Duel of Hearts (20 page)

“It's all true! Every word!” she said urgently, turning to face him again. “Edward has eyes for no one but Corianne.”

“That is the weakest point of your entire tale. Do you think for one moment that I believe Middleton could prefer that chit to you?”

“You flatter me, my lord. You cannot have taken a good look at Corianne. And you are remembering me as I was, not as I am.”

He took her chin in his hand. “You haven't changed as much as you pretend.” He studied her closely. “So … Edward prefers that child to you, does he? And how about yourself?”

She lowered her eyes. “Myself, my lord?”

“Yes. Are you trying to make me believe that you have no interest in
him
beyond the friendly? I saw your face as you looked down at him in the park, you know.”

“You are unduly jealous,” Sarah declared as firmly as a trembling voice and a fast-beating heart permitted. “You give significance to glances and smiles and other trivialities that have no meaning.”

“Don't take me for a fool, my dear,” he said, dropping his hand from her face. “It's a grave mistake to underestimate me.”

“It's an even more grave mistake, my lord, for you not to believe what I tell you. To go through with that ridiculous duel.”

“Your concern for this man is quite excessive, is it not? How can I believe in your indifference to him when you plead for him like this?” North asked sardonically.

“My concern is not only for him. It is also for
you!
”

“You need have no concern for me. I shall have no difficulty at all in killing the bumpkin.”

“I don't doubt it. But such a killing would find society outraged. They would all be against you. Yes, even
you
, my lord, will find it hard to escape the consequences. At best, you will be ostracized by everyone who counts. At worst, you will have to flee the country for years.”

He regarded her curiously, walked across to the fireplace and leaned on the mantel. “Are you trying to pretend you
care
about the consequences to me? I would have thought you'd
rejoice
.”

She met his eye bravely. “How little you know me, my lord.”

“You haven't
allowed
me to know you. After all these years of your holding me at a distance, I can't believe
now
in this sudden change in your feelings.”

“You know nothing of my feelings … then or now.”

His eyes kindled interestedly. “Are you suggesting, my dear, that you've always been ‘concerned' for me? This is not the first time I've fought a duel over you. Why have you waited until now to show this concern?”

“I never believed, until now, that you would
kill
.”

His brows knit suspiciously. “Are you expecting me to swallow this tale that all these years, you—?”

“Would you believe me, Jack, if I agreed to marry you? If you still want me to, of course.”

Slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, he crossed the room to her again. “Do you love that bumpkin as much as
that
?” he asked with a vicious sneer.

She gasped and whitened. Were her feelings so transparent that even the lure of marriage—a marriage he'd sought for so many years—had failed to deceive him? She'd failed … failed completely. And they were all doomed. With a little cry from deep in her throat, she ran to the chair where he'd placed her cloak and snatched up the garment. There was nothing more to be done here.

But his hand caught her arm. He had no intention of letting her go now. He hadn't dreamed she would go so far to stop the duel as to offer herself to him in marriage. He'd desired that marriage for years. If it was indeed within his grasp, he would not let the chance disappear so easily.

Could she be telling him the truth? he wondered. Had she fallen in love with that clod Middleton, or had she cared for
him
secretly all these years? Both possibilities seemed equally unlikely. It was hard to imagine that she, a woman who'd refused a number of likely candidates beside himself, could have succumbed to a nobody like Middleton.
On the other hand
, he asked himself,
if she cared for me, why would she have hidden the fact for so long
? Women, however, could be very strange. He was aware that she'd not liked the way he'd handled matters' when he'd courted her. He'd been, in her view, too demanding and arrogant. Perhaps her pride had made her hide her feelings. She
was
a female of great pride.

It was her pride that most made him want her. Her breeding, her grace, her slender, unobtrusive beauty all made her the perfect choice to be the Marchioness of Revesne, but it was her pride he liked best. He was attracted to her, he admitted, but in truth he cared nothing for love in the romantic sense. For his sexual desires, he had many outlets … but for marriage, it was only Sarah who would satisfy him. He would always want a life apart from a wife, but Sarah was the sort who would have the good sense—and the pride—to let him go his own way. And her pride would keep her from complaining in public—or private—about his excesses. It would be that pride which would keep the name of Revesne unsullied by scandal.

So what did it really matter
why
she had come to him? Even if she
had
, for some inexplicable reason, lost her head over Edward Middleton, it didn't matter. So long as she agreed to wed him, she might cry in her pillow at night over whomever she wished.

“Let me go, my lord,” she was saying in a choked voice. “I see it is no use to say anything more.”

He held her arm tighter. “Did you mean it?
Will
you marry me?”

“What?” She turned to him in surprise. “But you said that you … didn't believe me…”

“I want to believe you. And you
know
I want you for my wife.”

“Enough to cancel the duel?” she asked frankly.

He grasped her waist with both hands and pulled her to him. “It would be a small price to pay. Have we a bargain, then?”

Stiff and tense in his embrace, she nodded slowly.

“Then look at me, Sarah. We must have a kiss to seal our troth.”

Obediently, she turned her face to his. But she couldn't look at him. She shut her eyes and tried to keep her feeling of revulsion from welling up in her throat.

The sound of the door made them both jump apart. “
Pardonnez-moi
, Miss Sarah,” said Madame Marie, sticking her head in the doorway, “but ye've been here a longish time. Are ye all right?”

Sarah almost sighed in relief. “We're just finished, Madame. I'm coming.”

North helped her on with her cloak. “You've escaped me for now,” he muttered in her ear, “but there will be other times.”

Sarah held out her hand to him. “Good night, my lord. You
will
send a letter to Mr. Middleton tonight, to inform him that there is to be no duel, won't you?”

“As you wish,” he agreed, taking her hand. “And you will, of course, have your mother put a notice of our betrothal in the
Times
?”

Madame Marie drew in her breath. Sarah tossed her a warning look. “Of course,” she said to Lord North.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “You've made me the happiest of men, my dear,” he said, the note of self-satisfaction in his voice sounding like a death knell in her ears.

Chapter Fifteen

E
DWARD HAD GONE
to bed before the message was delivered, so it was Fitz into whose hand the letter was placed. The footman who delivered it informed him importantly that it was from Lord North and that no answer was required.

Although the hour was very late, Fitz had not even undressed. He'd known that his feelings of agitation would prevent him from even closing his eyes, so he'd spent the evening pacing about his drawing room. But he was weary to the bone, he was agonized about the forthcoming duel which was to take place at dawn and to which he was forced to be a party, and he was miserably lonely for his wife and babies. He'd spent the entire evening wondering, first, how Edward could possibly sleep so peacefully, and, second, how he'd even permitted his wife to let him leave his happy Norfolk home and family.

With the letter in his hand, he dropped into an armchair, loosened his neckcloth and stared at the letter's seal. What could Lord North possibly have written at this late hour? If there were some detail concerning the arrangements which he wanted to change, shouldn't he have asked Mr. Ingalls, his second, to call on Fitz himself? Of course, the letter might be a request for a postponement. That could be a hopeful occurrence which would give Fitz and Sarah another chance to work something out … But they'd done everything they could think of already. Besides, he didn't think he could
bear
another day of this tension.

It was too much to hope that North had decided to withdraw. No, that likelihood was too remote, for North had never been known to pull back from an engagement on the field of “honor.”

Well
, he thought wearily, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair and closing his eyes,
I'd better waken Ned and show this to him
. But he hated to do it. It was almost one o'clock, and Ned would have to rise and get full possession of all his faculties in little more than three hours' time. The fellow needed his sleep. On the other hand, the letter might be important. Fitz was tempted to break the seal and read the letter for himself, but he couldn't permit himself to do so. He'd better get himself out of his chair and wake poor Ned right away …

The next thing he knew, however, was that someone was shaking him. “Wake up, Fitz,” Edward was saying. “It's after four.”

“Mmmff.” Fitz blinked, shook himself and stretched out his arms. He opened his eyes to find Edward bending over him, fully dressed for the out-of-doors. The candles had guttered out, the fire had died down to a dim glow, and the room was almost completely dark. Good heavens, he'd fallen asleep in his chair! “Must've dozed off,” he mumbled apologetically.

Edward grinned at him. “You certainly did, and in your evening clothes, too. But it's just as well, for we've no time for you to change. Just wash your face, and we'll be off.”

“What? In
evening
clothes?”

“I'm afraid so, old fellow. I don't want to be late and give North the chance to claim victory by default.”

Fitz got up clumsily. “Right. Be with you in a minute. Well, perhaps not a minute, exactly …” And he stumbled off to his bedroom.

Edward paced about the room. He was not nervous, but impatient. It was not that he looked forward to this morning's work, but that he wanted to get it over with. When he took his second turn about the room, he noticed a letter, with the seal still unbroken, on the floor near Fitz's chair. He picked it up. In the dim light of the glowing embers, he could just make out his name scrawled across the front. He went over to the window and pulled the drapes aside, but it was darker outside than in. Hastily, he crossed to the mantel and fumbled for a match. He lit two candles and scanned the letter quickly. With a furious growl, he read it again from the top, this time more slowly. But the second reading only angered him more, and he crumpled the paper in his hand.

Fitz emerged from his bedroom with his hat and cloak. “Well, I'm ready,” he said unhappily. “I suppose we may as well get started.”

“Never mind,” Edward told him irritably. “It's all off. You are free to go to bed and get some sleep.”

“
Off?
It's
off?
How do you—?”

“He's written to me,” Edward said, tossing the crumpled note into the fireplace.

“Oh, Lord! The
letter
! I clean forgot! Did he postpone—?”

“Reneged altogether, the blasted cur!” Edward muttered in disgust.

“
Reneged? North?
I don't
believe
it!” Fitz chortled delightedly, tossing his hat in the air and catching it behind him with a little dancing step. “What a marvelous bit of
luck!
”

“Luck!” exclaimed Edward furiously. “It wasn't luck. I could wring her neck!”

“
Her
neck? Whose?”

“Your friend Sarah's.
She's
at the bottom of this.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Ned, but if this is
her
doing, you ought to get down on your knees and thank her.”

“Is that so? Listen here, Fitz, I've told you both—over and over again—that I can handle North. But both of you persist in believing that I'm incapable of taking care of my own affairs. Well, I won't be able to prove myself now, but if you think I'll
thank
either one of you for that, you may think again!”

He strode to the door, more enraged than Fitz had ever seen him. “If you want to know how I feel,” Edward stormed as he quit the room, “I find your confidence in me far short of admirable!”

Fitz stared after him for a moment, chewing his moustache in bafflement, and then looked at the spot where Edward had tossed the letter. The crumpled paper had struck the grate and bounced out onto the hearth. This time, Fitz permitted his curiosity to overcome his conscience, and he picked up the paper and smoothed it out.
To Mr. Edward Middleton, Esquire, my dear Sir:
he read,
I find that I must extend an apology to you and ask you to permit me to withdraw my challenge. Miss Stanborough has explained to me that I seriously misconstrued certain events which occurred yesterday and that my action in issuing the challenge was ill-considered. Now that I understand the circumstances, I quite concur with her in this opinion. In fact, since Miss Stanborough and I have agreed to announce our betrothal, a quarrel with you at this time would be inappropriate. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of informing my second and Dr. Crowell that the matter between us has been cleared, with honor on both sides, and that tomorrow's meeting will not take place. With best wishes, I remain yours, etc., John Philip North, Marquis of Revesne
.