Duel of Hearts (5 page)

“As if you need such advice,” Belinda said scornfully. “You
have
no problems of the heart. All the men take one look at you and fall right into your pocket.”

“Well, that may not hold true in London, you know,” Corianne said with unaccustomed modesty.

“Then why go? I can't say I really understand you, Cory. You can easily find yourself a husband right here. You can have your pick of anyone—even Thomas Moresby.”

Corianne giggled. “I'll leave Thomas Moresby to you. I saw the way you looked at him at the assembly ball last month.”

Belinda gave her braying laugh. “Perhaps I
did
take notice of him. He's far and away the most sensible of the sorry lot who attend those balls. But much good it did me to notice him—he didn't take his eyes from you during the entire evening.”

“Then you should be glad to see me go. You may have him all to yourself at the next assembly.”

“That's true,” Belinda agreed, grinning. “It will be an interesting experience for
all
the girls at the assembly, not having you there to take the shine out of us all.”

“There, you see? You won't miss me at all.”

Belinda's grin faded, and she shook her head. “Nevertheless, Cory, I don't see why you find it necessary to go all the way to London to find a husband. If
I
were you, I'd stay right here and marry the Squire.”

“Do you mean
Edward?
” Corianne blinked at her friend in astonishment. “You must be joking! Why, he must be well past
thirty
!”

“What does
that
signify? Have you ever really looked at him? I think he's the most attractive man in the entire county.”

“Attractive?
Edward?
”

“Yes, Edward. All that sort of sinewy muscularity … it makes him almost handsome, if you ask me.”

“Do you really think so?” Corianne asked wonderingly.

“Of course. If he'd take the notice of me that he does of you, I'd be in
transports
.”

“Really, Belinda, I've never known you to talk like a goosecap before. Edward is like … like an
uncle
. One doesn't think of marrying one's uncle!”

“But he's
not
your uncle.”

“And besides, he isn't even a
baronet
!” She looked across the room at her friend, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I have my eye on bigger game.”

Belinda frowned. “Cory, I know that look. What are you up to? Is there someone in London you've set your eye on?”

Corianne laughed and got to her feet. Lifting her skirts, she twirled around her friend with dancing steps. “Yes, there is,” she chortled, “and
he's
a
Marquis!
”

“I might have known!” Belinda shook her head in disapproval. “If you think to impress me with titles, Cory, you've mistaken your girl. Mama says that titles all sound very well on the announcements, but one has to live with the
man
.”

“
This
man is quite up to his titles. He's handsome and rich and … oh, Belinda, he's
terribly
romantic.”

Belinda's interest was caught in spite of herself. “Romantic?” she asked with a touch of eagerness. “In what way?”

“Well, if you promise on your honor not to breathe a word—!”

Belinda snorted. “Even slivers of bamboo pushed under my fingernails won't drag from my bosom the secrets of my best friend!” she declaimed with mock-heroic gestures.

Belinda sat down on the floor beside her friend and leaned close. “First,” she said in a dramatic whisper, “his name is John Philip North, the Marquis of Revesne. And he's a positive prize! They say his fortune is
enormous
, and he's so magnificent to look at that he makes Edward Middleton look a
bumpkin
in comparison.”

“I don't believe you,” declared Belinda staunchly.

“True as I sit here! But the romantic part is that he's quite unattainable.”

“Unattainable? Then, why—?”

“Unattainable so
far,
” Corianne answered smugly. “
I
have not yet had a chance at him.”

“I'm not sure I understand any of this, Cory,” Belinda said, puzzled.

“Well, you see, it seems that he holds all ladies of fashion in dislike. A woman in his past must have angered him a great deal. I don't know all the details, but I've heard that, although he's taken a succession of opera dancers and other ‘fancy pieces,' he treats ladies of quality with utmost disdain.”

“Why, he sounds to me like a
rake!
” Belinda said, revolted.

“Yes, isn't it
delightful?
I've been told that any number of real beauties have set their caps for him, to no avail. He's said to be completely cold to their lures. In fact, they call him Frozen North.”

“Good heavens!
Frozen North?
Do you call that
romantic?
He sounds to me to be positively forbidding!”

Corianne shook her head pityingly. “You haven't a touch of the romantic in your nature, have you, Belinda? What a shame. You'll miss so much that is exhilarating in life.”

Belinda ignored the criticism, her mind occupied with sudden misgivings about her friend's impetuosity. “Cory, I think you're making a huge mistake. It sounds to me as if you're heading into dangerous waters.”

“Thrilling, isn't it?” Cory answered, her eyes dancing.

Belinda had a strong urge to give her friend a shaking. “Thrilling! You goosecap, what makes you think
you
can melt this … this iceberg, if all the others could not?”

“But that's the
challenge
, don't you see? I feel like … like an explorer—”

“Good God, Cory, something's addled your
brain
! An
explorer?
”

“Yes, that's just the right word—explorer!” Corianne declared, striking a pose before her friend, one arm raised bravely to indicate the far horizon. “I shall sally forth with flags flying and attempt to conquer the frozen wastes where so many before have failed.” She dropped her arm, giggled gleefully and gave her friend a broad wink. “And before two months have passed, I shall have planted my standard firmly in the ground and made the territory my own!”

Belinda was unimpressed. “If you ask me, Corianne Lindsay, you are about to take a wolf by the ear. Just have a care that you don't wind up being eaten alive!”

Chapter Three

O
N A CHILLY
, late-September night, a tired and tight-lipped Edward tipped the footman of the Fenton Hotel, sent his man Martin off to bed and shut the door of his hotel room with a firm slam. He cast a quick look about him and groaned. The room was decorated with just the sort of baroque femininity he most disliked. Perhaps he should have taken himself to Long's, a hotel he'd heard of which was located in Clifford Street, but the Fenton was situated somewhat closer to Stanborough House (where he'd just deposited Corianne) and had therefore seemed the better choice.
Oh, well
, he thought,
this room will probably do as well as any other. I'm not likely to find any room in London to my liking
.

He tossed his portmanteau on a low chest, took off his coat and sat down at a small, uncomfortable writing table. He lit an oil lamp which stood at his elbow, trimmed the nib of the pen that stood waiting in the inkstand and began to write:
To Lord Lindsay, Daynwood Park, Lincolnshire
—
My dear Roland, This will be a brief report, for we have been travelling all day, and I am at the point of exhaustion. I wish only to assure you that your daughter has been deposited safely into the arms of your sister at Stanborough House. The trip brought no catastrophe, but thanks only to my assiduous guardianship of your impossible offspring, for she attracted an alarming amount of masculine admiration at every stop we made. The postboy at the Swan in Peterborough was so instantly smitten with her he dropped a trunk on his foot. Two young coxcombs in the taproom of the inn came to blows over which one of them was to open a door for her. And she actually flirted with a complete stranger who blundered into our dining room, which was supposed to be private. Can you imagine the havoc she'd have wrought if we had gone by the mail, as you suggested? I'm thankful that I followed my instincts and came in my own carriage, for it would have been the outside of enough to have had to sit in the mailcoach for two days and watch the other passengers ogling her. In any case, it will be convenient for me to have my own carriage available here in town
.

I have put up here at the Fenton on St. James Street. I've been told it is a very fine hotel, but in actuality it is a noisy place with small, cramped rooms containing so many chairs and tables and furnishings that there's not a bit of bare wall to be seen. And the furniture is so elegantly dainty in design that a man of my size and bulk can approach it only with extreme caution. I sincerely hope the bed is long enough to permit me to stretch out my legs. The mattress is of the overstuffed, feathered kind that I detest, but in my weary state I shall undoubtedly find it passable enough. We shall soon see, for I am headed for it as soon as I write my name. Hoping you keep in good health, I remain yours, etc., Edward
.

He threw the pen aside and sealed the letter, uncomfortably aware of its ill-humored tone. But since he was too tired to attempt to rewrite the message, and since he knew that Lord Lindsay would be eager to learn of his daughter's safe arrival (even if the letter in which the news was contained was decidedly morose), he rang for the hotel footman and arranged for the note to be dispatched. Then he rummaged in his portmanteau for a nightshirt and quickly readied himself for bed.

In spite of the feather mattress, he was almost instantly asleep. If it were not for the fact that he had a most unpleasant dream—in which he lost Corianne in a crowded city street full of leering men—he would have had to admit that he'd passed a surprisingly comfortable night.

Corianne's spirits on
her
first night in London were a good deal happier than those of her guardian. Her aunt Laurelia and her cousin Sarah welcomed her most affectionately and gave not the slightest sign that they felt any resentment at having been coerced into inviting her. Sarah was most kind when she showed Corianne to the lovely rose-colored bedroom in which she'd stayed two years before, chatting pleasantly about some of the people Corianne had met on her earlier visit and complimenting her most flatteringly on her appearance. Then, after she'd washed up, her aunt called her down to partake of a late supper, during which both her hostesses made every effort to make her feel at home.

Aunt Laurelia described to Corianne in some detail the numerous plans she'd made for the girl's entertainment—a program which was to begin the very next day with a luncheon at Lady Howard's and an evening at the opera in the company of a few of Lady Stanborough's friends. The girl nearly burst with excitement but had to admit that she was not certain she would be permitted to attend.

“But why not, my dear child?” Lady Stanborough asked in surprise.

“You see, Edward made me promise I would not go out until he'd had a chance to speak to you.”

“Edward? Who's Edward?” her aunt inquired. “Is he the gentleman who brought you?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Well, what has
he
to say to anything, may I ask?”

Corianne made a face. “He has
everything
to say, I'm afraid. You see, Papa would not permit me to come to London unescorted, and he asked his friend—he's Squire Middleton, you know, whose land marches along with ours—to come with me as a sort of guardian.”

“
Guardian?
I never heard of such an arrangement! Do you mean the man will be supervising your activities during your stay?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Corianne admitted.

Lady Stanborough's finely pencilled eyebrows rose in offended dignity. “Does your father think that
my
guardianship will not be good enough?” she demanded.

“Come now, Mama, don't get on your high ropes,” Sarah put in. “My uncle has quite understandable qualms about permitting his lovely daughter to gallivant about London with only two weak females to protect her. I think it was very wise of him to provide Corianne with a masculine protector.”

“Nonsense,” her mother said, refusing to be mollified. “I don't see why he found it necessary to do so
now
, when he didn't do it two years ago when Cory came here for her come-out.”

I don't see why, either,” Corianne said with a sigh.

“But I do,” Sarah insisted. “You see, Cory, now that you've been presented, you have more freedom to go about than you had before. Not only that, but your last visit was for a month only, and part of that time your father was here with you.”

“That's true,” Corianne said. “And Edward, too.”

“Edward?” Sarah asked, looking at Corianne interestedly. “This Edward—did he come down for your presentation ball?”

“Oh, yes. He's a very old friend of the family, you see.”

“Well, I certainly don't like this arrangement,” Lady Stanborough grumbled. “He'll probably be a crotchety nuisance, telling us where we may or may not take you.”

“Oh, Edward isn't like that, I assure you, Aunt. Besides, I can handle him.”

“I hope so, child,” her aunt replied. “There's nothing I detest so much as being plagued by an overbearing old man.”

Sarah kept silent, but a little smile played about the corners of her mouth. If her suspicions were correct, Corianne's “guardian” was not nearly so old as her mother believed.

Before she went to sleep, Corianne, like Edward, penned a letter to Lord Lindsay.
Dear Papa
, she wrote,
It is very Late, and I should be abed, but I shall take only a Moment to write a few lines to tell you that we've Arrived Safely. It was a most Enjoyable Trip, everyone along the way being very Kind and Attentive to me from the lowliest postboy to the very grand Gentleman who happened into our dining room at the Swan and exchanged a few Pleasantries with us. I am only sorry that we didn't travel by Mail as you suggested, so that I could have had more People to talk to than only Edward, who was usually in the Sullens and answered my remarks with only Monosyllables. But I didn't mind, because there was so much to See and to Think about that the time really flew. And now I am Here at last
!