Angel's Devil

by Suzanne Enoch

Angel turned around, ready to march back inside. "I'm not going to answer that question." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "And you shouldn't be asking it."

  "I know."

  She sighed testily. "I know this is all a stupid game to you, anyway."

  "But what if it's not?" he murmured, stepping closer to her.

  For a moment Angel couldn't breathe. "It still doesn't matter. I'm engaged to Simon."

  "Do you want to be?" he whispered.

  Angel turned around and punched him in the shoulder. "Stop it! You said you were going to behave."

  James grabbed her fist. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you, Angelique. Your damned parents weren't supposed to take you off so soon. I'm not prepared for this yet. I had everything planned out, you know. I was quite clever, I thought."

  "What did you plan out?" she asked, trying to pull her hand free.

  "You and me."

  She jerked free. "There is no you and me! Can't you understand that? I am engaged!"

  "Nothing's been announced," James murmured urgently, pursuing her as she headed back to the ballroom. "No one knows. Break the engagement."

  Angelique froze. "For what? For you? You don't even believe in love."

  "I love you."

  Whatever it was that Angel had been about to snap at him became caught in her throat. "You can't," she whispered, staring up at his face. "I love Simon. He's—"

  "No, you don't," he broke in brusquely. "You don't love Simon. I doubt you ever did."

  "That is a lie." Her heart was hammering so fast she thought it must burst through her chest. This was an ambush, and it was one she had wanted. She'd wanted to hear this from James. "Is this how you talked to Desiree?" she flung back desperately. "Is this how you tried to convince her to stay away from Viscount Luester and marry you? If you don't convince me will you shoot Simon tomorrow?"

  James took a step backward. He turned as if to walk away, then stopped and stood for a moment with his eyes shut. Finally he took a ragged breath and looked over at her, his eyes black in the moonlight. "I deserved that, I suppose," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Angelique." He turned his back again. "You made me forget her," he said so quietly she could barely catch the words.

  "James? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said..."

  He shook his head. "It was an accident, you know. I never meant to shoot Geoffrey. I certainly never meant to kill him. He was my..." He stopped for a moment. "He was my friend."

  "Then why?"

  "I went to propose to her—to Desiree. She told me Luey had already proposed to her. She said he'd told her I was... unreliable, that I'd never be faithful to her, and that it was entirely likely my father would cut me off without a penny for my wicked ways. She said she would rather be Viscountess Luester now than poor Mrs. Faring waiting for my father to die."

  "That must have hurt," Angelique said quietly.

  "You have no idea. And then she said that if Luey hadn't come along she would happily have married me." James sat on one of the white stone benches that lined the garden path. After a hesitation, Angelique walked over to join him. "I was furious. I called Luey out, then found Simon—dragged him out of his bed at Cambridge, in fact. We both got blistering drunk, and then I went out at dawn to meet Geoffrey."

  Angel sensed that he had never told this story to anyone, and she slowly reached out to touch his fingers. His hand jumped, and then he turned his palm to curl his long fingers around hers. "I know what happened next," she said. The sound of a country dance and of laughter coming from the distant window seemed unreal.

  "No, you don't," he returned. He raised his head to look at her. “I truly never meant to kill him. I had already decided merely to shoot close enough to frighten the hell out of him, and perhaps convince him that he would be wise to let me have Desiree. He was as smashed as I was, and missed me by six feet. I shot him through the right lung, and he drowned in his own blood. It took several minutes."

  "And turned you into the Devil," Angel murmured, shivering.

  "Yes." He looked across the moonlit garden. "On my father's advice I went to France, and then my darling Desiree married Kensington." He shrugged. "I suppose even a barony was better than what she thought she might have had with me."

  Angelique reached up to touch his cheek. He turned to look down at her, and she leaned up to kiss him. His arms went around her, pulling her against him. This was so wrong, so very wrong, and so very right. She tangled her fingers through his black hair, wishing she could erase every memory he had of Desiree Kensington.

  "Angel! Where has that girl got to, now?"

  Angelique tore her mouth from James's. "Oh, no," she breamed, looking toward the manor and her father's voice. "James, let me go."

  He kept his hands around her waist. "Never," he whispered, shifting over to nibble at her ear.

  "Oh, my." She shivered at the sensation, which seemed to run through her entire body. “James, if you ruin me they'll send me off to Australia."

  He sighed and let her loose. "I would follow you," he murmured, standing and pulling her up beside him.

  "Would you?" Angelique shook herself. "Oh, never mind. Get away, please."

  "Do you love me?"

  "James," she begged.

  "Do you love me?" he repeated huskily.

  She felt compelled to answer. "Yes, but—"

  "That's enough. For now." He leaned over and softly touched his lips to hers, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the garden.

  Her gown was rumpled, and she dazedly smoothed at it. If Simon had come upon them, James might .have found himself embroiled in the duel he very much wanted to avoid. Something had to be done, before they all were hurt. Brutus came padding up to her, and absently she scratched his head. James loved her. And mat made everything even more complicated than it had been before. She couldn't break with Simon, for she had given her word. Once James had suggested it, though, she found it impossible to banish the notion from her thoughts. Oh, her parents were right. She was entirely incapable of behaving in a proper and mature manner.

  Something rustled in the bushes to her left, and she whipped around, her heart pounding. She saw nothing, and when Brutus sauntered over to root among the leaves she thought perhaps it had been a rabbit or a mouse. When he emerged, there was something dangling from his massive jaws. Whatever it was caught the moonlight and glinted.

  "Brutus, give," she ordered, holding out her hand, and he dropped his prize into her palm. It was a monocle. She lifted it for closer inspection, and her heart skipped a beat. The gold rim was engraved with the initials P.A.

  Chapter Twelve

  James Faring didn't sleep at all. He'd been about as subtle as a bee sting with Angelique. A green boy just down from university would have performed a seduction with more panache than he had. The only comfort was that Angelique had said she loved him. True, there were a multitude of conditions and complications attached, and he'd practically beaten the confession out of her, but she'd said it.

  It was her damned parents' fault. He'd thought to have at least another fortnight to wheedle her away from her thoughts of Simon, during which time he would have gently broken the news that his cousin was in love with Lily Stanfred.

  It did cross his mind to simply sit back and hope that Simon would summon enough impropriety to call off the marriage, but there were two reasons he couldn't risk that. Firstly, Simon's sense of honor was so deeply entrenched that it had likely never occurred to his cousin that he could change his mind. And second, Angelique was no one's cast-off, and he would never allow her to be treated as such.

  She didn't appear for breakfast, and he found himself as angry at Simon for apparently not noticing her absence as he was at himself for upsetting her enough to keep her away. He went down to the stables in time to see Simon and Lily riding off toward the lake together. "Damned insensitive..."

  Heaven was in the near paddock as Angel appeared from the direction of the garden. She cooed at the mare and produced a lump of sugar, w
hile James quietly stepped forward to lean against the railing a few yards from her. Several strands of her long hair had escaped from their pins, and unconsciously she pulled them back behind one ear with her fingers. She was wearing a light green patterned muslin, a shawl knotted over her shoulders against the cool morning, and he would always remember every detail of her.

  Heaven finished the treat and then trotted back to the far side of the paddock. Demon stood crowded up against the railing of the neighboring corral, his neck craned in Heaven's direction and his ears tipped forward at the mare. "It seems Demon has aspirations to reach Heaven," he offered.

  Angel turned to look at him. "So it seems," she returned, with a smile. "You pun well."

  "Thank you," he answered, smiling back. "I have to admit I can sympathize with my poor beast's yen for so divine a creature." James ventured a step closer, but wasn't surprised when she raised a hand as if to ward him off. She'd had a night to regain her sensibilities. And if she had any sense she would club him over the head and run for assistance.

  "Stay right there," she ordered, blushing. "Do not begin this again."

  "But last night—"

  "Last night we were seen," she interrupted.

  Good Lord, he'd ruined her. "Who was it?" he murmured, wishing he could kiss the troubled furrow from her brow.

  She fished something from her pocket. "I heard rustling in the bushes, and Brutus brought me this."

  He stepped forward, and she deposited a monocle in his hand. "Percival Alcott," James said darkly. He looked up at her. "Are you certain he didn't simply drop this on another occasion? He and his brother have been tramping about my garden for days."

  She shook her head, turning back to the corral. "With the way this entire scheme has been proceeding, what do you think?"

  "Hm," the marquis murmured. "You're right. But he doesn't know you're engaged, Angelique."

  She sighed and lowered her head. "That doesn't matter. I've been behaving like such a hoyden. No wonder my parents are concerned."

  James reached out and lifted her chin. "I've been doing my damndest to seduce you," he murmured. "And believe me, I've had a great deal of practice. It's no fault of yours, Angelique."

  "It is my fault," she protested. "I wanted you to seduce me. I still do."

  James gave a slow smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

  He leaned forward, but she put a hand against his chest. "No."

  "Well, we seem to be in a bit of a spot, then," he commented, running his thumb along her cheekbone. "What do you suggest we do?"

  She shivered. "Nothing."

  He raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Nothing?"

  "When a lady is given a choice between being involved in a scandal and doing nothing, she does nothing," Angelique informed him firmly.

  "And who told you that?"

  "My mother."

  "Ah. I should have guessed." James glanced toward the corral where Demon eyed Heaven longingly. "Well, my sweet, you may be a lady, but, as I have been told on numerous occasions, I am no gentleman. And this Devil has no intention of letting you go that easily."

  "James—"

  "Break the engagement, Angelique. Be with me."

  "Be with you how?"

  "Any way you wish," he returned, his voice quite unsteady. "Though I would suggest marriage as a reasonable choice."

  For a long moment she simply looked at him. "But what about... what about Simon?" she whispered.

  She was giving in, he realized joyfully. "I'm certain he'll make do."

  "But he loves—"

  James tilted her chin up further and stopped the rest of her protest with his lips. Her hand, which had been resting against his chest, wrapped around the lapel of his jacket and pulled him against her, and he knew he'd won. He could tell her, about Simon and Lily.

  "Angel!"

  At the sound of her mother's voice Angel jerked away from him. Her face turned alarmingly white. James cursed as Lady Niston, led by Percival Alcott and followed by his grandmother, strode across the grass toward them.

  "Mama," Angelique stammered.

  "You see?" Percival sniffed, "I told you this would happen in the Devil's den."

  Reflexively James reached out to steady Angelique, but at her appalled look he stilled his hand. Instead he turned to her mother, prepared to take as much of the blame as she cared to confer. "Lady Niston," he drawled, "I was merely demonstrating how Lady Angel might wish to proceed with Simon. It seems she has little experience with—"

  "Not a word!" her mother growled. Lady Niston grabbed Angelique's arm and dragged the girl back toward the manor. "You.... devil! Stay away from her!"

  "Yes, my lady," James bowed, though he had no intention of doing any such thing.

  Angelique expected to be bellowed at for lowering herself to behave in such a completely disgraceful manner. Instead her mother glared at her, tight-lipped, and then suggested she go up to her bedchamber and wait. As soon as Angel shut the door behind her she ran to the window, to see James standing out by the corral where she had left him.

  A light breeze lifted the dark hair from his brow as he stood looking out over the lake. He looked so alone, and her heart ached. She should never have let herself fall in love with the Devil Marquis of Abbonley. Nearly anyone else would have been acceptable if she had changed her mind about Simon, but not him. The irony was, that without James Faring, she would probably still be deluding herself into believing that she could force herself to be happy in Simon's idea of proper life.

  As if sensing her gaze, he turned and looked up at her window. If she were Juliet and he Romeo, she would expect him to climb up and rescue her. She sighed, pressing her palm against the cool glass. There was no balcony, and no trellis, and at the moment even the problems of the Capulets and Montagues seemed more manageable than what faced her and James.

  The marquis turned as his grandmother approached. They spoke for a brief moment, James obviously agitated. He started toward the house, but Lady Elizabeth grabbed his arm and said something more to him. He stopped and looked down at his grandmother, turned to look up at Angel again, and then strode for the stables and vanished inside.

  By the time her mother pushed open her door it was late afternoon, and Angel was beginning to wonder whether she should try an escape, and where in the world she would go if she managed to get away. Her heart was here, with James. She would simply have to hope her parents would understand. And perhaps Simon would forgive her some day.

  "Mama," she began, rising.

  "Not a word," her mother snapped. "Come with me."

  Apprehensive, Angel followed her mother down to the drawing room. She was surprised to see that her father and Lady Elizabeth were already there, waiting. Simon and James were in attendance as well, standing at opposite ends of the room and obviously trying to ignore one another.

  "Angelique, your father and I have discussed your behavior over the past two months. We were wrong to bring you here, so some of what has happened rests on our heads, as well." Lady Niston gestured at her husband, who glanced at Angel and James and then cleared his throat. He didn't look entirely comfortable with the proceedings. Perhaps he could be reasoned with, when her mother wasn't about.

  Lady Niston continued. "We have decided to return to Niston as we planned. And, in light of today's incident, we have decided to delay the wedding until next September."

  "Papa," Angel protested. Things were becoming completely out of hand. "I need to talk—"

  "It's too late for talking, Angel," her mother cut in. "Simon, an hour ago we posted a letter to London announcing the engagement of our daughter to you. That should clear up any future… misunderstandings."

  James shifted, every muscle tense and his expression angry, but he kept his silence.

  "You've... announced the engagement?" Angel said faintly when no one else appeared to want to speak.

  "It should be in the paper by the time we leave for Niston."

  That was the end of it, then.
The end of James, and the end of what she had begun to hope would be a truly happy life. She looked over at Abbonley, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. After a moment he turned and strode out of the room, shoving the door shut behind him with a slam that rattled the windows.

  He wasn't at supper that evening. Angel wondered where he might be, but was soon distracted and annoyed by the smug gaze Percival had for everyone at the table. Simon had said nothing to her since the announcement, but he looked dismayed. She couldn't blame him. She had behaved abominably. As soon as she could, she would ask his forgiveness and try to make a new start of things. Lily looked as though she had been crying, and Angel thought it kind of her to be so concerned over this mess. Henry ate almost none of the meal, though it was roast chicken, his favorite.

  After dinner, as they repaired to the music room to listen to Lily and Arthur Alcott play, Henry intercepted her. Taking her by the hand, he dragged her into the morning room. "Percival says you and Simon are really going to get married," her brother said, a tear running down his face.

  "Henry," she murmured, kneeling in front of him.

  "You can't marry Simon," he said brokenly. "He's the wrong one. You have to marry Lord James."

  She hugged him, wishing with all her heart that things could be that simple. "Henry, I've been engaged to Simon all along. You know that," she whispered.

  He nodded, wiping at his eyes. "But it's still wrong."

  "Marrying James would be wrong, when I've already made a promise to Simon." She tousled his hair. "It'll be all right, Henry."

  "No, it won't. Lord James is mad, and he won't ever want to see us again."

  "Whether he wants to see me or not, Henry, of course he'll want to see you and Helen. You know that."

  She rose to go into the music room, then stopped and sighed. She'd had her fill of everyone's looks and opinions. "Henry, will you tell everyone I have a headache and have gone to lie down?"

  He nodded. "All right, Angel."

  Feeling far too restless for bed, Angel instead headed for the library. The door was closed and so she knocked. When there was no answer she pushed the heavy oak door open and closed it behind her, taking a breath as she entered the cheery room. All she had wanted was freedom from convention. She had never counted on falling in love with the most unconventional man in London,