'm a man of my word,
my lady," he said, and with a bow stepped back out of the room and shut
the door.

"What is it?" James queried.

She looked at it again, then handed it over. "Merry Christmas,
James," she said quietly.
    
.

He frowned as he accepted the letter. "A bit early for the
holidays, isn't . . ." He looked at the address and then shot a startled
look at his grandmother. "This is addressed to the London Times."

"Yes, I believe it is."

James abruptly took a seat. "It's the announcement, isn't it?"

"I would think so," she returned dryly.

James shot to his feet again. "But Grandmama, you could go to
prison for this!"

"For daft Lady Niston trusting such an important missive to the
London Mail? I think not."

James grinned. "There'll be no announcement on Monday," he
said softly. "I can apologize for being such a boor, and perhaps she'll—"

"She'll admit she still loves you?" Elizabeth supplied.
"I do hope so." His smile faded. "There is still a complication.
Simon."

"Simon will manage without her. I'm not so certain about y—"

"Lord James!"

James sent a frown in his grandmother's direction at the sound of
Henry's voice. "What now?" he muttered.

"I shudder to consider," she returned .

. He stepped to the door and pulled it open. "What is it,
Henry?" he queried.

The boy grabbed his hand. "Quick," he said, panting.

"You have to hurry!"

"Hurry where? Did Angelique steal Demon again?"

"No! He stole her!"

James raised an eyebrow. "Demon stole Angel?"

"No! Simon stole Angel!"

"What?"

Henry released his hand. "Angel said they were going to the
Wainsmores, but then Toombs said they were going the wrong way and taking the
north road."

"The north road?" James repeated. There was nothing of real
interest for a hundred miles along the north road, until it hooked up with the
road to—

"Gretna Green," came Lord Niston's grim voice from the
doorway.

"Oh, no, Thomas," Lady Niston whispered, clutching her
husband's arm.

"I told you we never should have made them wait that extra
time," Thomas growled. "We should have known she'd never sit still
for it."

"And now you've damned her to a miserable life with my stuffy
cousin," James spat, clutching at the letter.

"What's going on?" Percival Alcott queried, sticking his head
into the room.

"Simon and Angel have eloped," Elizabeth supplied, her eyes on
her grandson.