Fallen Angel (46 page)

Thoughtfully, she removed a lace-edged handkerchief from the top drawer of a tall ivory inlaid rosewood dresser which stood against the wall. It had been some time since she had examined the favours which had fallen to her lot on Christmas day. She touched each one reverently, remembering with vivid recall, the last meal she had shared with her father and how it had been he who had given her the angel—a slightly tarnished angel—into her safekeeping.

Superstition, of course. It was only coincidence that events had turned out as the Christmas favours had predicted. She touched her finger gently to the small silver trinkets which lay in the palm of one hand—the angel, the baby, the ring. Only, she did not have a ring.

She was married to Deveryn. He would not have said so if it had been otherwise. And she knew that before she could go to him with a free heart, she would have to put behind her forever the unhappy circumstances of their past.

Another soft sigh fell from her lips. She folded the trinkets into the handkerchief and replaced it in the drawer. She shut the drawer and thought that the action was symbolic. She
would try, no, she must shut the door on the past—on Drumoak, on Cynthia Sinclair, on her father, on her jealousy—if her marriage to Deveryn was to have any chance of success. She was beginning a new life. The seed of that new life was already in her body. Her child. Deveryn's child.

Sleep was impossible. Restlessly, she roamed the room, unconsciously running her fingers through her hair. She halted in front of the looking glass on the dressing table, and stared at herself for a long moment. With unblinking eyes, she tried to penetrate the depths of the fathomless dark eyes of the girl reflected in the mirror. Maddie Sinclair, she acknowledged, was a mass of contradictions. Even to herself, she was an enigma. There was no explanation for how, against honour, against logic, against her own will she had tumbled into love from the moment she had walked into a stranger's arms on a stormy night outside Inverforth's parish church.

Deveryn. She had wanted to hate him. It had been beyond her power. She had discovered that at Dunsdale. And though she did not think they had one thing in common, one mutual interest, one compatible characteristic, she knew beyond doubt that he was as irresistibly drawn to her as she was to him. It was a mystery she could not plumb.

Absently, she touched her fingers to the crystal bowl on her dressing table. Brittle. She felt as brittle as the glass beneath her fingers. She thought that it would take very little to shatter her into a thousand slivers that could never be restored. He could break her very easily if he chose to. And she would be a fool to let him see the extent of his power.

She shivered and turned back to the bed. He would come for her on Monday. She would tell him about the baby.
Everything will be fine, everything will be fine.
She repeated the words over and over, like a litany, trying in vain to lull herself to sleep.

On Monday morning, Maddie waited in trepidation for the summons that would call her to the drawing room and Deveryn. She expected him to be annoyed when he heard that her grandfather was not at home. She herself had been less than happy when her aunt had told her at the breakfast table that he'd gone off, on impulse, with Lord Yarmouth to look over the contents of a house near Canterbury which had just come up for auction.

"When is he expected back?" she'd asked, unable to keep the note of alarm from her voice.

Her aunt had been engrossed in reading the latest stack of invitations which had just arrived by morning post. "Who can say?" she'd answered idly. "Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day."

Maddie tried to tell herself that a day's delay was a minor irritation, and one, moreover, for which she was not responsible.

Nevertheless, when she walked into the drawing room, she could not prevent herself from flinching when she came under Deveryn's turbulent eyes.

"Get a warm pelisse," he told her harshly. "We're going for a drive."

"My grandfather isn't . . ."

"I know where your grandfather is," he cut her off with a show of impatience. "I met Lord Hertford last evening in my mother's house. They're neighbors."

"Lord Hertford?"

"The marquess. He's Yarmouth's father. He told me that he'd gone with your grandfather to Canterbury. Now get that pelisse and leave word that you're going for a drive to Richmond. That gives us at least an hour."

Within five minutes, Deveryn was handing her into his curricle. In another few minutes, Maddie knew that their destination was not Richmond. The curricle came out onto Wigmore Street and turned east then north.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked in an undertone, keeping her voice low so that Deveryn's groom, perched up behind, could not hear their conversation.

Deveryn smiled in that way which always made Maddie fear the worst. "For a walk in the country," he returned with no attempt to keep their conversation private. "It's a nice day for some exercise."

Within another five minutes, Deveryn was checking his team of horses at the end of a country lane. He assisted Maddie to alight, and signaled the groom to take over the ribbons. The groom saluted his employer and drove off at a spanking pace.

"Now, we can talk," said Deveryn, and with a firm hand he led her to a gap in the privet hedge which bordered the lane.

"How shall we get home?" she asked with a backward look at the disappearing curricle.

"My man has instructions to return within the hour. Watch your step."

She carefully avoided a puddle as she negotiated her way through the hedge. She looked about her and came to a halt. A small, two storey, whitewashed house with a thatched roof nestled invitingly in the middle of an orchard. From the tall chimney, the wind caught a curl of smoke and drew it playfully into a frothy wake.

Deveryn's hand urged her forward. "Don't be shy," he said. "There's no one about."

"This . . . can't be proper," she protested weakly.

They entered the unpretentious building by the back door. "What's proper between a man and his wife?" Already his hands were at the fastenings of her pelisse and he was drawing it from her shoulders. "As I told you at Carlton House, I've already had confirmation from your solicitor that we are positively, indubitably, irrevocably married. I have every right to be alone with you. We have an hour, and I for one, don't intend to waste a minute of it."

He had taken her by the hand and was half-leading half- dragging her up the narrow, steep staircase. Before they reached the top, it came to her what Deveryn's purpose was. She dug in her heels and brought him to a standstill.

"Deveryn," she said, her voice tight. "I don't wish to go any farther."

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when an arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her head was tipped back and her bonnet deftly removed and sent sailing over the balustrade.

"I thought you might be difficult," he said on a soft laugh, his warm breath fanning her hair. "It's up to you. You can come with me now, this minute, openly, as my wife, to my lodgings in Jermyn Street, or we can discreetly play out this farce until your grandfather returns and I can explain our situation. Either way, Maddie, I intend to have some time alone with you."

Her assent was taken for granted, for he grasped her hand and moved ahead, and like an idiot, thought Maddie, she followed without a murmur.

They came onto a small landing. Deveryn opened a door and stood back for her to enter. She hesitated.

"Maddie," he said, brushing her hair with his lips, "give me some credit. I've kept my distance for two whole weeks until I knew for certain that we were wed. Perhaps it was wrong of me to insist on my conjugal fights when we were at Dunsdale, knowing as I did how upset you were at our situation. Try to understand how I felt. I had my wife living under my own roof. How could I possibly have been expected to keep away from you? And when you spurned me, naturally I was angry. Whilst I needed you so damn much, you could turn me away without a flicker of regret. I behaved abominably. You have my apologies, though I'd probably do the same again. But now, to be "told that your grandfather has gone off for an indeterminate number of days is more than I am willing to tolerate. An hour of my wife's time surely isn't too much to ask?"

There it was again, that amused tolerance which she so much detested. 'There's more to marriage than bed, Deveryn," she said with a flash of temper and smacked her reticule against the hard muscles of his abdomen. He grunted and released her. She stepped into the room.

Maddie took one look and sucked in her breath. Deveryn, at her back, emitted a strangled, "Oh my God," then burst into laughter.

The room was done in purple and crimson, the walls draped with heavy damask to give the effect of an Eastern potentate's palace. Gilt-edged mirrors were everywhere, but it was the one on the ceiling strategically placed above the enormous purple satin draped bed which had Maggie's eyes round with astonishment. Her mouth gaped, then closed, and finally drew into a thin line. She turned her stormy gaze upon Deveryn's carefully impassive countenance.

"A love nest," she purred, dangerously calm.

He threw up both hands in a placating gesture. 'This is not my house, I swear it. I borrowed it from a friend. He might have told me what to expect."

"Don't you have a love nest, Deveryn?" she inquired, her voice coated with sugar.

He flashed her a taunting smile. "No," he replied emphatically. "I decided when I returned from Scotland that I had no more use for it. Besides, I was almost never there. It lay empty for almost a year. 'Love nests' mean long term arrangements. They've never been my style. Does that satisfy your wifely curiosity?" He closed the door softly behind him and propelled her forward into the centre of the room.

He wandered around examining first one thing, then another, and finally moved to the bed where he stretched full length on top of the luxurious feather mattress. Locking his hands behind his head, he watched Maddie curiously.

She was standing where he'd left her, in the centre of the room, motionless, her head tilted up, gazing steadfastly at the mirror on the ceiling. With a sudden flurry of movements, she came to life and began to strip the gloves from her fingers.

"Fine! Fine!" she muttered under her breath. "Why am I surprised?" and she crossed to the dressing table in three angry strides. She slapped her reticule and gloves on the cluttered top, scattering a swansdown powder puff and several small black beauty patches. Maddie left them where they fell, her temper in no way improved by these relics of another lady's occupancy. She turned on her heel to stare at the man whose brilliant blue eyes mocked her so patently. He was idly surveying her from beneath half-hooded eyes.

Her own eyes heated and sent sparks shooting at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she demanded. "Let's get it over with. I haven't got all day," and she stalked to the Oriental silk screen which stood, for some odd reason, a good six feet from the wall. Her fingers began to fumble impatiently with the tiny row of buttons on her bodice, slipping them quickly from their button holes till the bodice gaped open. Angrily, she dragged the hem of her brown kerseymere frock over her head, unwisely forgetting to undo the buttons on the cuffs of the long-sleeved gown. In a matter of seconds she was in a hopeless, smothering tangle of folds and cursing vehemently as she tried to fight her way free of the morass of constricting fabric.

It was Deveryn who extricated her from her unhappy predicament. "Hold still," he said between laughter and delight, and skillfully slipped the buttons which impeded her movements.

Her cheeks were flaming when she finally dragged the frock over her head. "Thank you," she said between her teeth.

Deveryn sauntered away and Maddie threw her frock over the top of the screen. After a moment she took a quick peak at Deveryn. He had retired to the bed where he reclined at his ease, an indolent smile of expectation playing across his handsome face. He hadn't so much as removed his neckcloth. She gritted her teeth together and began on the strings of her stays. The edges parted and Maddie pulled the garment over her head. The fine lawn chemise was similarly dealt with. She was down to her drawers. Her actions were meant to be a calculated insult and she refused to draw back so late in the game. She stifled her pangs of modesty and shimmied out of the drawers. Only then did she look around for a robe or a towel to cover her nakedness. Unfortunately, there was nothing. A movement caught her eyes and she looked up. She bit back a moan of mortification when she caught sight of herself reflected from various angles in the several mirrors around the room. But it was Deveryn's image which covered her with chagrin. He was cooly taking advantage of every view that was presented. She cupped her breasts and with a cry of rage swooped around the screen. Little angry puffs of breath fanned her lips.