Duel of Hearts (23 page)

“You know I do, but—”

“But me no buts. I have a wet nurse for the twins, in addition to Miss Delane, and a governess for the boys, and a lovely, kind-hearted,
complimentary
Mama to oversee everything. So I'm going off without a qualm. Without a single qualm.” She looked at her mother with one eyebrow cocked. “Do I really look as if I've gained half-a-stone?”

Lady Fitz did not write to her husband to announce that she was coming, but she appeared, bag and baggage, at the door to his London apartments two days later. Fitz and Edward were sitting in the drawing room, bent over a chessboard, when they heard her in the foyer. It was Edward's man, Martin, who'd answered the knock and, not having seen her ladyship before, had the temerity to ask who she was.

“Stand aside, man,” she ordered impatiently. “I'm Lady Fitzsimmons. Don't gape like a sea-animal! Just take my luggage inside.”

“Clara?” Fitz shouted, jumping up so precipitously that he upset the chessboard. “Clara, is that
you
?”

The figure who loomed up in the drawing-room doorway was indeed she. In two strides, Fitz crossed the room and enveloped her in a wildly enthusiastic embrace. Edward, who'd leaped to his feet as soon as she'd appeared, stood watching their animated greeting with a grin. While she explained to her spouse how she'd managed to leave her offspring, Edward took the opportunity to look at Fitz's Clara. She was not at all what he'd expected. In the first place, she was no little honey-vine to cling to a fellow's arm. Almost as tall as her husband, she was built on very sturdy lines and not at all likely to cling to
anyone
. Lady Fitz was not what one would call a beauty—her face, covered with freckles, was broad and full in the cheeks and marked by a decidedly strong nose and a head of strikingly red hair. But her face was one which no observer would easily forget—the sparkle of her dark eyes and the ready smile making her instantly likeable.

“Come and meet Ned,” Fitz said as soon as the pertinent facts of her visit had been explained to him. “I've wanted you two to become acquainted for years.”

“So
you're
the famous Ned,” Lady Fitz said warmly, grasping his proffered hand and shaking it vigorously. “Fitz always said I would like you on sight, and I do.”

“Thank you, Lady Fitz,” Edward grinned. “I can see now why your husband speaks of no one else.”

“What a bore he must be, to be sure,” she laughed.

“Not at all. It's only that, until this moment, when he spoke of his magnificent Clara, I could scarcely believe him. But it's all clear now.”

Fitz chortled delightedly. “See, Clara, I
told
you he was a rare specimen.”

“Yes,” Clara agreed, beaming. “We must all three sit down and have a good coz. I want to know all about you, Ned.”

“I shall be delighted to tell you whatever you like, Lady Fitz, but I think that, for now, I must see about removing to the Fenton. You surely will want to settle in.”

“Remove to the Fenton?” Clara asked in surprise. “Whatever for?”

“That's where I'd been staying before I moved in with Fitz,” Edward explained. “It was quite satisfactory.”

“But why is it necessary at all? We've plenty of room here, haven't we, Fitz?”

“Of course. No need to go, old fellow.”

“But…” Edward felt himself redden slightly.

“If you're thinking that there are only two bedrooms,” Lady Fitz said bluntly, “you needn't worry. Fitz and I will share his. We do it all the time.”

“Do you indeed?” Edward couldn't help grinning. “What a …
comfortable
couple you are, to be sure.”

“He means,” Fitz explained reprovingly to his wife, “that you are a shocking little baggage to admit such a thing.”

“I meant no such thing,” Edward denied with a guffaw. “I only hope, when
I
marry, that
my
wife will be equally outspoken. And equally amenable to shared bedrooms.”

“Then it's settled,” Clara said cheerfully, taking a seat on the sofa beside her husband. “You'll stay just as you were. Now, come sit down and tell me all.”

Despite the fact that Lady Fitz enjoyed the afternoon with her husband and his friend enormously, she didn't forget the object of her visit. That very evening, she ordered Fitz to drive her to Stanborough House and to find himself something to do without her for an hour or two. She was admitted by Tait, whose surprise at seeing her was so great he almost gasped. “Lady
Fitzsimmons
! I … we … weren't told that you were in town!”

Lady Fitz winked at him. “Where's Miss Sarah?” she whispered. “I want to surprise her.”

“In the library, my lady,” the butler answered, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “She'll be so delighted! You'll find her alone, for Lady Stanborough and Miss Corianne have gone to a play.”

Lady Fitz opened the library door softly. Her friend was seated in a chair before the fire, a book open in her lap. But she was not reading. Her eyes were fixed unhappily on the flames.

“A fine state of affairs for a girl about to be married!” Lady Fitz said aloud. “What are you doing at home all alone?”

Sarah turned toward the voice. “Clara!” she cried, jumping up and holding out her arms. “Oh,
Clara
!”

Lady Fitz ran to embrace her. “Why do you look so shocked?” she asked Sarah affectionately. “You didn't think I would permit you to celebrate your betrothal without me, did you?”

Sarah smiled, opened her mouth to express her joy, took one look at the warmly beaming, freckled face of her best friend and burst into tears.

Chapter Seventeen

“T
HE POOR CHILD
,” Lady Fitz confided later to her husband, “is utterly miserable. She's worn to the bone trying to show a happy face to the world, for she's not at all the sort who's adept at pretense and insincerity.”

“Then why doesn't she break with North and have done?” Fitz asked impatiently.

“Would
you
if you'd given your word?”

Fitz hesitated. “Well, yes … well, no … I don't know. It's different for a man, you know. A
man's
work is his honor.”

His wife threw him a look of scorn. “Do you mean to imply,” she asked in high dudgeon, “that a woman has no honor? How dare you, Fitz!”

He threw up his hands in defense. “Don't rip up at me, my love. I meant no offense. I only meant that Sarah
must
find a way out of this, honor or no honor. Doesn't she realize how difficult married life can be even in the best of circumstances?”

Lady Fitz snorted. “I could take you to task for
that
remark, too, if I had a mind to distract myself from the subject at hand. But you can rest assured that I told her of the difficulties of married life. I spoke at length and quite frankly about the necessity for affection between a couple bound together with such intimacy as marriage requires. But she said she's quite given up the expectation for marital happiness.”

“What nonsense. What did she mean? If she breaks with North, she can have
every
expectation—”

“No, my dear, she can't. She said that North had made her a virtual prisoner even
before
she'd agreed to marry him. Frightened off a
number
of suitors with his threats and his duels, did you know that?”

“No! Is that
possible
?”

“I suppose it is, with a man of his reputation as a duelist.”

“What a poltroon the fellow is!” Fitz declared angrily. “I almost wish Sarah
had
let Edward duel with him. In fact, I'd like to have a shot at the fellow myself.”

“It's no good shooting at him if he shoots you first, you know. Sarah is quite right about that.”

“Well, we can't let her go through with this!” Fitz said, quite unequivocal for once.

“I don't see what else we can do. Sarah says she won't be in worse case as his wife than she'd been as the object of his attentions.”

“Do you really believe that?” her husband asked incredulously.

“No, of course I don't. But I think she believes, because she's so dreadfully unhappy over someone else, that she cannot feel much worse.”

“Someone
else?
” He looked at his wife eagerly. “Is it
Ned?
Did she admit it to you?”

Lady Fitz nodded sourly. “I don't see why you're so pleased about it, Fitz. Your friend Ned doesn't care for
her
. He has his eye on another female entirely.”

“Ned? Interested in another female? Humbug! At least, I
think
it's humbug. Isn't it? What makes you think—?”

“Sarah told me. Didn't Ned ever confide in you about it?”

“Never said a word to me, blast him. Who
is
she?”

Clara shrugged. “Can't remember her name. A romantic sort of appellation. Daralynne … Marianne … Hermione…”

“You can't mean
Corianne!
”

“Yes, that was the name.”

“But … she's his
ward
! Well, not exactly his ward, of course, but … she's a mere
child!
”

Clara made a
moue
of disgust. “When did
that
ever stop a man? Besides, Sarah says the girl's twenty. You can't call a female of twenty a member of the infantry, you know.”

“I suppose not … but I wouldn't have thought that
Ned—
”

“No,” his wife agreed glumly, “I wouldn't have thought so either.”

“What a hobble! What can we do about it, love?”

“I don't think there's a thing we
can
do. Except to stand by … to help pick up the pieces.”

The much spoken of fête at Stanborough House—now less than three weeks away—was intended to mark the official beginning of Sarah's betrothal to Lord North. In the meantime, North called dutifully on his betrothed every day, to take her riding or to join the family for dinner. But since the announcement was not to be made formally until the party, Sarah did not yet have to accompany him on the round of social events which were
de rigueur
for a newly betrothed couple. All that would come after the announcement. As the days before the betrothal party sped by, Sarah became more and more strained. Even the constant and soothing companionship of her best friend was not enough to ease the tension of her nerves or the pain in her chest.

The days sped by tensely for Corianne, too. With the fateful night fast approaching, Corianne was growing almost desperate. She had not had the opportunity to meet Lord North at any of the events she'd attended. And on the occasions when he'd called at Stanborough House, she'd never managed to win a moment alone in his company. As a result, her temper was growing short and her patience wearing thin.

One evening, a mere fortnight before the betrothal party, she agreed to accompany Wilfred Shirley to a large ball being held by his mother. Wilfred had told her proudly that more than two hundred would be in attendance. Corianne hoped that, among so many, Lord North might be discovered in the throng.

To her intense disappointment, the object of her desires was nowhere in sight. To make matters worse, Wilfred Shirley followed her about all evening long, rarely permitting her even to
converse
with anyone else. He demanded, in his position as son of the hostess, to have the opening dance with her, as well as two more country dances and the right to escort her to supper. By the time the lavish meal was over, her tolerance had given out. The fellow was a self-satisfied, muffin-faced fribble, and she had to grit her teeth to keep herself from making waspish remarks to set him down.

It was at this moment—just when Corianne's irritation with him was at its peak—that the poor fellow decided to declare his affections for her. Urging her, despite her obvious reluctance, into the music room just behind the hall where supper had been served, he grasped her hands and fell to his knees beside her. “Miss L-Lindsay …” he stammered, “C-Corianne … you must kn-know—”

“Wilfred, what
are
you doing?” she asked impatiently.

He was startled at her tone. “What? Why, I'm … I'm…”

“Oh, do get up! Someone might come in and see us.”

“No, it's all right. Everyone's gone upstairs for the dancing. P-Please let me tell you—”

Corianne tried to pull her hands from his grasp. “Wilfred, please! I want to go upstairs, too. I've promised this dance to Clement—”

“No!” Wilfred insisted stubbornly. “Not until I've finished. You
must
hear me out!”

“Whatever
for
?” she asked callously. “You're only making a cake of yourself, you know.”

“But you … how can you
say
that? I want to ask you to … to
m-marry
me!”

Corianne looked down at him superciliously. “So I surmised from your position. Get up, Wilfred. I think it's time to take me home.”

“Take you
home? Now?
But I'm down on my
knees
! I haven't even
begun
! All the sentiments I planned to…! How can you be so
unfeeling?
”

“Well, I'll stand here and hear you out, if you insist, Wilfred, but it will be the greatest waste of time. I won't accept you, you know.”

“Why not? You've done with Ingalls, haven't you?”

“Yes, I have, but—”

“There's no one
else
, is there?”

Cory smiled enigmatically. “That, my dear Mr. Shirley, is none of your affair.”

Wilfred reddened and got to his feet. “You're t-toying with me, Corianne, and I won't have it! You needn't put on your puffed-up airs with me. Mama says that, pretty as you are, you're only a country belle … and that you should consider yourself fortunate that a gentleman of my station and income is offering himself—”