The Angel and the Aristocrat by Merry Farmer

Chapter 10

In order to maintain what she claimed was authenticity—though Angeline had her doubts on that score—Miss Julia had insisted they stage that Wednesday’s dramatics in a hastily-constructed outdoor theater at the corner of the rose garden. That meant that the entire thing had to be staged before supper rather than after, which meant Angeline had hardly any time to plan a scheme to get rid of Lady Farrah.

“The woman is mercenary, but she’s desperate,” Angeline told Olive as they applied their stage make-up in a tent that had been set up to serve as the ladies’ dressing room behind the dais where the play would be performed. “She’s barely spoken to anyone since arriving this morning, and she refuses to leave unless Rafe goes with her, which he absolutely will not do.”

“I take it that Lord Rothbury has a decided reason to stay?” Melanie asked, coming up to the mirror beside her and Olive, raising one eyebrow at Angeline’s reflection.

Angeline broke into giggles, her face heating so much that she wouldn’t need rouge for the performance. She turned away from the table and faced her friends. “Rafe proposed to me in the most romantic and glorious and scandalous way in the hedge maze this morning.”

“That’s wonderful for you,” Olive said.

Melanie smiled, but crossed her arms and stared pointedly at Angeline, turning her smile into a bit of a smirk. “He didn’t propose too scandalously, I hope.”

“Oh, no,” Angeline waved off her friend’s concern. “The truly scandalous part was last night. It was the truly wonderful part too.”

“You didn’t,” Olive gasped.

“Of course, I did,” Angeline replied with pretend haughtiness. She then burst into giggles. “And it was glorious. Every expectation I had was exceeded. I recommend that the two of you find yourself a man to thoroughly bed you as quickly as possible.”

Melanie laughed out loud, then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking particularly guilty, and turned away.

For a moment, Angeline was tempted to ask if her American friend had already landed herself in a scandalous position. Angeline hadn’t noticed her paying special attention to any one of the male house party guests. In fact, she thought she’d spotted Melanie speaking with Avery’s valet more often than anyone else. But the secrets of her friends’ romances were less important at the moment than convincing Lady Farrah to go away and never darken Rafe’s doorstep again.

“I suppose, since she is desperate, the only effective way to convince Lady Farrah to give up her pursuit of Rafe would be if she found herself engaged to someone else,” Angeline said, turning back to the mirror to finish her make-up.

“But who?” Olive asked. “If the woman is as arrogant as we’ve all seen her to be, and if she has her heart set on a marquess, anyone lower than a duke would never do for her.”

Angeline snapped straight and glanced from Olive to Melanie. “The duke,” she said. “Lord Cashingham. Lady Farrah would most certainly throw Rafe over for him.”

“But I have serious doubts about whether Lord Cashingham would consider engaging himself to a woman who only just arrived mere hours after meeting her,” Melanie said. “No one is that much of an idiot.”

“Well, Mr. Howard might be,” Melanie said with a smirk.

“Mr. Howard would definitely be foolish enough to engage himself to any woman who expressed an actual interest in him,” Angeline agreed. “Especially one as beautiful and well-connected as Lady Farrah. It’s only a pity that—”

Angeline stopped, her mouth hanging open. They couldn’t possibly pull a prank so horrible on Lady Farrah, could they? There was no possible chance that Mr. Howard would be able to play his part, let alone agree to subterfuge. Unless he knew what prize he stood to win if he played along.

“What if we had Mr. Howard pretend he was the duke?” Angeline asked.

“Have him pretend?” Olive looked at Angeline as though she’d gone mad.

“He’s playing the part of Simo in the play,” Angeline reasoned. “We could tell him we’ve decided to modernize the setting of Terence’s comedy to reflect our current situation and that we’re calling Simo a duke. Mr. Howard has been so enamored of his part that he’ll strut around pretending he’s a duke all evening. And I believe Lady Farrah would succumb to his advances out of sheer desperation, once they were made.”

“But what will happen when she finds out he isn’t a duke?” Melanie asked. “She’ll cry off, saying she agreed to marriage under false pretenses.”

“Will she say that when she realizes Mr. Howard is worth over a hundred thousand a year?”

The other two looked suddenly convinced of the idea. The three of them exchanged smiles.

“It’s definitely worth the attempt,” Olive said.

“Then let’s put the plan into motion,” Angeline said. “I will fetch Lady Farrah and convince her to join the theatrics. You two find Mr. Howard and tell him Lady Farrah’s plight as generally as possible, and convince him to propose as soon as the curtain falls.”

“You do realize this is sheer madness,” Melanie said as the three of them headed out of the ladies’ tent to begin their missions.

“Of course, it is.” Angeline smiled. “But that is what house parties are for.”

The three of them shared a laugh, then went on their ways. Angeline wasn’t certain she should have been wandering back up to the house dressed like a Roman housewife, but the circumstances required boldness.

No sooner did she set foot in the house when she encountered Rafe. Immediately, her heart lifted, and she ran to him.

“Darling,” she said, nearly throwing herself into his arms and lifting to her toes for a quick kiss. The kiss left a bit of her lip rouge on his lips, but that only warmed her heart. “Did you speak to Avery?”

“I did,” Rafe reported with one of the smiles she had worked so hard to drag from him. “And I am pleased to report that he has given his consent.”

Angeline practically squealed with glee. She threw her arms over his shoulders and would have jumped into his arms like a child if she thought she was capable of it in her current state of dress.

“I’ve insisted we marry with all haste,” Rafe went on, “to prove my seriousness. Your brother agreed, and he has plans to announce our engagement at the end of this ridiculous comedy Lady Fangfoss is insisting you all make fools of yourselves over.”

“Oh, Rafe, that is simply lovely.” Angeline kissed him one more time. “But I have my end of the bargain to uphold. I must find Lady Farrah at once. With any luck, ours won’t be the only engagement announced at the end of the play.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rafe stared at her as though she’d grown another head.

“You’ll see,” Angeline said, then dashed off in search of Lady Farrah.

She found Lady Farrah ensconced in the hyacinth parlor, frowning over a book and holding a teacup that looked as though she had forgotten about entirely. The woman glanced up at Angeline with a peevish look as soon as she burst into the room, but that look soon transformed.

“Lady Farrah, you must come at once,” Angeline said, employing every bit of acting prowess she’d learned in her time at Twittingham Academy. “We are short one actress for a very important part in Andria, and we need you to play it.”

“I will not,” Lady Farrah said, tilting her chin up and putting down her book and teacup. “Theatrics are for children and whores.”

Angeline ignored her, dashing to the settee and grabbing Lady Farrah’s hand to help her to stand. “You must come,” she insisted. “The duke himself requested that you play the part of Glycerium.” Lady Farrah didn’t need to know that, while Glycerium was spoken of frequently throughout the play, she never once actually appeared on stage.

“The duke, you say?” Lady Farrah’s entire attitude changed in an instant. “There’s a duke at this house party?”

“There is,” Angeline said. “And he’s been ever so anxious to find a wife.” She managed to lead Lady Farrah out to the hallway, then decided to take an enormous gamble. “He hasn’t been pleased by any of the ladies in attendance at the party so far, but he noticed you this morning and declared that you were the bride for him.” It was silly, it was outlandish, and it was wildly improbable, but if Lady Farrah was as vain and as desperate as Angeline thought she was, and if she and her friends could manage to keep Lady Farrah dizzy until it was too late, perhaps there was a chance the whole mad plan could succeed.

“Oh, my.” Lady Farrah touched a hand to her belly, then seemed to realize what she’d done and lifted it to her heart. “A duke who fancied me at first sight.” They turned into the conservatory, heading for the doors that would lead outside. Lady Farrah blinked. “The duke of what?” she asked.

Angeline felt their plan slipping. “Um, the Duke of Howard?” she suggested, hoping she didn’t sound too daft.

“Howard,” Lady Farrah whispered the name. “Howard. Howard. Why does that name sound familiar?”

Angeline swallowed. “Because it belongs to a duke?”

Lady Farrah didn’t answer her ridiculous assumption. Angeline made certain there wasn’t time. She grabbed hold of Lady Farrah’s hand and rushed her across the yard to the ladies’ tent behind the stage. Once they were there, she and her friends rushed to change the woman out of her afternoon dress and into one of the costume togas. Lady Farrah fussed and frowned the whole time, but, miraculously, allowed herself to be swept into the drama.

“How will I memorize my lines so quickly?” she asked as Angeline and the others pulled her away from the make-up table—where she’d spent an inordinate amount of time staring at her reflection and primping—toward the tent’s flap.

“We’re all performing with script in hand,” Melanie told her. “Since none of us has time to learn so many lines so quickly.”

“Oh, I see,” Lady Farrah glanced at her reflection one final time before they stepped out of the tent and into the space between the ladies’ tent and the gentlemen’s tent behind the dais.

Fortunately for everyone concerned, Mr. Howard had just stepped out of the gentlemen’s tent in all his regal, Roman attire.

“That’s him,” Angeline whispered to Lady Farrah.

She couldn’t have planned the moment better if she’d had a month to work on it. Lady Farrah stepped up to Mr. Howard and went straight into the most elegant curtsy Angeline had ever seen.

“Your grace,” Lady Farrah said with enough deference to address the Emperor of Japan.

“Oh, my, yes,” Mr. Howard said, lighting with excitement and admiration. “Yes, you will do perfectly. Arise, my dear.”

Lady Farrah stood from her curtsy and gave Mr. Howard the most charming smile the buffoon was ever likely to have received.

“What did you tell him?” Angeline whispered to Melanie.

“That Lady Farrah had heard all about his financial prowess and come all this way to offer herself in marriage to him,” Melanie whispered in return.

“That her family is one of the finest in London, and that they could improve his social standing to a degree that would give him status in addition to his wealth,” Olive added. “Which is precisely why he came to the house party looking for a bride.”

“And that she was eager to marry as quickly as possible,” Melanie finished, “so he’d better propose soon.”

“Places, everyone, places,” Miss Julia called out, marching through the backstage area. “We have a play to perform, then, as I understand it, we have an announcement to be made.” She looked directly at Angeline with an approving smile as she spoke.

“Lady Farrah, isn’t it?” Mr. Howard went on with this whirlwind courtship as they all scrambled to take a copy of the script from a nearby table and make their way to the makeshift wings. “Let us spend as much time as possible between our duties as thespians discussing arrangements of another sort.”

“I would like that, your grace,” Lady Farrah said.

For the first time in the history of her involvement in theatrics, Angeline regretted that she had such a large part. Out of necessity, she was forced to spend most of her time for the next hour on the stage, whether she had lines or not. It was maddening to only be able to catch a glimpse of Mr. Howard and Lady Farrah during scene changes and shifts in the action. Every time she noticed them, however, they had inched closer and closer together. As true as it was that the whole thing was a ruse, the two did seem to get along quite well.

Even though Angeline wasn’t privy to the action taking place behind the scenes, she was able to look out at the audience and see Rafe through the entire performance. That was all the prize she herself needed. Rafe seemed thoroughly diverted by the performance. He kept his hand in front of his mouth for most of her scenes—whether to stop himself from laughing or to hide his smile, which he couldn’t seem to lose, now that she’d won it from him, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she loved him. He was the perfect match for her, and whatever speech he’d made to Avery to convince him to allow the match, it must have been eloquent and magnificent. Avery sat by Rafe’s side—and for some reason, Frank Crymble was there in the audience as well, watching Melanie, of all people—and even though Avery didn’t look overjoyed, he did seem resigned.

At last, the play was over, and the entire cast took the stage for a bow. Including—much to Angeline’s astonishment and joy—Lady Farrah, who held Mr. Howard’s hand throughout the curtain call. Before the cast could go about their business, Miss Julia took the stage.

“Thank you for attending this afternoon’s performance,” she said with a beaming smile. “But before you go, Lord Rothbury and Lord O’Shea would like to make an announcement.”

The assembly applauded in anticipation of that announcement as Rafe and Avery rose to take the stage. Lady Farrah narrowed her eyes at Rafe, then at Angeline, her expression going sour as she guessed what the announcement might be. Mr. Howard leaned in and whispered something to her that seemed to improve her countenance immensely, though.

“I will keep this brief,” Avery said, with a bit of a sigh, once he reached the dais. “Lord Rothbury has asked for my sister, Lady Angeline’s hand in marriage, and I have consented.” Another round of applause rose up from the audience. “Furthermore,” Avery went on, “I have agreed to allow them to marry this coming weekend, which Lord Rothbury has assured me is a sign of his good faith and intention to go through with the wedding—” he peeked anxiously to Lady Farrah, who had her chin so high in the air that Angeline thought a strong rain would drown her, “and not because it means anything else,” Avery finished, glancing out at the audience, as if daring them to start rumors about reasons for haste.

Angeline blushed hot. “That wasn’t necessary,” she told Avery once he stepped back to her side.

“Considering the way I was manipulated into this match, I think it was,” Avery said, feigning frustration. Angeline knew it was feigned. Avery’s eyes sparkled too much for it to be otherwise. “And you’re certain this is what you want?” he asked.

“I most certainly am,” Angeline replied, hugging Rafe’s arm.

“Then I’m happy for you,” Avery sighed. “And in spite of my earlier reservations, I give you my blessing.”

Angeline let go of Rafe’s arm long enough to hug her brother. The joy spreading across the stage wasn’t quite done yet, though.

“As I understand it, we have another announcement as well,” Miss Julia went on.

“Indeed, we do,” Mr. Howard went on, stepping forward and bringing Lady Farrah with him. “For I have just proposed to the lovely Lady Farrah Beauregard, and miracle of miracles, she has consented to become my wife.”

Another round of applause followed. Lady Farrah preened and nodded and behaved as though she thought she were royalty.

“How lovely,” Miss Julia said. “I would like to offer my deepest congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Howard.”

“Mrs. Howard?” Lady Farrah said, her jaw dropping.

“And I would like to announce that I plan to take my new bride on a luxurious, around the world, grand tour, booking all of the most luxurious hotels and resorts and traveling in the very first of first-classes on every ship,” Mr. Howard added.

Lady Farrah blinked rapidly, her face coloring precipitously. Angeline thought the woman might be about to cry, but even if she were, she clung to Mr. Howard’s arm so tightly that, in spite of everything, Angeline was confident she’d done the right thing. Not only had Mr. Howard promised her a tour of the world in style, he’d given her a way to have her love child while on that tour in such a way that no one back home would bat too much of an eyelash when they returned with a baby. As far as Angeline was concerned, Lady Farrah had gotten extraordinarily lucky. When the peevish woman sent Angeline a look as the applause died down and they all left the dais, Angeline was convinced Lady Farrah knew full well what kind of a favor Angeline had done for her.

“And now,” Rafe murmured in Angeline’s ear as the audience headed back to the house and the actors to the changing tents, “I think it’s time we got you out of this silly costume.”

“Do you intend to be my dresser, Lord Rothbury?” Angeline asked with a teasing grin.

“I intend to be your undresser,” Rafe murmured against her ear. “Make an excuse and fetch your gown from the tent. Bring it back to your bedroom to change. I can guarantee you will like what you find there once you return.”

“Oh?” Angeline gasped.

Rafe’s answer was a wicked wink before he turned and walked off, heading swiftly back to the house.

“Oh!” Angeline giggled, turning and running for the tent.

She ducked and dodged her fellow actors, pushing past people without a heed for their safety, in order to fetch the clothes she’d arrived at the tent wearing before the performance. They were hung neatly on a rack attended by one of Miss Julia’s servants, but Angeline grabbed them and crushed them against her chest before dodging and stumbling her way back out of the tent.

“And just where are you going in such a hurry?” Melanie asked as Angeline zipped past her conversing with Mr. Crymble outside of the ladies’ tent.

“Back to my room,” Angeline said breathlessly. “I’ve been given to understand there’s a treat waiting there for me.” She hurried on, then paused and turned back, saying, “I might be a tad late to supper.”

Melanie laughed. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“I’ll return the favor, if you need it,” Angeline said before speeding on. That was what friends were for, after all. They helped each other get into trouble, and they helped each other stay out of it as well.

Angeline had an idea of what to expect once she returned to her room, but what she actually found was so glorious it made her laugh out loud. Rafe was already in her bed, completely nude, and stretched out like some sort of recumbent, Roman god. He had the bedcovers thrown back as well, and every line of his impressive physique was on display, including a particularly stiff and proud line.

“What would you have done if a maid had entered the room instead of me?” she asked in a whisper, locking her bedroom door behind her and scurrying to the bed. She threw her clothes clumsily on the chair by her fireplace, ignoring them when they dropped to the floor, and went straight to work unfastening her toga.

“I would have been extraordinarily embarrassed,” Rafe said, continuing to lounge as he watched her undress, hunger in his eyes. “But I wagered that most, if not all, of the maids would be busy helping deconstruct the impromptu stage or helping ladies change out of their sheets, and the likelihood of any of them being upstairs at all was slim.”

“I think you’re right,” Angeline said, slithering out of her costume. She thanked the Romans profusely for the simplicity of their style of dress as she stepped over the folds of fabric pooled around her feet and launched herself toward the bed. “You really are lovely to look at, you know,” she gasped, climbing onto the bed and straddling his thighs so that she could gaze down at him.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” Rafe growled, raking his hands over her thighs as they braced on either side of him. “Though I have one complaint.”

Angeline’s heart skipped an anxious beat. “Oh?” she asked, glancing down at herself and wondering where she’d gone wrong.

“For a sweet, innocent, blushing maiden, you are unbelievably bold,” he said, fire in his eyes and teasing on his lips. “No virgin I can think of would rush into a position like the one you’re in now.”

“As you will recall from last night’s activities,” Angeline said with pretend haughtiness, “I am no longer a virgin.”

“I do recall,” Rafe said in an equally jokey voice.

“And why should I be shy or reticent with the man I intend to spend the rest of my life loving?” she asked on, leaning forward so that she could stroke his chest, loving the way his chest hair tickled her hands. “Unless you would prefer me to tremble and faint at your touch.” She bent over all the way and closed her mouth over his in a kiss.

She didn’t really think she knew what she was doing where kissing was concerned, but Rafe knew. It was easy to kiss a man who was so good at it himself and to learn what she needed to know from him. He brushed his hands over her back in a way that had her breaking out in gooseflesh as he kissed him, and when he brought those hands down to her bum to squeeze and knead her, she thought she might melt right into him with need.

“I want you inside of me,” she murmured, feeling deliciously sultry and wicked. “Like you were last night. That felt so much better than I thought it would, and now I can’t think of anything else.”

Rather than rushing to do as she wanted immediately, Rafe slipped a hand between her legs to tease and please the part of her that ached for him. “You’re certainly wet enough to want me,” he said in a deep, growling voice that made Angeline shiver.

Or perhaps it was the way his hand delved into her, almost but not quite satisfying the need that pulsed through her. She’d never dreamed that a man’s touch that way could feel so good, and as he explored her, she found herself moving against him, seeking out her own pleasure. She tried to kiss him at the same time, but didn’t quite have the coordination to manage it. Instead, she focused on rubbing herself against his hand and cooing with pleasure as she did.

“My God, Angel, you’re a wanton,” Rafe said breathlessly, helping her along. “I will exist in a place of perpetual exhaustion for the whole of our married life.”

Angeline could only respond with a needy sigh as the coil of pleasure tightened within her. She needed him so desperately, but wasn’t certain what to do about it. Blessedly, Rafe helped her along, grasping himself and holding himself up, then guiding her to bear down on him. The feeling of bringing him into her body by her own choice and on her own power was so perfect that her body erupted into orgasm right then. He encouraged her to continue to move, though, and as she did, her orgasm extended and consumed her. She rode him like everything in the world depended on it, crying out in time to his thrusts.

“Angeline,” Rafe moaned, bucking his hips into her even after her waves of pleasure faded. “Angeline.” He gripped her hips hard, then let out a beautiful, animalistic cry as warmth spread through her. It was miraculous. Angeline didn’t think she would ever feel as though their mating was anything less.

She’d won. That much was as evident as the heat and sweat of their bodies as they relaxed and flopped together on the bed. She’d won the grandest prize that the house party—and life in general—could promise her.

“I love you so,” she hummed happily, closing her eyes as she nestled against Rafe’s chest.

“And I love you, my angel,” he said. “I always will.”