When Angels Fall (44 page)

Casually Lissa studied the lace at her wrists. “I can recuperate there as well as here.” She then looked at him and prompted, “Of course, I needn’t stay there long. As you said yourself, with the right words, plans can be changed.”

Trying desperately to hide his fury, Ivan sat on one of the cast-iron settees. Again he ran his hand through his cropped hair.

“Well, if that is all, my lord, I should—”

“No that is not all!” he snapped. Agitated, he dug into the pocket of his frock coat. He thrust a black satin box into her hands.

“ ‘Bronwyn and Schloss’?” she read, the name sounding familiar.

“Yes. Go ahead, open it. I thought it would please you. As if anything could please you.”

She ignored his caustic comments and opened the catch. Her crystal snood fell into her hands.

“I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty of getting it repaired for you?” He looked at her belligerantly.

“Of course not. How kind,” she whispered, the snood bringing back all sorts of memories. She now re
membered why she knew the name on the case. What a coincidence that Ivan had chosen to repair the piece at the same London jewelers that Great-aunt Sophie had bought it from.

She studied the snood, turning it over in her hands. The crystals were dazzling in the brilliant sunlight of the morning room. As if by enchantment, they caught her gaze and refused to let her go. She was held so spellbound by its glitter, she barely heard Ivan’s voice.

“Tell me before you go, Lissa. When you look at this, what do you think of?”

She frowned slightly, hesitant to answer. “I used to think of diamonds.”

“And now?”

She fingered one cold, hard, brilliant crystal. The memories of their night together at the castle, bitter and achingly sweet, came back to her. “Now I suppose all I think of are tears.”

For the briefest of seconds, anguish seemed to cross his face, but then the emotion was gone. When she looked up, his features were as cold and hard as the crystals.

Biddles moved imperiously through the marble entrance hall holding a small silver tray. He knocked at the library door. Tersely Ivan summoned him into the room.

“Yes, what is it?” the marquis growled as he stood by the dying fire in the hearth, an empty glass of brandy in his hand.

As Biddies could easily sense, the marquis was in no mood to be bothered. It had been over a week since Miss Alcester had left with Lady Kovel, and the marquis had spent most of his time either drinking at his club or drink
ing in the library. Though it was hardly evening, Mrs. Myers had already brought him his second decanter of spirits.

Biddles bowed and said, “This was just delivered from Harewood, my lord.”

The marquis’s head snapped up. He picked up the vellum perched on Biddles’s silver tray and immediately broke the wax seal. He then read:

My dearest Ivan,

I was delighted to discover that you’ve remained
in town and have not returned to Powerscourt. If you
would be so gracious as to accept my invitation to din
ner, next Friday, eight o’clock, not withstanding, I
would be most honored. Kovel and I are planning a
small party for Lissa, with no more than fifty guests.
Since it’s my great privilege to introduce Miss Alcester
to London society, I do hope you’ll attend and assist me
in this delightful task. Until I hear from you next, I
am always,

Affectionately yours,

Antonia
                  

Ivan stared at the vellum for a long time. Finally Biddles cleared his throat. When the marquis looked up, he asked, “Will that be all, my lord?”

The marquis gripped the note in his hand until his knuckles turned white. “No, that will not be all,” he said. “Summon my coach. I’m going out.”

“Very good, my lord.” Biddles bowed and went to carry out the marquis’s wish.

“Antonia, what is the meaning of this?” Ivan stormed into Harewood’s drawing room without even a greeting. Surprised by the intrusion, Lady Antonia and Lord Kovel looked up from their cribbage game.

“Why, Ivan, how deliciously furious you are! Whatever is the matter?” Antonia smiled and rose to greet him. Behind her, Kovel leaned back on his elbow chair and leisurely lit his pipe.

“You know what’s the matter! What is the meaning of the note you just sent to my house?” Ivan demanded.

“Ah, I see.” Antonia turned to her husband and winked. “I win the bet, Kovel. I told you he’d be right over.”

“Yes, you did,” Kovel answered, amusement in his voice. “And I concede that you were correct, dearest.”

“What are you both talking about?” Ivan asked ominously.

With unveiled delight, Antonia stood and walked over to her guest, all the while studying his face. “I know why you’re angry, my cold, dispassionate lord—I’m bringing Lissa out into society so that she can see all that she’s been missing,
particularly
with you, and you are beside yourself with jealousy. In fact, isn’t that brandy I smell on your breath? Have you perchance been feeling the need to drink, Ivan?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped.

“Oh?” Antonia raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Kovel and I had a bet how you’d behave after you received our invitation. My husband said you’d ignore it, but I said most emphatically that you’d be here in a flash trying to convince me to call the entire dinner off. And, if I’m not mistaken, I’ve won.”

Ivan crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes glittered with fury. “I didn’t come over here because I’m a jealous . . .”

“Lover?” Antonia prompted.

Ivan shot her an ignoble look. “As I said, I’ve not come because I’m jealous. It’s just that I see no reason for you to launch Lissa into society. She’s got no use for such a life. And if I recall correctly, she’s not impressed by such displays any more. She’s changed. In fact, she wanted
nothing to do with those gowns I gave her. Nothing at all.”

“But, nonetheless, those lovely gowns will come in handy.” Antonia smiled and touched his arm. “I agree with you, Ivan, Lissa’s certainly no girl entranced with artifice, but she deserves to be brought out into society. She wants a husband and a family and, as I see it, this is the only way for her to meet someone who can give her those things.”

“I should have never let you take her. I should have known you’d resort to this foolishness.” Frustrated beyond expression, he ran a hand through his black locks. He looked as if he wanted to break something, and if Harewood had been his own house, he probably would have.

“Ivan, you misunderstand! I thought you’d be happy to see Lissa so well entertained!”

“You’re scheming. And don’t think I don’t see that,” he snapped. “You’re trying to induce me to marry Lissa Alcester by making me jealous. But I won’t be so manipulated.”

“But haven’t you been already?” Antonia smiled wryly.

Furious, Ivan looked as if he could throttle her. “We’ll see about that. Good night, Lord Kovel, Lady Antonia.” He turned to leave.

“Oh, Ivan, before you go,” Antonia cooed, “I do hope you’ll bring a lady friend to Lissa’s dinner. I don’t want you to get lonely.”

Ivan didn’t turn around. “I shall consider the possibility. Good night.”

“Because, you see,” she continued, “Kovel’s just invited all his nephews to Harewood and with nine unattached men at the dinner, I’m afraid you may get quite bored watching Miss Alcester waltz.”

Ivan’s back stiffened.

Antonia smiled. “Good night, Ivan.”

“Good night!” he roared, then left the house.

For Lissa, Antonia’s soirée promised to be a delight. She couldn’t believe what a friend she had found in Lady Kovel. Though she feared Antonia’s scheming might not make a whit of difference in her relationship to Ivan, she still enjoyed Antonia’s warmth and genuine regard.

She also enjoyed how utterly impossible Ivan had become in the days preceding the party. Antonia had told her how he had stomped into Harewood in the most foul of moods the day he’d received his invitation, how he had growled at all the servants who dared cross his path, and, when he had finally confronted them, how he had fixed her and Kovel both with a stare of glittering resentment and outrage.

It was heavenly.

By the night of the ball, Harewood blossomed like an English rose, its beauty mature and refreshingly subtle. Gone were the dust covers and cobwebs Lissa remembered when she had first taken tea there. In their stead, candlelight shimmered in every corner and the voluptuous chords of a Strauss waltz echoed through every passage.

The entire night took on a dreamlike quality. The dinner was delightful, made more so by the charm and wit of their hostess. Afterward, Lissa danced every waltz, each time in the arms of a different young man. And while she did so, she was all too aware of the eyes that watched her as she swept around the ballroom—eyes that were blue, as blue as the sky at midnight.

By the last waltz, Ivan still had not asked her to dance, choosing instead to remain standing against the wall, nursing a brandy. She was exhausted from all the activity, not still completely recovered from her fever, and when she saw Lord Charles, one of Kovel’s handsome nephews, coming toward her anticipating the last dance,
she almost dreaded being so put upon. But suddenly a hand appeared at her elbow and Ivan was leading her to the floor. Before she even realized it, they were waltzing. Miraculously, when his hand touched her waist, she found she was no longer weary.

“Lady Antonia is a grand hostess, don’t you agree, my lord?” she said animatedly.

Ivan grunted an answer, then circled her around the room once more. She peeked at his face and was delighted by his scowl.

“I can certainly see why you were out so much while I was recovering,” she mentioned, looking gaily around the ballroom. “In fact, if I were to lead this kind of life, I think I should never go home.”

“Well, you don’t lead this kind of life. So remember that.” His hand gripped her waist even tighter.

“Now whatever does that mean?” She hid a smile. She should have been hurt by his comment, but with him behaving like such a malcontent, she found she just couldn’t be. He was jealous. Thoroughly, unabashedly jealous. Whether that would bring him to the altar was an entirely different matter. But for once, it did her heart good to see him so unhappy.

“Lord Bradley’s mother insists that I come to tea at the mansion on Berkley Street. And Lord Charles has invited me to a ball next Thursday. What do you think?” Her eyes twinkled with laughter. “Should I wear that silver satin ballgown of yours or the periwinkle blue one?” She lifted her eyes as if she truly sought his opinion.

He looked ready to explode, but as usual he mastered his emotions with an iron hand. “Why bother your head with such details, Lissa?” he answered coolly. “When that sniveling pup Charles looks at you, I can guarantee he isn’t noticing your gown.”

“What a wicked thing to say, Ivan. Are you implying that Charles is something other than a gentleman? You wouldn’t think so if
you
had walked with him out on the
balcony in the moonlight.” She sighed dreamily. “You know, my lord, I think I shall wear the silver satin to Lord Charles’s ball. It’s a discreet color, to be sure, but that neckline . . . however did you find one so fascinatingly low?”

With that, he quit waltzing altogether. Angrily, he took her by the hand and led her to a little bench hidden in a drapery-covered apse.

“You’re not wearing that gown. It’s my gown, do you hear? And you will wear it when I ask you to,” he rasped.

“Oh, what a foolish piece of baggage I am, Ivan. I forgot. It is your gown. So you must take it back. Holland will buy me one of my own.” She raised one eyebrow. “I just hope I can copy that neckline . . .”

His hands grasped her shoulders and he said, “Lissa, I will not have you—”

“Will not have her what, Ivan?”

They both looked up and found Antonia standing by the drapery. While she surveyed the situation, a self-satisfied smile played on her lips.

As if Lissa were a poison, Ivan released her and stepped back. His face quickly turned dispassionate. “Miss Alcester and I were having a discussion, Antonia. I needn’t tell you it was private.”

“Private or not, Kovel wants to introduce Lissa to the Duke of Rankston. Everyone is looking for our guest of honor, and I cannot allow you to monopolize her time.” She held out her hand. “Come, Miss Alcester. Let me take you to the drawing room.”

Lissa rose from the bench. She gave Ivan one hesitant glance, but he only stood by, angrily rubbing his jaw. A look passed between him and Antonia. Resentment clashed with duty, but duty won. Antonia got hold of Lissa’s hand and she promptly took her away. With nothing more to keep him at Harewood, Ivan abruptly left the soirée to seek out the warmth in his decanters of brandy.