Devall's Angel (20 page)

“But what will you do?” he demanded. “Much as I love you, I have to agree that you cannot stay permanently at the Court. And you cannot set up an establishment of your own without destroying the last vestige of your reputation. You will go mad in the dower house with Mother. I cannot see you in the guise of a poor relation, and we have few relatives in a position to take you in anyway. Your only chance of a meaningful future is to fight these stories, prove that you are innocent, and expose Atwater as the fiend that he is.”

“Easy to say, but how am I to do that?” Angela went to the window, staring sightlessly at the minuscule garden behind the house. “My reputation was already besmirched by Garwood, so anything I say is suspect. Only Atwater’s continued attentions rescued me the last time. Now that he has turned against me, I have no hope. One word of support from Blackthorn will ruin me beyond repair. Major Caldwell will be gone within the month. Ashton has much credit, but he can hardly buck the entire
ton¸
and there is no guarantee that he will continue to believe me. I begin to think there is some flaw in my character beyond allowing Mother’s manipulation. Why have I attracted only suitors who spitefully use me when their will is crossed? Are all gentlemen like that?” She angrily wiped away her tears. She had already cried too much over this debacle.

“You are not to blame,” he said soothingly, handing her a handkerchief. Leading her back to the table, he poured fresh tea to replace the cold mess in her cup. “All men are not like that. You need think no further than Hart. Devil take it, I wish he were here.”

“In all fairness, we must tell him what has happened. We cannot allow Sylvia to be hurt through association with me. I wish her sister, Lady Trotter, would arrive so she can move out. She will be better off anywhere but here.”

“Damn!” He made another circuit of the room. “If only I had not been so involved with Sylvia. I might have kept a tighter rein on Mother.”

“It is too late for regrets. Ashton was at White’s last night. Does he still believe I am innocent?”

“Yes. He saw you often enough last summer to know that you would never behave as Atwater claims. He is also very high in the instep, giving his words more weight than Sir Alan’s, who was also scoffing at the stories.”

“Will he dare speak with me in public?”

“I believe so. His own position is so solid that he runs no risk.”

“Good, for I would hate to see Lady Ashton suffer. She is a decent girl.”

“What are you planning?”

She pondered her options for some minutes before answering. “I cannot run, for you are right about the effect that would have on my future. If, by some miracle, I ever wed, I must be able to bring out my daughters. Which means I have to fight for my honor. But it won’t be easy. If I appear at Almack’s, the patronesses will revoke my voucher in a trice. I can only hope they will make no hasty decisions if I don’t push them. I will attend those events for which I have invitations, and comport myself as befits a lady. With luck I won’t break down. There is too little time to truly change opinion, but perhaps I can raise a few doubts.”

“I don’t see any other choice,” he agreed on a long sigh. “At least we will soon learn who our real friends are.”

* * * *

It was even worse than she’d expected. After only an hour at the Bradbury ball, Angela feared she would never survive the evening. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she kept a smile fixed on her face, ignoring the cuts. No one spoke to her. Lady Hervey and Grace Styles stalked to the farthest point of the room when she arrived. Miss Gumply, a chronic complainer who had not taken well, surprisingly found herself the center of an attentive audience when she fervently criticized Angela’s temerity for exposing them to such immorality. Three starchy dowagers loudly condemned her. Lord Heatherton, who had a reputation as a cutting mimic, drew round after round of laughter as he parodied her supposed transgressions, employing the girlish tones of a pea-brained widgeon loudly proclaiming innocence even as she is discovered
en flagrante
.

Angela danced a set with Andrew and one with Ashton, then refused several libertines and a couple of lecherous old men who were looking for an illicit relationship.

Atwater put on a show of horrified outrage to find her there, tempered only by his duty to control himself in deference to his hostess. But his tongue was busy. New details were already making the rounds. She was little better than a harlot, leading a steady parade of gentlemen to her bed. In fact, she was now being compared to Lady Darnley, London’s most notorious matron, who made no effort to hide her liaisons despite having been widowed only three weeks before. The woman was rapidly becoming a courtesan.

The next night was worse. Lady Forley refused to accompany her. Her hostess cut her in the receiving line. Society’s tongues tripped over themselves in their eagerness to condemn her, though many voices sounded almost envious of her supposed daring.

What had she done to deserve such a fate? Angela cried into her pillow that night. Her name had been sullied by the very people who professed to love her – her mother, the man she had chosen to wed, and the man who claimed to adore her.

She was galloping through Hyde Park’s early morning fog when Blackthorn joined her.

“You are out early today,” he said.

“I couldn’t sleep – which should surprise no one.”

“You have my deepest sympathies.” He sighed. “I had no idea Atwater would turn on you like this. Perhaps it would have been better had I not warned you off.”

“You did nothing, my lord. You know I was determined to reject him. And your disclosures made it easier to withstand his anger and my mother’s hysterics.”

“I always knew you were intelligent. Any idea why she pushed so hard?”

She nodded. “Her motives came out after I refused him. She planned to use his purse to support her permanent return to town, which explains why she refused to listen to me and kept him close at hand. He was impervious to my coolness, deciding that it denoted shyness. I should have just told him straight out that I would never consider his suit. Marriage must be a partnership if it is to succeed, and he is not a person to ever consider his wife as an equal.”

“You have unusually clear sight.”

“For a female,” she finished for him.

“I did not say that. Nor did I mean it,” he protested. “I might have tempered it with
for one of your experience.
It is difficult to read hidden character when one’s life has been spent in the country.”

“That is society’s arrogance talking. Having cast aside my mother’s blinders, I’ve discovered that human nature varies little from class to class. I have spent much time working with the people who live near our estate.”

“What led you to turn him down, if I might be so bold? Surely it was not solely because of how he discharged that footman.”

“His possessiveness, for one. It implied a poor opinion of my character, for he trusted me with no one else, even on a dance floor. And his eyes flashed in anger whenever someone contradicted him or argued his ideas. His treatment of Ned Parker at the theater was insupportable, of course. Then there were the rumors. Even before stories of Lady Atwater’s death surfaced, I had heard of an incident in which he nearly came to blows with another gentleman in Lady Debenham’s drawing room. It hinted at an ungovernable temper.”

He nodded. “His character is there for all to see. But you are one of the few to actually do so. Too bad he is bent on revenge.”

“It has been difficult,” she agreed in vast understatement. “Andrew convinced me to stay in town and face the charges, but I have been wondering if my situation is too hopeless to warrant the pain. It must hurt both him and Lady Sylvia to associate with me.”

“You must face society. You cannot allow this cloud to continue, for it is entirely false.”

She nodded. “And not even original. The initial charges were a variation of those he leveled at you and his wife, which themselves were a twisted version of your reasons for ending your betrothal. Now he has lifted Lady Darnley’s reputation and applied it to me. Surely someone must eventually notice his sources.”

“They will, but since they are true in Lady Darnley’s case, people can easily accept them.” His brows had risen at the reference to his own past, but he made no comment on it. “The gossips are out of control for the moment, but if you persist, they will eventually begin to question the facts. I will do what I can to hasten that end.”

“Thank you, but I can’t think there is much to be done.”

“We shall see. What will you do when this is over?”

She shrugged. “Not much. It will be years before we can return to town. Sylvia will take over the Court, so I’ll practice biting my tongue and being invisible. Setting up my own establishment is out of the question – especially now.” She pulled her horse to a halt, appalled at the self-pity that had entered her voice. “Forgive me. Fatigue has gotten the best of me. Normally I would never burden another with my problems.”

“There is nothing to forgive. What of your mother?”

“She will move to the dower house, whether she will or no,” she declared firmly. “But I will not go with her. I cannot live with her complaints and abuse.”

He shook his head. “Try to keep up your spirits. The truth will emerge eventually. And when it does, Atwater’s reputation will be in shreds.”

“A comforting thought. I will try to believe it.”

Blackthorn watched her leave. She couldn’t hide her bitterness, though she had every right to it. His heart bled for her, but he thrust pity aside. Exiting the park, he headed for Jack’s rooms.

The major had been out of town for several days and had not yet heard the news. They spent the morning compiling a list of friends and army officers who might counter the rumors. Then Jack headed for Clifford Street to assure Angela of his support.

* * * *

Lady Forley stormed into the house, nearly in hysterics.

“You have ruined us!” she wailed at Angela. “Even the tradesmen smirk at me. One even refused me service. I will never be able to hold my head up in London again. And it is all your fault. I will die!”

“Do you begin to understand why I could not accept him?” Angela asked, trying one last time to reach her mother. “He is evil and would have made my life miserable.”

“Fustian!” swore Lady Forley. “A man’s character means nothing, for a knowing woman can always bend him to her will. You would have had rank and wealth. What more could you want?”

Shaking her head, Angela left her mother to her megrims.

Another evening of cuts made her question whether fighting for her reputation was worth it. And the blow she received on awakening did nothing to help. A note accompanied her chocolate.

 Angela,

I cannot accept the life of an outcast that you have deliberately and maliciously forced upon this family. Your father would have been appalled, but as he is no longer here to whip you to your senses, I must plan my own future.

Henry has asked for my hand. We are leaving at once for Italy. I do not expect to see or hear from you again, as I am determined to cut all contacts that could lower my consequence. As Henry’s wife, I will retain my credit and once again be able to hold my head up in town. It is time he takes his seat in Parliament.

                                          now Lady Styles

It was too much. Angela burst into tears, but anger was even stronger than the pain of yet another betrayal. How dared the woman leave at such a time? It could only make her own position worse.

Throwing on a gown, she joined Andrew at the breakfast table.

“I see you’ve heard,” he commented dryly, motioning to his own missive.

“She decided to leave lest she be tarred with my misdeeds. It seems I have deliberately heaped dishonor and disgrace on her head, maliciously preventing her from enjoying the society she should be running,” said Angela. “I am informed that she is severing all contact with a family that can only be considered a millstone around her neck.”

Anger suffused his face. “Of all the gall…”

But her own anger died as the ramifications of her mother’s elopement became clear. “She has made her bed. Let her lie in it. I hope she enjoys Italy, for it is all the society she will ever know.”

Interest lit Andrew’s eyes. “What tale is this?”

“I have often been forced into Lord Styles’s company, for he hovered around Mother almost as much as Atwater did. One of our more agreeable conversations – which did not include her – compared the merits of country versus city living. He despises towns, forcing himself away from his beloved hunting grounds only to bring out one of his daughters – usually in York. Grace is the last. Her marriage now forces him to look for someone to run his house and care for his tenants so he can continue the sporting life unencumbered. Why did it never occur to her that she has not seen him in thirty years even though she spent every Season in town before Father’s death?”

“Good God! He lives in Northumberland.” Andrew’s eyes widened as he burst into laughter.

“Yes, and his estate is even more isolated than Forley Court.”

“Nor is he weak-willed like Papa was, much though I loved him.”

“As did I. But Lord Styles will never bow to the wiles of a mere woman. He is firmly set in his ways and cares for nothing beyond his own interests. He is also a confirmed miser.” She joined in his mirth, though reality soon intruded. “There are problems that we must immediately address. Her defection will trigger new rumors.”

“We can handle that.”

“Sylvia cannot remain here without a chaperon. Even were I pristine, it would not do. The last thing I want is to tarnish her reputation.”

He paled. “Dear Lord. Does that mean we must run for home after all?”

“When is Lady Trotter due?”

“Yesterday, unless her doctor forbade travel. I’d better call at Trotter House and find out if she has arrived.”

“If so, Sylvia can join her immediately. If not, then she must return to the Grange. We can still remain in town.”