by Allison Lane
She hastily retreated, too furious to risk meeting him face to face. Instead, she sent word to Andrew that she was unwell, then refused to bid farewell to Atwater before Andrew escorted her home.
* * * *
“How dared you leave a party at which you were the hostess?” stormed Lady Forley the next morning.
“I was not the hostess,” Angela declared angrily.
“Nonsense. Atwater considered you his hostess, and it was your duty to assist him. How dared you leave?”
“I had a headache.”
“A lady does not have headaches under such circumstances, Angela. You insulted him. You are fortunate that he did not take you in disgust.”
“It would be better if he had.”
“Imbecile!” Lady Forley pulled herself up to her full height. “I have put up with enough of your megrims. You will dismiss Garwood today. He will not be admitted to this house again. It is not your place to question someone older and wiser than yourself. Your betrothal will be announced as soon as Atwater and Andrew agree to the settlements.”
“No.”
Lady Forley collapsed into a chair, frantically waving a vinaigrette. “Ungrateful child. What have I done to deserve such spite?”
“There is no spite, Mother, but you overstep your own position. This is Andrew’s house. He alone can bar callers. You must accept that I do not share your interests. Yes, you are older and have more experience of the world, but you never consider that others might not enjoy the life you favor. I will not marry where I cannot love. Of my two suitors, I am more likely to achieve that state with Garwood. And I want a partnership with my husband. Atwater is a tyrant, something I will not tolerate. As we are discussing my marriage, my feelings will prevail. And you will discover that Andrew agrees with me.” She paused in the doorway. Lady Forley’s mouth worked frantically, but no sound emerged. “I will send Wilson to attend you.”
She reached the breakfast room before reaction set in. She hated scenes. Despite its necessity, the confrontation had left her shaking. But peace soon settled over her. Finishing her meal, she called for her horse and headed for the park.
Chapter Nine
Angela drew her horse up near the Serpentine. Riding in the morning when few people were about was far nicer than at the fashionable hour. She did not admit that she also enjoyed mornings because she so often ran into Blackthorn. Nor did she acknowledge the warmth that filled her breast as the marquess trotted out to meet her.
“You look more relaxed this morning,” he said by way of greeting.
“An argument with my mother cleared the air,” she admitted. “Perhaps now I can enjoy the rest of the Season.”
“Argument?” His brows rose in question.
“She cannot understand that I dislike London and wish to live my life in the country.”
“Some of us are like that,” he agreed. “Though Lady Forley is not.”
“You, too, prefer the country?”
He nodded.
“What is your estate like?”
“Wyndhaven?” He looked beyond her as if he could see it in the distance. “It is the most beautiful spot on earth. It sits on the south coast, so it offers everything I love – cliffs that drop away to beaches that can change in an instant from a quiet place for thought to an exhilarating spot of crashing waves; forested hills that protect the house from storms; a pair of lakes; a marvelous fishing stream; even some authentic ruins.”
“It sounds like a combination of Forley Court and Carrisford Grange.” The Grange was Hart’s estate. “Are your ruins the remains of an abbey?”
“Actually, the site was a fortified Plantagenet-era manor that replaced an ancient walled keep. When it burned two centuries ago, my ancestor rebuilt in a new location.”
“Better?”
“I think so. It gave my great-grandfather room to expand.” He went on to describe the house – currently with a Palladian facade – and the grounds that Repton had recently revised. His love for the land sang in every word, giving her more insight into his character than any of their former exchanges and providing new evidence against his reputation. No man who cared for his estate as Blackthorn did could be the evil villain society claimed.
“But enough about me,” he said at last. “Why are you in town if you dislike it so much?”
“Stupid question.” She shrugged. “I must find a husband, and there is a dearth of unattached males near Forley Court.”
“So you’ll accept Atwater rather than return home unwed?”
“Hardly. We would never be comfortable together. Fortunately, he is not the only choice.”
“Garwood?”
She nodded.
“But will you be given a choice?” His tone was now serious. “Unless she has changed greatly, your mother is not a woman who willingly admits mistakes or accepts defeat.”
“You know her from before, I suppose.” She paused long enough to note his confirmation. “I hardly knew her at all until Father died, for she rarely visited the Court. Papa came more often, to relax and study in his library. He hated town, but he loved Mother and couldn’t stay apart from her for long. She made his life hell.”
“I’ve long suspected that. Don’t let her do the same to you.”
“She’s tried. She encouraged Atwater shamelessly despite my protests. She cannot see that I take after Papa rather than her. Her delusions were the subject of our argument this morning.”
She described Atwater’s rout and the reason for her early departure.
“So he dismissed the footman?”
She nodded. “I wish I could do something for the man. Without a reference he will be hard-pressed to find a new position.”
“I will find one for him,” he promised absently, a frown adding intimidating lines to his face.
His offer came as no surprise. In fact, her comments had deliberately sought it. Some instinct had suspected that he would help – because of Mickey, perhaps, or maybe she truly saw beyond his facade. “Why do you continue courting censure when your character is so benign?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t mistake me for an angel,” he warned. “I am well named. But your mother’s behavior concerns me. This insistence on throwing you and Atwater together goes beyond the usual quest for titled wealth.” He must have caught her frown, for he smiled. “Believe me, I’ve plenty of experience with fortune hunters and matchmaking mamas. They may ignore me now, but I faced my share some years ago. Lady Forley’s behavior doesn’t fit.”
“She is annoying, but only because she is selfish and assumes everyone shares her values. Now that she knows differently – for even she cannot misunderstand plain English, and I kept my objections short and simple this time – we will manage better.”
“I hope so, but be careful. I have a feeling that there is more going on than you realize.”
Without another word, he left her, but she understood his abruptness. The hour was too advanced to risk staying together. He was as conscious of maintaining her reputation as she was.
* * * *
His parting comment stayed in Devall’s mind all the way home. No lady who cared for her daughter would ignore that daughter’s wishes as Lady Forley was doing. Why was the woman so determined to tie Angela to Atwater? Even if she had initially been ignorant of Atwater’s faults, recent stories should have raised grave questions about the man.
He had never liked Lady Forley, though she had quitted town when he was still a callow youth, so he didn’t know her well. He cast his mind back to the days before his disastrous betrothal.
She had much in common with encroaching mushrooms despite her better breeding. Determined to push her way into higher social circles, she had flattered and fawned while ignoring any hint of censure. And there had been plenty. Her greed had made many people roll their eyes behind her back. As had her entertainments, which had been lavish to the point of vulgarity. Since her return, the ostentatious opulence was absent – a victim of limited finances, or p
ossibly of Angela’s better taste. But Angela was too inexperienced to counter the machinations of a determined social climber. The fact that Lady Forley was her mother would make it even harder to stand up to her. So she needed help.
He vowed to keep a close eye on Lady Forley.
* * * *
“Mr. Garwood has called to see Miss Warren,” announced Paynes, standing stiffly erect in the drawing room doorway.
“She is shop—” began Lady Forley, abruptly closing her mouth. “Show him in, Paynes.”
She smoothed the skirt of her morning gown and slipped her needlework into its basket. One of a mother’s responsibilities was seeing that her children married well. Never would she ascribe to the notion that inexperienced, innocent girls were capable of choosing proper mates. And Angela was one of the worst. Thanks to Lord Forley’s idiocy in forcing her to share her brother’s tutors, she had acquired unladylike ideas and an unbecoming independence. It was long past time that she assume her proper place in society as the wife of a peer of wealth and consequence. If the girl was too stupid to plan her own future, her mother would have to do it for her.
“Lady Forley,” murmured Garwood politely. “I had hoped to speak with Miss Warren. Will she be down soon?”
“She is out at the moment.”
His face fell, but manners forbade leaving. “I am putting together an outing to Richmond next week and would be delighted if you would join the party. Miss Warren and Lady Sylvia will enjoy escaping the city for a few hours.”
“I do not think that would be wise, sir,” said Lady Forley with a smile. “The Season is far enough advanced that Angela must turn her thoughts to her future. There will be no more time to dally with acquaintances if she is to set everything in train before Lord Forley’s own wedding. I am sure you understand.”
Shock suffused Garwood’s face. “I assure you that my intentions are honorable. In fact, I had intended to speak with Lord Forley soon.”
“I am sure they are, but you cannot understand our situation. Angela has no dowry so cannot afford an alliance with one whose own financial position is precarious.”
He drew himself up in cold hauteur. “You have been misinformed, my lady. My situation is comfortable. Miss Warren is familiar with it and has expressed no reservations.”
The determination glaring from Garwood’s eyes sent shudders down her back. Even her lie about the dowry had not affected him. Casting all scruples aside, she assumed the open expression that had always bent gentlemen to her will. “It is you who have been misinformed, sir. It never occurred to me that Angela would not have told you. London must have turned her head, the silly girl. She has never received so much attention before. I know she has enjoyed your friendship, but that can hardly excuse such callous disregard for your feelings. The truth is that she was promised to Atwater before we came to town, though they delayed the announcement in deference to his recent bereavement. You may curse me as an indulgent parent for agreeing to such secrecy, but I never thought she might use the time to practice her wiles on innocent parties.”
His brain in turmoil, Garwood could hardly take in the words. “But she had not met him until her come-out ball,” he objected, yet he could not stop the pictures unrolling through his mind – Atwater leading Angela into the first set following her obligation dances with her brother and host; Atwater’s proprietary stance at nearly every ball; her demeanor with the earl, making no attempt to flirt or otherwise attract his attention. And now he knew why. Contrary to his own impressions, she was relaxed because no effort was necessary. Pain stabbed his heart that he immediately converted to anger over her deliberate deceit.
“That is true,” said Lady Forley. His thoughts had winged ahead so rapidly that he had nearly forgotten the words to which she responded. “But the arrangements had been made before we came to town. He met all her requirements for a husband – wealth, estates, high title. He needed an heir as soon as possible, but had little heart for a lengthy courtship. It was a pleasant surprise to find him so congenial, but they agreed to leave the official announcement until later.”
“Why did she not tell me this herself?”
“She is enjoying your attentions too much. It is always gratifying to have a court. And attracting multiple offers increases a girl’s credit in some circles. Had you pressed a suit, she must have revealed the truth, of course. But waiting that long is unfair to you.”
He took his leave, anger and pain still boiling in his mind. By the time he reached his curricle, anger had overwhelmed all else. She had deceived him from the beginning, and not just about her betrothal. Her character was sadly lacking. To court a gentleman’s affections solely to feed her own conceit was the height of dishonesty. He had hinted at a future together often enough that she could hardly claim ignorance of his intentions.
He would cut her from now on, of course, but that offered little comfort. She deserved ostracism. His expression darkened. She would get it. Even Atwater’s cachet would not protect her once the truth was known.
Unaware of Garwood’s reaction to her lies, Lady Forley smiled in satisfaction and returned to her needlework. The future looked brighter. Angela would have the husband she deserved and would reward her mother by assuring her a permanent place in society. Atwater would set her up with her own townhouse so that she need never set foot in the country again. She must remind Andrew to include that in the settlements. Humming a gay little tune, she exchanged blue thread for red.
* * * *
Angela’s first inkling of Lady Forley’s interference came in the park that afternoon when she received several odd looks from passing carriages. No one stopped to exchange gossip, instead giggling behind gloved hands and animatedly conversing with their escorts. She recognized the actions as the ton’s response to the subject of the latest gossip, not that she could guess the cause. Blackthorn was the only person who knew anything derogatory about her, and he would never blacken her name.
Even Sylvia knew nothing. “Are you the target?” she asked in surprise. “I thought it was me.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was a sudden silence at Lady Beatrice’s when I entered. You know the one – everyone abruptly stops talking when the object of their discussion arrives, then immediately begins a new topic.”
She nodded. “Or someone close to the subject if the story is truly reprehensible.” But what could it be? And about whom?
Andrew described a similar experience at his club. Whatever the rumor, society seemed to blame the entire household.
But when she arrived at Lady Chartley’s ball, Angela knew that she was the primary target. More than one high-stickler deliberately turned away as she approached. The cut direct. The signal to society that she was an undesirable parti, a pariah, beneath contempt. Even Atwater looked at her strangely, though he hovered as usual and signed her card for two waltzes, having charmed Lady Jersey into approving her a week earlier. Three young bucks had also signed for early sets, but the evening steadily worsened.
It was her third partner who revealed the tale. “You needn’t try to attach my affections,” he drawled, leading her down the set. “I’ve no intention of settling down for years.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, bewildered at his words.
“What you did to Garwood was cruel, my fancy lady, but now that we know your game, it will not happen again. I would wish you joy in your marriage, but the heartless don’t deserve it.”
“Mr. Huggens, I have no idea what you are talking about. I can only surmise that some tale is making the rounds, though I cannot imagine what it could be. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?”
He stared as though he suddenly found himself dancing with a worm. “Very well, I will play the game.” He shrugged. “Society knows about your betrothal to Atwater and is justifiably incensed at how you have been leading poor Garwood around by the nose simply to feed your own vanity.”
“I assure you, there is no betrothal,”
she snapped. “Who has been spreading such lies?”
“Garwood himself. He learned the truth this morning and is angry over being deceived.”
“He learned no truths. I have not spoken with him today. Excuse me, sir, for I must discover who is going to such lengths to blacken my name.” Garwood had just arrived.
“Very well. A confrontation will be more entertaining than dancing.” He threaded the other couples, heading for the stairs.
Angela was opening her mouth to speak when Garwood spotted her approach. Glaring at her for several seconds, he deliberately turned away and requested another young lady to honor him with the next set. His affable voice and warm glance made it clear that she was worthy of his attention while Angela was not.
In shock, she belatedly noted that Atwater and her mother were slipping from the room.
“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Huggens,” she managed to say. “I fear the heat has affected me overmuch. If you will excuse me, I must seek the retiring room for a moment’s rest.”
His smile was tinged with understanding as he released her arm and allowed her to exit.
A voice rose in an antechamber as she hurried down the hallway. Recognizing her mother, she reached for the door handle, then froze as Atwater angrily replied.
“What is the meaning of these stories, Lady Forley? Are you trying to force my hand?”
“How can you think such a thing?” Her tone hinted that she was on the verge of tears, though Angela knew her too well to believe it. “I cannot understand them myself – unless Mr. Garwood has become deranged. It would seem that the story started with him. All I can think is that he is seeking revenge. Angela turned him down this morning. How he could have expected otherwise is beyond my understanding. Marrying him would be a step down for the poor girl. He is naught but the younger son of a baron.”
“She did not start these rumors herself?”
“How dare you impugn her honor? She was astonished at his offer, for she had made it clear early on that she was not interested in a serious relationship with him. When he persisted, she asked my advice. I thought him merely amusing himself so allowed him to continue. But he must have decided that he loved her, conceiving this campaign in spiteful retaliation when reality intruded. You know what I mean – if he cannot have her, then he will make sure no one else does. If I had thought for a moment that he was unstable, I would have forbidden him the house.”
