Devall's Angel (23 page)

“That is how you stumbled across Mickey, I suppose.” The boy had been living with three former soldiers. And that explained that overheard conversation on Piccadilly. He had been directing them to a place to stay. Or perhaps to a job.

“He had been caring for the men, all of whom suffered illness atop crippling injuries. Then he was kicked by a horse. I suspect he was ducking across a street after lifting someone’s purse, but the wound festered until he could not rise. All were in desperate straits. I hope he is improving.”

“I have heard nothing since Hart picked him up,” admitted Angela. “But I will let you know when I do. You said one of your concerns was soldiers. What is the other?”

“Tenants turned out by enclosures. Many cannot find work, so their children wind up either thieving or slaving in manufactories for pennies. I have a cousin who moved to Georgia some years ago. He has often helped immigrants find land. I provide passage money and a small grant to meet expenses until they can produce their own income.”

“You are a fraud, my lord rogue.” Angela shook her head. “You cannot be happy at how people revile you. Isn’t it time to cease hiding and show society what you really are?”

“Truly a reformer.” He tried to sneer, but couldn’t make it credible. “Worry about your own reputation. I can take care of mine.”

Sylvia pestered Angela all the way home for an explanation of how she had met Blackthorn, but Angela refused to discuss him. She had long suspected that his core was not black, and now she had proved it. The knowledge built a treacherous glow that she did not want to contemplate. The last thing she needed was an attraction to so ineligible a man.

And he
was
ineligible. Regardless of his reputation, he was not a suitor. Nor would he ever be. His concern for others would prevent him from endangering her standing.

Chapter Thirteen

That afternoon Angela again ran into Devall, this time at Hatchard’s. He was in the back corner with no one else nearby.

“Why aren’t you making calls?” he asked when she joined him. “Small groups would give you a chance to state your case.”

“Hardly. Few are willing to stray from fashion even in private, and they are on their best behavior in mixed company. I have to be careful how hard I push. If the patronesses revoke my voucher, I will have no hope for the future. You know they have never restored one that they’ve repealed. That leaves me tiptoeing along a very fine line. Ballrooms I can tolerate, for the antagonism is expressed in rituals. Drawing rooms are little better than retiring rooms. If I was admitted at all – which is doubtful – I would face unrestrained scorn, hatred, and even physical assault.”

“Good God! But the facts are out in the open, so they must come to their senses soon.”

“And pigs may fly.” She snorted. “The tabbies are too puffed with their own consequence to admit poor judgment.”

“I’ll ram the truth down their throats if that’s what it takes!”

His frown stopped her from asking what he had in mind. She could only hope that he would limit himself to the intimidation that must have routed Major Caldwell’s accuser instead of the violence he had employed more recently.

He changed the subject to prevent her from proving his intentions. “I saw a question trembling on your lips in the park this morning. Why not ask it?”

“Very well. Having already rescued Lady Cloverdale from her husband’s brutality, why was it necessary to kill him?”

“I didn’t, at least not the way you mean. His death was an accident.”

“It was not done to get out of paying the judgment he won against you?”

He relaxed against a shelf. “That is what people believe. And in a way they are right. I told him that he would never see a penny-piece of the money and explained why I had spirited Constance away. He could have left it there. He was free to remarry and get himself an heir. His brutality remained private. His best course was to ignore me and get on with his life. Instead, he attacked. It was either kill or be killed.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure you didn’t goad him into an attack so he wouldn’t marry some other innocent girl?”

His eyes blazed, but his voice remained calm. “Not at all. I had no intention of paying for an act that was morally right, no matter what the law claimed. But I had no interest in him beyond helping a friend.”

She frowned. “So what about Coldstream?”

He checked the area for possible listeners before answering. “I hadn’t realized anyone connected me with that until you mentioned it. What does rumor report?”

“Only that you had had a disagreement with him the day before he died. If not for Cloverdale, I doubt anyone would have suspected you.”

He shook his head. “Pure coincidence. It’s true that I killed him, but our argument had nothing to do with it. And again, I never intended him physical harm. Coldstream was an evil man. Normally I would not dream of discussing him with a lady, but you are pressing.”

She nodded.

“He had been engaged in questionable activities for years,” he said with a sigh. “And they were growing increasingly degenerate. Stories of his sadistic use of women were common, though never in society – you must remember that I move in different circles than you do. I hear many things that aren’t discussed in drawing rooms – or even in the clubs.”

Again she nodded.

“He was a nasty one. Other tales involved the torture of animals, occasionally hinting at ritualistic practices.”

“I have heard of satanic cults,” she said, understanding where his careful wording was heading.

His brows raised, but he relaxed and continued in a more natural voice. “Then you will know what he was involved in. Unfortunately, it did not stop there. Even the denizens of Seven Dials and Haymarket, who yawn at most vices, blanched at mention of his name. I discovered his worst crimes by accident – in part because my own reputation is so bad. A lad I barely knew asked if I would accompany him to a secret meeting. The group was a revival of the old Hellfire Club.”

She gasped. The Hellfire Club had been formed sixty years before by a jaded set of high-ranking libertines as an excuse for drinking, debauchery, and blasphemy. The founder, Sir Francis Dashwood, had previously installed a large globe atop the steeple of his parish church, inside which he and his friends could get blissfully drunk while admiring the countryside through its portholes. They also used it for orgies, its position atop a sacred site adding to the impropriety. Club meetings were held in a ruined abbey, and later in a network of caves carved into a chalk hill on Sir Francis’s estate. Over time, mockery of religion evolved into satanic worship, and orgies grew more brutal and perverted, until thirty years after its founding, an outraged society closed it down.

“It had only just been revived and as yet had only four members,” Devall continued in a hard, flat voice. “They were looking for new recruits, as their more reprehensible activities required crowds. Coldstream was the force behind it. The other three were young sprigs who had not yet discovered how corrupt it was, and who were blinded by gaining the attention of so fashionable a gentleman – Coldstream was a pink of the
ton
, high in the instep, and absolutely fastidious, at least in public. I declined the invitation, but fear of what such a group might do forced me to investigate. Under his respectable facade, Coldstream was more depraved than even the inner circle of the original club, delighting in torture and blood. Evidence pointed to the murder of at least four girls after early club meetings, and I have no doubt he had dispatched others before deciding he needed an audience.

“But surely the law could have taken care of him,” she protested.

“That was what I intended, but I was still gathering evidence when he learned of my interest. One thing led to another, and I lost my temper, allowing him to see my disgust. His own temper broke, and he challenged me.” He shrugged.

“You did not have to accept.”

“No gentleman could refuse.”

She shook her head. “You use your reputation often enough to justify ungentlemanly behavior. You can’t have it both ways, Devall. Either you are a social outcast who cares nothing for the dictates of society, or you are a gentleman, bound by the code that defines that label. Do not use standards you deliberately discarded to excuse your conduct.”

“I have never claimed to be less than a gentleman.” He straightened, seeming to tower over her. “Society finds it convenient to label me so, but I cannot control their minds.”

“You must think me a flat. Does a gentleman interfere in a man’s marriage?” The whisper that prevented their voices from carrying added intensity to her words. “Does a gentleman conduct duels without regard to the rules governing affairs of honor so that he can execute men without paying the price? Does a gentleman force others into issuing the desired challenges so that the choice of weapons is his, thus insuring that the execution proceeds as planned? Does a gentleman throw over his intended bride, staging a public show to guarantee maximum pain for all concerned? You, sir, are no gentleman.”

Anger burst across his face as he grabbed her arm. “Must a gentleman sit idly by and watch innocent girls be beaten into submission?” he hissed. “Must a gentleman follow society’s dictates when doing so allows evil men to deal death to helpless victims? Must a gentleman ignore injustice and approve depredations because the victims are from the lower classes? The world is not a black and white place, Angela. There are few absolutes. Before you sit in judgment, at least do me the courtesy of examining the facts.”

“And what are the facts in Atwater’s case? I accept that he beat his first wife. And no one knows better than I how unscrupulous he can be. But nothing can alter Lydia’s fate, and killing him will not alter mine. You are not trying to rescue a Lady Cloverdale from death or retrieve ill-gotten gains for starving victims. There is no future disaster looming over anyone’s head, Devall. You are seeking revenge, pure and simple. But vengeance is for God, not for man. You endanger your own soul by continuing this course.”

“What do you care for my soul?”

“I care for everyone, as do you when you are not in thrall to your passions. You cannot eliminate every person who is less than perfect. There would be no one left, including yourself. Nor can you save every person who chooses a path that might lead to pain. Misdeeds must be punished. I have no quarrel with that. But there has to be a line somewhere. When you draw that line so that an individual can take a life, you are playing God. Expose the truth, but let the law decide who deserves death. If the law is faulty, use the power of your position to change it. By refusing to assume your seat in Parliament, you’ve abdicated your responsibilities, hiding in the shadows to assist a handful of individuals instead stepping into the sunlight to help thousands.”

“I have never set out to deliberately trap someone into dying,” he protested, ignoring the rest of her charges.

“Fustian! How else can you describe your campaign against Atwater? What possible motive can you have for forcing a duel on the man if you do not intend to kill him? You keep urging me to examine the facts. Why don’t you follow your own advice? Look into your heart, Devall. There can be no other explanation for your behavior. You are as manipulative as my mother and just as loath to admit it. It is not your place to act as prosecution, judge, and executioner.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “You are right, and I had already decided to abandon that particular quest. I will find some other way to deal with Atwater.”

“Why not bring Ned Parker to town and allow him to speak for himself. Granted, his words might not carry weight with some as he is only a tenant. But at the moment, no one believes the tales because they are attributed to you – a man everyone knows is trying to force a duel on Atwater.

“Damnation!” he muttered. “Have I really become so blind?”

“That is the danger of taking the law into your own hands.” She held his eyes with her own. “The power over life and death is corrupting. Sooner or later you see all problems in absolute terms with absolute consequences. Only God can make godlike choices without harming his core. Reconsider your deeds before it is too late, then stick to what is humanly acceptable. Perhaps it won’t be socially acceptable, but that distinction has never bothered you. Just leave the life-and-death decisions to others.”

He nodded. “I should have brought both Ned and Smith out sooner,” he admitted. “Thank you. As for your own problems, I suspect the feeding frenzy is nearly over. People are growing bored and will become receptive to new ideas. All it will take now is a new scandal. Just don’t expect any apologies.”

“I would be satisfied to be ignored,” she claimed with a shaky laugh.

“Take care. I had better leave. Someone is bound to come back here before long. It won’t help you to be seen with me.”

“Use the power of your title to change bad laws, Devall. If you redeem your reputation, it would be possible.”

“I will think about it.” Placing a quick kiss on her forehead, he collected his books and left.

She watched until he rounded a corner. He could do so much if he decided to work within the system. And it would require little effort to take his rightful place. The men involved in government affairs were less prone to quick judgment than the tabbies and fribbles of society. He could become a powerful voice for reform.

Devall was the most complex man she had ever known. What had started him down this path? Breaking off his betrothal had pushed him into the shadows, but his concerns must have arisen earlier. Most of the evil he battled involved abuse of some sort. Had his mother suffered in such a way? Or was he an abuse victim himself? She knew little of his background, but she had a burning desire to learn more.

* * * *

Devall cursed himself all the way home. Why had he not thought of something so obvious as having Ned and Smith tell their tale in public? How could he have grown so single-minded? Angela was right to call him arrogant. Every problem he tackled had many potential solutions. Meting out death should have been a last resort.