Devall's Angel (16 page)

He would cut her from now on, of course, but that offered little comfort. She deserved ostracism. His expression darkened. She would get it. Even Atwater’s cachet would not protect her once the truth was known.

Unaware of Garwood’s reaction to her lies, Lady Forley smiled in satisfaction and returned to her needlework. The future looked brighter. Angela would have the husband she deserved and would reward her mother by assuring her a permanent place in society. Atwater would set her up with her own townhouse so that she need never set foot in the country again. She must remind Andrew to include that in the settlements. Humming a gay little tune, she exchanged blue thread for red.

* * * *

Angela’s first inkling of Lady Forley’s interference came in the park that afternoon when she received several odd looks from passing carriages. No one stopped to exchange gossip, instead giggling behind gloved hands and animatedly conversing with their escorts. She recognized the actions as the
ton’s
response to the subject of the latest gossip, not that she could guess the cause. Blackthorn was the only person who knew anything derogatory about her, and he would never blacken her name.

Even Sylvia knew nothing. “Are you the target?” she asked in surprise. “I thought it was me.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a sudden silence at Lady Beatrice’s when I entered. You know the one – everyone abruptly stops talking when the object of their discussion arrives, then immediately begins a new topic.”

She nodded. “Or someone close to the subject if the story is truly reprehensible.” But what could it be? And about whom?

Andrew described a similar experience at his club. Whatever the rumor, society seemed to blame the entire household.

But when she arrived at Lady Chartley’s ball, Angela knew that she was the primary target. More than one high-stickler deliberately turned away as she approached. The cut direct. The signal to society that she was an undesirable
parti
, a pariah, beneath contempt. Even Atwater looked at her strangely, though he hovered as usual and signed her card for two waltzes, having charmed Lady Jersey into approving her a week earlier. Three young bucks had also signed for early sets, but the evening steadily worsened.

It was her third partner who revealed the tale. “You needn’t try to attach my affections,” he drawled, leading her down the set. “I’ve no intention of settling down for years.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, bewildered at his words.

“What you did to Garwood was cruel, my fancy lady, but now that we know your game, it will not happen again. I would wish you joy in your marriage, but the heartless don’t deserve it.”

“Mr. Huggens, I have no idea what you are talking about. I can only surmise that some tale is making the rounds, though I cannot imagine what it could be. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?”

He stared as though he suddenly found himself dancing with a worm. “Very well, I will play the game.” He shrugged. “Society knows about your betrothal to Atwater and is justifiably incensed at how you have been leading poor Garwood around by the nose simply to feed your own vanity.”

“I assure you, there is no betrothal,” she snapped. “Who has been spreading such lies?”

“Garwood himself. He learned the truth this morning and is angry over being deceived.”

“He learned no truths. I have not spoken with him today. Excuse me, sir, for I must discover who is going to such lengths to blacken my name.” Garwood had just arrived.

“Very well. A confrontation will be more entertaining than dancing.” He threaded the other couples, heading for the stairs.

Angela was opening her mouth to speak when Garwood spotted her approach. Glaring at her for several seconds, he deliberately turned away and requested another young lady to honor him with the next set. His affable voice and warm glance made it clear that she was worthy of his attention while Angela was not.

In shock, she belatedly noted that Atwater and her mother were slipping from the room.

“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Huggens,” she managed to say. “I fear the heat has affected me overmuch. If you will excuse me, I must seek the retiring room for a moment’s rest.”

His smile was tinged with understanding as he released her arm and allowed her to exit.

A voice rose in an antechamber as she hurried down the hallway. Recognizing her mother, she reached for the door handle, then froze as Atwater angrily replied.

“What is the meaning of these stories, Lady Forley? Are you trying to force my hand?”

“How can you think such a thing?” Her tone hinted that she was on the verge of tears, though Angela knew her too well to believe it. “I cannot understand them myself – unless Mr. Garwood has become deranged. It would seem that the story started with him. All I can think is that he is seeking revenge. Angela turned him down this morning. How he could have expected otherwise is beyond my understanding. Marrying him would be a step down for the poor girl. He is naught but the younger son of a baron.”

“She did not start these rumors herself?”

“How dare you impugn her honor? She was astonished at his offer, for she had made it clear early on that she was not interested in a serious relationship with him. When he persisted, she asked my advice. I thought him merely amusing himself so allowed him to continue. But he must have decided that he loved her, conceiving this campaign in spiteful retaliation when reality intruded. You know what I mean – if he cannot have her, then he will make sure no one else does. If I had thought for a moment that he was unstable, I would have forbidden him the house.”

“I too never suspected that he was capable of deluding himself,” agreed Atwater, sounding much calmer. “And I was sure his tale was a hum, for he also claims that she is a bluestocking reformer, which I know to be false. I will do what I can to counter the rumors, of course. This is but a tempest in a teapot. If you can bear it for a few days, it will blow over.”

“Thank you, my lord. We are grateful for your support.”

Angela slipped down the hall as he took his leave, so that she was approaching when he opened the door. How ironical that he disbelieved the one true fact in this whole fabrication.

“I will escort you back to the ballroom,” he said, extending his arm.

“I am looking for my mother.”

“She is inside.”

“Thank you.” She dismissed him curtly, not caring what he thought. Even his offer to help her weather the storm was of no consequence.

As soon as he retreated, she shut the door and glared at her mother. “How could you lie to Atwater? I turned down no proposals, as you well know.”

“He needs to understand that Mr. Garwood is spreading lies,” she replied calmly.

“And why would Philip do so, Mother?” The ice in her voice made Lady Forley step back a pace.

“I cannot imagine.”

“I can. He is repeating exactly what you told him, is he not? You knew that I would welcome his suit, so you poisoned his mind against me.” Her voice shook. This betrayal went beyond anything she had ever imagined. Blackthorn’s warning had been prescient. Why hadn’t she taken his fears seriously?

“It had to be done, Angela,” insisted Lady Forley. “You are too young to understand the world. I cannot stand aside and watch you throw yourself away on an ineligible suitor. And he has proven himself ineligible. A gentleman would never wage a spiteful campaign to hurt you just because his own shortcomings were exposed. Despite your fantasies, he would never be able to offer you your rightful place in society.” A self-satisfied smirk twisted her lips.

Angela stared, engulfed in cold fury. Lady Forley was determined to force her daughter into her own mold.

“You lying, manipulative harpy!” The words exploded from her throat. “Never have you understood me. Never have you made the slightest attempt to understand me. Do you think you are God? Why else would you try to bend people to your own will? Well, it won’t work. I would die before patterning myself after you. The shallow stupidity and acid condemnation that masquerade as conversation in this town make me sick. As does the whole giddy pretense of society. I want no part of it. Which is just as well. It is too late for that now. You are well served, are you not? Your scheming lies have made me an outcast. I hope you are satisfied!”

In tears, she fled the room, not waiting for a response. Where could she go? A laughing cluster of young ladies blocked the retiring room. A larger congregation of gentlemen barred both the ballroom and the stairs leading to the street. Neither group had yet noticed her. An anteroom across the hall was empty so she ducked inside, locking the door behind her.

Control, control
, she repeated desperately, sinking onto a couch and pressing her palms to her eyes as though she could force the tears back inside. The last thing she needed was to return to the ballroom with red eyes and a blotchy face. There were enough rumors already.

It took only a moment to concede that Lady Forley had driven Garwood away for good. He hated deceit so would continue assaulting her reputation, for he would not readily admit his mistake.

Her head shook. When she had approved his high moral stance, it had not occurred to her to question whether his judgment was sound. He should at least have spoken to her before deciding her guilt. Did his affection count for nothing? He knew she disapproved her mother’s manipulation. He knew she judged people on their own worth, not their social position. He knew everything important about her, yet he had accepted her mother’s statements as gospel.

In that sense, Lady Forley had actually done her a service. As had Atwater. If he had not interfered, she would have been betrothed last night. Would she have discovered Garwood’s intolerance in time to call off the wedding? At best, life would have been uneasy with such a husband. Had the others against whom he held grudges been similarly innocent?

It mattered not. Drawing a shaky breath, she fished an inadequate handkerchief from her reticule and mopped her face.

Her pain was rooted in betrayal and anger. And grief, though she shouldn’t grieve over being spared a marriage that she would not have liked. But now that the initial shock was subsiding, she had to face a very real fear of the future.

Atwater was now her sole suitor, but her feelings about him remained unchanged. So how was she to find a husband? A lifetime spent playing aunt to Sylvia’s children was untenable.

New tears sprang to her eyes, tears her sodden handkerchief could not absorb.

“The stories can hardly be so bad that you must fall apart, Miss Warren,” drawled a deep voice. Blackthorn stood in the shadows of a window alcove.

“What are you doing here?”

“I believe that is my question. I was here first.”

“Forgive me for intruding.” Still sniffing, she pushed the handkerchief back into her reticule and rose. Tears stained both cheeks.

“Devil take it, you can’t leave looking like that.” He pressed his own handkerchief into her hand, then pulled her head against his shoulder when his rough kindness triggered renewed sobbing. “How did this tale arise?” he asked at last. “Having been the target of so many stories, I am curious.”

His detached tone steadied her. “You should be able to guess, for you obviously suspected her. Mother decided to discourage Garwood with a series of lies, all of which she attributed to me. He despises deceit, so retaliated by pillorying me in public.”

“Good God!”

“Precisely.” She exhaled in a long sigh of despair. “But I am not quite falling apart, my lord. I only needed a moment to collect myself before again facing the cuts.” More than a moment, she conceded. Her eyes must be swollen. She had never been able to cry prettily.

“Facing them is essential, of course.” He wandered over to examine a vase on the mantel. “If you run now, the stories will take root and grow until you can never return.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“Not quite. I care nothing for what society’s denizens think. If anything, my ouster set me free, for I need no longer consider their absurd sensibilities. My friends know the truth, and that is all that matters. You might consider life in that light. There must be something about this situation that you can turn to your advantage. And I will do what I can to counter Garwood’s lies – not that the gossips would believe a word I say, but I still have friends who are received.”

“I knew you were not as black as your reputation suggests. But if you have the power to counter gossip, why have you not used it to help yourself?”

“I like my reputation just the way it is,” he drawled blandly, though a hint of pain crept into his words that made her wonder what he was hiding – and from whom. “It suits me to hold society at bay – and the tales do contain grains of truth.”

Which portions were factual? She couldn’t face the ballroom just yet, instead sinking onto the couch. “So you are not the gamester and rake gossip assumes?”

He shook his head, turning back to face her. “I am no saint, but neither have I ever debauched an innocent or taken advantage of inexperience. Gaming is a way to fill the time on those occasions when I must be in town, but though I lose frequently, I also win and have never continued play beyond what I had allotted for an evening’s entertainment.”

“And what of Lady Atwater?”

“That is one tale that contains no truth whatsoever.”

“I had already deduced that. All else aside, she died more than nine months after her supposed conception. So why does everyone from Atwater to the most exacting dowagers claim she suffered a miscarriage?”

He chuckled, starting a treacherous glow in her stomach. “You must be the only person in London who can count. She was only four months with child when he beat her senseless.” He paced the room. “Poor Lydia. She was one of the few relatives I had who was worth knowing. Frankly, I would not wish my family on my worst enemy.”

He paused a moment, and she had the odd impression that he was trying to control a sudden urge to tears.

“Lydia was lovely in both form and spirit. If I’d had any hint of how things would end, I would have stayed in town the entire Season, or would at least have checked into his background, but her parents had things well in hand, and she was ecstatic over attracting Atwater’s attention. They made a handsome couple – two blue-eyed golden-haired angels capable of lighting any room they entered. Her only problem was shyness. In all her life she had never been able to assert herself with strangers, though once she became acquainted, her natural charm invariably surfaced, so I had not considered it a liability. I loved her dearly, but like the sister I never had. Never would I have harmed her. In fact, I was not even in town when she accepted Atwater’s hand, and I avoided her wedding lest my presence spoil her day. The other guests would have objected.”