She paused, not wanting to finish but knowing she had to. “Not someone like you, Asher, who could care less about her. Asher, she means so much to me. She is not like the other women you dally with who are used to such affairs. She is an innocent, Asher and I will not have her hurt by one such as you.”
“One such as me? You speak as if I am not your brother, little sister.”
“I speak to you as Angel’s friend, her best friend, who wants the best for her and do not want to see her hurt by you, Asher, your reputation precedes you. You will treat her no differently than the many other women whom have come across your path.”
And it was Asher who grew cold, increasingly so. “Do not tell me what to do, Hunter, you overstep your bounds. Angel is a grown woman and she does not need a friend like you telling her what to do. Let her live her life, Hunter and concern yourself with your new son, husband and daughter.”
“Promise me you won’t hurt her, Ash,” she whispered, holding on to his sleeve as he turned away. “If you break her heart, Asher, how could you live with yourself? She is innocent of betrayal, of deceit, I swear this to you. She takes no part of the lifestyle which you hold so dear.” And then her voice dropped, even lower, her words urgent. “She is not like that bitch you gave your heart to, Asher. Don’t you dare treat her as such, if you hurt her, I will want no part of you in my life…or in my child’s life.”
And Asher was left, staring after her departing back, knowing she meant the words in which she’d thrown at him.
It was Asher who came to her room, late in the night, after the house had settled. He opened the door, watching her as she packed a trunk in the middle of her room. His first reaction was one of horror, that she was leaving, that he’d not be able to see her again as he quickly walked toward her, surprising her, as she glanced, startled. “Asher, what is amiss?” She asked as she stood quickly, where he clenched her arms tightly.
“Where are you going?” He asked hurriedly.
“To visit with my aunt and her family, I told you, the first day of our travel I was to visit with her tomorrow for a stay and then I shall be back to continue the rest of my time with Hunter.”
Her words calmed the rapid beating of his heart, yes, he had forgotten, as he released her arms, smiling to cover his badly decomposed composure. “Yes…I had forgotten,” he said. “Who is to take you?”
“Your mother and father,” she returned, quietly, studying him. “Everything has been arranged.”
Asher would have known this information if he had not been deliberately avoiding his family for the past week. He nodded, smiling even more widely, his dimples deep. “That is no good at all, my Angel. When you return I shall be gone,” he informed her.
“But, where?” She asked.
“I must return to London, for business, and where I make my residency, I have left it far too long, more than a week. I had stayed two days longer than what I had first planned, I can stay no longer.”
“But-” she did not like the words in which he spoke. “When will we see each other, again? Perhaps, I can come to London, my aunt spoke of the season which is even now occurring.”
Asher stared at her, thinking of Hunter’s words, thinking of Deborah, the woman before her, the woman after her, the woman who wasn’t her but was her, right at this minute. Innocence, deceit, gross betrayal. He smiled, nonchalantly. “Perhaps, now, would be as good as time as any, to end our little affair, my Angel,” he said watching as her eyes darkened in pain and mentally shielding himself from her hurt. He smiled even wider, lifting one fingertip to brush the curls upon her face, back. “Yes, it would be for the best, before we say words we do not mean, we become even more entangled in feelings which would do us no good. I bid you farewell, Angel and I thank you for the nights in which we have shared.”
“Asher!” She exclaimed, watching him walk out of her life. She stood frozen for long moments, too long, before her legs moved, going to the bathing room, reaching for the doorknob to find it locked for the first time at her touch. “Asher!” She cried, tugging at the doorknob, but it would not budge and there was no sound from within.
She hit her fist against the door, again and again, crying, calling his name. “Don’t! Please, Asher,” she cried, feeling bereft, abandoned. “Please,” she whispered brokenly against the door, falling to the floor, one hand still upon the doorknob, her skirts floating high above her before settling upon the floor beneath her. “Please,” she said again. “Please, I love you,” she admitted to the door. No one answered her. No one returned her lovelorn pleas. No one, except Asher that is, who stood on the other side of the door, listening to her cries, listening to her tears and knowing he’d made the biggest mistake of his life, but pride, the pride which had seen him through so many years, would not let him relent, until finally after what seemed like hours later, he heard the rustle of her skirts, her footsteps and then lastly, her door closing.
Chapter 6
Angel was quiet during the carriage ride to her aunt’s home. She politely answered Maria’s and Ethan’s questions, but offered them little more than whatever they asked of her. It was with little wonder that she fell asleep, after the exhaustive and troubling night which she’d had, tears forever before her as she packed the remaining of her clothing for her stay at her namesake’s home.
Asleep, she found herself even more troubled than when awake, searching endlessly for Asher in a maze, which was dark, misty. She was always one step behind him, always just inches away from her outstretched hands. Finally, when she did find him, when she was finally able to touch him, he turned towards her, cruelly, smacking her hand away and leaving her crumpled and alone in the middle of the chaotic puzzle.
Angel breathed deeply, the motion not lost on Ethan and Maria. Maria knew that look in Angel’s eyes, she’d entertained the same look, and Angel had fallen for someone at the grouping. But with who, she could only question.
All of her sons were enraptured by the beautiful American, all sprouting her praises, her sweetness and vulnerability. Why David and Michael had nearly come to blows over an argument as to who Angel enjoyed more. She’d not see her sons’ this argumentative since they had been small children.
Maria and Ethan shared looks; already Angel had fully settled herself into their hearts.
The trip to her aunt’s home was spent in companionable silence as Angel’s mind wandered towards the pain of last night, the pain still upon her today. Remembering her cries, she bit her lip, wandering as to why Asher, how he could be so callous. Hunter’s words hunted Angel. But yet, she had not wanted to believe them. In such a short time she had fallen head over heels in love with a man who thought nothing of her.
The very thought distressed her already badly abused heart. But yet, she could not rest the blame fully in Asher’s court because somehow, the fault must lay within her own body. There was something inside her that Asher had found little use of or for.
The sounds of the carriage played havoc, the lumber of the wheels seemed to echo the words, ‘love lost’ repeatedly until Angel wanted to scream, to silence their mocking cry with hands placed firmly over her shell like ears.
Frowning, fidgeting, she tightened already tightly laced fingers, closed already clenched eyes, bit an already red lip.
“Angel, dear, whatever is amiss?” A voice asked from the depths of her misery.
Shaking her head, she frowned. She truly did feel ill, her head hurt, there was intense pain behind her eyes, she felt at once hot and cold, as sweat propped above her eyebrows. However, Angel, brave, unwilling to place any blame upon another, least of all the man she had given her heart to, pretended to feel well, pretended for pretension’s sake when inside she felt aloft, adrift, floating aimlessly upon a sea of dark reckoning, he was not to love her, it was not her time to be young, in love…to be happy.
“My lady, forgive my long, dark silences, I fear I have grown weary of traveling, why, I have traveled more in the past few months than my entire life
. I shall soon get over it,” she discreetly brought her kerchief to her forehead, blotting away the sweat, blotting away the all to recent memories of being rebuffed, rejected.
Neither Ethan nor Maria, parents of too long, believed her lies, barely visible perhaps, were a smidgen on truth. The parents shared a look which spoke volumes, Maria would speak to her, once alone and then inform Angel’s aunt of her troubles, whatever they may be.
They pretended to accept her excuse and spoke quietly amongst their selves for the remaining trip, until, at last, with utter relief from Angel, the carriage encircled the driveway before stopping in front, people waiting for the visitors.
She would know her aunt because Angel saw her father in her aunt’s kind face, her own lips and narrow nose. She hesitantly smiled as Ethan escorted the two ladies out, her aunt uncommonly kind for doing such a thing. Someone as high in the society as a duchess never waited upon others, others waited upon her.
Next to her aunt Angel, the elder, was her husband, a duke, a middle aged, slightly portly, with a high, receding hair line but with kind brown eyes and a warm and welcoming smile. Next to him, were his sons, two, one Angel’s own age, the other, two years younger, twenty one, the heir and spare.
They made their way with all due diligence, as her aunt Angel presented the greetings. She had met Ethan and Maria before, as had her husband. She welcomed them before turning her eyes towards her namesake, this beautiful exotic woman with her father’s feature and kind but sad eyes.
“My dear, Angel,” she spoke, smiling, showing teeth, one incisor slightly crooked, her lips as full as her niece. Wrapping her in warm arms, she hugged her fiercely, before letting her go, turning towards her husband.
“This is the Duke of York,” she stated. “And his two sons: Lord Henry and Lord Devlin,” she said as Angel circumspectly curtseyed before the gentleman as Harry decided that they could and would acquaint inside their large, warm and hospitable manor home, as the servants stood in docile in a neat and orderly line, bowing or curtsying as Angel, Maria and Ethan passed.
“I so have longed to see my dear niece,” Aunt Angel said, once they had ensconced their selves in a semi-formal drawing room, she immediately ringing for refreshments as everyone sat down.
Aunt Angel and her husband, Henry sat on each side of Angel, upon a drawing couch, while Maria and Ethan sat immediately across and Henry and Devlin sat on either side of the couch.
Angel felt apprehensive among these people; they were extremely formal, even though her aunt did grace Angel with a kind smile.
“Thank you, my grace,” Angel returned, offering her own smile.
They were interrupted by servants a second later whom escorted refreshments of tea, scones, fruit and cookies.
Conversation was kept among impersonal subjects, the men more than dominating the small tete a tet, Henry, the elder, seemingly decided that if it wasn’t his opinion than no one’s was important.
“Well, yes,” Henry blustered, his face slightly flushing at the talk. “It would well seem to me as if the America’s could use more of England’s good exports. That blasted colony, by far, has turned its’ very people upon its’ ear.”
Angel bit her lip; it would not do for her to argue with her aunt’s husband, no matter how wrong he may be.
“Oh, do, Henry, let us speak of more light subjects, please, sir,” Aunt Angel returned, pouring her niece another cup of tea. “Do remember that you promised me a turn in London, during the Season and to be our escort.”
“And when did I promise you such a horrid thing?” Henry returned horridly as his sons pretended ignorance.
“Why this very morning once I reminded you of Angel’s visit. You cannot expect such a young, beautiful lady to stay cooped inside this great monstrosity of a home with us old folks, do you? And, your sons are returning to school, tomorrow, what is she to do during her time here, if not go to the London Season.”
Henry wanted to argue, Angel could see, harrumphing to himself, but he could not, without looking unkind. “Yes, yes, well, I guess that will be alright. A short visit,” he stated.
“You promised one month.”
“One month!” Henry exclaimed. “In the horrid London city, my dear, you must simiply-”
Aunt Angel interrupted, glancing at her husband. “Please, dear?” She asked, smiling at him, a truly beautiful woman. Henry was lost; he knew that and finally, nodded, losing himself in her eyes.
“One month, then, my dear Angel, and not a moment longer.”
“Well, then it’s settled. We can leave with the boys in two days, since they also travel to London. Oh, what a ball we shall have, Angel, the first thing to do is to see a dressmaker to have you outfitted in the latest designs.”
Maria and Ethan took this time to excuse their selves, standing up. “Well, than it is settled. However, you must excuse us, my lord and lady, my wife and I must return to our daughter and our new born grandson, quickly, before it becomes late.”
Everyone stood, nodding at Ethan’s words. “Yes, of course, Lord Hawthorne,” Henry said. “And thank you, for bringing my wife’s niece to us. And how is your daughter, does she and the child fair well?”
It was Maria who nodded. “Splendidly, and thank you for your concern, your grace, but please, we must be off.”
Aunt Angel fluttered about, smiling, warm, speaking of the regret upon their departure so soon after their arrival. She found herself pulled to the side by Maria, who whispered quickly in her ear, as everyone else walked towards the front doors.
“My lady, please, do watch over the young Angel. Something is amiss with her and she has not confided in me, nor either my daughter, Hunter. I worry about her…I am sure she is homesick.”
The elder Angel nodded, patting Maria’s arm reassuringly. “Rest assured, my lady, I shall see over her as if she was my own child.”
Maria nodded, smiling. “Thank you and perhaps I shall see you soon?”
“Of course.”
After their leaving, Angel was escorted into the drawing room with her aunt and her husband, the two young men, making excuses as to their packing, leaving her alone.
“Dear Angel,” her aunt started, sitting down and motioning for Angel to. “Please, how does your father fare?” She began.
“Oh, wonderful,” Angel begin, even though she still felt sick, still felt horrid on the inside. “He sends his love, my grace,” she said, smiling softly and smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her clothing.
“I have missed him dreadfully,” she exclaimed, staring off into space for a moment, her eyes unfocused. “Our youth was so fun, truly it was, and we ran wild in the country. I have long resigned myself to adulthood, but every once and again, a pang of what I had long since left pulls upon my heartstrings.”
“Oh, do, dear, really, you have been well out of your youth for quite some time.” Henry said, slightly sarcastic before turning towards Angel. “Excuse your aunt; she grows more and more sentimental.”
Angel noticed the pained look her aunt shot her husband.
“As for you, my young lady, as my wife has since reminded me, we are to be off in two days hence, so I see no reason for you to unpack your many suitcases. And have no need of your clothing, you will be dressed in the best finery, I will not have your father say that I have treated his daughter horridly upon her visitation in my home. However, I will not contain the slightest hint of disobedience, or impropriety, young ms. You are to treat yourself with the decorum due to this family. Is that understood?”
Angel nodded. “Yes, my lord,” she said forcefully, “of course.”
Henry immediately turned towards his wife. “Now, my love, are you happy, we shall go to that blasted London, to show your niece around.”
“And I do thank you, my lord,” she said.
“All shall fare well,” Henry replied. “I see that you are a respectful young lady, no matter an American. You may have your aunt show you your rooms, ms.”
They nodded, th
e ladies stood, while Angel was escorted from the room. The walk upstairs was in silence before her aunt finally spoke, once at Angel’s door. “You must do understand my husband, he is a very fine man, I could not ask for a wonderful husband. Slightly stern, but underneath it absolutely wonderful. But do, for now, rest, you look quite tired and put out, my niece, would you like a respite sent to your room, everyone will understand if you are excused from supper.”
Angel nodded. “Yes, please, my lady.”
Patting Angel on the hand, her aunt offered a small smile. “I do hope you enjoy your stay here, my niece, I shall have maids up for a bath. England is far different from America…and yet, also the same. We are all bound by rules…laws…societal norms. You are a beauty; you look so much like your mother. We were all so young and wild once upon a time ago…so many years ago. Although I am saddened by her death, it is a joyous occasion that she still lives on in you. She was my closest friend. I wished that her and Michael, your father, had a regular life. They deserved it more than any other. I have never encountered a love such as theirs…and I do believe I will not witness such again.”
Angel was taken aback by her aunt’s kind words and hugged her impetuously; it had been so long since she’d had motherly attention. Her aunt returned the hug, holding aunt for long moments before slowly pulling away, holding on to her arms and staring into her beautiful gray eyes. “I so want you to enjoy yourself. I owe your mother as such. You are my family, Angel.”
“Thank you,” Angel returned, before stepping into her room, her aunt kissing her on the forehead before escorting Angel into her rooms. When they finished the tour, her aunt once again hugged her closely before leaving Angel alone.
Closing her eyes wearily, Angel leaned against the door, yawning, she wanted so badly to crawl underneath the covers and did not understand why she was so fatigued.
The pain from Asher’s rejection still ate away at her…it hurt; it seemed, to try to smile, to speak to others, when inside of her mind, body and heart everything was torn asunder. Angel had never felt so overwhelmed by such dark emotions in her entire life...this pain bordered upon the pain she had at her mother’s death, the fear of never knowing her father, the hatred she had for Lair.
Angel of Ash Page 14