When Angels Fall (45 page)

A week later, it was almost midnight when a loud, demanding knock stirred the marquis’s household. A sleepy Biddles answered the door and to his surprise, Holland Jones stood angrily at the entrance. As if he were almost used to the bailiff’s brusqueness, Biddles stepped aside and watched helplessly as Holland sought out the library.

“Good God, I should have forced her to come with us! Where is she?” Holland accused Ivan when he entered the room.

Unperturbed, Ivan sat listlessly in his leather chair, stroking Fenian’s back with his booted foot. Blandly he said, “Ah, it’s my brilliant estate manager back from his honeymoon. How was Venice, Jones?”

“Do you have her here?” Holland said ominously.

Ivan almost smiled. “It’s not what you think, Jones. Lissa left for London on her own. I and my evil seductions didn’t spirit her away.”

“I know she left on her own. Her note at the cottage said as much. But then I heard you’d left for London too, and now I want to know where she is!”

“Well, she’s not here.”

Holland almost looked taken aback. “Then where is she?” he asked.

“She’s staying, quite properly chaperoned, with Lord and Lady Kovel. She came to London—alone, I assure you—to see about getting a position. I found her at an old inn in St. Giles.”

“St. Giles?” Holland gasped.

“Yes,” the marquis answered, looking down into his half-empty glass. “So save your righteous indignation, will you? If I hadn’t come to London looking for her, your
lovely sister-in-law would have ended up in far worse hands than my own.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Holland stated flatly.

“Well, you must believe it, Jones, or ruin Lissa’s reputation. Which will it be?” He gave Holland a scathing look. There was no mistaking the hostility between the men, it fairly crackled in the air.

Hesitating, Holland said, “If Lissa’s all right then, I’ll telegraph Evvie through the Bishops’ this very night. She was sick with worry when I left her at Violet Croft.”

“You may tell your wife that her sister is bursting with good health and vitality.”

After this sarcastic statement, the marquis rose and poured them both a stiff brandy. Without ceremony, he handed Holland a glass, then motioned for him to take a seat. The marquis went to his desk and found a well-stuffed envelope. Soon they both sat before the hearth in the leather club chairs as they had done so many months ago.

“Now that you’re here, Jones, there’s a matter that I’ve longed to discuss ever since you went to Italy.” The marquis tossed the fat envelope into Holland’s lap. “Somehow there’s been some misunderstanding that you owed this to me.”

Holland looked in the envelope. It was crammed with ten-pound notes. Slowly he put it down. “I think my letter explained this money. It’s to repay you for George’s education.”

“George’s education has been paid for already.”

“Yes, but that never was, nor shall it ever be, your responsibility. Since I am responsible for George now, I must repay you.”

Ivan stared into the fire. “You cannot repay me for that, Holland. The debt was between me and Lissa. Your money cannot settle it.”

“Consider this her money then.” Holland tossed the packet back to the marquis.

“But we both know it’s not her money. So shall you take it back, or shall I burn it?” Ivan leaned toward the hearth. He held the envelope precariously close to the flames. The heat alone blackened the edges.

“Good God,” Holland gasped, “that is a heavenly sum of money!”

“Then take it back.” When Holland no longer protested, Ivan laughed and threw him the notes.

Angrily Holland looked down at the envelope in his lap. He seemed as if he wanted to hold his tongue, yet suddenly it was impossible. “You must know, my lord, that I will no longer tolerate your cat-and-mouse games with Lissa.”

Ivan looked as if he expected that statement. “My relationship with Lissa is of no account to you, Jones. Don’t make it one.”

“She’s my wife’s sister. Most of your dealings with her I’ve overlooked, partly out of duty to the Powerscourts, partly because I saw no real benefit to revealing them. But now it is all different.”

“It is the same.”

“No.” Holland shook his head. “I’d have agreed with you before the night of your ball. But that night changed everything.” He gave Ivan an accusing stare. “I know that you’ve compromised Lissa.”

“And how is that?” Ivan asked, his eyes glittering dangerously. “As I recall,
you
were most definitely not there.”

“I saw her state of dishabille when she arrived back at Violet Croft. It didn’t take much to arrive at that conclusion.”

“Aren’t you a bit late, then, with your accusations?”

Holland gripped his glass. “The accusations would have come far earlier if my hands hadn’t been tied. I don’t know what hold you have over her, but Lissa adamantly refuses to admit that you took advantage of her.”

“So what has untied your hands now?”

“When I thought Lissa was going to have to remain
in Nodding Knoll, I saw no point in adding to her misery by revealing your sordid obsession. But now I suddenly see a future for her. A future without you there to darken her door. Lady Antonia can realize all sorts of possibilities for Lissa. My sister-in-law needn’t remain a spinster. She can do whatever she desires, and I plan to see that she does that. No matter what the cost.”

Ivan heard him out, all the while letting his knuckles run agitatedly down his scar. When Holland was through he said forebodingly, “Those costs could be high, Jones. To everyone.”

Holland stood and put down his glass. “Regardless, I will no longer let you hurt my wife’s sister. Even if it means the Joneses finally break with the Powerscourts. Even if it means I tell Lissa
everything.
”

For the first time, Holland thought he saw a flicker of apprehension in the marquis’s eyes, but quickly Tramore mastered it.

“What are you saying, Jones? Are you blackmailing me into leaving her alone?” The marquis’s voice was even and low, not revealing a whisper of his true feelings.

“Precisely,” Holland admitted. “For some reason, Lissa doesn’t quite hate you. But as you well know, I can see to it that she does.”

Ivan thought on this a moment, wrestling with all the different courses laid out before him. His hand lifted to finger the scar on his cheek again, and this seemed to force him to a decision. Grimly he looked up at Holland. The picture of self-control, he said, “Get out.”

Lissa sat at the lace-covered dressing table in her room at Harewood. Tonight was yet another soirée, and the thought of dressing, smiling, and waltzing was enough to make her feel wretched. That week alone she had been escorted to the Great Exhibition at Sydenham, attended a play at Covent Garden, a play at Drury Lane, and an opera
at Haymarket, and endured a chariot ride through Regent’s Park. In addition, she had appeared at three routs, two dinners, and a ball. The previous week had held just as many social engagements, but none of them had brought her much pleasure.

Though Ivan had attended many of the functions, he either stood by like an icicle while other men came to court her, or stood somberly in the corner drinking brandy and staring dispassionately at her false displays of enjoyment.

Already the Duke of Rankston had invited her out for a weekend at his house in Westbourne, and she was almost afraid that, without much prompting, the smitten duke might ask for her hand in marriage. Then what would she do?

Wild-eyed, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She would either have to refuse poor Rankston and humiliate herself by proclaiming her unrequited love for Ivan, or she would have to marry the duke, forever chaining herself to a man she did not love.

In defeat, she put her head in her hands. She could never marry Rankston. That would be more cruel than anything she had ever done to Ivan. So what was left? Only the sure knowledge that when Rankston proposed—if he proposed—she would crumble. Ivan would have his merriment and she would be known as the madwoman of Violet Croft.

She moaned.

“Such a display! Are you going to a wake this evening or the Earl of Claymore’s soirée?”

Lissa looked up and saw Antonia enter her room. Lady Kovel looked absolutely breathtaking in a gown of emerald satin. Though Lissa was as richly dressed, her pale, drawn features hardly complemented her elegant glittering costume.

“Lissa! Let me look at you! Annabel did a lovely job with your hair! Why are you so glum?”

Lissa stared at her reflection in the mirror. Antonia’s lady’s maid had done an exceptional job with her tresses. She had piled them high on her head and circled them with a wreath of tiny rosebuds, fresh from Lord Kovel’s greenhouse. Her gown of mint velvet set off the unusual hue of the flowers perfectly. She had every device to look as stunning as Antonia, yet there was no hiding her crest-fallen features.

Wearily Lissa laid her head on the dressing table. She couldn’t even look at Antonia. “I don’t want to go out tonight,” she whispered.

Antonia came up to her and placed a tender hand on her head. Quietly she said, “Then we shall stay home. Is that what you want?”

“No. I want Ivan to love me,” she confessed, her voice ragged with emotion. By now she was beyond tears. All she could do was lay her cheek against the fine lace and silently beg for comfort.

“What if I told you he does love you, Lissa?” Antonia soothed.

“With all my heart, I would want to believe it were true. But,” she whispered unhappily, “he’s never told me he loves me.”

“How can he know how to say words he’s never heard himself?”

Slowly Lissa sat up. “What—whatever do you mean?”

Antonia gave her a sad little smile. “Who has ever told the marquis ‘I love you’? Not his father, I imagine. If his mother ever said those words, that’s now most assuredly beyond his ability to remember.”

“But you—what about you?” she blurted out.

Antonia remained silent. Lissa paused. Antonia had always made it clear that she and Ivan had never been in love. Their relationship had been driven by lust and need, and now by friendship.

Lissa’s eyes darkened. “But still, Ivan must have had
many other women, I know it. Why did none of them speak the words?”

“Because they were all a poor substitute for the woman he really wanted. And they all knew it.”

“Oh, if only I could believe you!” Lissa whispered longingly.

“You know what I think?” Antonia looked at her in her dressing mirror. “I think in the end the solution is yours if you will but take the challenge. Why don’t you go to Ivan tonight? Teach him those simple words. Speak them once and I’ll wager you’ll hear them back for the rest of your life.”

Lissa’s tormented gaze met Antonia’s. “In your own way, though you never did speak the words, you love him too, don’t you?”

Antonia smiled softly. “Ivan’s a difficult man, but I understand him. I see how desperately he aches for your love.”

“Is it true? Could he really love
me
?”

Antonia laughed and turned Lissa’s head toward the mirror. When Lissa looked at her own reflection, Antonia said in a voice that was as clear as a bell, “It’s true.”

When Antonia had gone, Lissa knew she would never attend the soirée. She meant to summon a hack that very hour and go to the house on Piccadilly, but a visit from Holland delayed her.

After he had checked on her that first morning almost a fortnight ago, Lissa hadn’t seen Holland again. He had had matters to attend to for the Powerscourt estate, but he’d told her he’d look in on her before he went back to Nodding Knoll. Upon his first arrival, Lissa had profusely apologized for giving her sister and brother-in-law such a scare. She had then cabled Evvie to assure her herself that she was all right. She’d written her sister a letter or two since, and though she ached to see her again, Lissa vowed,
especially now, not to return to Violet Croft until all was settled with the marquis.

“Holland, do tell Evvie how much I miss her, will you?” Lissa said while they sat in Harewood’s drawing room. “And tell her I’m planning to return to Nodding Knoll soon.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me in the morning?” Holland asked as if sensing her rather melancholy mood.

“No, thank you. I shall come back on my own—when I’m ready.”

“Well . . . if you forgive me, I must be off.” He rose. “I certainly understand your reluctance to leave London. Lady Kovel has been too generous. We’ll always be indebted to her for taking you under her wing.”

“Yes, she is truly wonderful.” Lissa smiled. Antonia was the truest friend she had ever known. No matter what happened with Ivan, she would treasure her and the Kovels’ acquaintance forever.

“I hope you continue to have a grand time. You deserve it, Lissa.”

She looked up at Holland as she walked him to the drawing room doors. “Tell Evvie I’m making brilliant social conquests, will you?” She laughed. “Even if you are stretching the truth, I want her to think so.”

He stopped by the doors. “I’m sure it’s no lie, Lissa. You look lovely tonight. I’ll describe every detail to Evvie.” He studied her a moment, then motioned to the wreath of flowers in her hair. “I’ve never seen such roses—they appear almost lavender.”

“Kovel grows them,” she said lightly. “He’s quite a horticulturist, I’ve come to find. He’s got an entire greenhouse full of unusual specimens. These little beauties”—she touched the wreath—“grow only at Harewood.”

“Fascinating.” Holland smiled. “Perhaps Evvie shall come to London and be invited to tour Kovel’s greenhouse. I’m sure the scents would please her immensely.”

“That would be wonderful. When she’s settled at the bailiff’s house, we must do it.”

“Good-bye, then, Lissa.” Holland kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I leave you in Lady Kovel’s capable hands. Write soon and tell us of your triumphs.”

“I will,” she said wryly, wondering if any triumphs would ever await her.

Anxiously she watched Holland quit the drawing room. When he had gone, her thoughts turned once more upon Ivan. It was a bold move to go galloping off to his house. Did she dare? Did she have the courage? She desperately wanted to speak with him, yet now her bravery seemed to be failing her.