Devall's Angel (17 page)

“I see.”

“I hope you do, for though I ignore exaggerations, I despise deliberate falsehoods.” He pulled her briskly to her feet, taking a moment to examine her face. “You’ll do. You must return to the ballroom if you’ve any hope of carrying off the evening. Whatever happens, do not let either pain or anger show in your face. Let the world see that
your
behavior is unexceptionable. In the end, truth will prevail.”

He watched her go, then sought out Jack. This was not a night he could spend on his own campaign, though it would be long before he wangled another invitation from society’s reluctant hostesses. But Angela’s problems were more urgent than forcing retribution on Atwater for Lydia’s death.

Damnation! He should have anticipated this move – an objective analysis would have revealed that Lady Forley was capable of such deceit. She never allowed scruples to interfere with achieving her goals. His failure to prevent this attack made him responsible for repairing the damage. And perhaps he could devise a fitting punishment for Lady Forley.

“I need your help to defeat Garwood’s unwarranted persecution,” he declared when he had run Jack to ground.

“How?”

“Garwood’s tale is false from start to finish.” He sighed. “Lady Forley concocted the lies, though you needn’t delve into her motives. Much as I despise him, the only counter I can devise is to use Atwater’s continued devotion as proof that Miss Warren is innocent. He believes the tale to be false. Remind people of that. The gossips swallowed all his lies about Lydia’s death, proving they still dote on the bastard, so they should follow his lead. Garwood can’t hope to compete with his credit.”

“What is your interest in the girl?” Jack asked.

“I despise slander.” His glare squelched further questions. “Get acquainted with her. She needs friends.”

His stomach turned at where this might lead, but he could think of nothing else. If her protestations were true, she would turn Atwater down. Or try. Did she have the fortitude to withstand pressure from both her mother and her brother, who seemed equally anxious to marry her off? But her future was none of his concern.

He repeated that several times as he made his way to White’s, but deep down he didn’t believe it. His hand shook whenever he recalled cradling her head against his shoulder. That reaction frankly terrified him.

Jack went to work immediately, seeking an introduction to Miss Warren and leading her into the next waltz. He had watched Devall embroil himself in many scandals over the years, but he’d never seen him as grim as he’d appeared tonight. Was it only because this approach risked throwing Miss Warren onto Atwater’s no-so-tender mercies, or did Devall have stronger feelings for her than he was willing to admit?

Miss Warren’s appearance was striking enough. Her blazing auburn hair was arranged in waves, setting off moss green eyes whose slight puffiness hinted at an earlier bout of tears. Devall’s shoulder had been damp, he realized, his spirits plummeting. There was definitely more to this case than altruism, damn Blackthorn all to hell.

How deeply were they involved? Nothing but pain could come of it. If the relationship became public, it would ruin her far more than Garwood’s charges.

Jack grimaced. After brutally jilting his fiancée, Devall had sworn that he would never harm another girl. It wasn’t like him to renege on an oath.

So what was he doing with Miss Warren?

But he pushed the question aside for the moment. He had promised to help. A closer look into her eyes detected a core of steel that would see her through the present crisis.

“You are doing very well,” he commented as he twirled her onto the floor. “It should blow over soon.”

“You believe me innocent?” she exclaimed, and immediately blushed. “Forgive me, sir—”

“Relax. I have it on the best authority that you are honest, and I have agreed to turn what little influence I possess to redeeming your credit.”

New tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Thank you. Would it be too forward to ask who is championing my cause?”

“Blackthorn. He is a good friend, one whose word I trust implicitly,” he added as she raised her brows. Devall must not have mentioned his plans. Typical. The man was the most reticent person he had ever known – especially when it came to anything that showed him to advantage. How much of Devall’s true character did she know? If she cared for him even as a casual acquaintance, she must see well beyond his reputation. In that case, he could not condemn Devall for getting involved. The man had so few friends. But he must face the truth about where even friendship would lead.

Again Jack pushed consideration of Devall’s relationship with Miss Warren into the future, but it could not hurt to reveal some of Devall’s better traits – and it might give her hope for her own situation. Suppressing the shudder that always wracked him at the memory, he smiled. “He rescued me from just this sort of campaign several years ago.”

“Are you going to explain or not?” she asked as his pause stretched. “It can’t be too painful, or you would not have mentioned it. And I admit to curiosity. I’ve not yet managed to reconcile my impressions with his reputation.”

Her eyes promised that his words would go no further if that was his wish. But beyond that, he read her unwilling attraction to Devall. It was worse than he’d feared. Friendship was bad enough. A
tendre
would destroy them. What was Devall about to encourage the chit, knowing that his reputation could only harm her? Championing victims of injustice was one thing, but she was likely to wind up as
his
victim. Damn them! Unless…

His breath caught as he twirled her through a complicated turn, automatically sidestepping a couple with shorter legs. Could this at long last be his chance to repay Devall for salvaging his name, his career, and probably his life? It would be tricky, but just maybe…

That question also got shelved for later. This was not the time or the place for deep thinking. The immediate problem was too urgent, and Miss Warren was getting impatient.

“I had won a considerable amount at the tables,” he began, mentioning neither the unsavory hell he had played in nor his four-figure prize. “Unfortunately, one of my opponents was far into his cups and cried cheat. Despite other players’ efforts to deflect the sot by pointing out his condition, he repeated the charge the next morning.”

“Oh, no!”

“Afraid so. By noon it was all over town, and I faced the ruin of my career. That’s when Devall stepped in. I never questioned how” —Devall’s penchant for unconventional behavior made knowledge of his methods deuced uncomfortable— “but two days later, the lad made a public statement conceding that no cheating had occurred and admitting that he had been so terrified of facing his father with his staggering losses that he had succumbed to temptation. He’d squandered half a year’s allowance that night, though not all to me.”

“He is a good friend.”

“I would never argue that.” She didn’t seem surprised at the tale. Had Devall mentioned it? Or did she understand his character that well?
Later,
he reminded himself. Right now they needed to counter Garwood’s lies. “Can either Garwood or your mother be talked into revealing the truth?”

“No. He never admits a fault and she has already compounded the problem by spinning new lies to Atwater.”

He sighed. “We will have to follow Blackthorn’s suggestion, then. Much as he hates the idea, he thinks Atwater’s continued good will must soon defeat the rumors.”

“More likely support them,” she grumbled. “It will confirm the notion that a secret betrothal exists.”

“Shall we put it about that Garwood made that up to explain the failure of his own suit?”

“That is one of the lies Mama told Atwater.”

“Which makes it useful.”

“Dear Lord, I hate this town! Is no one allowed to be honest?”

“A reasonable question,” he agreed, trying to soothe her obvious distress. “Normally I would say yes, but this situation is too complicated.”

* * * *

Angela’s fears grew as the days passed, though Atwater’s allegiance had quickly defeated the rumors, allowing her to maintain her social schedule and again be received in drawing rooms. Sylvia also helped deflect the gossip. Often she accompanied her friend Lady Ashton, leaving Angela and Lady Forley to make their own rounds. By splitting their forces, they could cover more territory, and Lady Ashton was one of the highest sticklers in town.

Garwood’s claims were hastened toward their grave by the discovery of Miss Sommerton in the indecent embrace of Mr. Throckmorton, and were buried entirely the day eighteen-year-old Lawrence Delaney lost control of his team on St. James’s Street, killing Lord Hartford and injuring two others. Angela’s reputation emerged intact. Garwood’s was slightly tarnished. Within a week, a newcomer would not have known anything had happened.

Angela tried to remain optimistic, though Atwater was now her only suitor, and time was inexorably ticking away. And she had derived one large benefit from the experience – Major Caldwell’s friendship. He was not a suitor by any stretch of the imagination, nor did she want him to be. Instead, he treated her like a revered sister, replacing the warmth that had been missing in her life since Andrew fell in love with Sylvia. Only now did she recognize that lack – and it made her situation even more urgent. She must marry. Jack would soon leave. Forley Court could no longer offer her a congenial home. Life as the Court’s resident spinster would be unbearably lonely and barren.

Jack also confirmed her suspicions about Blackthorn – not that they ever discussed him. But the Black Marquess of rumor could never earn the respect and loyalty of Major Caldwell. More than ever, she wanted to learn the truth. She tried to believe that the urge was mere curiosity, though deep down she suspected that it was stronger than that. But concentrating on Blackthorn held her own problems at bay, problems that appeared grimmer each day.

She could not accept Atwater. That decision was bad enough, for it condemned her to life as a spinster. But even spinsterhood was preferable to outright ostracism. Was that what would happen when she sent him packing? She feared it might. No matter how she did it, society would hardly forgive her. Jilting him – for that was how the gossips would see it – would almost certainly revive Garwood’s tales, and worse. If anyone had a legitimate complaint about having his hopes falsely raised, it was Atwater. Never mind that it was Lady Forley who had encouraged him.

Chapter Ten

Devall urged his horse forward the moment Angela appeared out of the morning fog. It had been several days since he had joined her on her morning ride, so she seemed surprised to see him. But he hadn’t dared risk being spotted when her reputation was already suspect. Yet time had stretched interminably since the ball.

Thrusting the thought aside, he smiled. “Truth has prevailed at last.”

“Yes, and good has come of it, as you suggested. I thought I could be comfortable with Garwood, but who can live with a man so quick to judge and so loath to forgive once he has done so? Thank you for your efforts on my behalf.”

“I did nothing.” He was oddly uncomfortable, having had little experience with praise.

“Not according to Major Caldwell.”

“Jack has a way of exaggerating.”

They trotted in silence for several minutes.

“Why haven’t you tried to improve your own reputation?” she asked at last, repeating a question she had uttered before.

He shrugged, supplying his usual answer. “I care nothing for society’s opinion.”

“I find that hard to believe – unless you hate people. Your life must be quite lonely.”

He glared at her.

“Think about it,” she persisted. “Society shuns you, yet the lower classes can only stand in awe of your title. Major Caldwell is a wonderful friend, but he is out of the country much of the time. Doesn’t that leave you isolated?”

“I have other friends.” But a wave of loneliness washed through him. He rarely saw any of his friends, and Jack was the only one he could really count on to support him. He pulled himself together. “I have more freedom than society would ever allow.”

“Freedom to do what? Flout convention? Pursue personal feuds regardless of morality or law and with little regard for the innocent bystanders you might harm? I cannot believe you enjoy hurting people. So why have you often done just that?”

“I have my reasons, which I need not explain to you,” he snapped, not wanting to admit that her words cut deeply into his heart. He was suddenly choking, as though a giant bellows had sucked half the air from the park. A lifetime of self-preservation instincts rose, igniting his temper.

“As I suspected,” she said smugly. “You are hiding behind your reputation. If your actions are noble, why not admit it? If they are not, then you cannot claim that rumor exaggerates. Or are you afraid to face society as an equal?”

“I fear nothing.”

“Then try it. Tell people who you really are. Only truth can set you truly free,” she declared, paraphrasing the Bible. Without another word, she cantered away, leaving him shaking.

What did she expect him to do? He had no wish to participate in the shallow inanities that passed for entertainment in London. And his position as an outcast gave him the freedom to address wrongs that could be righted in no other way.

He galloped in the opposite direction.

Why was he listening to her anyway? She would move out of his life as quickly as she had moved in. He would doubtless never see her again, and that was best for both of them. She disturbed him in ways he did not want to think about. She deserved marriage, a home, and a family. He could offer her nothing. Six years ago he had accepted the lonely road fate had placed before him. He had never regretted it, and wasn’t about to do so now.

Only truth can set you truly free.
Damn her! Why did she linger in his mind?

But he could not ignore the fact that even Jack did not know the full truth. Nor could he escape the heart-breaking, soul-crushing loneliness…