When Angels Fall (14 page)

“My God,” he exclaimed, “he’s fainted dead away.”

Tea was ready in the parlor. Having become more desperate with each passing day, Lissa had finally sent a note to Wilmott requesting that he come to Violet Croft for a visit. She could not have been any bolder in trying to wrestle a marriage proposal from the man, but they needed money. George was once more getting into scuffles at school. It was only a matter of time before he would start skipping again.

Thinking of George now, Lissa waited for the appointed hour with equal dread and desire. Marriage to Wilmott Billingsworth was sure to be filled with untold misery. Still, Wilmott could easily afford to send George to Eton. She knew she could not bear to see her brother with another black eye, nor could she bear to lie again to Evvie about George’s appearance.

“Come along, Wilmott,” she whispered to herself as she walked to the parlor window. Already anxious for the visit to be over, she nervously tied and retied her cap. A cap was a ridiculously matronly thing to wear and she well knew it. The one she wore had even been discarded by her fashionable mother, and Lissa had been forced to retrieve it from an old trunk in the attic. The ungainly thing had long lappets and hundreds of lilies of the valley embroidered over the back. Yet she thought nothing of donning it for her suitor. She remembered that once Wilmott had said he liked women in caps. He’d also followed that statement with a long diatribe about women who wore caps knowing their place.

Now, standing before the little parlor mirror, examining her silly reflection, she knew Wilmott would be pleased. She knew her place all right, she thought bitterly,
but what Wilmott didn’t know was—her place was at the bank.

The sound of horse hooves brought her out of her musings. Her eyes turned to her door and she tensed. The knock was a bit timid, and immediately she sensed something was wrong. Wilmott’s knock always boomed.

Lissa flung open the door and met with the Billingsworth footman named Jim. Jim courteously removed his hat and profusely begged her pardon. He then jammed a note into her hand and was mounted and away before she could even speak.

“Have we company?” On cue, Evvie came from the kitchen with a tray full of scones and teacups. As if rehearsed, she had a smile painted on her lips.

“He’s not coming. That was Wilmott’s footman,” Lissa stated numbly.

Immediately Evvie’s smile fractured. Relief swept her brow. “Well, then, perhaps he’s taken ill. I hate to be so mercenary, but he might mention you in his will and then you won’t have to—”

“I don’t think he’s ill. I haven’t heard that the physician has made any visits to the manor.” Lissa looked at the message in her hand. She fumbled with the wax seal.

“He sent a note?” Evvie asked as she heard the shuffle of paper.

“Yes.” She read the thin scrawl and blanched. Her lips began to tremble with fury. With blurred vision, she scanned it again.

My dearest Lissa,

You must understand that I cannot see you any
more. I had a bad turn of luck at cards the other night
and now am hopelessly indebted to Powerscourt. Our
union was ill-fated from the start. I shall always re
member you fondly,

Wilmott

Lissa slowly dropped to the sofa.

“What is it?” Evvie fretted. “Has he died? Oh, now I feel terrible about what I said about his will.”

“Don’t worry, sister, old Wilmott is in blistering good health.” Lissa suddenly jumped up. She grabbed her mantlet from the hook near the door.

“Where are you going?” Evvie exclaimed. “What does the note say?”

“The note says Wilmott cannot marry me. And do you know why?” she asked angrily as she tied the mantlet’s bow.

“No, why?” Evvie answered in a timid voice.

“Because Ivan has told him not to, that’s why!”

With that she ran out the door toward the castle road.

The fury in her breast could hardly be contained. It had all been planned. She should have warned Wilmott away from that card game, yet it had sounded so innocent. Ivan had fooled them all.

And now what was she to do? Her stride grew longer. First she was going to confront Ivan and make him give Wilmott’s money back. Then she would have to start wooing Wilmott all over again, and pray that she didn’t appear to be more trouble than she was worth. George was counting on her, and as much as Evvie complained about Wilmott, she was counting on her too. Perhaps with more money Evvie could be taught Braille. They’d heard that books were being printed in Paris for the blind. Evvie would adore that. She had loved to read.

Now Ivan was taking all that away. But she wouldn’t let him, she told herself. She practically ran up the castle road and was pounding on the castle door before she knew it.

“Yes, miss?” A dour housekeeper answered the door. Her widow’s weeds looked as if her husband had died several decades before.

“I wish to speak with Lord Powerscourt,” she gasped.

“He’s occupied.”

She looked at the tight-lipped housekeeper. “Occupied where?” she asked abruptly.

“That is not my place to say, miss. Now if you will excuse me . . .” The housekeeper began shutting the heavy door. Lissa cried out and tried to stop her, but the door slammed shut.

She was livid. Impotently she looked around the courtyard to see if she could waylay a footman who might tell her where Lord Ivan was. But the courtyard was empty save a few ravens that were perched on the crenelations way above her head. Her ears suddenly pricked at the sound of laughter, and she followed the sound until she was at the back of the castle. The stables were back there. She thought it a long shot, but perhaps Ivan had gone riding. The stable hands would know where he had gone.

In the stables, she found a group of men gathered around one stall. They were all dressed the same. All wore boots, breeches, and shirts. Some wore waistcoats, but the well-built stables were quite warm from so many horses so none of them needed coats.

“I’m looking for Lord Powerscourt—” she began, then stopped in her tracks. One of the men turned around and she was face to face with her enemy. Ivan had obviously just been out riding, for his boots and breeches were mud-spattered. A fine sheen of sweat covered his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned. There was amusement in his eyes, yet wariness as well. He knew she was furious.

“Well, well, Miss Alcester, how nice to see you.” His voice was deep and smooth.

Lissa didn’t answer. She merely looked at the stable hands, as if silently asking them to leave. They took her cue, for one by one they disappeared.

“You have something on your mind, or are you just here to take tea?” Ivan lifted one dark, infuriating eyebrow.

“You know why I’m here,” she whispered angrily. “I want you to repay Wilmott right now.”

Ivan feigned surprise. “You cannot mean for me to pay him. He lost.”

“Then you cheated, no doubt.”

“If you were a man I could call you out for that, my sweet.” He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. He seemed to find her appearance comical, for a small smile showed on the corner of his lips. “What are you wearing, Miss Alcester? Were you thinking of becoming Billingsworth’s wife or his mother?” He nodded to her cap.

Unwittingly her hand flew to her head. In her anger, she’d forgotten to take off the cap. Though she had thought it silly before, now she would defend it to the death.

“Caps are all the rage in Paris, I’m told. But then you couldn’t possibly understand why it’s never out of fashion to look innocent and chaste.” She gave him a withering glance.

“To look or to be?” His eyes locked with hers.

His retort wounded her to the quick.
Lusty Lissa.
Lusty Lissa.
Already she could hear the children calling out. She lowered her hurt gaze. “
To be,
you beast,” she answered him, then summoned all her anger. “I should like Wilmott’s money returned to him this instant.”

“I won his money quite fairly, Lissa. I see no reason to return it.” He stepped closer. “But if you insist I return it, what shall I receive in its stead?”

“You cheated him. You deserve nothing!”

“Not true. In fact, there was a man of God who not only witnessed but participated in the game. He had no cause to say I cheated.” His arms rested on the top of a polished mahogany stall door. “And if he and Wilmott do not, I think you do not either.”

“So you duped this poor cleric too,” she admonished.

“He was no poor cleric, but rather a well-heeled
bishop who had no right to gamble away his parish’s funds. Nonetheless, I did not dupe him, as you so eloquently put it. However, he did owe me a rather heavenly sum by the end of the evening.”

“Have you no shame?”

“None at all.” He stepped aside and closed the stall door. Now there was nothing between them.

Suddenly nervous, she watched him walk closer. All at once she remembered those days in the Alcester stables, and it seemed as if she were back there now. Ivan was hardly dressed better than the other stable help in his muddy boots and plain shirt. With dreadful clarity, she recalled the kiss, the kiss that had changed her forever. It had made her cross over the line to womanhood and after that, her entire life had been ripped apart. Instinctively she stepped back.

“I said I would like you to return Wilmott’s money. Even if you didn’t cheat, it was unfair of you to go against those who were clearly not your equals in the game.”

“They didn’t complain when they were winning.”

“But they did not win. What are you doing to the bishop, may I ask? Are you taking the food out of his orphans’ mouths in order to be repaid?”

“I daresay he’s never given a quid for his parish’s starving orphans.” His hand went up to caress her cheek. She turned her head. Slowly he began, “You weren’t going to marry him. Wilmott Billingsworth was not the man for you.”

“What are you saying? That you are?” she asked, taken aback.

“Yes,” he answered evenly.

She didn’t know what to make of this. Her heart hammered in her chest. Confused, she shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Are you proposing marriage?”

“No.”

Her heart stopped with a thud. She could have laughed aloud for what a fool he’d made of her, but her
laughter was too bitter to release. Instead she swallowed and said, “Then I suppose you are proposing something else altogether.”

“I am the man for you, Lissa. I always have been.”

“How can you say that when the only thing you offer is . . . ?”

“Is it better to be a man’s faithful mistress . . . or a man’s faithless wife?”

A heavy silence followed his words. With the blood rushing from her face, she stumbled back. “I won’t listen to your lies!” she cried in outrage.

“No lies, Lissa. You marry Wilmott, I give you less than a month before your eye strays. But then, who would blame you?”

Suddenly she stopped. With her back now turned to him, she said stiffly, “I am not like my mother. Do you hear?”

“No, she was not nearly the temptress you are.”

She spun to face him. “You black-hearted villain, I demand you repay Wilmott! You repay him this day so I can forget I ever set eyes upon you!”

He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “I have already paid Billingsworth back. I gave him the choice. His debts or you. Need I tell you which he chose?”

She looked up at him, shocked to the core. “Not true,” she said.

“True,” he countered.

“You set this up, didn’t you?” she demanded angrily, trying to push away from him. “You planned to ruin my engagement. This entire move to Powerscourt is simply for revenge. Are you planning to ruin everyone in Nodding Knoll whom you have a grudge against? Or just me?”

“If people are ruined, then it is simply because they put themselves in harm’s way.” He touched her lips. “Of course, you were in harm’s way the day you grew to womanhood.”

Her shoulders tensed. She felt him pull the string on
her cap. Her hands flew up to try to stop him, but he ruthlessly brushed them aside. The pristine linen cap fell down her back and onto the dirt of the stable floor.

“Enough,” she whispered before his fingers laced at her nape.

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

“No,” she said furiously, grinding her fists into his unyielding chest. She tried to pull away but he quickly forced her back against a stall door. He nearly covered her with his body. She couldn’t get away no matter how hard she struggled.

“I came here to get you to repay Wilmott,” she panted, her eyes nearly spitting fire. “These tactics won’t bully me into accepting anything less!”

“But I’ve ruined all your plans.” His lips twisted cruelly. “So without his suit, how will you satisfy your lust for money?”

Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “I haven’t a lust for money—only survival. If you force me, I shall marry the first gentleman who crosses my path. And mark my words well:
gentleman,
I say.” She hoped the words angered him.

They did. His face darkened. The scar whitened. “You’d best watch your methods, Lissa. You know what they say about a girl who goes from man to man.”