Angel in Scarlet (23 page)

“We
have
met,” he said. “I can tell by the way you look at me.”

“Maybe we have,” I admitted. My voice was cool as ice.

“And—yes, and you were very impudent to me. I'm beginning to remember,” he told me. “It wasn't in London. It was in the country, and I was sitting on my horse and—help me, lass.”

“I'm trying to eat, Lord Meredith.”

“There! You do know me. I didn't use my title just now. I seem to remember a small park—no, a green, and there was a cannon and you were sitting on a bench, it seems, and—yes, I have it now.”

“Bully for you,” I said. I took a bite of my drumstick, pretending to ignore him.

“Angie. Angie Howard. The schoolmaster's daughter. Of course. His widow runs this place. I remember it all now. You were with your little friend and I tried to be friendly and you told me to go sod myself.”

“Why don't you?” I suggested.

Clinton Meredith smiled then, and oh, it was a wonderful smile, the kind of smile that would melt any woman's heart if she didn't know him for the arrogant, superior sod he was. It curled beautifully on those chiseled pink lips, and his gray eyes were full of amusement as he pulled a chair over and seated himself at the table. I glared at him, my cheeks coloring.

“I didn't invite you to sit down, sir!”

“I know. I took it upon myself. Always was impetuous.”

“I told you—I'm trying to eat.”

“I'll join you,” he said.

And he reached across the table and took one of the drumsticks off my plate and began to eat it, tearing the meat from the bone with strong white teeth. I was mortally offended, so incensed I couldn't speak. Stunned, I watched him devour the drumstick, and when he finished he laid the bone neatly back on the plate, gave me a questioning look, hesitated just a moment and then took the remaining drumstick and devoured that, too. Furious, I handed him the napkin, and he wiped his fingers, ever so dainty.

“Delicious,” he declared.

“See that man over there?” I said.

“Which one?”

“The big, strong footman in blue velvet and powdered wig. If you don't get up from this table and leave me alone in precisely ten seconds I'm going to yell at the top of my lungs and he'll come over here and beat the bejesus out of you. Ten seconds. One. Two. Three—”

“You mean Blake?” he asked. “Blake's a good chum of mine. I tip him five pounds every time I come in. I shouldn't count on his rushing to the rescue, Angie. More than likely he'd report you for being disrespectful to one of the paying customers.”

“My name is Angela. No one's called me Angie in years.”

“I'm not such a bad chap, Angela. Really I'm not. I enjoy the company of beautiful women, true, but is that such a crime?”

“I know all about you and women,” I told him.

“Indeed?”

“It was an open scandal years ago, and I don't imagine you've improved any with age.”

“On the contrary, I've improved a great deal. I could give you any number of references.”

He reached across the table again, deftly slid the plate of cake over and began to eat it with the fork Bennett had provided. I couldn't believe it. He smiled and took another big bite and shook his head slightly, indicating his delight. I longed to slap him. I watched in silent fury as he ate every bite of it and scraped dabs of icing up with the fork and licked it off the tines. His impudence knew no bounds.

“Magnificent,” he said. “My compliments to the chef.”

“That was
my
cake, you son of a bitch.”

“Sorry. It looked so tempting I couldn't resist.”

“Just what are you trying to prove, Lord Meredith?” I asked in my haughtiest voice. “That you're a complete and total ass? If so, you've succeeded beyond your wildest expectations.”

“You know,” he said, “you have a unique distinction, Angela.”

“What's that?”

“You have the distinction of being the only girl who's ever told me to go sod myself. Most of them find me pleasant, even charming. Some of them actually enjoy being with me.”

“And live to regret it, no doubt.”

He smiled again, and oh yes, it was a wonderful smile. Lord Clinton Meredith exuded provocative charm, could probably charm the birds off the trees if he had a mind to, but this particular bird wasn't about to tumble for that husky, honeyed voice, those drooping eyelids, that wonderful smile. I finished the drumstick I'd been holding all this time and then ate the rest of my asparagus, pretending he wasn't there. I could feel him watching me, and that didn't help one bit. I found it quite difficult to swallow, but I ate it all nevertheless, and then I poured another cup of coffee.

“I find you an immense challenge,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Indeed I do. Years ago when you were—what? Fourteen? Fifteen?—You were a challenge then, too, and I remember being quite put out that I had been rebuffed by a mere village girl. A skinny one at that. For a couple of weeks afterwards I entertained the idea of tracing you down and nabbing you and making you pay for your impudence, but I gave it up.”

“How noble of you,” I said.

“I kept thinking about you, though. I thought about you a great deal. I couldn't get you out of my mind for weeks on end. And then I walk in here tonight and see you again—no longer a skinny adolescent with gorgeous hair and lovely violet-gray eyes, but, instead, a superbly beautiful woman.”

Lord, he did have a lying, flattering tongue on him, I thought. He almost made you believe you
were
beautiful. I took a sip of coffee, not in the least moved by his persuasive lies. Women must fall for him like dominoes in a row, helpless in the warmth of that charm and allure. There were a lot of very silly women in the world, I reflected.

“Why don't we settle this amicably?” he suggested.

“There's nothing to settle,” I told him.

“We'll go up to one of the private rooms. The going rate is—what? Ten pounds? I'll give you twenty.”

I could feel the color burning on my cheeks again, and I stood up abruptly, gazing at him with pure loathing.

“I'm not for sale, Lord Meredith.”

He arched a brow. “Oh? I thought all Marie's girls were.”

“This one isn't, I can assure you.”

I marched across the lounge with all the dignity I could muster. When he called my name I didn't bother to turn around, and then I realized I was barefoot. I turned to see him smiling again, dangling the two silver shoes from his fingertips. I marched back and took them from him and put them on, balancing myself with one palm resting on the tabletop. He got his eye full when I leaned down, he did.

“You haven't seen the last of me, Angela,” he promised.

“Go—”

“Sod myself?”

“Go to hell!”

Somehow I managed to make it back upstairs. I paused for a moment at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath and wondered how I could possibly get through the rest of the evening. I took another deep breath and tried to stop the angry trembling inside, and then I went back over to the table and thanked Tess for filling in for me and smiled at the men and took the seat Tess vacated. I dealt the cards and made pleasant remarks and the men were happy, but I was in agony, certain Clinton would appear at any moment and take a seat and continue to taunt me. An hour passed, two, and I thought I saw a glimpse of him going over to Betty's table, but the room was so crowded I couldn't be sure. He was dreadful, dreadful, even more dreadful than I recalled, and I detested him thoroughly. For what he was. For … for what he had done to Hugh as well. I hadn't forgotten that, either. Not for a moment.

I was invited upstairs three more times, and each time I put the man off with a pleasant quip that gave no offense, and I earned another twenty pounds in tips. I was growing very tired, and I had to force my smiles, had to concentrate hard in order not to make mistakes with the cards. The candles were beginning to sputter. The noise was beginning to grate on my nerves. Sometime around one I happened to glance up and see Marie standing at the door of her office, deep in conversation with a tall blond man in sky blue satin, and yes, it was Lord Meredith, all right. Marie wasn't smiling. Neither was he. He said something and she glanced over at my table, and then she led him into her office and closed the door. Sod them both, I told myself. I didn't
care
what he told her, but my hands shook slightly as I cut the cards, and I couldn't remember how many cards I was to deal to whom.

At last, at long last, customers began to leave, and finally I was alone at the table, exhausted, gazing at the cards and the empty glasses. Tess and Betty were having a glass of champagne at the next table, discussing the evening's events, and Judy was rubbing the back of her neck and telling them all about her tryst upstairs with “that dreadful Lord Duff.” Bloke wanted to eat
oysters
and they sat there on the sofa and he stroked her leg and ate oysters and had a dandy time and tipped her lavishly, he did, for nothing but her company, easiest money she ever made. Sonya came over and told me I looked like I'd been through a war. I managed a weak smile and she patted my hand lightly and said I'd done a smashing job.

The girls drifted away to change into their street clothes and the maids came in and the great chandeliers were let down almost to the floor, the candles put out. A few were left burning in the wall sconces, and the huge room was dim, spread with shadows. I sighed and put my shoes back on and stood up. My head was aching terribly, and there was a pain in the small of my back. I might as well get it over with, I told myself. No sense waiting for Marie to come to me. Wearily, I went to the door of her office. Blake and Reed stood guard on either side of it, so I knew she must be counting tonight's take. I opened the door and went inside anyway, and there she was at her desk, separating stacks of bills, stacking gold pieces in neat piles.

She looked up, and I expected those green eyes to narrow when she saw me, expected those red lips to tighten. They didn't. She looked at me as though she were seeing me for the very first time and then like she wasn't seeing me at all, seeing something else instead, lost in thought. After a moment or so she frowned and shook her head and looked at me again, carefully, critically. The frown deepened.

“I've been blind,” she said to herself. “Blind.”

“I hope you're satisfied,” I said. “I
told
you I didn't want to do it. I don't know what he might have said to you, but—”

I cut myself short. She sighed again, and her lips did tighten up then. She looked irritated, the Marie I knew.

“I'm extremely busy, Angela, as you can see.”

“I'm not ever going to work one of the tables again,” I told her.

“I agree,” she said. “It would be a waste.”

“I'm going to keep all my tips, too,” I said defiantly.

“That's the standard practice,” she replied, and although her voice was crisp, as usual, it wasn't angry. “You look tired, Angela. Go on up to bed. We'll talk later.”

I was extremely puzzled as I went upstairs and removed the detested silver shoes and gown. Expected her to tear into me with a vengeance, I had, and she'd been … almost absentminded. Maybe Clinton Meredith hadn't tattled on me after all. Maybe they'd talked about something else when they went into her office. I took the fifty-five pounds I'd received in tips and slipped them between the pages of Captain Johnson's book for safekeeping. They would come in handy when I finally left this place. I'd be able to help Megan with the rent right away, and I'd have enough to live on until I found employment, in case Dorothea Gibbons couldn't use me. Utterly exhausted, I got into bed, and I was sound asleep in no time at all.

While it was clearly beyond her to be kind, Marie was unusually considerate of me during the next three days. She didn't snap. She didn't complain. She didn't criticize my work. Didn't make me work nearly as hard either, and when she
did
have me do some chore, she always re
quest
ed I do it and smiled a tight, fake smile that made me uneasy as all get out. Had me completely baffled, it did. Wasn't like her at all. People in novels might undergo sudden transformations of character, but it didn't happen that way in real life. My stepmother was a shrewd, calculating old harridan, fond of nothing but money, and I was convinced she had an ulterior motive. Did she think she could soften me up and get me to run one of the tables every night? That must be it, I decided, and I kept waiting for her to bring it up.

Shortly after noon on Saturday a footman from one of the finest shops in London arrived at the front door, carrying a number of large white boxes, and I was startled when Marie told one of the servants to take the boxes up to my room. Marie saw the puzzlement in my eyes, and she smiled her fake smile and reached up to pat her vivid red curls.

“Some new clothes,” she told me. “We're going to have a guest for dinner tonight, Angela, and I decided you really had nothing appropriate to wear. I want you to look your best.”

“A guest?” I inquired.

“A—friend of the family, you might say. Someone who is very interested in your welfare. After seeing you at the table the other night, I decided this—really wasn't the proper atmosphere for you, and this friend will help find you—another position, one more suitable.”

“I don't understand,” I said. “Who is ‘this friend'?”

“You needn't bother your head about it just now,” she said. “We're going to close a bit early tonight, and we'll dine at twelve. Take the rest of the day off. Relax. Have a long nap. I want you to sparkle tonight.”

I was even more puzzled, and I was suspicious, too, but I had to admit I was excited when I opened the boxes and saw the new clothes. I never had anything anywhere near as fine as these. They must have cost Marie a huge chunk of money, I thought, and that made me suspicious, too—she never spent a penny without good cause. She wanted me to look my best. She wanted me to sparkle. Something was up. I was extremely curious about this mysterious friend and wondered just what kind of “position” he intended to help me find. Was I to be hired out as a governess? It would certainly be far more suitable than working at Marie's Place, and I was undoubtedly qualified after years of private schooling from my father, but somehow I doubted that was what Marie had in mind. No profit for her in something like that. Well, I would just have to wait, and in the meantime it was lovely to have the day off.