Angel of Ash

by Law, Josephine

  Placing her hand wearily against her head, she sat heavily in the chair nearest the door, ignoring her trunks. Tears escaped her eyes, remembering the scene from last night, how Asher had walked away from her, how he had ignored her cries, ignored her pain, ignored her love.

  Trying to stifle the sobs that drew out of her mouth uncontrollably, Angel barely managed to run to the basin where she threw up, her skin was clammy, she felt horrible. She knew that she was sick and would not be able to stay awake for the maids. Sinking into the bed, she placed a cool towel over her face and fell into a dark and frightening sleep.

  Waking with a gasp, Angel sat up in bed, sweat pouring down her body. It was unbearably hot as Angel noticed a fire burning in the grill. However, she did not feel as sick as she had and heard the tell-tale chime of a clock downstairs. It was late, well after two in the morning. One of her trunks had been unpacked, the other two sat neatly next to the door.

  She had not heard anyone enter or leave her room and frowned that someone, more than likely a maid, had been in there without her knowledge. Sighing, she braced herself before standing a wave of dizziness erupting over her body before retreating back into nothingness. Her first trip was to the windows which she opened wide, a small balcony outside her room which she stepped off. It was quiet and dark outside, not too far away, a storm was gathering, the sky cloudy and thunder heard from the distant west.

  The air, however, calmed her cooled nerves and body, a thick forest facing the balcony. She undid the first few buttons of her day dress and rolled up her sleeves, sitting upon the small bench in the corner of the balcony. A voice interrupted her peaceful seclusion.

  “Hello, my lady, would it be impolite to call you, Angel, we are after all, nearly kin.” A voice said, and Angel gasping, whirled towards the intruder, a like balcony barely ten feet away from her, Walter staring at her, a snifter in his hand as he bent over the railing, his forearms braced against the hard stone.

  “I did not see you,” Angel returned.

  “I know, my lady, you seem to be quite lost in your thoughts. May I ask what had you so troubled?”

  But Angel shook her head, her hair which had long since come undone, wrapping around her like a silken veil. “Nothing of importance, my lord,” she said quietly.

  Walter laughed, placing the glass at his feet. “You lie,” he commented nonchalantly. “I have seen that look pass many a lady’s face, I know it well.” He said.

  Angel frowned; he was impudent, young, and arrogant. “Oh, really? And what look perchance pass my face?”

  “You have had your heart broken.”

  Her gasp was large, loud. She whirled away from him. “I think it is time I should go now.”

  His voice pleaded with her, however. “No, please, don’t go, forgive me. I spoke of things I should not have. Stay and we shall speak of whatever you wish of, for I fear if I were to be alone for another moment, I shall go quite mad.”

  “You have your brother…your father and step-mother. I am sure you shall not be so utterly bored with so many among you.”

  But Walter shook his head, smiling, and his eyes light. “I wish to speak to none of them. You are what interest me; your aunt has spoken of no one else these past two months once she knew you were to visit. I believe she already thinks of you as the daughter she is to never have and you do favor, you know, you have the same nose…the same lips.”

  Angel stared at him, frowning. He spoke softly. She ignored his words. “What do you do at school?”

  The subject made him smile, he allowed her to change the subject. “Study. Study and study even more. I must make father, proud, you know. He graduated with top honors from the very same school. I can do no less.”

  “When shall you graduate?”

  “This spring, it is my last semester there, you know. And then during the summer, I shall be off, to the Continent. I don’t think I ever shall come back.”

  Angel could not determine if he said this jokingly or not. He was quite young “And why not?”

  “What is here, for me, except the life of my father? Once he dies, I shall become the next duke. I do not wish that honor upon my worst enemy.”

  “I fear I do not understand. Your father is one of the highest members of the aristocracy, surely with that comes great respect, great honor and a great many…benefits.”

  “Have you not spoken to my father, have you not heard a word he said. I shall become a great ass, as you would say, if I were to stay. No, I don’t want that.”

  Angel smothered a laugh. “Don’t speak so, he is your father.”

  “And human, as the rest of us. I shall tell you a secret,” Walter whispered, leaning closer.

  It was with some humor that Angel leaned over her own stone balcony. “Yes, what may that be?”

  “He was not always like that. Before…his father died, when we were still young and he had not the title yet. He was once…fun.”

  “And you miss that?”

  Walter nodded. “And so I decided that I shall not raise my children under such a heavy burden. Grooming my oldest son to take my place upon my death and grooming his brother to be prepared in the unforeseen horror that he may have to take his brother’s place. No, I shall live in Italy, marry a beautiful Italian woman and we shall live on the beach.”

  “A fine plan,” Angel said. “To follow your heart and not care a whit about the wishes of others,” she added sarcastically.

  Walter narrowed his eyes. “I cannot live my life for others.”

  It was Angel’s turn to pause. “If you were to do all that you were to say how do you think your father would feel?”

  Breathing heavily, Walter sighed. “I do not know, and I fear if I were to think upon it, I would care, so I purposefully don’t think about it. I already have a place, paid for, on the beach of Italy, Monte Cristo; it is beautiful, with a villa. No one knows about it…except you, now, not even my brother.”

  “Why tell me?”

  Walter shrugged. “I don’t know. I like you.”

  “You do not know me.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I like you, you tried so hard to bite your tongue when father was speaking.”

  Blushing, Angel shook her head. “I,” she began.

  “Never the matter,” Walter said, interrupting her. “What would matter most to me if you would run away with me?” He calmly said.

  Angel stood straight, stunned. “Are you propositioning me?” She asked in an alarmed voice.

  And it was Walter’s turn to blush, bright. “Surely, I am not the first…you are quite beautiful, I could not believe my eyes, when I saw you. My heart,” he paused, dropping his eyes, turning away from her wide eyes. “It beat so heavily. I promised myself that if I was to see you, alone, I would tell you and not be a coward and not be helmed in by society’s rules.”

  Angel had no idea what to say, she swallowed, staring into the night sky, the clouds were getting thicker. “I am sorry, Walter, but you were right, of earlier. My heart is promised to another.” She sadly said.

  “He does not deserve you!” He exclaimed.

  “And how are you to guess upon such a thing?” Angel returned fiercely.

  “If he loved you, he would be with you, now, you would be with him, and he does not deserve your love not when he won’t fight for it.”

  “And perhaps it is I who do not deserve his love?”

  But Walter laughed. “Surely you jest. My lady, you are beautiful-”

  “Beauty does not matter, beauty fades in time.”

  “Not your beauty. And you are strong…and considerate, any man would be a fool to reject you.”

  “You speak of things of which you do not know.”

  “I may be young, but I know this, I will follow my heart…and my heart points me in your direction. I would stay here…and become the next duke, if you were to be by my side. Or I would run with you…to the ends of the earth. Do not let this bastard who has trampled upon your heart close your eyes to wha
t I offer you. I know we do not know each other, but perhaps in time, you would conceivably, grow fond of me and lay this unknown lover to rest.”

  He turned with those last words, walking back inside his room. Angel felt stunned at his promises, his brash boasts, and shook her head. He was young, arrogant, full of himself, but she knew he was also painfully aware, she dare not reject him as Asher had her, but she could not leave him with any pretense as to a relationship.

  She wanted no relationship with him, only Asher, while Asher wanted none of her.

  Three days later the family was settled in Henry’s manor home in London, his sons’ off to the university. Angel was fitted with outfit after outfit it seemed, as her aunt’s husband paid a small fortune for her trousseau. It was with little wonder, Henry wanted everyone to see what riches he had, and the best way to do so, would be on his female relatives bodies. The small flurry of activity helped ease some of the pain she felt at Asher’s rebuff even though every night she cried herself to sleep. She knew he was in the city and thought often of one dark night, running to his home, flinging herself in his arms and begging him to love her as much as she loved him. The thoughts sustained her, for now, as she came up with different scenarios as to how he would look so shock before holding her closely and proclaiming his Love for her. And it was with those thoughts, tears still upon her cheeks that she would fall sleep to. That small hope that he would still want her. That small wish that he would see her differently than those many other women he had been with, he would see that she was true, that she would rather harm herself than him.

  The thoughts offered her glimpses of a future, she only too glad that Henry’s son was gone and had made no more advances to her during their short time together. Other men seemed to vanish before her as she compared them all to Asher. No one came close to him.

  Her aunt decided that the first night Angel would have out, would be to a ball, given by the most respectable woman of the ton, who promised a fabulous time. The ball was attended by more of the older people of the ton, respectable, a few daring, a few rakes, very few debutantes, foreigners and others as the way her aunt planned. She hated those parties with all the mama’s and daughters’ looking for a husband, much like a meat market. And therefore, decided that since marriage would not be undertaken since Angel was to stay such a short time, they could forgo such parties and attend the more interesting nightlife the exciting city had to offer.

  Angel looked absolutely stunning in a shimmering white gown, laced with silver threading, the bodice, shoving the full bounty of her breasts, the cleavage, more daring than she had ever worn. She had silver ribbons tied beneath the bodice which dangled to the flatness of her stomach. The sleeves were short and capped in the latest style placed with long white satin gloves. White ribbons were interlaid in her hair, making her brown skin aglow with health and youth. Stunning was an understatement, as Angel bit her lip nervously, her silver eyes shining in nervousness and excitement, staring at herself in the mirror. No matter how much she tugged at the bodice it refused to move upwards and so finally, she placed her matching satin cape on, trimmed lightly with white fur, pushing it back over her shoulders. The night was cool, dry, a slight frost in the air. The dainty slippers barely made a whisper upon the thick carpet as the duke and her aunt waited for her at the foot of the stairs.

  “Oh, yes, the young ms, so very youthful and full of life,” Henry said, his eyes opening wide at the ravishing creature before him. His wife’s niece was so exotically beautiful he feared he would have to cast duels with any impertinent young man who would dare do her dishonor.

  “You are simply an Original, Angel,” her aunt returned, smiling with aplomb. “Certainly so, if I must say so. Now we must hurry along, we do not wish to be no more than fashionably late.”

  Angel nodded, in the week since she had last seen Asher, she felt slightly better, felt as if she deserved a wonderful time, to be free young, and unfettered. But, oh, to be with Asher. To have Asher waiting for her. Shaking her head she refused herself any more thoughts of the such, at least, tonight, she did, she would.

  Resolving herself, she decided no more thoughts of Asher, he did not deserve it. He’d taken her innocence and used her as he’d seen fit, he’d rejected her at every turn. She hated herself for her weakness, hated herself all the more because she still constantly thought of him.

  “Yes, my lord and lady, I am ready,” she said, following them out the door and to the waiting carriage where the head grooms escorted them inside the opulent vehicle.

  Chapter 6

  “Why should you stay here, to do positively nothing, Asher? My God, you have become an absolute bore these past two weeks. If I were to assume the worse, I would possibly conceive that some young ms has your heart, but I know this is not so, even though you have been in the most disagreeable of moods. Now, tell me…do, please, give me one plausible excuse as to why you should not attend Lady Rexler’s dinner party? It is not the norm of conniving chits scheming for a husband. The more mature, more disreputable society shall be in attendance. Once upon a time, you enjoyed so said outings.”

  Asher did not answer Anthony, who stared in disgruntlement at his older cousin. Instead, he swished the brandy in his glass, staring at it as if he had never seen it before, than heavily setting it down on the table next to his reclined position upon his study’s couch. With one leg thrown over the arm of the couch, the other booted foot laying upon the table before him Asher resembled a large and lazy cat, lifting one eyebrow towards Anthony who had not ceased his grumblings since he’d entered Asher’s study twenty minutes before.

  “You could go with another,” Asher remarked, leaning his head against the back of his couch. “I’m not much in the mood for a dinner party.”

  Anthony frowned, before smiling sinister. “You are in love cousin, that is the only reason why you refuse to go. You’re mooning over some young chit, I know it. I never once thought in my entire life that Asher Hawthorne would ever moon over some young chit in my life. Gawd, wait til I tell your brothers about this.”

  With those words, Asher dropped his feet down, glowering at Anthony who was having a fit of laughter. “I say, young boy, how stupid you have become. The day I moon over some young slut is the day hell has frozen solid.”

  “Then come with me to the dinner tonight and prove me wrong, hell, prove the whole of London wrong, you have not taking any rounds anywhere since your return here two weeks before. People are whispering, my good man.”

  “Damn the people let them whisper.”

  “And so, when they ask me, what is the matter…shall, I tell them, the most recognizable bachelor in all of London has become no short of a hermit, in love with…”

  Anthony trailed off, a mastermind at deceit, but Asher knew his game well, he had taught him so said way.

  “Damn you, Anthony.”

  “It’s her, isn’t it…Ms. Barrett, the exotic American.” It wasn’t a question, Anthony knew it, he was closer to Asher than Asher’s own brothers. “Did you tickle her under the sheets?”

  “You will not speak of her again.” Asher returned, utterly cold, utterly fierce, staring at Anthony with evil intentions in his eyes. “I do not want to hear her name, nor see her face ever again, do you understand?”

  “My God…you did have the beauty. And that is why…” Anthony hesitated; he’d pushed Asher too far. Asher was usually hot tempered, quick to anger, when Asher’s voice became deadly cold, when it looked as if he’d rather squash you beneath his booted heel than let you breathe, Anthony knew he’d said too much. Instead, he tried another tactic. “Then come…Asher, forget about her, the solution to your problem is to find a biddable, warm, female as quickly as possible and there are sure to be plenty at the dinner.”

  Asher stared at Anthony, he contemplated his words, he knew Anthony was right, the best way to get over Angel, to forget her, her face, her eyes, her voice, her scent was to drown himself in another female. Standing up, he stretched,
smiling devilishly. “You are right, I will join you tonight. I am sure there is some female which shall tempt my palate, at least for tonight. I shall be ready within the half hour. Have the carriage brought round.”

  Her aunt and uncle chatted away, excitedly anticipating the evening, Angel not having to force a smile upon her face tonight, not when she felt so young and beautiful and alive. The night was crisp and clear, stars twinkling above. The many carriages before them, were agonizingly slow heading towards their destination, until finally, they were in front of the viscounts large manor home, directly outside the city of London. They were in a long processional, waiting anxiously for their turn. Once it had come, the women nearly bounded out, Henry keeping them respectable, reminding them of their high station in life. But it had been so long for his wife who had not attended a London ball in well over a year and never for Angel, who had shied away from such gatherings, especially in America where she had found little time for entertainment.

  “The Duke and Duchess of West Moreland along with Ms. Angel Barrett, the duchess niece,” exclaimed the butler as they waited for their turn at the top of the stairs. The crowd looked up expectantly, it was rare for the duke and duchess to be in attendance and nearly everyone froze at the shimmering beauty that Angel was, resplendent in her gown, glowing with good health, youth and beauty. A low murmur began among the crowd, the men, understandably in lust with such a beautiful specimen, the women, some jealous, some sly, some in genuine interest.

  “Smile my dear, you are the most beautiful woman in the room,” her aunt whispered to Angel, before introducing her to their hostess, who smiled widely, she would forevermore be recognized as the leading hostess of London after this coup, both a duke and duchess and an American beauty, goodness.