The whole thing might have been even worse than it turned out, for despite his anger he wasn't certain he could have gone through with his pronouncement if it had been Hester Peachley striding through that door. Besides, this way it would aggravate Angelique Graham no end, and sometimes that outspoken chit was completely beyond bearing. She had practically forced him into choosing Miss Stanfred. And—
"James?"
He turned his head, wondering how long Simon had been speaking to him. "Sorry," he mumbled. "What is it?"
"What did you say to her?"
James frowned. "To whom?"
"To Desiree, of course."
"Simon..." he warned in a growl.
"All right," his cousin said, throwing up a hand. "Forget I asked. Never mind. Don't tell me."
"Sweet..." James muttered, glancing back at his grandmother's carriage. "She said she was pleased to see me, and I told her to go to the devil." He paused, noting Simon's shocked expression, for it would never occur to his cousin to say such a thing to a woman. "I didn't think at the time that I was quite possibly referring to myself."
His cousin looked at him for a moment. "I hoped you thanked Angel for keeping you out of a scene," he said stiffly, "you trying to become respectable, and all."
"What do you mean?"
"The old baron, Kensington, was after you when you and Angel went out onto the floor. I hate to think what might have happened if he—" Simon blanched.
James looked at him, knowing exactly what his cousin was thinking. "I don't duel anymore, Simon. And certainly not over her." He looked away, taking a deep breath. "Did I tell you I've invited the Stanfreds to join us at Abbonley?"
Simon blinked. "When did this occur?"
"Last night. They'll be here in a fortnight or so." He grimaced, unexpectedly reluctant to speak of the true reason for their visit. His own state of matrimony was supposed to wait until after his cousin's had been settled, anyway. "I thought the Grahams might like the company. Keep them from feeling outnumbered and lull them into thinking this is an innocent outing."
Simon laughed, back in good humor again. "You make it sound as though this is a military campaign."
James raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"
On the afternoon of their second day of travel they crossed the edge of his property, and he found himself looking about to make certain all of the trees, the streams, and the walls, hedges and tenant cottages were still there, still in place. Half an hour later they wound around a turn in the road and Abbonley came into view on top of the hill. At the sight of the great white horseshoe-shaped manor, he pulled Demon to an abrupt halt and sat staring up at it.
"Welcome back, James," Simon said softly from beside him.
James had to clear his throat twice before he could answer. "By God, it's good to be home," he declared fervently, and Simon grinned.
Chapter Seven
Is that it?" Henry asked, craning his head to look out the coach window. "Is that Abbonley?"
"I hope there's a pony for me to ride," Helen pouted, banging Millicent's head against the edge of the seat. "Angel got to bring Heaven."
"Buttercup couldn't have travelled this far," Camellia pointed out patiently.
"Papa, is that Abbonley?" Henry yelled, waving his arm outside the coach.
"We'll know in a moment," Lord Niston replied from his mount.
Angelique settled back in the cushions, taking deep breaths and trying to quell the fluttering of her stomach, which manifested every time Henry asked if that was Abbonley ahead. She told herself it was because she was looking forward to seeing Simon and working on their plan, but knew it had more to do with the marquis. She wasn't entirely certain whether they had parted as friends or not, but she was not about to let him marry Lily Stanfred just to spite his future cousin.
"It is Abbonley, isn't it!" Henry yelled, leaning precariously out the window. "Oh, it's grand! Can you see the stables, Papa?"
Angel couldn't resist any longer, and she leaned forward to look around Henry's shoulders. A huge white manor sprawled atop a gently sloping hill. At the foot of the rise a lake opened across a clearing, hemmed at the shore by a sizeable glade. It was breathtaking.
In half an hour they were at the head of the drive. The huge oak double doors opened, and the marquis, followed by a retinue of footmen, strode out to greet them. "Welcome to Abbonley," he said, coming forward to shake her father's hand. "I trust you had a pleasant trip?"
"Quite so," Lord Niston replied.
That was fine for him to say, Angel thought, for he hadn't had to ride with the twins.
"And how was your journey?" Abbonley queried, strolling over to brush her knuckles with his lips.
"Noisy," she replied, smiling. "As usual."
"I see you brought Heaven," he noted, giving a smile of his own. "There is some fine riding here. I think you'll enjoy it, my lady."
"Thank you, my lord," she responded, studying his face. He seemed a little more relaxed than the last time she had seen him, and when Brutus bounded out of the coach to place his paws on the marquis' chest, Abbonley actually laughed.
"I was hoping you'd brought your monster along," he chuckled, ruffling the mastiff's ears. "Simon will be thrilled."
Angel hadn't thought Simon all that fond of her pet. "Where is Simon?"
"He'll be along in a moment," the marquis answered offhandedly, and then swept a bow to the twins. "Master Henry, Lady Helen, Millicent," he greeted them, and Angel was surprised he had remembered her siblings' names, much less that of Helen's doll. James Faring surprised her quite a bit, though, when he wasn’t being completely aggravating.
"My lord marquis," Henry returned, bowing nearly double.
The Devil leaned down. "James will be fine," he muttered, grinning.
Henry gasped, and Angelique turned to follow his gaze toward the side of the manor. Simon came around the corner leading an undersized but perfectly proportioned chestnut gelding and a small black mare.
"Henry, Helen, meet India and Jasmine," James said.
Angel expected Henry to bolt for the pony, but he walked slowly up to the animal and talked to it for a moment before he raised his hand to pet it, much as James had done when he was introduced to Pharaoh. She looked sideways at James. "If I might ask, what is the Marquis of Abbonley doing with two children's mounts in his famous stables?"
He gave her an innocent look. "I couldn't very well promise and then disappoint, now could I?" He raised an eyebrow. "Should I have brought you a pony as well?"
"I am not as easy to win over as the twins, my lord," she responded, feeling she had scored a hit.
"And the greater the challenge, the greater the reward," he murmured, flashing his wicked grin at her, "my lady."
She blushed, which would have been entirely too silly except that her parents had to have noticed.
Simon approached, smiling. "You look radiant, Angel," he said, taking her hand. "How was your journey?"
"Thank you, Simon," she said warmly, shooting an annoyed look over his head at Abbonley, who had the bad manners to chuckle. "It was quite pleasant."
The marquis turned to her father again. "Shall we go inside?" he suggested. "As it's so warm today, I'm having luncheon set out in the courtyard, but I thought you might like to go to your rooms first." This last was directed at Angel's mother, who nodded gratefully.
Angelique was more than curious to see inside Abbonley. As they reached the door she felt an inkling of uneasiness, for the butler was quite possibly the sternest, most dour-looking personage she had ever set eyes on. What she saw inside, however, surprised her. It was dark and elegant, but the curtains were open and there were fresh flowers everywhere, making the rooms smell like springtime and giving the manor a cozy warmth. She couldn't help smiling.
Simon escorted her to one of the rooms in the west wing, while the marquis showed her parents and siblings to neighboring bed chambers. "James and I are in the east wing," Simon explained, motioning along the curving
balcony behind them, "but Grandmama is two doors down from you, for she doesn't like the morning sun. When Lily arrives she'll be next to you, here."
"Lily?" Angel queried, trying to hide her sudden surprised dismay.
"Oh, yes. James didn't tell you? He's invited the Stanfreds along, as well. Thought you might enjoy the company."
Angelique forced a smile. '"That was kind of him."
Simon smiled as well. "Yes, I thought so. He's being rather more cooperative than I'd expected." He kissed her knuckles again. "Someone shall be by to bring you down to the courtyard."
She stepped into the room, and wasn't surprised to see more flowers sitting on the stand by the bed. The chamber was decorated in gold and peach, and she liked it immediately. Fleetingly, she wondered if James had chosen which room she would occupy. From the window she had a splendid view of the south end of the lake and of the woods beyond, and until Tess came in to help her freshen up she sat in the sill and looked out at the water, a blue reflection of the sky.
Outside in the courtyard a long table had been set with fresh fruit, sliced ham and chicken, and several desserts that immediately had her mouth watering. She wasn't the only one impressed with the confections, either, for when Henry and Helen appeared a moment later they bolted for that end of the table.
"Luncheon first, you two," she said, wishing she could head straight for the strawberry creams resting tantalizingly on a silver platter.
The marquis was already present, listening to a report given by the head footman. After a moment he nodded and strolled over to her. "Are you pleased with your accommodations?"
She nodded. "Quite," she answered, wondering why the more at ease he seemed, the more unsettled she became. London might have been her territory, but Abbonley was definitely his.
"Lord James?" Henry said hesitantly, and the marquis turned.
"Master Henry?"
"Do you boat on the lake?"
The marquis looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, we used to have several rowboats," he answered slowly, "but this end of the lake's become a bit swampy, and I can't for the life of me remember what's happened to them. I'll check with Simon, and see if there isn't something we can't do. I haven't been fishing in quite awhile."
"There are fish?" Henry asked, his eyes lighting.
"Oh, yes. When I was younger I caught supper on a regular basis."
"Henry, Helen, come sit down and eat," Camellia called from one of the tables that had been set up in the shade of the west wing.
"You shouldn't have told him that," Angel commented, as the marquis took a plate from one of the servants and handed it to her before he accepted another for himself.
"Why not?" he asked, indicating that she should select her luncheon.
"He'll nag you incessantly, now," she told him, picking up a strawberry cream and then a second. Strawberries and horses were her greatest weaknesses.
"Take another," he suggested, seeming to read her mind, and reached over to place a third one on her plate.
Immediately Angel was distrustful of his solicitude. "Are you trying to cushion the blow before you inform me that you've invited the Stanfreds here?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Lady Angelique, I really don't need to inform you of anything. This is my estate, and I may invite whomever I choose to come and visit me." Angel scowled, and he raised a hand. "I don't wish to argue with you."
"Well, why not?" she demanded, primed for a fight.
James gave a short grin. "Because, much as I enjoy sallying with you, I do prefer seeing you smile," he said softly.
That stopped her. "Oh," she managed.
"And I was being nice because I wanted to thank you," he went on.
She looked up at him. "For what?"
"I was rather... distracted at the Tremaines. You were very kind, and I apologize for snapping at you." For a brief moment his expression darkened. "What is between Desiree and me is not for public view, whatever she might think."
She was tempted to ask what exactly was between Lady Kensington and him. Instead she frowned and squinted, trying to look ignorant. Acknowledging her part would be decidedly unladylike, and the more proper she was, the less excuse her parents would have to delay the wedding. "I accept your thanks," she began, "though I'm riot quite certain why, as it was you claimed my hand for the waltz."
He looked down at her, and after a moment pursed his lips and nodded. "Ah. How forgetful of me. Thank you again, my future cousin," he remarked, then excused himself to take a seat.
Angel had only a moment to wonder why she was coming to dislike that particular epithet before Simon reached her side. “How do you like Abbonley?'' he asked as he accepted a plate.
"It's magnificent," she said with a smile.
"Yes," he agreed ruefully. "I'm afraid it will make the estate at Turbin Hall look quite shabby. Perhaps I should never have shown you James's treasure."
Angel touched his sleeve, wishing people would stop referring to her future home as mouldy and shabby. "You've done a grand job here, Simon."
Simon grimaced. "James has done a grand job. I can take credit only for maintaining it while he was away."
"Well, you've done that grandly," she insisted stubbornly, and he smiled at her.
"You are too kind, Angel."
"Sounds like a reasonable enough compliment to me," the dowager viscountess said from behind her. Lady Elizabeth piled strawberries on a plate held by one of the footmen. "I'm pleased you've come, child."
"Thank you for inviting us, Lady Elizabeth," Angel responded with a smile.
"Nonsense," the dowager viscountess snapped, eyes twinkling. "Jamie, come here and greet your grandmother," she demanded.
The marquis obediently rose and strolled over to kiss Lady Elizabeth on the cheek. "Bossy," he murmured.
"Scamp," the viscountess replied in the same tone.
Elizabeth took a seat with Angel and Simon at the second table, and the luncheon conversation was lively, to say the least. By the end of the meal Angel's sides hurt from laughing. Simon for the most part stayed out of the good-natured bantering between the marquis and his grandmother, but Angel had already noted that bantering didn't seem to be Simon's style. It was James Faring's, however, and unfortunately, and to the annoyance of her parents, hers.
James offered a tour of the stables, much to the delight of both Henry and Angelique. After inviting the boy to go riding in the morning he regretfully excused himself to go inside and find Algers, his agent, waiting for him in the study. Simon had done a fine job with Abbonley, but there were still details that needed to be taken care of, things that had been delayed until his return and that he now wanted done. The school in the village of Esterley, which sat on the edge of his land, had been erected in his absence, but awaited his approval before it could be occupied. It was a special project of his, and he determined to visit it before the end of the week.
Finally Algers, burdened with enough tasks to keep him busy for a fortnight, departed. James sat back with a sigh. It used to be that he detested taking care of the details of the estate, especially in the year right after his father's death when he had returned from London to find Abbonley in disarray, and the countryside mourning the death of Richard Faring and dreading having his wild son ensconced in his place.
Now it was a task he rather enjoyed, seeing the progression of things he had planned. The school was a prime example. His neighboring landowners might think him a fool for educating the laborers on his property, but he hadn't seen any evidence that keeping them ignorant did any good.
Simon knocked and leaned into the room. "Is Algers gone?"
James chuckled. "I told you, you don't have to deal with him any longer."
His cousin came into the room and seated himself. "It's only that he's so opinionated. Made me feel every decision I made was going to send Abbonley sliding into the lake."
James pushed against the window sill. "We still seem to be anchored fairly firmly," he said with a grin. "Wh
ich reminds me. What happened to the rowboats I used to have?"
"Heavens, I don't know. They've probably been beached somewhere along the lake." Simon sat back and crossed his ankles. "You surprised me when you gave in to Grandmama, you know. I'm pleased you've finally decided to allow guests into Abbonley."
James gazed out the window. "Being alone isn't quite as attractive as it used to be." He took a seat, mulling over whether or not he should bring up a subject that had been nagging at him for several weeks. "Why didn't you ever tell me that my... antics were damaging your reputation, as well?"
Frowning, Simon started to his feet. "Now look, James—"
James gestured at him. "I'm not implying anything. I was just curious. Because you can't tell me that my being your relation didn't have something to do with the Grahams putting off this wedding for as long as they could possibly manage."
Simon slowly took his seat again. "I don't know, James. I suppose I didn't think you would listen."
The marquis looked at his cousin for a long moment. "I probably wouldn't have." He stood again, pacing back to the window. "But what if I don't want to be the Devil any longer, Simon? What if I want to change?"
"’Change?’" Simon repeated skeptically. "You've been not changing for five years. More than that if you count your, and my, misspent youth."
"Well, I'm trying now," James returned. "I haven't had a drink in six months, and I've been doing my damndest to behave."
"I didn't know that," Simon said after a moment.
"Didn't know what?"
"That you'd stopped drinking. Now that you mention it, I should have. Your temperament has been more even since you returned from fighting Bonaparte. I wasn't expecting..." he trailed off, looking embarrassed.
James shrugged. "You had no reason to notice. But I recently had a great deal of time to do some thinking, and decided I didn't particularly like where I was heading."
"In the army hospital?"
Angel's Devil Page 8
