When Angels Fall

by Meagan Mckinney

  Their mantles were taken by some supercilious elderly footmen and immediately Lissa felt conspicuous. With her hood gone, her crystal-strewn hair seemed to draw an inordinate amount of attention, especially from the male guests. Her and Evvie’s gowns found their admirers too, for theirs were among the most spectacular—not an easy feat, considering the loftiness of the guests in from London. From everywhere, Lissa felt eyes upon them. Yet nowhere did she see Ivan.

  She looked through the crowd of crinolines and cutaways but no one seemed to stand as tall as Ivan did. Nor was any gent as handsome. For some strange reason she was suddenly filled with disappointment.

  “I do believe I’m with the two loveliest ladies here.” Holland smiled at the both of them.

  “I can just feel that there must be a thousand people at this ball. Ah, musicians! I hear them warming up!” Evvie clung excitedly to Holland’s arm.

  “Why don’t you take Evvie to the Christmas tree and describe it to her, Holland?” Lissa suggested.

  Holland gave her a concerned look.

  She laughed. “Oh, you can’t mean to have me tailing along. I think it would be terribly difficult for the three of us to waltz.” She motioned to a velvet bench pushed along one wall. “I’ll be right there when you come back.”

  “But—” Holland began.

  “No one will compromise me, I assure you, dear Holland.” She tossed him a brilliant smile and quickly glided away to claim the bench.

  She took great pains not to wrinkle her voluminous skirts. Then when she was finally settled, she suddenly felt forlorn. There was a great crush of people in the Hall and the music from the orchestra seemed only to draw in more, yet there seemed no one for her. The ball was turning out just as depressing as she expected, only more so, for just as she looked up, she caught the eye of Albert Rooney. He was dancing with Arabella, though neither of them seemed involved in what they were doing. Each seemed to have their attention elsewhere.

  “Would my lady accept a glass of punch?”

  Startled, Lissa looked to her left and found a man standing next to her. He seemed a bit young, but he had dazzling leaf-green eyes and a perfect Roman nose. He was a difficult youth to refuse.

  “How kind of you,” she finally said, accepting the glass.

  “Allow me to introduce myself—” the youth began, yet was never allowed to finish for another voice sounded behind him.

  “Miss Alcester, it’s certainly a pleasure finding you here!” Albert suddenly cut in with his own glass of punch. He acted as if nothing had ever happened between them, though if she looked closely, there did seem to be a hardness about his eyes that she had never seen before.

  “Albert” was all she could say before, unexpectedly, another “beau” cut in. It was Harry McBain dressed in his cleanest shirt and frock coat. Even he sported a glass of punch, and she suddenly began laughing at the absurdity of her situation. And here she was thinking this ball would be dull!

  She had just finished refusing Albert’s offer of a waltz when she glanced up to one of the loggias that overlooked the Hall. Ivan stood there, dressed splendidly in a black cutaway and trousers, a brilliantly white starched shirt set off by a black satin bow tie, and a sinfully expensive black satin waistcoat. He was glaring down at her, as if he dared her to have a good time athis ball. She was caught off guard by his intense scrutiny, then her cheeks burned with anger. He had no right to look at her like that—as if he somehow owned her, as if he had the right to claim her like chattel.

  Suddenly the idea of dancing seemed irresistibly appealing. She was going to waltz off in another man’s arms, and she wildly hoped that this would infuriate Ivan to new heights. She stood and, to Albert’s surprise, accepted his arm.

  Albert was a well-schooled dancer, and Lissa found herself easily led around the floor. Her skills sharpened with every step and soon she was almost enjoying herself. She looked about the room so that she could be sure Ivan saw her, yet he was no longer in the loggia and she couldn’t find him in the crowd.

  Their dance was soon over and Albert led her back to her bench. Holland and Evvie were there by now, though Holland looked a bit shocked that Albert had been her waltzing partner. Lissa didn’t make much of that, however, for Harry promptly asked her for the next dance.

  He led her in a crude country waltz that was more like a polka. It wasn’t the kind to make lovers jealous as Albert’s had been, yet she couldn’t help but feel flattered by the look of utter awe Harry bestowed upon her. When the dance was over, she found herself actually laughing again, and she became even more determined to enjoy herself and forget about the pain Ivan had caused.

  She waltzed for hours, it seemed. The nameless youth turned out to be a knight, Sir Gilbert, and he was also a superb dancer. If she’d actually been a debutante, she was sure she’d have wanted him to fill every space on her dance card.

  She danced with Albert again, though it seemed every time she did, he became more and more somber. When the orchestra sounded the last dance before dinner, Albert had abruptly taken her arm and led her to the floor, completely without invitation. She was almost irate enough to call Holland, but he and Evvie were having such a good time waltzing that she couldn’t bear to interrupt them. Besides, she was sure she could handle Albert herself.

  That was before she found herself waltzed into one of the Hall’s oriels. The nook was out of sight from the rest of the guests, for it was behind the great limestone staircase and surrounded by heavy velvet drapery. Immediately Albert stepped from her arms and closed the curtains. She was suddenly thrown into darkness; the only light was that which spilled beneath the velvet partition. In consternation, she made to open the drapery and leave, but Albert blocked her exit with his body. Unable to quit the place, she moved against the huge bay window. She was already feeling chilled. The drafty panes at her back didn’t help warm her either.

  “Whatever are you doing, Albert? Are you hoping to cause a scene?”

  He stepped toward her, a brilliant gleam to his eye. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. Never.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. She looked up at him in surprise. She didn’t know Albert could be this forceful.

  “Tramore is no gentleman,” he continued. “I wouldn’t have even honored him by attending this blasted ball if it weren’t for the slim chance to see you again.”

  He was holding her arms so tightly she was sure he was bruising her. With some hesitation, she tried to answer him. “It was unthinkably cruel what he did to you, Albert. But you must put it out of your mind. No one knows about it. And I promise, no one ever will.”

  “He ruined my chance to marry you!”

  She lowered her eyes. “You may still have the chance.” She couldn’t believe she had said that, for she didn’t love him. Yet somehow she still clung to the belief that marriage was the answer to her problems. If Albert felt so strongly about her, then perhaps they could make a good marriage. And Albert would relieve her of her debts to Ivan.

  Albert turned from her, disconsolate. “No, no. He’s compromised you. I saw it. Mother would never approve.”

  Anger seethed in her breast. Her last shreds of respect for this man fell from her shoulders. She turned to go, but she found his hand on her waist, holding her back.

  “Don’t you touch me,” she hissed. She pulled off his fingers and made for the drapery once more.

  “Lissa, stop. I must have you. And if we can’t marry, then I want to set you up, perhaps in London. Far away from Mother.”

  The fury inside her exploded. She turned and vented it upon him. “I amnot that kind of woman, you—you milktoast! Nor shall I ever be! So unhand me before I scream and fetch your mother to take you home for the night!”

  “Lissa, my lovely, that’s him speaking, not you! Don’t you see? Tramore has got you in his clutches and I’m here to set you free!” Without warning, he pulled her to him and his thin, wet lips sought hers. She was overcome by revulsion, yet also by the desire to lau
gh. The man’s kiss was impossibly inept; his offer pitifully absurd.

  Albert was a poor example of manhood, it was true, but he was still stronger than she was. She made several struggling attempts to leave his embrace, but she was held firm by his wiry arms. His lips caught hers again and this time she shook from rage. Her hand found his face and she clawed at his cheek, but to no avail. He seemed bent on having her, no matter how she felt about it. As secluded as the oriel was, she wondered how far he would dare go.

  A light shined in her eyes and she heard the drapery being opened, then closed. Behind them in the darkness, she heard Ivan’s voice. She could have sobbed in relief.

  “Have you a death wish, Rooney?”

  Albert’s head shot up and, in his surprise, he dropped his hold. Lissa sank to a nearby bench, panting from her struggles.

  Albert stammered, but he stood his ground. “We—we want to be together, Tramore. And—and you’ve not got the power to stop us, no matter your trickery.”

  “I see.” Ivan looked as if he were going to chuckle, but suddenly his fist went out and it met squarely with Albert’s jaw. Albert crumpled on the bench right next to Lissa, unconscious.

  Horrified, she looked down at the poor man. “Ivan, you’ve killed him.”

  Ivan grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. In the dimness of the oriel, her eyes had to strain to see his face.

  “Rooney’s fine,” he answered. “Though now that you’ve given me the idea, I should probably finish him altogether by getting a footman and having him dropped in the moat.”

  “Don’t even think such evil things,” she admonished in a hushed voice.

  “Ithink of far worse, Lissa.”

  In the tiny nook, they were so close together, her satin skirts were crushed against him. Just the sound of his voice was a painful reminder of their previous encounter in his apartments. All at once she wanted to be away from him.

  “Ivan, I must get back. Someone will wonder—”

  “First you tell me, is this how you repay me?” He suddenly turned angry. “You put on your pretty frock and fall into the arms of the first man who wants to kiss you?”

  “Rooney forced me in here. I didn’t want him to kiss me—” Her brow suddenly furrowed. “And repay you for what?” He was being particularly infuriating tonight.

  She felt his fingers touch one of the rose satin bows on her shoulder. Her belly tightened. Suddenly she felt as if she were on a steeplechase, instead of being at a sedate ball detained by the host.

  “You owe me a great deal, Lissa. More than you know,” he said pensively. His voice grew husky. “Have I told you how exquisite you are tonight,alainn? My God, even that gown doesn’t do you justice.”

  She stiffened. At the namealainn, her heart constricted once more. Painfully she forced it back inside its bindings. “I must go,” she said.

  “Then let’s both abandon this wretched ball.”

  “I hardly think that would be proper.” She pulled back her skirts so that she could pass. Before she could, he took her arm.

  “Why is it you’re so cold with me, love? Why is it I find Rooney extracting more passion out of those frigid little lips than I can? And why do I keep hearing the rumors that say you fully earned that lusty little nickname,Lissa, when I don’t see it at all?”

  “Those rumors are lies, I tell you—all of them—” she whispered bitterly.

  “I wish they weren’t. For my eyes only, at least.”

  “But not for Albert’s? Or what about that delicious youth with the green eyes?” Her eyes narrowed. “He’s a knight, you know.”

  He gripped her arm brutally. “As if a mere knight could compare to my station.”

  “Yes, but look, his beginnings were not as humble as yours.”

  She knew she had hurt him, but somehow the words had driven by themselves, spurred on by her broken heart. All that she’d ever hoped for she had laid at his feet, and though she might have deserved it, he had trampled her dreams with unnecessary relish.

  “Did you know, in times past, my love, the lord of the castle could have a wench flogged to death for making such comments?” He shoved her away and she knew if the light was better, she would have seen his handsome face taut with anger.

  “And, no doubt, you’d think that wasn’t enough punishment.”

  “Not thecorrect punishment. Indeed, especially not for you.”

  She let out a tormented laugh. “Then thank heaven for these modern times.” Her hand went to the drapery and she discreetly opened it. She shot her last comment at him. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I must return to my beaux.”

  She felt his eyes upon her until the drapery fell back once more. In the light she hoped he hadn’t seen how shaken she was from their encounter, but as she left him, Albert was coming to and, furious, Ivan had turned his attention on him. The delirious man had the misfortunate to utter her name, and this enraged Ivan all over again. With a look of disgust on his face, Ivan took a holly wreath that had been hanging on the window and pulled it over Albert’s thin shoulders. Then he too left the oriel.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lissa only wanted the evening to end, but it loomed long and interminable before her. Dinner was a grand affair and no delicacy was too costly to be served, much to the delight of the townsfolk. But Lissa found her appetite gone, and even Sir Gilbert’s witticisms couldn’t bring it back.

  They sat at Ivan’s long table in the midst of a hundred strangers. Evvie and Holland sat near them, and the Bishops, but after that it seemed everyone the marquis wanted to honor at his table was from somewhere else, not Nodding Knoll. An unfamiliar black-haired woman sat on Ivan’s right, and she and Ivan seemed to get along famously. The beauty seemed all too familiar with the marquis, and though her husband was not seated two seats from her, she once even dared pat the marquis’s unblemished cheek. Watching her, Lissa could hardly get down her wine. Her stomach felt as if it were coiled into a knot and when the last cordial had been served, she wanted to fall to her knees and give thanks that the meal was finally over.

  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 endure 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 husban
d 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.”