Angel's Devil (14 page)

Simon slowly took his seat again. "I don't know, James. I suppose I
didn't think you would listen."

The marquis looked at his cousin for a long moment. "I probably
wouldn't have.” He stood again, pacing back to the window. "But what if I
don't want to be the Devil any longer, Simon? What if I want to change?"

"Change?" Simon repeated skeptically. "You've been not
changing for five years. More than that if you count your, and my, misspent
youth."

"Well, I'm trying now," James returned. "I haven't had a
drink in six months, and I've been doing my damndest to behave."

"I didn't know that," Simon said after a moment.

"Didn't know what?"

"That you'd stopped drinking. Now that you mention it, I should have.
Your temperament has been more even since you returned from fighting Bonaparte.
I wasn't expecting . . . " he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

James shrugged. "You had no reason to notice. But I recently had a
great deal of time to do some thinking; and decided I didn't particularly like
where I was heading."

"In the army hospital?"

He shook his head. "Before that, mainly." He cleared his throat.
"When . . . when I was wounded at Waterloo, I slid down into a damned
muddy ditch. One of my sergeants landed across me with a lance through him. It
was chaos there for awhile, and anyway . . . I was left for dead."

"My God," Simon whispered.

"I lay there for two days before one of the grave-diggers found
me." He turned to see Simon staring at him, white-faced. "I had a
great deal of time to do nothing but consider my situation." He looked
away. "The whole episode was quite enlightening, actually."

"I hope so," his cousin returned slowly.

James forced a smile. "That doesn't mean I've become some sort of
bloody saint," he muttered.

"That would be too much to expect," Simon agreed, smiling when
James glared at him.

"Very amusing." James looked out the window once more, then at
the sight of the Graham ladies touring his garden, turned and headed for the
door. "I would appreciate, however, if from this point you would make an
effort to acknowledge my no-doubt amateurish and half-hearted attempts at
respectability."

"I shall do my best, cousin," Simon answered dutifully.

Supper passed relatively uneventfully, though James was coming to realize
that few things seemed to be uneventful where the Grahams, and especially their
eldest daughter, were concerned. His eyes kept going to her, for she looked
especially lovely in a dark peach gown that brought out the red highlights in
her hair. Whenever he realized he was staring he deliberately turned away, but
that did nothing to keep the girl out of his mind. In fact, he'd been having
impure thoughts about her since he'd first set eyes on her in Dover. James
glanced over at his cousin. The only thing he could do about that was to make
certain Simon never even suspected.

The next morning before breakfast he went down to the stables and found
Henry, and surprisingly, Angelique, there waiting for him. He had the horses
and pony saddled, and the three of them, and Brutus, started off toward the
lake. India was a well-bred animal, and had cost him a prize mare in trade, but
the delighted look on the boy's face as he rode along made it worth the price.
When the two had settled, he nudged the restless Demon into a trot. The gray
mare, Heaven, easily kept pace beside them, and he noted that Angel was
holding her back. "Ready for a bit more, Henry?"

The woods at the edge of the lake were still covered with the morning's
dew, and mist hung in the tops of the trees. It was his favorite time of day,
and he had dreamt of riding the trail while he had recuperated in France. In
those visions he had been alone, however, not accompanied by a nine-year old
boy, his madcap sister and a large brown mastiff. Feeling almost domestic, he
looked at Angelique.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "It's beautiful here."

"Yes, it is," he replied, looking straight at her. He wasn't
surprised when instead of blushing she shook her head and laughed at him. It
seemed that if he had seriously intended to seduce her, a fresh approach would
have been required. Old methods, which had netted high flyers far less naive
than she, merely seemed to amuse Angel. Of course she would never take his
advances seriously anyway, for they both knew his purpose was only to get her
married to Simon as soon as they could manage it.

He guided them north toward the main road and finally up the winding,
tree-lined drive to Abbonley. It was a shorter ride than he liked, but he
didn't want to tire Henry or India on their first outing together. "Do you
enjoy his paces?" he asked the boy when they had reached the path to the
stables.

"He's top of the trees, Lord James. Does he jump?" James laughed,
wondering where the boy had learned that expression. His sister, most likely.
"We'll give it a try tomorrow."

"Yes, please!"

Niston was waiting for them when they returned, and
Henry was clearly bursting to tell him all about their excursion. James turned
to see Angel eyeing the stables reluctantly. "What is it?" he asked,
though he could guess.

"Oh, nothing," she answered, sighing.

"I have to ride down to the village and
inspect the new school, he said, pulling Demon in a tight circle when the horse
threatened to continue their morning's ride without him. "I thought to do
it this morning. Do you wish to accompany me?" he asked, though he hadn't
until that moment decided to go.

The reluctant look cleared from her face. "If
you don't mind. I've done nothing but sit in a coach for two days," she
noted with her usual candor.

"Angel, I think your mother—" Niston
began with a frown, glancing from James to his daughter.

James understood the look. "Hastings?" he
yelled for the head groom. "Saddle up! We're riding into Esterley."

Thomas cleared his throat. "Very good,"
he muttered, turning to follow his son when Henry insisted on helping put up
India.

"Splendidly done," Angel whispered,
grinning at him.

It was a moment before he realized what she was
talking about. He inclined his head. "Of course, my lady. Anything for the
cause."

Once Hastings appeared, James led the way east.
With a glance at Angel, he kicked Demon into a run. In a moment she and Heaven
were thundering behind them, and he noted again that she was a fine rider. The
mare was no match for Demon, however, and after a mile or so he slowed and allowed
her to catch up.

Angelique was laughing, her bonnet blown back off
her head and her copper hair flying around her face. She was breathtaking.
"Better?" he asked, all his pure and brotherly thoughts toward her
crumbling into dust. This holiday was going to be even more difficult than
seeing her in London, he abruptly realized. And with them in the same house,
there was nowhere for him to run.

Angel nodded vigorously, obviously unconscious as
to the knots she was making of his insides. "Much. How far is the
village?"

"About another two miles, beyond the rise
there," he answered, pointing. She nodded, then with a laugh sent Heaven
into a gallop. He gave her a head start, then, grinning, turned Demon after
them.

The wood and brick school had been erected on the
east edge of the village. As they made their way through Esterley, James was
greeted by the dozen or so villagers out and about in the cold morning. He
returned the welcomes with a smile, for he hadn't had much time to come into the
village since his return to Abbonley.

"You are well-liked here," Angelique
stated as he swung out of the saddle and stepped around to help her down from
Heaven. Behind them Brutus bounded up the steps into the school, then appeared
at one of the windows to bark at them.

"Surprised?" he queried, letting his
hands linger around her waist for a moment.

She tried to straighten her hat again and looked up
at him. "No." Hastings rode up behind them, and she turned to face
the school. "So tell me about your project, my lord," she commented,
stepping up to peer into a window.

He handed Demon's reins over to the groom and
followed her around the front of the building. "I merely thought it made
sense to educate my tenants."

"It doesn't to a great many other landowners,
I'll wager," Angelique noted, folding her hands behind her back and critically
eyeing the brickwork.

He glanced over at her. Angelique Graham might be
something of a madcap, but she was certainly far from one of those empty-headed
trinkets who simpered their way through their debuts every Season. "And
what do you think?"
           
 

"I think the London wags failed to note
several significant things about you," she commented, pausing to watch him
as he stepped back to eye the structure from a distance.

"It's not one of the more exciting things I've
done, I'm afraid," he agreed.

"One of the best, though, ye ask me,
milord," Hastings put in stoutly.

The construction looked solid from the outside, and
he knew Hastings had gone several times to view the building. His youngest son
would be one of the children attending the school. "Thank you," James
replied, smiling.

Brutus reappeared and reared up on Angelique's
shoulders, favoring her with a sloppy kiss on one cheek. "Brutus!"
she admonished, stumbling backward, and James quickly stepped forward to catch
her before she could fall.

Her silky copper hair spilled out over his arm as
her hat came loose, and she looked up at him with a grin. "My hero,"
she chuckled. "I keep telling Brutus to be certain to have all four legs
on the ground at all times, but I don't think he understands."
               
 

He found himself lost in her sparkling hazel eyes.
To cover his abrupt discomfiture, James quickly scooped her back upright and
then bent to retrieve her hat. When he glanced at Angelique she was dabbing at
her damp cheek with an embroidered handkerchief.

"How's that?" she inquired.

"Perfect," he returned. Stepping forward,
he took the handkerchief from her. "That's the one you were working on in
the coach, isn't it?" he queried. "I don't think the roses turned out
crooked at all."

She looked up at him curiously. "You
remembered that?"

"I remember everything about you." Her
eyes remained on him as he held her gaze. After a moment she turned away again,
almost quickly enough to hide her blush. As she disappeared up the steps into
the school, he wondered if Angelique realized that sometime this morning,
flirting with her had ceased to be a game.

8

S
imon paced in front of the stables as they approached.
"You rode early," he said, frowning as he came forward to help Angel
dismount. He was dressed to ride, she noted with dismay.

"I wanted to show Lady Angelique my
school," the marquis returned before she could answer, stepping around
her and heading for the manor. "She's quite progressive minded," he
continued over his shoulder.

He seemed in a hurry to leave them. Angel gazed
after him, not certain whether to be vexed or amused. She turned back to see
Simon wiping a disapproving look off his face, and she tried again to
straighten her hat. "It's a nice school," she declared. It had
impressed her, as had the marquis's obvious interest and pride in the
structure, and the good he thought it would do for the local children.

"Another of James's foolish and impetuous ideas,"
Simon said, obviously out of countenance with the two of them.

"Simon, you should have seen Papa's face when
your cousin asked me to go riding," she soothed. "If this continues,
we could be married by Christmas."

Simon gave a reluctant smile. "Sooner than
that, hopefully." He gripped her fingers. "But tomorrow you must
ride with me."