When Angels Fall (33 page)

Ivan stood and helped the beauty to her feet. As Sir Gilbert did likewise to Lissa, she overheard snatches of the host’s conversation.

“Antonia, I’m heartened to see you’re as difficult as always,” she overheard Ivan say good-naturedly.

“On the contrary, my lord, I’m as biddable as I always was—as biddable as an unspoiled country lass.” The woman smiled into her fan and her bewitching emerald eyes turned to an elderly man next to her. “Aren’t I, Kovel?” she asked, and the man promptly began to laugh.

“You see?” Ivan interjected. “Even when I tell you you’re difficult, you contest me.” He turned to the gent who was obviously Antonia’s husband. “How do you en
dure her?” he asked in jest. “You tell her the sun rises at dawn, she says dusk. You inform her the trees are green, she tells you yellow!”

Laughing, Kovel slapped Ivan on the back. “It’s true! It’s true! I tell you, Ivan, if she wasn’t so dazzlingly rich, I’d have tossed her out long ago!” The gent wiped his eyes and tried to stop chuckling. When he had calmed a bit, he said, “You know what I need, Tramore. I need that awful black stare of yours to keep her in her place. I need those black eyes!”

Antonia smugly put her arm through her husband’s. “Blue, my love. Ivan’s eyes are blue.”

At that contrary statement, Kovel once more broke into laughter. Antonia smiled at Ivan and Lissa found herself wanting to drop back into her seat from the shock of it all. There weren’t many who had gotten so close to Ivan that they were able to discern that the true color of his eyes was blue, not black. Lissa had thought that perhaps she was the only one. Now this woman, this sophisticated, breathtaking beauty, knew it too. Stricken, all Lissa could do was watch her, a blush of jealousy staining her cheeks. Yet as if Antonia Kovel sensed Lissa’s distress, she turned and met the younger woman’s eye. Antonia’s whole being seemed to radiate warmth and approval. Then, at a moment when her husband and Ivan weren’t looking, she did the most unusual thing. Antonia winked.

The astounding moment was gone in a flash, and quickly Lissa found herself in the crush to leave the dining hall. Ivan and the Kovels had disappeared and she was left alone to figure out the meaning of the extraordinary gesture.

For the rest of the evening, Lissa did her best to avoid Ivan, but it seemed wherever she looked, he was there, appearing to have a magnificent time. After they had dined, the guests returned to the Hall and the orchestra began another set of waltzes. As her eyes once more searched for Ivan in the crowd, Lissa again found him
surrounded by a swarm of ladies. Women seemed as attracted to him as bees to nectar, and, later, whenever she chanced a look into the waltzers, she found Ivan’s tall form every time holding a different beauty. He had just returned Arabella Parks to her chair when he approached the beauteous Antonia Kovel for a third dance. With that, Lissa found she could take no more. Somehow, someway, she had to leave.

Her immediate solution was to retire to the ladies’ quarters and plead headache. She was just searching it out when she ran into the Bishops who were in the passage donning their cloaks.

“Lissa love! You look so grand, why then the pale face?” Mrs. Bishop gave her a concerned look.

“No doubt she’s been waltzing too much!” Mr. Bishop interjected pleasantly. “Mathilde, you know such a lovely creature as our own Lissa must be worn out just from refusing the offers to dance.” He shot Lissa a proud, fatherly look. Lissa was sure she had never loved him more.

Releasing a tired little laugh, she said, “I’m afraid to disappoint you but the truth is I’m not feeling well. I was just going to the ladies’ chamber to rest—”

“Love, what it it? The headache? Oh, no, and on such a glorious night.” Mrs. Bishop hovered about her like a mother hen. “Then you should come home with us. We’re leaving early because of the snow, you see. I’d love to make you some tea. And we’ve plenty of room. Plenty of room.”

“I couldn’t put you out,” Lissa answered not too convincingly. The idea of spending the evening at the hearth with the dear Bishops seemed like a balm for what ailed her. She could escape this ball and not think about Ivan for the rest of the night, if that could ever be possible.

“Let’s get your mantle and be off.” Mrs. Bishop linked her arm with Lissa’s. “Herman will bring you back first thing in the morning.”

“But wait! I forgot about Evvie—”

“Evelyn is here too?” Mrs. Bishop paused. “Why, we haven’t seen her. How wonderful that she could accompany you. But wherever is she?”

Lissa thought for a moment. She knew Evvie was with Holland somewhere in the Hall. It was absolutely scandalous for her to even think of leaving Evvie at the castle unchaperoned. But she ached to be away from Powerscourt. Just the thought of spending another moment here made her head truly throb. Yet Evvie was in good company. She couldn’t relinquish her care to a better person than Holland.

“I hate to ruin Evvie’s fun, and besides, I know she’s in good hands. She’ll get back to Violet Croft safely, I’m sure,” Lissa mused. “But do let me write her a note, will you?”

“Of course, love.” Mrs. Bishop patted her hand. Mr. Bishop went to get a footman.

Lissa penned a quick note explaining that she would be at the Bishops’ for the night and that no one was to worry. After signing off that she would see her in the morning, Lissa handed it to the footman and, taking him aside, asked that it be given discreetly to Mr. Jones.

With that task accomplished, she gathered her skirts and hurried down the passage to retrieve her mantle. The Bishops, meanwhile, headed for the door to claim their carriage. Lissa was not gone for five minutes before, mantle in hand, she was again rushing down the passage. To her right and left the parlors were filled with guests, but she moved past them, deaf to their gaiety, intent on only one thing—departure. She was so anxious to be gone, she hardly saw the hand that reached for her from one door. Before she knew it, she was grabbed and pulled into Ivan’s billiard room.

“Where do you think you’re off to?” Ivan asked her, his voice filled with annoyance.

“I’m leaving. Evvie is in good company. She’ll do
without my chaperonage for tonight,” she practically hissed at him.

“I suppose she’s with Holland. No doubt, you think he’s less a man than I? Return to your sister’s side, Lissa. Don’t give Holland the temptation.”

Her cheeks heated with suppressed anger. “You, of all people, dare to defame his character? You sink to new levels, my lord.”

“I’m only stating fact. Evvie is quite beautiful.”

“Oh, but surely not as beautiful as Antonia Kovel?”

The moment after her words were out, she could have horsewhipped herself. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but somehow once more he’d gotten the better of her.

Suddenly Ivan’s interest was piqued. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So you’ve noticed Lady Antonia.” He released an ironic laugh. “But then, you would. You’re both alike in so many ways. Come, I shall introduce you.” He made to take her arm but she pulled it from him.

“I cannot meet
Lady
Antonia because the Bishops are waiting for me in the bailey.” She moved to the door. He was right behind her.

Once they were out in the passage, Ivan called to a nearby footman. She ignored him but was only a few steps on her way when she heard Ivan say, “Tell the Bishops that Miss Alcester won’t be coming with them, that she’s decided to do the correct thing and chaperone her sister. That will be all.”

She spun in the passage and glared at him. The footman immediately left, and she spent a moment or two debating whether or not she could beat the youth to the bailey. But in her crinoline and satins, she knew she couldn’t. So she picked up her skirts and mantle and, with a vengeance, made her way back to the Hall. If Ivan wanted her to chaperone Evvie, she would, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else.

“I’d like a waltz, Lissa.”

“It’ll be a cold day in—”

Before she could even finish her oath, he had taken her mantle from her and flung it onto a bench in one of the Hall’s inglenooks. He then took her by the waist and, in moments, they were dancing among the guests.

Lissa’s movements were stiff and angry, but she didn’t dare pull from Ivan’s embrace. He was, after all, the host, and to reject him in front of his guests would be the height of impropriety. That was something neither she nor her reputation needed.

“You are an arrogant, self-serving, licentious, dissolute . . . rakehell!” she whispered harshly, all the while smiling to the guests.

“Try bastard, sweet. That word always works well.” Ivan glided her across the polished stone floor.

“Only because you work so hard at being one,” she hissed.

Ivan chanced a look at his guests—a studied mixture of London nobility and Nodding Knoll townsfolk. His gaze was almost contemptuous when he answered, “Believe me, it takes no effort at all.”

His hand tightened at her waist and he swept her past a long line of windows that led out to a snow-covered balcony. They both fell silent. The music was tender and dreamy, and though her cheeks still burned with anger, her nerves were soothed by the beautiful waltz. With Ivan’s possessive lead, her movements grew lighter and soon they waltzed in glorious unison, like the hero and the heroine of a fairy tale.

While they glided past the crowds Lissa chanced a look at Ivan. She was struck by the intent expression on his face. He was watching her as if she were as unearthly and beautiful as an angel fallen from the clouds. The moment stood still as their gazes locked, their eyes all too clearly expressing their unspoken thoughts. It was unbearably intimate, and she found herself wanting to look away. But Ivan wouldn’t let her. He held her tightly and close,
and if they had been alone, and not in a crowded ballroom, she was sure he would have kissed her. And this time, whether because of the music or simply the dark, needful gleam in his eyes, she just might have let him.

“It’s me you love, isn’t it, Lissa?”

Hearing the question she dreaded most from him, she stumbled. Although he caught her, she couldn’t continue. Without word or warning, she broke from his arms and ran to the adjoining inglenook. Then, because the hearth couldn’t cool her raging emotions, she flung on her mantle, forced open the French doors, and stepped onto the snowy balcony.

Along its length, some of the Hall’s doors were cracked to allow air to circulate. The music had stopped but she could hear the tinkling of punch glasses and merry conversations. The snow was sure to stain the hem of her gown, but suddenly she didn’t care. Her heart was warring with her mind and she didn’t know where to turn. Ivan’s question had taken her off guard. She had stood on the precipice of disaster and she had almost fallen in. If she didn’t get away from him once and for all, she would be lost altogether and grow as mad from grief as her father had.

“Lissa.” She turned to find her nemesis right behind her, his black attire in stark contrast to the snow. He was so close she could see the great, lacy flakes caught on his hair and shoulders. She backed toward the carved stone balustrade.

“Ivan, don’t. Go back to your guests,” she whispered.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not well. I need to go home. You should have let me go with the Bishops.” She put her hand to her temple and looked away.

“Then let me take you upstairs—”

“No!” She thrust his hand from her elbow. “Ivan, just leave me alone. I beg of you—”

Just then a peal of feminine laughter rang out to the
balcony. Lissa looked up and saw that Arabella and several other girls she remembered from her childhood had gathered in the Hall right by one of the open doors.

“Letitia, you’re such a goose! You tell me the marquis’s scar frightens you, but then you’ve pouted all evening because he hasn’t asked you to waltz,” Arabella said.

“Lettie’s just jealous,” another girl chimed in, one whom Lissa had seen dancing with Ivan only a half hour before.

“I am most certainly not! Besides it’s Arabella who’s set her cap for him, not I!” Letitia nervously fanned herself. A pleased look appeared on Arabella’s visage, yet she let another girlfriend respond.

“Well, I know one thing, my mother says no one will get him, not with Lissa Alcester still in Nodding Knoll—”

“Oh, pooh!” Letitia interrupted. “Your mother knows better! Even a man with the marquis’s wicked reputation wouldn’t marry Lusty Lissa Alcester! Why, everyone knows that!” They all broke into laughter again, as if Letitia had said the most hilarious joke. Lissa watched Arabella and though she didn’t seem to find the comment particularly funny, Arabella didn’t defend her either. She merely watched her chums with a placid expression on her face, as if she were blind to their cruelty.

Lissa moved away from the window. The pain seemed to choke her. She couldn’t even look at Ivan. He had wanted her hurt. Now he hadn’t even had to lift a finger to do it.

She felt Ivan’s hand touch her arm. Softly he said, “Lissa, you’re not one of them anymore. So don’t let yourself be judged by their morals.”

Tears threatened to spill upon her cheeks at any moment. His comment only made things worse. He seemed to be throwing her poverty in her face. She glared at him and stated sarcastically, “But you couldn’t be more wrong, my lord. I
am
still one of them. I was born into their station and my morals remain just as high.”

“
Alainn,
you misunderstand.”

The first tear fell to her cheek. She was lost now. She reclaimed her arm, then released a bitter laugh. “No, it is you who misunderstands. They might think it’s you who wouldn’t marry me, but they’re mistaken. Arabella may have you, you ignoble gypsy, for you fall far short of my equal, . . . and always have!”

With that, she ran to the balcony stairs that led down to the bailey. She was determined to leave the ball now, even if it meant she had to walk home. The stones beneath her slippered feet were slick with snow, but miraculously she didn’t fall. Behind her Ivan called her name, but she refused to listen. She was leaving and no one was going to stop her.

She descended the snowy steps just as she heard Ivan slip. He cursed heartily, but she didn’t pause. His colorful oaths alone told her he was all right, and now she was ahead. She meant to make the most of it.