Devall's Angel by Allison Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

conversation proved to be simple – ritualized greetings followed by repetition of the day’s on-dits . But her own contributions were negligible. Carriages stopped on Atwater’s side of the phaeton, and he invariably answered for her, not allowing her to get a word in edgewise.
    She soon gave up trying, turning her attention to the horsemen and pedestrians who approached on her side. These included several gentlemen who had danced with her at her ball. Most had adhered to custom by sending round nosegays that morning. Chatting with her in the park was probably another custom. She bit back a sigh at the realization that even here, everyone’s behavior followed a ritual as formal and meaningless as the advance and retreat of a cotillion.
    Perhaps her mother was right to criticize her training – though it was the woman’s own fault that she’d never had a governess. Sharing Andrew’s tutors had opened her mind to ideas entertained only by men. When Andrew had left for school at the very advanced age of sixteen, Angela had continued studying on her own, using their father’s library as her teacher. Lady Forley had visited the Court as rarely as possible and had ignored her children even when she was there. But such a background left Angela feeling out of place in the world of the ton. No matter how she tried to conform, she was different. Thus her criteria for choosing a husband were also different. She had to dig beneath gentlemen’s facades if she was to find a man she could live with.
    Garwood arrived while Atwater was flirting with Lady Jersey. “Lady Seaton seems strained,” he noted after the ritual greeting.
    “She has reason to be.”
    The lady was laughing with a pair of officers, but the lines around her eyes did not denote gaiety, and she sat her horse like a wooden statue.
    Angela’s maid had been bursting with the tale that morning. Lord Seaton was a well-known rake who had carelessly been discovered en flagrante by his current inamorata’s husband. A duel was inevitable. Lady Seaton must have heard the news.
    Garwood shook his head. “She knew his reputation when she married him, so she can hardly complain.”
    “Perhaps she thought to reform him.”
    He laughed. “More fool she. He is incorrigible – not that any gentleman is likely to change his habits for a wife. If she wanted fidelity, she should have chosen a husband who believed in it.”
    Angela nodded, but made no further comment.
    Atwater bade Lady Jersey farewell and glanced coolly at Garwood before moving the phaeton forward. He started to speak, but was interrupted by Lord Styles, followed by the Bradbury sisters, then Lady Delaney and her daughter.
    Angela tired of the repetitious conversation long before they completed their circuit of the park. The voices kept changing, but the same words echoed from all sides.
    “Lady Chesbrooke and Lady Fullerton had another falling out last night…”
    “… and then Delaney upset the table – accidentally, of course – but poor Williamson spilled wine all over his…”
    “Shelford is thinking of trying his grays against the London-to-Dover record…”
    “If Mr. Conelaugh thinks he can slip into the garden with…”
    “Mademoiselle Jeanette is the best modiste you have ever found?”
    “I cannot believe Lord Seaton…”
    “… Lady Jenkins lost a hundred guineas at loo, of all things…”
    The fashionable hour was merely an extension of the drawing room – the same faces, the same gossip. Only the addition of horses and carriages made it different. As Atwater turned toward the gates, Angela exchanged one last nod with another departing lady.
    “Devil take it, didn’t your mother teach you anything?” Atwater glared. “That was Lady Shelby.”
    “Who is she?”
    “A person to be cut.”
    “Why?”
    He shook his head. “Such innocence. You needn’t bother your pretty head over it. But ignore her from now on.” His condescension irritated her, but she could not find the