Devall's Angel by Allison Lane Read Free Book Online

sure to encourage him,” Lady Forley ordered. “Compliment his dress, his manners, his ideas. Show him that he is the most wonderful man in existence. Never contradict him. And above all, do not allow him to suspect that you read all those horrid books. Should he discover your faults, he will flee.”
    “Yes, Mother,” she replied automatically, not caring who they discussed.
    “Your Season will be a failure unless you find a wealthy, titled husband to care for you in the future.”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    “Ignore anyone below your own rank. Marrying down will destroy you.”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    “What a glorious return to town! Imagine seeing dear Henry again! Lord Styles,” she corrected herself when Angela raised a quizzical brow. “He was one of my most persistent suitors, though ineligible at the time, for he was merely a younger son. His brother died ten years ago, having sired six daughters but no heir. You will like him, I know, for I always found him delightfully entertaining. I expect his daughters will become your closest friends…”
    Letting the voice wash over her, Angela stifled another sigh. Lady Forley had never understood her daughter. Angela had barely exchanged two words with Lord Styles, so could hardly judge him, but the daughters were two of the most feather-brained idiots she had ever encountered. Expecting them to become bosom bows was ludicrous. The only less likely event would be falling top over tail in love with the infamous Lord Blackthorn.
    She shivered.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Angela perched nervously on the high seat of Atwater’s phaeton as they swayed around the corner and into Hyde Park. He seemed an adequate whip, but his was the least stable variety of carriage, and it was all she could do to remain calm. At least his dappled grays did not appear to be high-strung.
    Unclenching her hands, she forced them to lie quietly in her lap. Unclenching her teeth was more difficult. He had been dumping the butter boat over her head since arriving at Clifford Street. Ignoring his excess did nothing to slow him down. How could he utter such fustian with a straight face? Surely he didn’t expect her to believe it! Praise for attributes she neither possessed nor admired was yet another cross she had to bear.
    London was far different from her expectations, demanding contradictory behavior at every turn. Truth was prized, yet gentlemen uttered false flattery that ladies had to accept. Honesty was lauded, yet even men hid educations behind fatuous facades. Women were allowed no independent thought.
    She suppressed a sigh, pasting a smile on her face. Society expected her to be untutored, and she had promised to follow convention. Since she was hiding her education, she could hardly complain that Atwater treated her like a widgeon. But if he preferred an empty-headed wife, then he would never do as a husband. So how was she to discover what he truly prized? Even as she groped for words that would begin an honest discussion without branding her as a bluestocking, the opportunity slipped away.
    Obviously Atwater did not expect this drive to improve their acquaintance. Once they passed the gates, he all but ignored her. He was immensely popular. Every lady stopped to chat with him, from the venerable Lady Beatrice to newly presented misses. Most flirted shamelessly. But he was not merely a lady’s man. Gentlemen hailed him as well.
    Angela soon gave up trying to talk to him, turning her attention to the view. It was her first afternoon visit to Hyde Park. During her early morning rides, the place offered the solitude and spaciousness that eased her longing for home. Now crowds stripped it of familiarity, creating as big a squeeze as last night’s ball.
    The fashionable hour was at its peak. Elegant equipage clogged the road, from a tiny vis-à-vis to handsome landaus, from flashy phaetons to dashing curricles. Gentlemen atop showy horses snaked between them. Others paraded on foot.
    Park