Duel of Hearts (24 page)

This was more than Corianne could stand. “Did she say that indeed?” she asked with venomous coldness. “Then you may tell her that
this
is what I think of my so-called good fortune!” She put both of her hands against his chest and furiously pushed him backward. Wilfred, completely unprepared, tottered back a couple of steps and fell down heavily on his rear. He let forth a pained bellow, but Corianne merely turned on her heel and started to march from the room. She hadn't gone two steps, however, when she found herself facing a gentleman just entering. It was Lord North.

He looked, with eyebrows raised, from the angrily flushed girl to the young man sprawled on the floor. “Well, Miss Lindsay, you seem to have done it again. What weapon did you use
this
time? I see no signs of a broken vase.”

“I didn't need a vase,” the girl declared proudly. “The strength of my arms was quite enough.”

“You don't say!” His lordship lifted his quizzing glass and stared through it at Wilfred disdainfully. “What a collection of inept young men you seem to attract, my dear.”

“Seems to m-me, my lord,” Wilfred sputtered angrily, getting clumsily to his feet and brushing off his britches, “that you are a b-bit inept yourself to intrude upon a p-private discussion.”

“The
discussion
was long over by the time his lordship entered,” Corianne put in at once. “And even if it weren't, I'd have been grateful for his intervention.” She smiled up at North. “Will you be good enough to see me home, my lord?” she asked with becoming shyness, her pulse racing at the prospect of the fruition of her dreams.

His lordship bowed in acquiescence. “Delighted, Miss Lindsay,” he said drily.

Wilfred Shirley looked from one to the other with sulky belligerence. “I wish you well of her, my lord,” he said bitterly. “And as for you, Miss Lindsay, I will simply s-say that I shan't forget this n-night's work.”

Wilfred Shirley left them, limping out of the room with as much dignity as the pain in his hip and the wound to his self-esteem permitted. Corianne bit her lip to keep back her delighted giggle as she took Lord North's profferred arm and went with him out of the house. Later, in his carriage, she snuggled into the velvet seat with eager anticipation. Lord North was eyeing her with unmistakable admiration.
How ironical
, she thought. Because of the foolishness of Wilfred Shirley, North had taken notice of her at last.

“Does this sort of thing happen to you often, Miss Lindsay?” his lordship asked languidly.

The boredom of his tone did not discourage Corianne, for the gleam in his eye belied it. “Much more often than I like,” she said with a coy, downward glance meant to suggest a becoming modesty.

“You
are
a vixen,” he murmured, looking her over speculatively. “Someone should pull you down from your high ropes. You need a good shaking.”

“Do I?” the girl asked tantalizingly. “Have you someone in mind to administer it?”

“Perhaps.” He let his eye roam slowly from her face to her graceful neck, over the youthful but rounded breasts swelling beneath the folds of her cloak, along the curved line of her hips and thighs to the tiny ankles which showed briefly below the hem of her gown. She was a tasty plum, there was no denying it, and she had made it abundantly clear that she was ripe for his picking. But how could he pick her without upsetting the careful plans he'd laid for the ordering of his life? This girl was no lightskirt, to be used and discarded at will. She had a titled father, a family and a place in society. The repercussions could be more than embarrassing.

In addition, his friend Tony Ingalls still burned to wed her. The fellow talked of little else, despite the dismal failure of his last attempt. North had been unable to discourage him in his wish to pursue what appeared to be a hopeless quest. Ingalls had even won from North a promise to assist, although neither he nor Ingalls had an inkling of a scheme for turning the girl from her stubborn refusal to see Ingalls again.

But North was nothing if not resourceful … especially at finding ways to fulfill his desires. Even as his eyes made their admiring inventory of Corianne's bodily charms, an idea took shape in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more satisfactory a scheme it seemed and the more simple to execute. He needed only to persuade the girl to make a runaway trip with him to Gretna. That certainly should not be hard. While it was true that she would probably prefer a properly ostentatious wedding, he would convince her that, since he'd have to play the jilt, a runaway wedding was the only way. He could easily have his way with her on the trip north …
but the husband she would find waiting at the end of the ride would not be he, but Ingalls
!

It was perfect. He smiled across at the girl who sat watching him with such breathless, provocative innocence. He'd have not the slightest difficulty in persuading her to go. And once she'd spent a night in his company, she'd have no choice but to follow his plan. For she would be a ruined creature. He would simply refuse to wed her, and she would have no choice but to take Ingalls.

And if Tony objected to a blemished wife, North had no doubt he'd soon see the wisdom of the scheme. The girl would have him no other way. If Tony really wanted her—and her fortune alone was enough to induce Ingalls to overlook any overly nice scruples he might have—Tony would have to go along. The best part was that neither Tony nor Corianne would be able to reveal a word to anyone—not if they wanted to keep their reputations intact. Thus North would face no danger of exposure. It was truly a foolproof scheme.

He folded his arms across his chest in self-satisfaction. “Come here, child,” he ordered, smiling at the girl challengingly.

“I'm not a child,” Cory responded promptly, putting up her chin.

He fixed his eye on her meaningfully. “Come and sit here beside me,” he said again. There was no time like the present to set his plan in motion.

Corianne did as he bid. When she'd slipped into place next to him, he pulled her into his arms and tilted her face up to his. “Now, my girl,” he said softly, “let's see how you behave when you're kissed by a man who's not inept.”

Chapter Eighteen

C
ORIANNE WAS ECSTATIC
. North wanted to marry her! Only a couple of days had passed since he'd kissed her in his coach, and already he'd asked her to run away with him to Gretna Green … and already she'd accepted. His impatience to set the date made her head swim. He wanted her to leave with him the very next day! She had only to send word to him that she was ready, and in less than twelve hours they would be on their way!

But she had not yet been able to bring herself to send him that word. A nagging feeling of guilt nibbled away at the edges of her happiness. Could she permit herself—and North, too—to deal such a blow to her cousin Sarah? Sarah had been a bit of a nuisance in the matter of Lady Saxon's soirées, but she'd never meant to deal Cory any harm. She was a good sort, really, and had always treated Cory with the greatest kindness. Was it right for Cory to return that kindness with such a blow as this?

However, it was ridiculous to suppose that Sarah's emotions were
nearly
as strongly bound up with North as were her own. What could Sarah know of the pain of unrequited passion such as she, Cory, had suffered for North for so long? And what could Sarah know of the joy of blissful romance such as she was feeling at this moment? Sarah was not the kind of woman who was capable of experiencing the heights and depths of romantic emotions. Sarah was so self-contained and calm, not in the least endowed with the heightened sensibilities that Cory possessed in such full measure. Therefore, Sarah's pain would not be so very great when she'd learn that she'd lost North.

Besides, Cory was convinced that the nuptials arranged between Sarah and Lord North had been a matter of convenience, not love. North had never loved Sarah—that much was clear. Perhaps they had both agreed to marry because they thought they would never fall in love. But North was in love
now
, and he mustn't be permitted to waste away in a loveless marriage now that he'd learned true happiness! It was Cory's
duty
to be strong for them both.

Her father and Edward would not approve of an elopement, she knew, but she found the prospect romantic beyond words. It would have been easier, she supposed, to have done everything in the proper way—to announce the betrothal in the
Times
and to have a huge wedding with her father on hand to give her away and her friends in envious attendance—but North had explained that such arrangements would be impossible. “Besides,” he'd said, “I do not care to wait for months to claim you as my own.”

Corianne had quivered with elation at those words. She could hardly believe that this impatient lover was the same cool and remote aristocrat the polite world had dubbed Frozen North. She'd melted him—just as she'd told her friend Belinda she would! She yearned to write and tell Belinda her news, but North had given her the strictest instructions to say
nothing
to
anyone
until they'd returned from Gretna, safely wedded.

That was the most difficult part of the entire matter. Her triumph in winning the most unattainable bachelor in London lost a large part of its luster by being kept secret. Such a triumph could scarcely be enjoyed until people
spoke
of it, admired her publicly and envied her in private. She could hardly wait until the subject of her marriage was an
on-dit
, rocking the polite world with the aftershock.

What a joy it would be when they returned from Scotland! She would be the Marchioness of Revesne. She would wear a diamond coronet and hold exclusive soirées at Revesne House, receiving royalty with aplomb and moving among the most elite society with glowing indifference to their admiration. Her gowns would be copied by the fashionable, her remarks repeated by the sycophantic, and her success envied by all. She could hardly wait.

Yes, the sooner they set off for Gretna, the sooner she would return to enjoy her triumph. She sent North word that she would be ready at the appointed hour, and she immediately set about packing into a bandbox all the items necessary for a journey to the north.

For his part, Lord North was less than ecstatic about the adventure. In truth, it was beginning to seem more trouble than it was worth. The girl was too erratic and volatile to be counted on to keep her head. She might cause him all sorts of difficulties when she learned the truth. And Tony Ingalls had not been at all pleased with the idea. His first reaction had been to stalk out of North's house in a violent taking.

However, Ingalls soon had returned. He'd found, on his arrival at his own apartments, that a number of dunning letters awaited his attention and that two creditors were perched on his doorstep. As much as he disliked the thought of taking a tarnished and discarded woman to be his wife, a bit of calm reflection showed him that the only price he'd have to pay to acquire this rich and beautiful girl for his own would be to swallow his pride. Ingalls might always resent his friend North's machinations to have the girl first, but the fact remained that Corianne would not wed him otherwise.
Better this way than not at all
, he consoled himself, and he returned to North's house in a more conciliatory frame of mind.

North, who had been about to cancel the entire plan, permitted Tony to persuade him to reconsider. Then the two sat down, glasses of brandy in hand, to discuss the details of the scheme. North was to pick up the girl on the following morning. They would travel on the Old North Road until dark, when they would reach the Three Forks Inn, a few miles north of Wolverhampton. (Lord North had done business with the innkeeper of the Three Forks several times before and knew that his discretion could be relied upon—for a price.) There the two travellers would spend the night. The next morning, after Lord North had informed Corianne that he intended to go no farther and that there would be no marriage between them, Tony Ingalls would make his appearance. He would console the no-doubt-hysterical girl with gentle declarations of sympathy and affection, and he would offer himself as a replacement for the miscreant bridegroom. Ingalls and Corianne would then proceed to Gretna, while Lord North would return to London in plenty of time to ready himself for the forthcoming betrothal celebration at Stanborough House.

Tony had to admit that the plan was ingenious. He downed his remaining brandy in a gulp and got up to pace about the room. “The scheme is apparently quite flawless,” he admitted after he'd mulled over all the details.

“So I told you,” North said immodestly. “And when you've come dashing to the girl's rescue, and she falls gratefully into your arms, you'll want to thank me, my boy.”

Tony looked at him with knit brows. “Yes, she
will
find me a rescuing hero, won't she?”

“She's
bound
to, you know. She will have become damaged goods. She'll be so grateful to you for offering for her, you'll be able to rest on your laurels for the rest of your life.”

Tony couldn't help but smile at the picture in his mind of Corianne's gratitude. “Yes,” he mused, “that's the best part of the scheme.”

“Indeed it is. The more dastardly the girl finds
me
, the more heroic
you
will appear.”

Tony nodded and offered his hand to his friend. “I
am
grateful to you, Jack. I know quite well she wouldn't have accepted me any other way. I'm not a valuable commodity on the Marriage Mart—I'm well aware of that. Everyone knows that I'm always in Dun Territory and that my reputation is unsavory. But Cory, at least, will think I'm commendable. You've concocted a masterly scheme, old man, and I'll willingly play along.” He walked to the door thoughtfully and paused on the threshold. “But—do you know, Jack?—at last I realize … you really
are
dastardly.”