When Angels Fall

by Meagan Mckinney

  “She isn’t going to Harewood or anywhere!” Ivan boomed. “She’s ill, can’t you see that?”

  Mutely Lissa stood by, watching Ivan and Antonia as if she were watching a lawn tennis match.

  Antonia gave Ivan another coy smile. “All the more reason why she should be at Harewood with me. What are you trying to do to the poor girl’s reputation? The minute you found her you should have called me and you know it! Staying here with you alone! For shame, you wicked rogue!”

  Ivan ran his hand through his hair. He looked as if he were about to throttle Antonia. He was so thoroughly irritated, Lissa found she was actually enjoying herself.

  “Miss Alcester,” Antonia said, turning to her, “you do want to come and stay with me at Harewood?You dowant to make Ivan do the proper thing?”

  Lissa’s gaze met with Antonia’s. Suddenly she realized what the woman was about. Antonia was actually trying to help her. She was trying to remove her from Ivan’s clutches and, hopefully, drive him either mad or to his knees for a proposal. Now, seeing Ivan so completely annoyed, Lissa wondered if Antonia’s plan just might work.

  “I accept your generous offer, Lady Antonia.” Lissa smiled gratefully, refusing to look at Ivan. “You’re truly a saint to help me like this.”

  Antonia clapped her hands, then pulled her arm through Lissa’s. They were just about to leave the morning room when Ivan said,“Wait.”

  Innocently they both turned around.

  “Yes?” Antonia inquired.

  Ivan hesitated and rubbed his jaw. “I want to speak with Lissa.”

  “Fine,” Antonia answered, “I’ll just sit here—”

  “You’ll just sit in the drawing room.” His face grew stern.

  Antonia studied him, then decided she had tested him enough for one day. Reluctantly she left, saying “I’ll be upstairs helping to pack Miss Alcester’s things.”

  Ivan nodded. When Antonia left, he turned his scowl on Lissa.

  “You’re not well enough to go to Harewood, Lissa.”

  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 remembered 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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  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 drinking 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 remainedin town and have not returned to Powerscourt. If youwould be so gracious as to accept my invitation to dinner, next Friday, eight o’clock, not withstanding, Iwould be most honored. Kovel and I are planning asmall party for Lissa, with no more than fifty guests.Since it’s my great privilege to introduce Miss Alcesterto London society, I do hope you’ll attend and assist mein this delightful task. Until I hear from you next, Iam 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, non
etheless, 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 ifyou 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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A week later, it was almost midnight when a loud, demanding knock stirred the marquis’s household. A sleepy Biddles answered the door and to his surprise, Holland Jones stood angrily at the entrance. As if he were almost used to the bailiff’s brusqueness, Biddles stepped aside and watched helplessly as Holland sought out the library.

  “Good God, I should have forced her to come with us! Where is she?” Holland accused Ivan when he entered the room.

  Unperturbed, Ivan sat listlessly in his leather chair, stroking Fenian’s back with his booted foot. Blandly he said, “Ah, it’s my brilliant estate manager back from his honeymoon. How was Venice, Jones?”

  “Do you have her here?” Holland said ominously.

  Ivan almost smiled. “It’s not what you think, Jones. Lissa left for London on her own. I and my evil seductions didn’t spirit her away.”

  “I know she left on her own. Her note at the cottage said as much. But then I heard you’d left for London too, and now I want to know where she is!”

  “Well, she’s not here.”

  Holland al
most looked taken aback. “Then where is she?” he asked.

  “She’s staying, quite properly chaperoned, with Lord and Lady Kovel. She came to London—alone, I assure you—to see about getting a position. I found her at an old inn in St. Giles.”

  “St. Giles?” Holland gasped.

  “Yes,” the marquis answered, looking down into his half-empty glass. “So save your righteous indignation, will you? If I hadn’t come to London looking for her, your lovely sister-in-law would have ended up in far worse hands than my own.”

  “I can hardly believe it,” Holland stated flatly.

  “Well, you must believe it, Jones, or ruin Lissa’s reputation. Which will it be?” He gave Holland a scathing look. There was no mistaking the hostility between the men, it fairly crackled in the air.

  Hesitating, Holland said, “If Lissa’s all right then, I’ll telegraph Evvie through the Bishops’ this very night. She was sick with worry when I left her at Violet Croft.”

  “You may tell your wife that her sister is bursting with good health and vitality.”

  After this sarcastic statement, the marquis rose and poured them both a stiff brandy. Without ceremony, he handed Holland a glass, then motioned for him to take a seat. The marquis went to his desk and found a well-stuffed envelope. Soon they both sat before the hearth in the leather club chairs as they had done so many months ago.

  “Now that you’re here, Jones, there’s a matter that I’ve longed to discuss ever since you went to Italy.” The marquis tossed the fat envelope into Holland’s lap. “Somehow there’s been some misunderstanding that you owed this to me.”

  Holland looked in the envelope. It was crammed with ten-pound notes. Slowly he put it down. “I think my letter explained this money. It’s to repay you for George’s education.”