Devall's Angel (19 page)

“But why did you insult him? Surely you can return him to your side. Simply apologize for your unthinking words.”

“I will never wed the man,” she swore, staring at Lady Forley until the woman blanched. “And you can forget your odious plots. Never will I countenance you hanging on my sleeve. If I do marry, I guarantee that you will be welcome only for occasional brief country visits, and never in London. Nor will I allow a husband to expend so much as a shilling on your behalf.”

“Oh, that I would live to see my daughter treat me so foully!” she cried, grasping her vinaigrette.

“You can blame no one but yourself, madam.”

“Hartshorn!”

“Ring for your maid.” Too angry to care, she stumbled from the room, running into Andrew and bursting into tears.

“What happened?” he demanded. “How did your face get so bruised?” He pulled her into the study and forced brandy down her throat until her hysteria subsided.

She poured out the tale.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, Andrew. Leave him alone. It was Mother’s fault more than anything. She convinced him that I would welcome his suit – just as she convinced you. Any confrontation can only worsen the rumors that some still believe. He already has too much reason to hate us.”

“Something has to be done about Mother.” He sighed.

“Yes. You cannot have her poisoning Sylvia with her spite. It was hard enough living with it before. Now it will be worse.”

“The dower house won’t satisfy her, and I hate to think of the slander she will pour onto the tenants and villagers.”

“To say nothing of the neighbors.”

“I can’t expose Sylvia to her filth. And God knows what she’ll do to you while we are on our wedding journey.”

But try as they might, they could think of no way to deal with her.

Angela retired to her room. She managed to put the events of the morning out of her mind, but only by concentrating on Blackthorn. He had been right about the dangers Atwater posed. And his desire to avenge his cousin’s death was noble – though she did not agree with his methods. But it increased her questions about his other deeds. Was there a noble purpose underlying all the stories?

She reviewed the tales. Jilting his fiancée? Even if the action were justified, choosing so public an arena was not. Too many witnesses recalled that night, making it impossible to believe that memories of the scene were exaggerated. But the Graceford story was different. At least half of it had already been debunked – by Garwood, of all people. Perhaps the rest was fiction as well. Eloping with Lady Cloverdale? He had never denied the charges, not even during the crim-con trial. But the deaths of Cloverdale and Coldstream were more nebulous. No hints of his responsibility had arisen at the time. He had been genuinely surprised when she had mentioned them. Did that mean he was innocent, or was he merely shocked that others knew of his involvement? And what nefarious service had he been purchasing from those soldiers? Were they the same three who had known Mickey? Perhaps providing for the lad was part of their price.

Chapter Eleven

Angela felt better after a nap than at any time since coming to town. Turning down Atwater cloaked her mind in peace. She would not find a husband this Season, but accepting that fact set her free. The words echoed Blackthorn’s, and she began to understand him a little better.

The rules expounded by the polite world were confining. No longer having to adhere to every expectation was like removing a particularly tight corset. She could breathe again. The occasional ball might be fun, but she need not wear herself out with a social schedule she neither wanted nor enjoyed. And now she could attend other events – musicales, literary soirees, lectures, even one of the concerts presented by the newly founded Philharmonic Society of London.

In retrospect, the failure of her Season was at least half her own fault. Six years of Lady Forley’s praise for London society coupled with criticism of her daughter’s training, her activities, and her interests had stripped away Angela’s confidence. Instead of using the brain she was so proud of, she had meekly crawled into the mold her mother demanded. But conforming to that image had added a fear of revealing her true self that placed the last straw on her mountain of pressures.

What a fool she had been. Her bluestocking education would not have harmed her chances on the marriage mart. It would have deterred Atwater and his ilk, of course, but where was the harm in that? Cassie had been out for five years before wedding Hart, but her overt intelligence and independence had nothing to do with such longevity. She had waited for love, turning down several offers each Season. Sylvia had numerous friends among the intelligentsia, some of them high-ranking members of society.

Disgusted with herself, Angela ran down the list of respected gentlemen who had knowingly chosen bluestocking wives – Hartleigh and Andrew, of course, the new Lord Hartford, Bridgeport, Carrington, and several others. None of them flaunted their learning in society ballrooms, but neither did they hide it. Only in the rigid drawing rooms favored by Lady Forley was education derided.

She should have studied others instead of blindly accepting Lady Forley’s claims. Knowing that she was not as out of place as she felt would have reduced the pressure, allowing her to converse with the ladies and relax with the gentlemen. Instinct, pleasure, and her own interests would not have lost the battle to fear, nerves, and stress. She might even have detected her mother’s secret goals in time to thwart them.

She deserved whatever censure society would confer for jilting Atwater, for by projecting a false image, she had perpetrated a fraud upon the
ton
. Blackthorn’s initial charge that she was acting a role to attract Atwater’s attention was true, though hardly deliberate. She should have understood that hiding her real character was dishonest and could never lead to a compatible marriage. But she had trusted her mother’s experience. After all, the woman had spent much of her life in London society. Who would expect a parent to so callously use her own child?

Sylvia was delighted when Angela decided to accompany her and Andrew to a literary soiree. Lady Forley stayed home, to no one’s regret.

The evening passed quickly. Those attending included the authoress Mrs. Baillie, two playwrights, and several aspiring poets. Conversation was animated and intelligent, in sharp contrast to the shallow posturing that was the mainstay of marriage mart events. Humorous discussion continued in the carriage, ceasing only when an angry Lady Forley confronted them in the hall.

“I hope you are satisfied,” she stormed at Angela.

Paynes’s demeanor slipped at this unconscionable lack of breeding, shock clearly showing in his eyes.

“What now, Mother?” Angela wanted only to sleep.

Lady Forley threw two missives in her face. “I warned you what would happen if you turned down the most eligible lord in the
ton
, but would you listen? And now you reap the rewards. You are ruined. You can never show your face in town again. Oh, that I would be plagued by so unnatural a daughter!” Sobs punctuated the words.

“You are absurd,” snapped Andrew. “Refusing someone’s hand is not cause for censure.”

“Then how do you explain that?”

Angela silently handed the notes to her brother. They came from two of the starchier matrons, repealing her invitations to upcoming balls.

“This makes no sense.” Andrew shook his head. “Even Garwood’s lies did not lead to anything like this. Have you been spreading more of your spite, Mother?”

“How can you accuse me of such infamy?” she wailed, ignoring the source of Garwood’s stories. “Your father must be turning in his grave to witness his son’s perfidy.”

Angela shuddered. It was as she had feared. Atwater did not like being crossed.
You will rue this decision…
“Atwater must have revived Garwood’s tales,” she said in resignation.

Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Nonsense,” scoffed Lady Forley. “Atwater is a gentleman.”

“No, he is not. He not only killed his first wife, he brutally assaulted a tenant who tried to rescue her from that final beating, then forced her maid out of the country to silence her tongue. In this very room, he slapped me and vowed to punish me for daring to refuse him. And within hours we find that I am to be ostracized. There can be no other interpretation. The only question is whether he will be content with reviving the old stories or will invent new ones.”

“How can anyone be so cruel?” sobbed Sylvia.

“I mean to get to the bottom of this,” vowed Andrew. “You girls go up to bed while I visit my club.”

“Yes, go to bed,” urged Lady Forley. “And consider your mistakes. Atwater cannot be responsible. People are right to bar you from their homes after you callously disregarded his feelings by jilting him. If you are lucky, he will give you another chance. Take it.”

“I would not marry him if he were the last man on earth,” swore Angela angrily. “The one who misled him was
you,
Mother. If you had not forced me to assume a false facade, I would not have attracted his interest. If you had not encouraged his attentions despite knowing that I distrusted him, he would never have pressed his suit. If your despicable lies had not prompted Garwood’s campaign, he would not have thought of this revenge. And the lie you told him to explain Garwood’s misinformation outlined the tactic he is now turning on me.
If he cannot have her, he will make sure no one else does,
” she quoted bitterly. “Your meddling has ruined any chance I had of finding a husband this Season, and I hold you fully responsible for every cut I will receive in the future.”

She headed for her room, a sobbing Sylvia close behind. This would not be a night for sleeping comfortably.

* * * *

“It is worse than I feared,” said Andrew at breakfast the next morning.

“How bad?” Angela pushed bits of ham around her plate, unable to eat. Nightmares had haunted her sleep, far worse than those precipitated by Garwood’s betrayal.

“Atwater did not just revive the rumors. He added new ones, and they are not pretty.”

“Get it out,” she urged him as he pretended to drink his coffee. “I have to know.”

“He never offered for you, but abandoned his courtship when he surprised you in the arms of your footman. This occurred two days after he found you in a disheveled condition in the mews, your groom looking flustered at his arrival. You have admitted that you are not an innocent and have lied about your dowry. He also hints that you may be with child.”

Bile rose in Angela’s throat. “Dear God. The man is evil beyond belief. Those are the same charges he leveled at his wife when excusing the beating that killed her.”

“Yes. He is evil. But he is also cunning. His righteous indignation at being so deluded is a sight to behold. Fortunately Ashton was at hand to restrain me, or I would have called him out. We had not yet entered the gaming room where Atwater held court, and I doubt anyone else knew I was there. But you were right, Angie. He is no gentleman. I am sorry to have placed you in such a position.”

“You had nothing to do with that. And Mother is not wholly to blame, either. If I had been stronger, she could not have manipulated me. Instinct warned me that hiding my character would lead to trouble. But I was too unsure of myself to fight her.”

“I blame myself for that. I should have known that her constant criticisms would destroy your confidence.”

“Enough. We have all contributed to this debacle. But Atwater is most at fault. His wife haunted my dreams last night. He did horrible things to her, Andrew. It turns my stomach to think of it.”

“How do you know? In fact, how do you know anything about Atwater? Half of your claims weren’t even part of those absurd rumors last month.”

Idiot!
She had not guarded her tongue. Again. But if she was to take charge of her life, she could no longer be guided by her mother’s prohibitions. “From Lord Blackthorn.”

“My God, Angie! The man is a pariah, London’s premier scoundrel. Do you have any idea how disreputable the fellow is? I was there the night he discarded his betrothed, mocking both her and all civilized behavior. I will never forget the ignominy of it.”

“I’m sure it was awful,” she agreed. “Though I suspect Father’s death the next morning contributed to your impressions. Yes, the man is a scoundrel, but he is not evil. I find him an incomprehensible mixture of angel and devil. By his own admission, truth underlies most rumors, but that truth is less black than society believes.”

“You sound as though you like him.” He shuddered.

“Surprisingly, I do. He is the closest friend I have in London, though he is arrogant and can be odiously rude. But he is also kind and generous. He helped me rescue an orphan who was in ill health. And it was he who directed Major Caldwell to champion my cause when Garwood’s rumors began. They are close friends.”

Andrew’s brows raised. Major Caldwell was an honorable and very knowing gentleman. “How did you meet him?”

“At Hatchard’s. Quite by accident, you understand.” And she related all her contacts with the Black Marquess.

“I can see why you believe him honorable,” he said when she had finished. “He could have ruined you long ago.”

“A better form of ruin. Unlike my suitors’ tales, his would at least have been true.”

“What do you know of his quarrel with Atwater?”

She repeated what Blackthorn’s letter had said.

“Dear Lord.” Andrew’s face was ashen. “That surpasses the worst tales of Blackthorn’s deeds.”

“It does. I had decided to turn Atwater down long before I learned the details, but knowing Lady Atwater’s fate made facing his anger easier. I doubt we can counter his revenge. I may as well return to Forley Court.”

“No.” Andrew paced restlessly around the table. “You are innocent. I will not allow one arrogant, brutal nobleman to bar you from society. If you run now, you will never be able to return. And leaving would add credence to the tale that you are increasing.”

“I have already concluded that I have no future in this town,” she said sadly. “I have little in common with the ladies and do not meet the expectations of the gentlemen. There is nothing to do but resign myself to life in the country. And three weeks will hardly dispel the myth of my supposed condition.” They had to return to Forley Court then.