“Have you learned any more details of your stepbrother’s plot?”
Her burst of happiness vanished as she realized his reason for wanting to talk to her. “Only that it apparently will also rid them of another problem very cheaply.”
He frowned. “What other problem?”
“I cannot conceive what it could be.”
His lordship rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his long tapering fingers, drawing Angel’s attention to his mouth. The fluttering within her quickened, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him “the right way”—whatever that was.
A happy thought struck her. Surely any man who volunteered to instruct her about kissing would also be willing to enlighten her on the other matters troubling her. She smiled warmly at him. “I have some questions that I would very much like answered. Would you help me?”
He grinned. “If I can. What is your first one?”
“How are babies made?”
His grin vanished. He looked as though she had pole-axed him.
For a minute he could not seem to speak at all, then he demanded in a strangled voice. “God’s oath, why are you asking me that?”
“Since you were kind enough to offer to instruct me on the right way to kiss, I thought surely you would be willing to answer that, too.”
“You thought wrong! Don’t you know that a girl does not ask a man she scarcely knows—or any man at all— such a question?”
“Why not?”
“Because . .. because she does not.”
“Oh, fie, that’s no answer.”
Lucian stared at her innocent face. She was by far the most naive young lady he had ever met—and the most entertaining. He said dryly, “I suggest we discuss another subject, like the stars. They seem remote enough to be safe.”
She looked up at the heavens. “Did you know some Greek philosophers taught that the sky is a hollow globe surrounding the earth, and the stars are inlaid on the inner surface like jewels?”
Lucian was dumbfounded to hear a girl ignorant of the basic facts of life talking about the theories of Greek philosophers. “Do you believe that?” he inquired.
She gave him an indignant look. “Of course not! I know the earth is not the centre of the universe hut only one of several planets revolving around the sun. Have you ever studied the sky through a telescope?”
“Aye.” Lucian had not lost his boyhood interest in astronomy, but he saw no reason to tell her that. “Have you?”
“Oh, yes, I love to do so.”
Even in the pale moonlight, he could see that her eyes glowed with excitement. A light breeze had sprung up, and her clean, refreshing scent that he liked so well drifted over him.
“Your interest surprises me,” he told her.
“Why?”
He smiled. “Because it is not a subject that would normally interest a female.”
“I hope you are not one of those silly men who believe a woman’s intellect is too frail to study natural philosophy.”
Lucian replied smoothly, if evasively, “I am never silly.” Her huge eyes looked him over thoughtfully, then she asked abruptly. “Why do you not wear a wig like the other men do?”
God’s oath, was there nothing that she would not ask him?
“I prefer my own hair.”
“I much prefer it, too,” Angel said.
He wished Kitty did. She had been irate at him for refusing to wear a wig tonight. He wondered self-mockingly whether he would have been so averse to wigs if nature had not provided him with a thick head of hair that showed no sign of thinning.
Angel said, “I cannot fathom why the other men wear wigs.”
“Surely you must know that no aspiring gentleman dares appear at a formal ball wearing his own hair instead of someone else’s.”
From her surprised expression, she clearly had not known. Lucian was deeply puzzled that a girl informed on a subject like astronomy could be so ignorant of both common social conventions and elementary human biology.
“But you do not wear one,” she protested, “and you are a gentleman.”
He grinned. “As I told you earlier, only occasionally.”
She studied him thoughtfully. “Other men wear them because they fear what people will think, but you do not care, do you?”
“No, I do not.” There were very few men whose esteem he craved. He looked at Angel approvingly. For all her naïveté, she was astute.
He started to ask how she liked the ball, then realized that she could hardly be enjoying herself, ignored as she was by the other guests. He phrased his question more neutrally, “What do you think of the ball.”
She turned and looked into the crowded gallery. “Oh, it is splendid!” she exclaimed. Her expression was full of wonder and unfeigned delight.
She reminded Lucian of a mischievous elf.
“This is my very first ball, and I had no idea how beautiful it would be! I have never seen such gorgeous clothes, and I love to watch the dancing.”
Suddenly, Lucian felt bad for her. It was her first ball, and no one had even asked her to dance.
Smiling, he inquired, “Would you consent to dance with me?”
Her marvellous smile illuminated her face, telling him how much she wanted to do so. Feeling wonderfully warmed by it, he took her arm and led her into the long room.
Although a number of the female guests had hinted broadly that they would like to stand up with him, until now he had danced only with his betrothed and her mother.
A collective gasp sounded as he led Angel to the dance floor, and every eye turned toward them. He was amused to see some of the best-bred members of English society actually gaping at his choice of dancing partner.
Angel suddenly looked very uneasy. “I have never danced in public before, nor with anyone but Papa. I hope I shall not embarrass you.”
He was touched that she would worry about embarrassing him rather than herself. “You won’t,” he reassured her. “I will guide you. Only follow my lead.”
As it turned out, she need not have been concerned. She was an excellent dancer, light and graceful on her feet, and instantly responsive to him as he guided her through the pattern of a country dance. He wished that Kitty danced as well.
When the music ended, he told Angel, “You are a delight to dance with.”
She looked at him as though he were hoaxing her, then quickly looked away, a pretty blush reddening her cheeks.
As he led her from the floor, they passed David Inge, and she exclaimed, “Poor Mr. Inge looks so unhappy, but one cannot blame him. He is clearly still in love with Kitty.”
Lucian stopped abruptly and his hard grip on Angel’s arm forced her to do the same. “What are you talking about?”
She blinked at him in surprise. “Surely you know that Kitty once intended to marry him.”
Lucian had had no inkling. When he had met Kitty, he had thought her interested in Lord Peck’s son, Roger.
“Look at how Mr. Inge watches her with his heart in his eyes,” Angel pointed out.
To his horror, Lucian saw that she was right. Bloody hell, so that was what was wrong with David!
“They were not formally betrothed,” Angel explained, hid secretly promised him that she would wed him. Even though Kitty is my friend, I think she treated him most shabbily.”
So did Lucian. Kitty had pledged herself to David, then jilted him when more impressive prospects—first Peck, then himself—came along. She was like her ambitious father, whose word could not be counted upon except when it benefited him. Lucian was suddenly furious at his fickle betrothed.
Kitty picked that unpropitious moment to sweep up to them. With only a curt nod to Angel, she said to him, “Darling, you recall the next dance is mine.”
Lucian recalled nothing of the sort.
As Kitty linked her arm possessively in his, he was startled by the jealous glint in her eye. Was she afraid of losing her prize catch?
As he led Kitty away, she hissed angri
ly, “With all the lovely women here, why would you single her out?”
“But I understood Angel was your friend.”
“She is no friend of mine,” Kitty snapped.
“No, you have it backward,” he retorted icily. “You are no friend of hers!”
His tone clearly unnerved his betrothed. “Please, do not look at me so,” she begged uneasily, edging closer to him. “People will think we have quarrelled.”
Let them! he thought, still angry at her treatment of Angel.
As he led her toward the dance floor, he said, “I do not recall requesting this dance from you.” Nor was he looking forward to it after having danced with Angel. Kitty, for all her beauty, was neither light nor especially graceful on her feet.
“If you prefer, we can sit it out,” she said placatingly.
“Good,” he said, leading her toward two chairs.
When they were seated, Kitty, as she always did when he was displeased with her, began to chatter nervously, as though her rush of words could erase his irritation.
She was a little afraid of him, and perhaps that was just as well. Lucian was determined to have an obedient wife, and Kitty would be that. She would not dare go against his wishes.
But other things began to bother him about her. He had never noticed how monotonous her voice was, and she had an irritatingly shrill laugh. He liked Angel’s melodious voice much better.
When the dance ended, Lucian, still out of charity with Kitty, happily relinquished her to her next partner, Lord Bourn.
Lucian was heading toward the room where refreshments were being served when his future mother-in-law, Lady Bloomfield, stepped into his path.
“I am very grateful to you for dancing with Angel,” she told Lucian with obvious sincerity.
Too bad her daughter did not share her sentiments. If only Kitty took more after her sweet, caring mother, instead of her wily, ambitious father. Lucian liked Lady Bloomfield far better than her husband.
She said sadly, “Angel is such a dear child, and everyone else is ignoring her.”
“Certainly she has captured no male interest.”
“’Tis just as well!” Lady Bloomfield exclaimed.
Lucian raised a questioning eyebrow.
She explained, “Angel is so naive that an unprincipled man could take dreadful advantage of her. I doubt she even knows what happens between a man and a woman. Her late father was an eccentric recluse who eschewed society and fashion. He kept Angel totally ignorant about them and about men.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He was obsessed with preventing her from becoming like her wanton mother. He had the nonsensical conviction that once Angel learned of passion she would follow in her mama’s disastrous footsteps. She would not—the two are as different as night and day. A more flighty, frivolous, selfish, faithless creature than Angel’s mother never lived. She cared only for clothes, jewels, and men’s adulation.”
Like most women, Lucian thought cynically.
“She ran away with one of her lovers when Angel was four. Angel’s father was so humiliated that he retired to the country to raise his two children in seclusion, away from what he considered the corrupting influence of London society. He even insisted on educating them himself.” Lady Bloomfield’s expression tightened in disapproval. “And a very strange education it was for Angel.”
The orchestra began playing again, and Lord Bloom- field claimed his wife for a dance. Lucian was sorry to lose her company. He wanted to learn more about Angel and her odd upbringing.
When Angel went to bed that night, she began to sneeze as soon as her head touched her pillow, and she could not seem to stop. She had no idea what could be wrong. Never, except a few times when she had gotten her nose full of dust, had she ever sneezed like this.
Maude, who was sleeping on a cot in Angel’s room, offered her some of a special elixir made from her grandmother’s secret recipe.
“Never go anywhere without it,” the maid confided. “Never seen anything like it for stopping a body from coughing and sneezing.”
Angel decided to try it. Certainly it could not hurt her, and it might help.
Maude poured the thick, brownish liquid into a small glass until it was half-full, then handed it to Angel. “Best to drink it down all at once.”
Angel obeyed. When she had emptied the glass’s bitter contents, she gave a little shudder. “It tastes vile.”
“But ‘tis worth it, for it works,” Maude said. “Here now, your pillow looks very flat to me. I saw another that looked better in the chest of drawers.”
She pulled open the bottom drawer and produced a much plumper, fluffier pillow. As she replaced Angel’s pillow with it, she said, “You will find this one more comfortable.”
Angel was surprised by how solicitous Maude suddenly was of her. She thanked the maid and laid her head on the new pillow. It was much better than the other had been.
The elixir clearly worked, too, for Angel stopped sneezing.
And suddenly she was so sleepy that she could not keep her eyes open.
Chapter 4
“I am surprised, Lucian. Solitary drinking is not your style.”
Lucian was sprawled in a chair in Bloomfield’s small library, where he had been sampling his host’s fine claret. He looked up from his glass at the sound of David Inge’s voice at the door.
“Then join me.” Lucian gestured toward the chair beside him. “You are just the man I want to see.”
He would have poured David a glass of wine from the decanter on the table beside him, but his friend said, “None for me.”
Lucian refilled his own glass instead, then asked bluntly, “Are you in love with Kitty?”
The sudden pain in David’s eyes answered the question better than words could have.
Dismayed that he had unwittingly hurt his friend, Lucian said, “Believe me, I had no notion until tonight how you felt about her.”
“I know that.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you are not at fault!” Bitterness permeated David’s voice. “Roger Peck was the villain. He condescended to dance attendance on her.”
“Not for long, though.” No woman held that handsome young peacock’s interest for long. He was aided in his conquests by a face and physique that enticed women like flies to honey. If that were not ample attraction, he was the son and heir of Lord Peck, one of the richest men in the realm.
“No, Roger dropped her soon enough,” David said. “Fortunately, you appeared on the scene at that moment. She made it very clear to me how much she—and her damned father—preferred you to me.”
“What they prefer are my power and rank,” Lucian said grimly. “Yet you love her still?” In David’s place, he would have despised the faithless chit. Maybe he was doing his friend a favour by marrying Kitty. David deserved so much better than that ambitious, fickle female.
“Stupid of me, is it not?” David said savagely. “I berate myself for being every kind of fool. But I blame Bloomfield more for what happened than I do Kitty. He kept telling her that she would be wasting herself on a younger son like me, that she could do so much better.” David’s mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “And now she has.”
“No, she has not,” Lucian said softly.
David smiled bleakly at the compliment.
Long after his friend went up to bed, Lucian remained alone in Bloomfield’s library, liberally partaking of his lordship’s claret and brooding.
Poor David. Men made such fools of themselves for love. That would never happen to Lucian. Not since that miserable day his father had sent him away to the army had he let his heart rule his head. And he never would. No woman would ever do to him what Kitty had done to David. There was not a woman in the world he could not walk away from if he put his mind to it.
Lucian looked up at a portrait of a lovely young woman hanging over the fireplace. She was his host’s eldest daughter, Anne, by his firs
t wife. Years ago, when Bloomfield had been at the height of his considerable political power, he had rejected the suit of Lucian’s older brother Fritz for Anne’s hand because he did not consider the Sandford family good enough for a union with his own.
Now Lucian, the younger son whom his father hated, would marry into the family that had rejected his father’s favourite.
That pleased Lucian enormously. So did the fact that he now outranked his father, Viscount Wrexham. When King William had offered to make Lucian a viscount, he had declined the title and audaciously asked for an earldom instead. It was a measure of the king’s esteem for Lucian that he had gotten it.
And very soon now, Lucian would own Sommerstone, the Sandfords’ ancestral home. It had been in his family for more than a century until Lucian’s grandfather had lost it at the gaming tables to a man who subsequently sold it to Bloomfield.
The most-cherished dream of Lucian’s father had been to regain the estate. With marriage to Kitty, Lucian would succeed where his father had failed.
At last, he thought with intense satisfaction, he would prove to his father how badly he had misjudged and underestimated his hated younger son. At last, Lucian would have the vindication that had been his most-cherished goal for the past fourteen years.
Lucian wished that he could see his father’s expression when he heard the news of his younger son’s betrothal. Would Lucian’s acquisition of Sommerstone bring Wrexham to his son to ask his forgiveness? No, his proud, stubborn father would never admit he had been wrong, but he might plead to visit Sommerstone.
What did it matter that Kitty bored Lucian with her endless, mindless chatter about gowns and social standing? He could bear to be bored when Sommerstone was his and he was married to one of Bloomfield’s daughters.
And he would have Selina, whose beauty put Kitty in the shade. With her wit and quick intelligence, his mistress would provide him with the entertaining companionship that Kitty could not.
Although Lucian was fonder of Selina than he had ever been of another woman, he did not delude himself that he was in love with her. Nor did she love him. Her heart, like his, was encased in a protective barrier that could not be breached.
Devil’s Angel Page 4