Angel's Devil (21 page)

James ignored the attempt and instead transferred her hand to his arm.
"What do I care where he is?" he returned. "Have no worries,
though. I shall escort you inside."

Angel inhaled as they stepped into the ballroom. She had been inside
before, and had found it pretty enough, with its tall mirrors along one wall
and the large windows opening out to the garden, but now it seemed transformed.
Gold and silver ribbons and white silk balloons and fresh roses were
everywhere, and she marvelled that James had been willing to go to so much trouble
and expense.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's wonderful." She beamed, feeling as she had as a child at
Christmas. "Henry and Helen will adore it."

He looked down at her. "I didn't do this for Henry and Helen."

She blushed. "James, please stop this," she whispered.

"Stop what?"

"Stop paying so much attention to me," she begged .

"I'm only doing as Simon requested," he protested innocently.
"You aren't becoming cow-hearted about this scheme, are you?"

She looked at him closely, completely suspicious. "So you don't
mean any of the things you're saying to me?" she demanded.

"I mean them all," he murmured. "But what does that
matter?"

Before she could summon an answer to that, her brother and sister
charged into the room; dragging their father behind them. "I say, Lord
James, is the orchestra going to play?"

"Yes, Henry. Why don't you go ask them to play us a waltz?"
James said, nodding his chin toward the musicians tuning up in the comer.

Henry nodded and disengaged himself from his chuckling father to go
capture. Jeremy and do as he was bid. James touched Angel's fingers and freed
his arm. "I have dreadfully bad manners, as you are aware, Lady
Angel," he said, glancing at her father, "and I have promised this
waltz to someone else."

That surprised her, but when Helen clapped her hands and pranced
forward, she grinned. "Of course, my lord," she curtsied, and glanced
about for her betrothed. He smiled and stepped forward. "I shall dance
with Simon."

"As you should," James returned slowly, nodding at his cousin.

The orchestra struck up the waltz, and Simon led her into the dance. As
they stepped about the floor, most of her
 
attention was occupied watching James bow to
Helen. They spent a moment studying her and Simon, then James took her sister's
hands and they began a slow series of steps that quickly had Helen laughing,
and, to her obvious delight, waltzing.

Lily and Percival joined them on the floor, as did her own parents and
the Stanfreds, and then Henry walked up to Lady Elizabeth, bowed, and asked if
she would care to teach him to waltz. To Angel's, and apparently James's,
surprise, the dowager viscountess complied.

Angel looked up at Simon, to see that his attention was on Percival and
Lily. Neither of them seemed to care that they were dancing together.
"Simon, have I done something to offend you?" she asked flatly. Her
looked taken aback by her bluntness, but something needed to be done.

"No. Of course not."

"For the past four days we've barely spoken except to argue about
Brutus."

”That's not so," he protested, flushing.

"I think you like Lily more than you like me," she said
petulantly, mostly to hear what his answer would be.

His face turned an alarming shade of crimson. "Never!" he said
vehemently.

That seemed rather extreme, and she frowned. "Do you dislike
her?" she asked, wondering if they had had words over something.

"Yes, of course. I mean, no." He swallowed. "I mean, this
is a ridiculous conversation, Angel. Let's please talk about something
else."

Angel wished with all her heart that Simon would stand up to her, make
her feel as exhilarated as she did when she sparred with James. It wasn't
polite to argue with a female, though, and Simon always retreated, to the point
that she rather felt as though she was browbeating him. It seemed the only
thing he would stand up to her about was Turbin Hall, and that was the one
thing she truly wanted him to give ground on.

She Iooked over at James, now swinging Helen through the air in time to
the music. He was the one who understood her, understood what she wanted. He
had known about her, about her tendency toward impetuous behavior, from the beginning.
They were exactly alike.

The music ended, and Simon escorted her to the buffet table at one side
of the room. She couldn't help but notice that again there was a large bowl of
strawberries on the table. As she was lifting one to her mouth she felt
someone, James, standing beside her. "Where do you find these?" she
asked, indicating the berry.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I have them smuggled in from parts
distant, at great danger and expense."

"Faradiddle," she replied, grinning.

He chuckled. "Very well, you've seen through me again. They grow
far out of season on the southern hillsides all around Abbonley. James took one
for himself. "Though I would have them smuggled in for you, if
necessary."

Music started up again, and it was Angel's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Two waltzes in a row?"

He smiled lazily. "They'll play waltzes all evening, if you wish
it. No Almack patronesses here." He looked at her. "Will you dance
this one with me?"

Unable to resist, or even to utter a word, she nodded and took his
outstretched hand. They swept out onto the floor, and as they swirled around
there was nothing but the music and James, smiling down at her.

It wasn't until the piece was half over that she noticed her parents
standing at the edge of the ballroom glaring at her. She flushed and looked up
at him. "They're looking," she whispered.

He smiled. "That is the idea, is it not?"

"I . . . well, I suppose . . . I don't know,"

"Good," he murmured. When the waltz ended, much too soon, he
led her to her parents, and then quite docilely went to fetch her a drink.

"Angel, you have been warned about that man," Camellia hissed,
grim-faced.

"He's been very nice," she said stubbornly. "And he
hasn't done anything wrong, so you can't tell me he's as awful as all those
silly gossips say."

"That is beside—"

"Cammy, shh," her husband muttered, putting a hand on his
wife's arm.

James returned and handed Angel a glass of punch, keeping one for
himself. Despite his suggestion of waltzes all evening the orchestra struck up
a quadrille, and Simon and Lily were trying to show the giggling children the
steps.

Her father cleared his throat. "James, Cammy and I have been
discussing returning home. I have my own estate to see to, and the Lord only
knows what's happened to it with my man in charge."

Angelique's heart dropped. She'd known this was only a holiday, but had
managed to convince herself it would last as long as she wanted. Longer than
this.

The marquis froze for a moment, then nodded and cleared his throat. He
glanced at Angel. "When do you go?"

"After the ball. That will give the children five days to get used
to the idea." Thomas grimaced. "I doubt they'll ever forgive
me."

James smiled. "I've enjoyed having you all here."

"We've, um," the earl cleared his throat, "we've enjoyed
being here."

James looked as surprised as Angel felt, but before he could say
anything further the twins came to drag him away for another quadrille. Angel
danced with Lord Stanfred, but couldn't stop thinking that she only had five
days left at Abbonley. Arthur Alcott partnered her next, but her heart was no
longer in the dancing. Claiming tired feet, she sat out and tried not to mope.

"What's wrong?" James took a seat beside her.

She shook her head. "Nothing," she said quietly, looking
across the floor.

"How about a walk in the garden, then?"

At that she looked over at him. "At night?"

He raised a hand. "I shall behave. I swear," he said solemnly,
though his expression was amused.

"What about Simon?"

"He's not invited"

She knew that she shouldn't go, but Angel nodded anyway, and he pulled
her to her feet, tucking her hand around his arm. She couldn't help but notice
how skillfully he arranged their exit, waiting until her parents' backs were
turned before leading her out one of the open windows and into the garden.

There were torches scattered throughout the garden, but it was still
shadowy and cool. It rather suited her mood, and for a time she strolled beside
him in silence. "You didn't know your parents had decided to leave, did
you?" James asked, stopping and turning to face her.

She shook her head. "No."

"And you don't want to leave?"

"No," she muttered, refusing to face him.

James was quiet for a moment. "Because of Simon, or because of
me?"

Angel turned around, ready to march back inside. "I'm not going to
answer that question." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "And you
shouldn't be asking it."

"I know."

She sighed testily. "I know this is all a stupid game to you,
anyway."

"But what if it's not?" he murmured, stepping closer to her.

For a moment Angel couldn't breathe. "It still doesn't matter. I'm
engaged to Simon."

"Do you want to be?" he whispered.

Angel turned around and punched him in the shoulder. "Stop it! You
said you were going to behave."

James grabbed her fist. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you, Angelique.
Your damned parents weren't supposed to take you off so soon. I'm not prepared
for this yet. I had everything planned out, you know. I was quite clever, I
thought."

"What did you plan out?" she asked, trying to pull her hand
free.

"You and me."

She jerked free. "There is no you and me! Can't you understand
that? I am engaged!"

"Nothing's been announced," James murmured urgently, pursuing
her as she headed back to the ballroom. "No one knows. Break the
engagement."

Angelique froze. "For what? For you? You don't even believe in
love."

"I love you."

Whatever it was that Angel had been about to snap at him became- caught
in her throat. "You can't," she
whispered,
staring up at his face. "I love Simon. He's—"

"No, you don't," he broke in brusquely. "You don't love
Simon. I doubt you ever did."

"That is a lie." Her heart was hammering so fast she thought
it must burst through her chest. This was an ambush, and it was one she had
wanted. She'd wanted to hear this from James. "Is this how you talked to
Desiree?" she flung back desperately. "Is this how you tried to
convince her to stay away from Viscount Luester and marry you? If you don't
convince me will you shoot Simon tomorrow?"

James took a step backward. He turned as if to walk away, then stopped
and .stood for a moment with his eyes shut. Finally he took a ragged breath and
looked over at her, his eyes black in the moonlight. "I deserved that, I
suppose," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Angelique." He turned his
back again. "You made me forget her," he said so quietly she could
barely catch the words.

"James? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said . . . "

He shook his head. "It was an accident, you know. I never meant to
shoot Geoffrey. I certainly never meant to kill him. He was my . . . " He
stopped for a moment. "He was my friend."

"Then why?"

"I went to propose to her—to Desiree. She told me Luey had already
proposed to her. She said he'd told her I was . . . unreliable, that I'd never
be faithful to her, and that it was entirely likely my father would cut me off
without a penny for my wicked ways. She said she would rather be Viscountess
Luester now than poor Mrs. Faring waiting for my father to die."

"That must have hurt," Angelique said quietly.

"You have no idea. And then she said that if Luey hadn't come along
she would happily have married me." James sat on one of the white stone
benches that lined the garden path. After a hesitation, Angelique walked over
to join. him. "I was furious. I called Luey out, then found Simon—dragged
him out of his bed at Cambridge, in fact. We both got blistering drunk, and
then I went out at dawn to meet Geoffrey."

Angel sensed that he had never told this story to anyone, and she slowly
reached out to touch his fingers. His hand jumped, and then he turned his palm
to curl his long fingers around hers. "I know what happened next,"
she said. The sound of a country dance and of laughter coming from the distant
window seemed unreal.

"No, you don't," he returned. He raised his head to look at
her. "I truly never meant' to kill him. I had already decided merely to
shoot close enough to frighten the hell out of him, and perhaps convince him
that he would be wise to let me have Desiree. He was as smashed as I was, and
missed me by six feet. I shot him through the right lung, and he drowned in his
own blood. It took several minutes."