Duel of Hearts (26 page)

“Sarah, you're not considering trying this
alone
!” Fitz was aghast.

“And in this fog!” his wife added promptly.

“As Edward would say, it's a mere nothing,” Sarah reminded her, looking out the window where nothing but a white mist could be seen.

“The whole idea is impossible,” Clara insisted. “You must realize how fruitless such a chase would undoubtedly be. They have several hours' head start—”

“Only a couple,” Sarah said. “I must
try
, Clara.”

Clara and Fitz exchanged looks. “Then we'll go with you,” Clara declared, her husband's agreement having already been ascertained by the glance between them.

“Clara, no! I couldn't ask it of you.”

“You haven't asked, my dear,” Clara said, patting her hand.

“We can't permit you to go alone,” Fitz said with unusual firmness. “It's out of the question.”

Sarah couldn't trust herself to say a word. She merely swallowed and hugged her friend gratefully.

“Now,” mused Fitz again, chewing his moustache uneasily, “if we could only find a clue as to their direction…”

“Perhaps,” Clara suggested, not noticing either the sound of the front door or of the footsteps in the hallway, “if we read Cory's letter again, carefully—”

Edward appeared in the doorway, casually pulling off the greatcoat which he'd thrown over his riding habit. “Is there a letter from Cory?” he inquired, smiling at them comfortably.

Everyone in the room stiffened and looked at him in consternation. Edward, suddenly aware of their tension, glanced about the room. His eyes took in Sarah's face, and he felt an unexpected constriction of the chest. He'd not seen her since the day she told him about her feelings for Lord North—more than three weeks ago. The change in her was alarming. She'd grown thinner, her eyes were deeply shadowed and her skin so pale it was almost translucent. “
Sarah!
” he exclaimed impulsively, tossing his greatcoat over a chair and crossing the room in quick strides. He sat down beside her on the sofa. “What's wrong?” he demanded, taking her hands in his, his eyes searching her face.

“Nothing … nothing at all,” she managed to reply, her voice a mere breath. “Cory is … quite well…”

“I wasn't talking about Cory, since I saw her only yesterday. It's
you
who concerns me.”

“I'm … very well, thank you,” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.

Edward looked up at Fitz questioningly. “
Something
is out of order here,” he said flatly. “It shows in
all
your faces.” When Fitz didn't answer, he turned to Clara, but she, too, lowered her eyes. There was a moment of awkward silence while Edward stared at each of them. Then he dropped Sarah's hands abruptly and stood up. “I am evidently intruding. I beg pardon … of all of you.” And he started from the room.

Sarah looked after him with a tortured expression, putting a restraining hand to her mouth to keep from calling out to stop him. But at the doorway he stopped
himself
. “Wait…” he said, turning back. “I thought … I heard something about a letter from Cory. Has this something to do with
her?
”

Clara could stand this no longer. She expelled a breath decisively. “I think he has a right to know,” she said to Sarah flatly.

Sarah winced painfully. “Clara! No!”

“If it's a letter from Corianne,” Edward said, an eyebrow rising coldly, “I have
every
right—”

“The letter is addressed to
me
,” Sarah countered desperately.

“I see.” Edward hesitated for a moment and then strode back to Sarah's side. “If Cory is causing this difficulty—whatever it is—I wish, Sarah, that you would let me help.” He looked down at her gravely. “I've tried to tell you from the first that I'm well able to … that I wish you could learn to
trust
me!”

“I … I
do
trust you, Edward,” Sarah said stumblingly, her voice choked with emotion, “but this is not a question of—”

“Dash it, Sarah,” Fitz put in, “
tell
him! Even at
school
everyone went to Ned when in a fix.”

Sarah, finding three pairs of eyes fastened on her expectantly, shut out the sight by closing her own. “I can't,” she moaned doggedly. “I
can't
.”

Clara put a hand on hers. “Sarah, he's here as her
guardian
. You
must!
”

Sarah's eyes flew open, and she rounded on her friend in anguish. “No! It would be …
murder
, don't you see?”

“Murder?” Edward stared at her with dawning comprehension. “Has this something to do with
North?
” He seized Sarah roughly by the arms and pulled her up to face him. “Are you still afraid of a
duel?
” he demanded, wanting to shake her furiously, but restraining himself. “Damn it, woman,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “
why can't you let me fight my own battles?
”

“I say, Ned,” Fitz remonstrated, “that's not the way to speak to the lady. At least … I'd say it's a bit strong, isn't it?”

But neither Edward nor Sarah heard him. They stared at each other mulishly, eye to eye and chin to chin. Finally Sarah wavered. She seemed to sag in his grasp. “Very well. If you want to kill yourself …
go
after her. Here!” And, pulling herself from his grasp, she held out the letter that had been clenched in her hand.

Wordlessly, Edward took it and went to the window. In the grey light, he scrutinized the page.
Dear Cousin Sarah
, he read,
this is the most Difficult Letter I have ever had to write, but I cannot in Good Conscience go off to find my Happiness without a care for the Pain I leave behind. Believe me, Dearest Cousin, I would not willingly Hurt you, but there is no Other Way! North and I have just Discovered that we Love each other quite Madly, and there was nothing else for it but to Run Off like this. North and I will be Husband and Wife within a day of your reading this Note. I am, of course, the Happiest of creatures; but I am most Regretful that I should have been the Unwitting Instrument to cause you Sorrow. However, as the old saying goes, Love, like a cough, cannot be kept hid, and it is better
—
is it not?
—
that North and I should be Wed rather than that the three of us should live ever after in Abject Misery. I hope that this Letter will at least provide you with Adequate Preparation against the Shock when the news comes out about our Nuptials. Please, please, find it in your Heart to Forgive your most devoted cousin, Corianne
.

As he read the words, Edward muttered a stinging epithet under his breath. When he'd finished, he remained standing at the window, staring out into the fog, his back to the others. They could discern no signs of his reaction except for his hand which was slowly crushing the paper into his tight, white-knuckled fist.

“Well, Ned,” Fitz said at last, unable to stand the silence, “what do you think we should do?”

“Think? What do I
think?
” Edward said explosively, turning around and glaring at Sarah, who still stood motionless in the middle of the room. “I think, ma'am, that you've chosen yourself a
fine specimen
to be your bridegroom!”

Sarah, completely taken aback by this unwarranted attack, instinctively put up her defenses. “
I've
chosen?… I? It seems to me your
Cory
has done a bit of choosing, herself.”

Edward's glare wavered. “Well, as to that, there's no denying the girl's behaved like an idiot. But she
is
a mere child from the country, completely inexperienced in dealing with
rakes
and
seducers
.”

“Are you implying,” Sarah demanded with trembling indignation, “that
I have
such experience? I would like to point out to you, sir, that although I've lived my entire life in the city, I have
yet
to be seduced!”

“Stop this nonsensical bickering,” Clara interrupted. “There are more important matters to discuss in connection with our runaway pair.”

“There's nothing at all to discuss,” Edward said shortly. “I shall go after ‘our runaway pair' at once. Then I'll deposit your
bridegroom
, ma'am, at your doorstep and take my charge back to her father.”

“But how will you find them?” Fitz asked sensibly. “We don't even know their route.”

Edward shrugged and strode to the door. “Martin,” he shouted, “run down to the stables and horse the light carriage. Quickly, man. There's no time to waste.”

Clara rose from her seat. “There's no point in rushing off without a plan, Ned. Where will you go?”

But Edward was already occupying himself with that problem. “Fitz,” he asked impatiently, “what's the name of that sharp-nosed fellow North always has with him? Looks a bit like a jackal.”

“I know whom you mean,” Ftiz said, his eye brightening. “That is, I
expect
you mean Ingalls. Anthony Ingalls.”

“That's the one. You don't happen to know his direction, do you?”

“Well, hardly. The fellow's not my sort, you know. However, we
could
learn it at the club.”

“Not
we
, Fitz,” Edward said bluntly. “Just I. I'll travel more quickly on my own.” He picked up his greatcoat and put it on.

Sarah came up to him. “You will
not
go alone,” she declared firmly. “I'm going, too.”

“Whatever for?” he asked her coldly. “Can't you trust me to restore your bridegroom to you unharmed?”

Sarah ignored the thrust and grasped the edge of the capes of his coat in two trembling hands. “You'll be
killed
! Perhaps I can stop some useless bloodshed if I—”

“The last thing I need,” Edward said cuttingly, “is an hysterical female at my side.” He loosened her fingers from his coat and pulled her to Fitz. “Here. Hold her 'til I've left.”

Fitz reluctantly followed his friend's orders and held the struggling Sarah in his arms in a tight grasp.

“Edward,
please! Wait
…!” she cried. But he was gone.

Chapter Twenty

E
DWARD, HATLESS AND
with his open greatcoat flapping behind him, strode past Anthony Ingalls' surprised valet into the apartment. It was a small place, very bachelorish in its sparse decor and not very exemplary in its upkeep. Newspapers were strewn about the drawing room untidily, the remains of a meal were still to be seen on the dining room table, and an empty bottle of spirits lay carelessly on its side on a table in the corridor. But Edward took no special note of these solecisms. He had only one purpose in searching through the rooms—to find the gentleman of the house himself. It was not until he barged in through the bedroom door, however, that he found his quarry. Ingalls stood beside a bed littered with clothing, packing a portmanteau.

Edward came to an abrupt halt, his brows knit. “
Packing
, Mr. Ingalls?” he asked in sudden suspicion.

“What—? Who the
devil
—? How did you get in here?” Ingalls demanded with a start.

“My name is Middleton,” Edward said, his eyes fixed on the other man's face. “We've met a number of times before. Forgive this unceremonious entrance, but I've precious little time to waste. I'm looking for your friend, North. I suspect you know his destination.”

“See here, Middleton,” Ingalls said, reddening, “you've no right to barge in here like this!”

“I don't think you heard me,” Edward interrupted. “I have no time for the niceties.
Where has he gone?
”

“How the deuce should I know?” Ingalls answered sullenly, shifting his eyes from Edward's intense gaze.

“I think you do,” Edward said threateningly, watching Ingalls closely. “I think this hasty packing has something to do with it, too. Where are you off to, old fellow?”

“To … er … to visit my uncle, if you must know,” Ingalls improvised.

Edward took a step toward him. “You're lying. You're meeting North, aren't you? Where? And why? What have
you
to do with this?”

Ingalls backed away. Middleton was only a country bumpkin, but here in this small room he suddenly seemed
huge
. Ingalls was of average height, but his breadth could never be considered more than slight, and he did
not
excell in demonstrations of physical prowess or what were called “the manly arts.” He had always been clever enough to talk his way out of situations which threatened to lead to fisticuffs. “Nothing…” he said hastily. “I don't know
anything
…”

“I'm convinced that you
do
,” Edward insisted, moving closer. “Where has your friend gone?”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't know North had gone
anywhere
…”

Edward's right hand shot out and grasped Ingalls' neckcloth. “Where has your friend
gone?
” he asked again, this time more threateningly.

“Don't …
know
…”

Edward pulled the neckcloth tighter. Ingalls felt himself choking, and flailed his arms about helplessly. “
Gretna!
” he croaked in fear.

Edward loosened his hold. “By what route?”

“Old … North Road…”

That was all Edward had come to learn. He was about to fling the cowering fellow aside and go on his way, but some instinct held him. The fact that Ingalls was packing was a coincidence too significant to ignore. The fellow had reddened, stumbled and shown other signs of guilt. What
was
his involvement in this affair?

Edward tightened his hold on Ingalls' neckcloth again. “And where are
you
to meet them?” he demanded.