Almost an Angel (24 page)

James leaned forward, unaccountably pleased to realize that though this card game was over, Handren's torment had just begun. With a final, cold smile, James played his final card. "Piquet," he said. "I believe you owe me five hundred pounds." Then he bowed politely to the pathetic man and left, not surprised to hear him already calling for his valet.

The baron would probably leave for London as soon as his carriage could be brought around. After all, he had to roust enough ready cash to pay Caro's dowry, and such financial maneuvering took time.

But James had no doubt Handren would find the money. It would be disastrous for a man in his position to be caught embezzling from his own niece. The thought made him grin. Carolly would at last be free from her uncle.

He wanted to find her and tell her his plan before she heard it from someone else. He could see news of his betrothal had already spread to the ballroom. More than one matron cast him a scathing glance while the young girls seemed to huddle together as if for comfort.

James shook his head at the vagaries of human nature. He knew how strongly women coveted his title, but they acted as if he had betrayed a state secret. He tried to dredge up some sympathy for them, but could find none. His mind was completely absorbed with finding Carolly and imagining the joy sparkling in her eyes when he told her they would wed.

But where was she?

Chapter Seventeen

Carolly took a deep breath of the cool night air. It felt good to get outside, away from the haughty stares in the ballroom. The garden lay hushed and still. Peaceful. And if she listened very closely, she could hear the quick tempo of the folk music playing at the village festival. She had arranged through Mrs. Potherby for local players and a dance on the near meadow. Listening now to their lighthearted music, she was tempted to forego the dubious pleasures of high society for the simple satisfaction of a true country romp. She would have gone if the villagers accepted her. But she knew they wanted her even less than the snobbish matrons inside.

Weeks ago, that realization would have depressed her. It still would, except for one thing: James. When she was with him, she didn't feel so out of place. She fit with him, and that made her happy. Or, at least, it made her as happy as she could be considering she was out in the garden following Garrett in the vague hope that he had something serious to tell her. Or was he looking for another way to ruin her reputation?

A month ago such nonsense as a "reputation" wouldn't have bothered her. But now that she had integrated with Caroline, she paid more attention to societal strictures. Which was why she intended to return to the ballroom if Garrett didn't reappear soon. The village musicians were finishing their last set. The guests were leaving, and Carolly wished to be close at hand when James blew out the last candle.

Perhaps then she would finally get her answer: Did he want her?

Now she would deal with Garrett's nonsense. And hopefully dissuade him from his ridiculous plans for the villagers.

She took one final turn about the garden, giving voice to her irritation in a whispered hiss. "Garrett! Where are you? I swear I'm leaving this instant if you don't—"

Two strong hands grabbed her around the waist and dragged her backward into a semi-dark area between two tall hedges. She didn't need to see to know it was Garrett. The spicy scent of Imperial water was too strong for it to be anyone else.

"Let go of—mumph!"

His mouth came down on her lips, bruising them as his hands found and squeezed her bodice. It was disgusting and frightening to be manhandled so easily, and Carolly redoubled her efforts to shake free.

"Garre—"

She should have known better than to open her mouth. He invaded her in a moment, pushing his tongue into her like a thick worm. As for his hands, she was having no luck in peeling them off her. No matter how she shifted, he tightened his hold, pressing her much too intimately against his groin.  Yuck!

There was no choice. She had to end this attack now. Carolly bit down hard, tasting blood as Garrett suddenly reared back, his cry echoing through the garden. Then Carolly took advantage of his suddenly slackened hold and raised her knee. Hard. She was gratified to see him double over, his curses abruptly cut off as he gasped for air.

He dropped to the ground, and she stepped away, smoothing her skirts as she went. "Good heavens, Garrett—if this is how you try to pick up women, it's no wonder you're still a bachelor. Was this supposed to be romantic? Please!" she exclaimed with a shudder. "You're repulsive!"

Then she spun around and stomped back to the ballroom. At that moment, she didn't care anymore what his nefarious plans were. She and James together would find a way to best him. In the meantime, he had best stay out of her way!

Carolly made it back to the ball, remembering at the last minute to smooth out her clothing before entering. Once inside, she was relieved to see the room nearly empty. The musicians had stopped playing and were packing up their instruments. The last of the guests were taking their leave of James by the door. No one seemed to pay any attention to her. Except James. Even from across the room, she could see his eyebrows rise, and she turned away in guilty embarrassment.

The last thing she wanted was for James to see her right after her sordid encounter with Garrett.

Leaving James to his guests, Carolly began to wander around the ballroom. Except for a few footmen and maids, she had ordered all the other staff to depart after the midnight buffet was cleared. That left just her and Mrs. Potherby, since Wentworth was busy managing the carriages.

She dismissed Mrs. Potherby, sending the exhausted woman to bed. Then she checked the kitchens before meandering back to the ballroom, extinguishing candles along the way. Soon James would come to see her, and she would know how he felt.

Soon.

"Carolly."

His voice was a whisper, but it had the force of a lightning bolt. She stood, electrified, her hand raised toward a flickering candle.

"Carolly? You look . . . disturbed."

She turned slowly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I . . . I guess I'm a little nervous. I . . ." Her voice trailed away as he reached out and pulled a leaf from her hair.

"How odd," he said, his voice low. "I don't remember this here when we started the evening."

She felt her face heat with mortification, and she quickly ran her hand over her coiffeur, checking for any other remnants of her time outdoors.

"Carolly, have you been climbing trees in your ballgown?" Although his voice was light, she could hear a steely note of suspicion underneath.

She looked up at him and sighed. She wanted to know how he felt about her, not talk about Garrett. "It was nothing," she said. "An ill-conceived attempt at seduction—"

"I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed in stiff accents.

"But I handled it. It's over. Honest. Can we just forget it?"

He would have none of it. "You will explain yourself. Now." His tone was not angry. It was simply cold, detached, and very, very firm.

Carolly clenched her fists, wishing she could plant them in Garrett's face. Of all the times for them to be discussing this . . .

"Carolly," James said, his tone more a warning than a prompt.

She sighed. "I think Garrett is concerned about losing his inheritance."

James frowned. "What has that to do with—"

"He told me to come outside to talk about something vital. The next thing I knew, I was thrown into a bush, and Garrett was imitating an octopus."

She saw James's jaw clench, and she pressed forward, touching his arm. "James—"

"He goes too far."

"I told you, I handled it."

He looked down at her, his expression fierce. "How?"

She grinned at him, reliving the moment in her memory.

"I kicked him in the . . .” She bit her lip, searching for a delicate way to phrase it. "Last time I saw him, he was lying on the ground clutching his . . . uh . . ." She frowned. "I assure you, he won't try it again."

She saw a glimmer of appreciation light his dark eyes. "You did well."

"Thank you."

"I will speak with him tomorrow."

"But—"

"And as for you ..." He frowned down at her. "Henceforth, you will not leave a ballroom without my escort."

"James!" she exclaimed, annoyed. "I told you, I handled it."

"Yes," he said, drawing her arm through his as he led her back to the ballroom. "But you cannot be sure of such effectiveness in the future."

"I assure you," she said dryly, "I can handle myself."

"Nevertheless."

"Oh, just stop it," she snapped. Her nerves were worn thin. Between wondering about his decision, making sure the ball and festival went off without a hitch, and fighting off Garrett, she had no patience for these chivalrous, overprotective instincts. She simply wanted his answer. Now. Immediately. "What have you decided?" she demanded.

He paused, stopping halfway up the stairs. "About what?"

She didn't know if he was teasing or just being dense. Either way, she would not stand for any more of it. She turned to him, trying not to let him see how anxious she was. "Don't do this to me. I have been racked with doubt all evening. James, what are you going to do?" A memory flashed through her mind of him dancing with a dark-haired beauty. The woman had poise, a title, loads of money, and looked extremely good on his arm. The biddies had been predicting a match between them within a fortnight. Carolly swallowed. "Will you offer for Lady Beatrice?"

She saw his eyes widen with shock, no doubt surprised she was so perceptive. She felt her chest squeeze tight as her worst fears were confirmed. Her hand clenched on his arm, and she made to withdraw, but he stopped her, trapping her hand beneath his.

"So impulsive," he said. "When will you learn to ask first and conclude later, at leisure and after much reflection?"

Carolly stilled, barely even daring to hope, after his face curved into a warm smile.

"I have already announced our betrothal," he said, his voice soft and intimate.

Carolly felt her world spin, and her throat felt thick. "Already? She has agreed already?"

"She?” His voice held a laughter she found both confusing and vaguely insulting. "Carolly, I am speaking of
our
betrothal. You and me. The banns will be posted on Sunday."

"The banns?” She had to scramble through Caroline's memory to understand his meaning. When she discovered it, she nearly collapsed under a fresh wave of panic. Marriage. He meant to marry her. In just over three weeks.

"Carolly!"

She hadn't even realized she was wobbling on her feet until he scooped her up in his arms and strode up the stairs.

"James, you must put me down. Think of your leg! James!"

He wasn't listening to her. His arms were firm and comfortingly strong as he carried her through the house. Her worries about his leg appeared groundless, since his stride was as confident as his expression. He did not stop until he laid her gently on her bed.

"You have had a long night," he began, his manner tender despite his correctness. "You should rest. There is plenty of time to plan the wedding tomorrow."

Carolly scrambled to her knees on the bed, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes as she regarded him. "Wait! Don't I have a say in this?"

He stopped halfway through his bow, straightening slowly. "You may plan the wedding however you wish. Only tell me the date and time, and I shall be there with alacrity."

She shook her head, panic welling up again. "No, not the wedding. I mean the marriage! James, why do you want to marry me?"

He softened toward her then. His smile relaxed until it seemed to ease the strain in his whole body. He settled on the bed beside her, taking her hands into his, stroking them gently as he spoke.

"I have no skill with romantic words. I can only tell you I had no wish to be with those other women tonight. I could only think of you. Every time you laughed with another man, I grew insane with jealousy. As for the other women . . ." He shook his head. "I found fault with all of them. One was too tall, the other too dull. They never seemed to smile enough." He raised her hands to his lips, kissing her fingertips one by one. "I discovered tonight that I love you. And so I will marry you."

Carolly felt her heart swell. The precious gift of his love affected her more deeply than she'd ever imagined. To finally hear the words filled her soul to overflowing. He loved her. He wanted to marry her.

But she could not marry him.

Gently she withdrew her hands from his, struggling to find the words to explain, both to herself and him. She'd changed her mind about this so many times. "James," she tried, her voice raw. "I promised to be with you tonight if you wanted, and I will. But I cannot promise to marry you."

She felt him stiffen even though they were not touching. His entire body stilled, and the warmth left his eyes.

"Try to understand," she begged. "You are speaking of marriage. Of a future and commitment. I am . . . not in control of where I will go. What if—"

"Carolly."
His voice was a low growl of warning, but she continued, ignoring him.

"Just listen to me. I cannot promise to live with you and love you when I might be called to Heaven." She pushed forward on the bed. "What if this isn't to be? James, angels don't get married, they don't have husbands, and they don't have children. That is for humans, for mortals. I don't know what will happen, who I am. How can I promise a future I don't know I have? Can you understand that at all?"

He didn't answer, but Carolly could feel the fury building in him. It crackled in the air between them, stiffening his shoulders and raising his chin until he transformed into the haughty aristocrat she once thought him.

"Tonight." His voice was cold, edged with a bitterness she could hear in each hard word. "You asked me for an answer. You were willing to come to me tonight. But not in marriage?"

"I've spent four lifetimes trying to be an angel. Don't ask me to ignore that possibility." She leaned forward and tried to touch his hand, but he jerked backward.

"Ignore that possibility? What possibility?" He stood up, then turned so he towered over her, glaring down. "I have already announced our betrothal. I have committed my honor to the fact that you are sane. You cannot go around even talking about becoming an angel. It is all merely your imagination!"

She pushed to her feet, the movement slow and painful as she reminded herself over and over to stay calm. She had to fight this attack with an icy politeness all her own. She didn't speak until she stood and lifted her chin to glare right back at him.

"I don't need to talk about it, James. All I need is to know it. In here." She tapped her chest over her heart. "I don't care what you've committed your honor to." She practically spat the words. "You never asked me—"

"I am asking you now."

"No. You're ordering me."

He took a deep breath, the sound loud in the room. "Is that what you want?" He dropped to one knee and clasped her hand in a bruising grip. "Caroline Handren—"

"No!" She tried to jerk away, but he held her too tightly.

"—will you do me the honor—"

"This is not what I want!"

"—of marrying me?"

"No!"

His grip clenched tighter, and she dropped to her knees before him, frustration making her words clipped and hard.