Duel of Hearts (16 page)

Ingalls looked doubtful. “Do you
mean
it? Isn't she a bit too young? She might become frightened and cry out.”

“Don't be a mooncalf,” North said, waving him out. The entire subject bored him. “It's the sort of behavior they all crave, young or old, although they'd rather die than admit it. Try it and see.”

Ingalls rose to go. “Yes, I suppose you're right. I can't do any worse with her than I already have. See you tonight then. The Maitlands. About ten.”

As he went to the door, he chuckled to himself. “A frontal assault, eh? That's good. Very good.”

But North didn't look up from his work on the pistol. It had to be in gleaming readiness. With any luck, it would be put into use on the morrow.

Chapter Twelve

L
ADY
S
TANBOROUGH HAD
looked forward to attending the Maitlands' ball, but by the time evening approached she'd almost changed her mind. She'd developed a slight case of the sniffles, and the late-October weather had turned unpleasant. Although ordinarily she would have loved to attend what promised to be one of the greatest crushes of the season (for George and Henrietta Maitland were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in high style), Laurelia was on the verge of deciding that she would be wise to miss the event. “I might contract an inflammation of the chest, and
then
where would we be?” she asked her daughter plaintively, pulling her bedclothes up of her neck. She had taken to her bed at the first sneeze and had sent for Sarah at once.

Sarah studied her mother worriedly. A crucial corner-stone of her plan for the evening was her mother's attendance at the ball. “You don't
look
ill, Mama,” she said comfortingly. “Are you certain you shouldn't go? I was
counting
on you.”

“Counting on me? For what purpose?” her mother asked, confused.

“I can't explain it to you now. But it's
terribly
important for you to take Corianne to the ball tonight.”

“But why? We can ask Mr. Middleton to escort her. I'm certain that he'd have no objection—”

“That's just it, Mama. He's coming
here
… to … er … to see me,” Sarah said, unable to keep from blushing.

Laurelia Stanborough blinked at her daughter in considerable surprise. “What? Again? Didn't you ride with him this very afternoon?”

Sarah merely nodded.

Her mother's expression changed as she gazed at Sarah with slow-dawning delight. “Oh, my
dearest
girl! Oh, my own
darling
!” She sat up in bed and threw the covers off. “Do you mean—? Are you … at
last
—?” And she pressed her hands to her breasts in joy.

Sarah urged her to lie back against the pillows. “Now, Mama, please! Don't refine on this—”

“Not
refine
on it?” Lady Stanborough demanded, pushing Sarah's hands aside and jumping out of bed. “What
else
can it mean when you want us out of the house so that you can talk to Mr. Middleton alone? Oh, Sarah, how wonderful that he can be asking … so
quickly
…!”

Sarah put a weary hand to her forehead. “No,
no
, Mama, you
mustn't
think…! It's not
that
, really! I'll explain it all to you one day,” she said urgently, trying to restrain her mother's transports.

But Lady Stanborough would not be restrained. “Oh, my
dear!
” she sighed, embracing her daughter, misty-eyed. “The
Squire
! Such an
impressive
man! Not as rich as North, of course … and no titles, which is really too bad. But I understand his lands are
extensive
! And
everyone
agrees that he's so pleasant and clever … and attractive, too! Oh,
Sarah
!” Moved almost to tears, she sniffed into the large handkerchief which she had already in hand. “I'm so h-h-happy!”

Sarah sighed in discouragement. “Mama, you are jumping to the most unwarranted conclusions,” she insisted, but she knew she spoke to no purpose. Here was yet another idea which had taken hold of her mother's mind and would be almost impossible to dislodge. “At least you won't
repeat
any of this, will you?” Sarah begged.

“Of
course
not!” Lady Stanborough declared in offended dignity. “What do you take me for? I'm not some Hans Town housewife, bragging to the nobodies about my daughter's ‘catch.' As soon as you've accepted him, I shall make an announcement with the proper formality. And now go away, for I must make myself ready for the ball.”

“Are you
going
, then?”

“Yes, of course. You've put me in the most
energetic
mood, my dear. I feel completely reborn.”

“Then, Mama, there is one thing you
must
do for me tonight,” Sarah said, forcing herself to concentrate on her primary objective. “Something rather difficult…”

“Anything you ask, my love,” her mother said effusively, “anything at all. Even my sniffle shall not keep me from—”

Sarah interrupted the outpouring by planting a light kiss on her mother's cheek. “Thank you, dearest. But you must listen carefully, because this is crucial to … well, to a plan I've concocted. You must bring Corianne home at the stroke of twelve. Even if she objects violently and insists on remaining.”

“The stroke of
twelve
?” Lady Stanborough regarded her daughter with utter stupefaction. “Do you mean like
Cinderella
?
Why
?”

“That is something
else
I can't explain just yet. Will you do it?”

Her mother frowned impatiently. “Really, Sarah, you can sometimes be the
strangest
creature.
How
can I manage to tear her away at eleven-thirty if she insists on remaining?”

“Tell her your cold has become worse. She
cannot
refuse you
then
, can she?”

“No, I suppose not. But what if she says that someone
else
will take her home?”

Sarah took her mother by the shoulders and said forcefully, “No, Mama, you mustn't let her! Under no circumstances must you let her remain past eleven-thirty. She
must
be home by twelve, is that clear?”

“Clear? It's the greatest muddle I've ever
heard
! But I shall do it, if I must.”

“Thank you, Mama. I shall be eternally grateful to you.”

“I only wish I understood what this has to do with Mr. Middleton's proposal of marriage,” Lady Stanborough muttered irritably.

“There isn't going to
be
any propo—” Sarah began. But her mother wasn't listening. She had the most uncanny way of turning her mind away from whatever information contradicted an idea she had fixed on. It would be of no use whatever to argue with her. Sarah, with a sigh, gave up the struggle and left the room.

The preparations for the evening were soon under way in three bedrooms of the house. Sarah had little to do to prepare for her plan except to write a note to Edward.
Dear Sir
, she wrote, her embarrassment at the entire situation making her wording unwontedly formal,
I
have need to discuss with you a matter of utmost urgency. Please call upon me at eleven tonight. Although the hour is an awkward one, it is
imperative
that you appear at that time precisely. The matter is of great importance to both you and C.L. I place all my reliance on your consent. Most sincerely yours, S.S
.

Lady Stanborough's preparations were more complicated. Her sniffles were growing worse with every passing moment, and she looked at herself in the mirror in dismay. When Madame Marie Antoinette Honore Dabbs entered to dress her hair, the strong-willed maid put her hands on her hips angrily. “Y'r ladyship ain't going out in this weather with that cold!” she said firmly.

“But I must, Madame,” Lady Stanborough told her bravely. “Do what you can to cover my red nose. But what you can do with these rheumy eyes I just don't know.”

When Madame was finally convinced that her ladyship would not change her mind, she shrugged in true Gallic style and put her considerable talents to work. In a few hours she managed to make Lady Stanborough passably presentable.

As for Corianne,
she
had no difficulty with her appearance. It was her
mood
which needed bolstering. She had spent the entire afternoon pouting in her bedroom. Edward's defection had shaken her badly. She'd paced about in chagrin, written a half-dozen letters to Belinda and thrown them all away, railed against his disloyalty and thoughtlessness, decided to go home, decided to stay but send
him
home, and wept into her pillow in a frenzy of self-pity. But when the room darkened in the late afternoon and she began to think about the evening (intending to send a message to her aunt to go without her), she remembered a chance remark Tony Ingalls had made. Tony had said that Lord North might be in his company at the Maitlands' ball.

Lord North was the reason she'd come to London, and Corianne had not yet been able to capture his attention. Edward's behavior was unimportant when compared with North's. Studying herself in the mirror, Corianne's confidence began to reassert itself. She would put Edward out of her mind … for the time being. North was bigger game. She had to concentrate on
him
.

She washed her face and sent for her abigail. She chose to wear her favorite gown, a Dutch-blue lustring cut low across the shoulders and tantalizingly covered with an overdress of silver gauze. Madame Marie found time to dress the girl's hair in a very becoming Grecian style tied with silver cord. Then Corianne stepped into a pair of silver slippers, put on the diamond earrings she'd inherited from her mother, and pulled on a pair of long white gloves which covered her arms up to and over her elbows. These touches of elegance made her feel exhilaratingly worldly. Her mood climbed, and she began again to believe that she could do anything … accomplish anything … and win anyone. North tonight. Edward tomorrow.

Lady Stanborough and Corianne were at last ready to depart, and Sarah, bidding them goodnight at the foot of the stairs, complimented them profusely. Corianne, not having forgotten her earlier chagrin, merely tossed her head and walked disdainfully out to the carriage. Sarah whispered to her mother a last-minute reminder to have Corianne back by midnight; Lady Stanborough grunted in compliance, blew into her handkerchief and left.

With a sigh of relief that the first phase of her plan had been accomplished, Sarah turned her attention to her
own
appearance. It was important to look her best, for Corianne's confidence had to be shaken to the core, and
that
would not be accomplished by a “rival” who looked like a dowd. Madame Marie was again called upon and again did her work well. When Sarah looked at herself in the glass, she was pleasantly surprised. Her appearance was just what she'd wished. Her dress, though simply styled, was of a soft, lilac-colored camlet that clung to her body in flattering lines, making her look tall and slender. And Madame had dressed her hair to fall, loosely casual, about her shoulders. The English dresser had achieved the perfect French aura of … well … romantic restraint. Her appearance exactly suited her purposes. For the first time since the meeting with Lord North that afternoon, she breathed a sigh of relief.

But the relief was only momentary. By ten-thirty, Sarah was pacing about the drawing room, her tension mounting painfully. At ten-forty-five, the door knocker sounded, inexplicable and urgent. Sarah felt a stab of despair as the butler admitted a red-eyed and wheezing Lady Stanborough! “
Mama!
” Sarah cried. “What—?”

“Don't look at me like that, Sarah,” her mother said with asperity, “for I'm not up to it. My head aches, and my eyes burn, and I shall undoubtedly develop a severe inflammation. I'm going to bed.”

“I'm sorry, Mama. Of
course
you must go to bed. But, where's Cory?” Sarah was trying desperately to keep her extreme perturbation from showing in her voice.

“I've taken care of everything, so you needn't worry. I gave young Ingalls the strictest instructions to deliver her by twelve,” her mother assured her. “Where's your Mr. Middleton?”

“He'll be here shortly. Let me help you upstairs and into bed.”

“No, no, I shall manage. You stay right here and proceed with your doings. Don't mind me. I shall have Madame prepare a tisane for me. I shall have no need of you at all. But Sarah, as soon as Middleton leaves, you
must
come up with the news. I'm sure I shan't be asleep, but even if I am, you must promise to wake me. Nothing can be more beneficial to my health than word that you're betrothed.”

Sarah was too upset to remonstrate. Lady Stanborough took herself up to bed, and Sarah resumed her pacing. Things were going wrong already, and she had no power to correct them. Corianne would no doubt come home
hours
late. Could she manage to keep Edward sitting here all that time? What a troublesome state of affairs!

At ten-fifty-five, Sarah dismissed the butler. “Go to bed, Tait,” she ordered. “I shall wait up to admit Miss Corianne myself.”

Tait frowned. “Don't see why you
should
, Miss Sarah. I always—”

“I know you do, Tait. But please indulge me tonight. I want you to ignore the sound of the knocker for the rest of the night.”

The butler reluctantly withdrew, and Sarah sat down to calm herself and wait. Edward arrived on the stroke of eleven, looking worried. But his brow cleared as he noted Sarah's appearance. “You couldn't look so beautifully serene,” he said in relief, “if something were seriously amiss.”

Sarah smiled wryly. “If I look serene, my dear sir, then I wear a false face indeed. My heart is jumping up and down in my throat quite alarmingly.”