The Rogue and the Rival (13 page)

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Authors: Maya Rodale

BOOK: The Rogue and the Rival
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“For you to be quiet.”
He took the hint, but his silence did not end her distractions. Angela maintained the pose of prayer, but her thoughts were not at all on her soul or salvation. No, she was imagining wearing a satin gown. It would be the color of pale aquamarine or the color of a robin’s egg. Perhaps it might be edged in lace or embroidered with gold thread and pearls. Her stockings, and all her underthings, would be silk and lace and gently luxurious against her skin.
In her imagination, Angela wore this dress to a London ball. She had never been to one, but she had attended a few local dances. London balls must be a hundred times grander, and she had no difficulty conjuring one in her mind.
Even easier to imagine was waltzing with Phillip in an exquisite silk gown at a decadent London ball.
Never mind that the man could barely walk, let alone waltz.
Never mind that she hadn’t a silk dress or the means to procure one or an invitation to an event to which she might wear one. She didn’t even have a clue what the latest fashions were.
Never mind that she was not in London and had no plans to go, and no reason to go.
Never mind that she was living in an abbey, preparing to spend the rest of her days here, wearing itchy wool gowns, praying instead of dancing, and imagining kissing Phillip instead of actually kissing him.
Last night she had, by some miracle, ended their kiss. “
I must go. I cannot stay here,
” she had said. Only this morning did she understand her own words: she had to leave the abbey, she could not stay here. But she had nowhere to go, because this was the only place in the world that would welcome her.
And so, even though all she longed for was a satin gown and another soul-scorching kiss, she would not have either. The giddiness she had been feeling began to beat a retreat. Angela watched it go without a fight.
“Are you crying?” Phillip asked her.
“No,” she lied, brushing away one rebellious tear and blinking rapidly so that the others might not fall.
“I’m pretty sure lying is a sin. Especially in church.”
“Perhaps, Phillip, you should focus on your own prayers instead of mine.”
“Well, I have been praying that this damned pain in my leg would cease, but so far God has not granted me that favor.”
“You might take it as a sign that you are to stay in bed, instead of rambling around the abbey.”
“I tried. But then I got tired of waiting and wondering if you would avoid me this morning.”
“Don’t worry, I shall not let you starve.”
“I know that. But I thought someone else might come instead. Because of last night,” Phillip said, lowering his voice so that no one would overhear. Helena and Penelope were clearly making an effort to. Angela did not respond. The prayer service was ending, and though all the others stood and began to make their way out of the chapel, Angela and Phillip remained.
“You do remember, don’t you?” Phillip asked.
“Of course I remember.”
“I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t thinking it was some grave sin, that you have to spend all day begging forgiveness for, instead of bringing me breakfast.”
“There is the selfish, self-absorbed man I know.”
“I’d just like to point out that you were the one to stop. Which means that you have either resisted temptation or that the kiss wasn’t much of a temptation,” Phillip said, and Angela wanted to laugh. Not much of a temptation! It was much more than that—so much more that the thought of the rest of her life without a kiss like that made her weep. Angela turned to look at him, and Phillip was looking around the chapel, as if admiring the stones or the craftsmanship of the stained glass window behind the altar, and Angela understood. He wasn’t sure it had been good for her, nor was he sure if it had been a good kiss at all. She understood that he cared for her pleasure and wasn’t sure if he had satisfied it.
“One of us has to exhibit better judgment in the face of temptation,” she said. “And I have more practice than you.”
“I could use more practice. Perhaps you might assist me?” Phillip asked, and Angela saw that gleam in his eyes again that told her he was joking—slightly.
“Oh, and so I am to kiss you so that you might practice stopping it?”
“It would be a favor to women everywhere. That, and if I can restrain myself, I shall certainly avoid matrimony, or at least any more duels.”
“You know, you were supposed to be the one tempting me,” Angela replied, immediately regretting reminding him of that. As if she needed to make things harder on herself!
“I’m giving you the chance to reform me. Isn’t that what women always want to do? Change a man? Reform a rake . . .”
“Everyone knows that you are worse than a rake.”
“Thus I am all the more in need of reformation,” Phillip answered succinctly.
“You really are impossible. You know that?”
“Yes, but you like me anyway,” he added with that devilish grin of his. She was going to miss that.
“I do not,” she answered firmly.
“Angela,” Phillip said with mock gravity, “we already spoke about lying in church.”
“So I may not lie in church, but I may kiss a man who is not my husband.”
“I’m sure there is a logical reason why that is so, but I can’t think of it on an empty stomach.”
They both stood to leave. This time when they walked down the aisle, both of them avoided touching the other. For that, Angela was thankful. Though they may joke about tempting each other for noble and spiritual purposes, she was starting to think that might be an excuse.
 
The abbess was waiting for them outside of the chapel doors. She wore the same gray dress as all the other women here, and it matched her gray hair. Though she was older, perhaps in her sixties, one could still see that she had been an attractive woman in her youth. It was her eyes—bright green, rimmed in dark lashes. They were stern and kind, all at once.
“Lord Huntley, perhaps I might walk with you while Angela goes to prepare breakfast.” It was not a question.
“Of course, Lady Katherine,” he replied, which was the only thing he could say. Angela bowed to the abbess and disappeared down the hall. When Phillip turned his attention back to the abbess, she had the faint trace of a knowing smile on her lips.
“I see you are feeling much better.”
“Yes. And I must thank you for the care you have shown me.”
“’Tis our duty,” she answered, entwining their arms to walk down the hall, back to his chamber. “You seem to enjoy it here. Perhaps you might consider taking orders yourself? There is a monastery not far from here.”
Phillip coughed, choked on a laugh, really, before responding. “I don’t think this is the life for me. That’s probably the wrong thing to say, though.”
“On the contrary. Knowing one’s path and following it faithfully is, in my opinion, the purpose of life. A religious life, such as we live here in the abbey, is not for everyone.” Phillip knew, then, that they were no longer talking about him but about Angela.
“But you welcome anyone here anyway. For any reason,” he said.
“We offer safety here, not judgment.”
“She told me she hadn’t taken her orders yet.”
“It seems she tells you a lot of things,” the abbess mused.
“It’s not as if there is much to do here besides talk.”
“Or play cards,” she added. “I happened to walk by your chamber last night.”
“I suppose card games are not allowed here,” Phillip said, bracing himself for a lecture on how attempting to seduce a woman was not allowed here, either.
“No,” the abbess agreed. “Your mother loved to play cards.”
“Really?” Phillip paused, mostly in shock. That was the last thing he had expected to hear from the abbess. And he had long ago given up on ever learning about his mother, who had died giving birth to him and his twin.
“Your father did not speak of her?” the abbess asked, when he had resumed walking.
“Not a word.” His father had never said so much as a word about his late wife. Phillip only knew her name because he had looked in the family Bible at the age of ten, when he was curious and yet knew better than to ask his father. He had certainly never considered that she might be a person, with likes and dislikes, and that he might share some of her traits.
“I imagine it was too painful for him to do so. They were very much in love.” Phillip fought the urge to stop again. His father in love with something other than his house and lands? Again, a shocking revelation.
“I was under the impression that it was an arranged marriage, or one of convenience. He got his heir, and a spare, so there was no reason for him to take another wife. I never thought he actually cared for her.”
“Oh, it was the talk of the town,” Lady Katherine said with a laugh. “Your father was so reserved and restrained, and your mother was wild. Madeleine loved to dance and play cards till the wee hours of the morning. A pair of opposites, they were. But to see them together . . . well, it all made sense.”
“Did you know her well?”
“We were on some charitable committees together, and that is how I became acquainted with her. But I knew her well enough that I recognize some of her qualities in you.”
“Oh?” He didn’t want the abbess to know how much he had always wanted to know about her. Yet he couldn’t pass up this opportunity to learn more.
“You have her eyes. And a devil-may-care attitude, and a preference to be with people rather than alone. And while she was never involved in any scandals, she was always just a step away from it. She was great fun, though. She may have been a duchess, but she never thought herself above anyone.” Phillip mused on this in silence for a few steps, wondering why he didn’t already know these things, or why he had never thought to ask someone other than his father. He wondered what his twin knew of her.
After they had reached his chamber, the abbess left to take care of other things, and Phillip pulled the chair over to the window and kept wondering.
His father had loved his mother not too little but perhaps too much. So much that when she died giving birth to Phillip and his twin, Devon, their father didn’t have any love left over for them. So Phillip figured love came in finite quantities.
And if he had his mother’s eyes, that meant that Devon did, too, since they were absolutely identical in appearance. Only now could he begin to imagine how his father might have felt with two pairs of his beloved dead wife’s eyes looking up to him, practically begging for his attention. It would have been damned hard, to say the least. No wonder his father avoided them.
And him, in particular, if he was like his mother. Phillip had always felt as if his father only paid attention to him because he was the heir, and he had to be taught estate management and all sorts of tedious things like that, because the estate was what his father loved most in the world. Or maybe his father was trying to make Phillip more like himself.
But the old man was dead, and so Phillip couldn’t ask.
His mother was long gone, too. And it was Phillip’s fault. He had learned that stunning fact years ago, in the same afternoon that he had learned he wasn’t the heir after all. No wonder he generally avoided thinking or feeling. One might discover unpleasant thoughts and feelings.
No wonder he left England and went to Paris, where he spent four years in a drunken oblivion.
But now he was in this place, where the only thing to do was reflect and think. Why anyone voluntarily subjected themselves to this, he knew not. The only distraction was Angela, and attempting to seduce her. And that, after some damned thought, needed to stop.
Because what if he fell in love with her? Phillip had always thought of himself incapable of that finer emotion and thus like his father in one respect. And if ever there was a woman to fall in love with, it was Angela. With that face, that figure, that voice.
She wagered secrets and made them seem more valuable than the best-bred horse, a big house in the country, large quantities of the finest brandy, or an outrageous sum of money.
She made him say please, a short step away from begging, and he didn’t mind. She made him say thank you, and he meant it.
Her kiss bested that of the best lover in Europe.
Yes, she was a woman he could love.
Love led to loss; that much was clear to him, now knowing what he did about his parents’ marriage. Losing at a round of cards was one thing. Losing at something that might actually matter, love for instance, was another entirely. It had happened often enough that Phillip had wagered his last penny, only to win big. With an equal frequency he had lost that last penny. But when it came to this game, all he could see was the potential for a devastating loss, not the win of a lifetime.
Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a gambling man as he had thought.
Phillip picked up the deck of cards from the bedside table. He gave it a shuffle and selected a card at random. The queen of hearts. He didn’t have a story for that one.

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