Duel of Hearts (9 page)

“How do you do? Miss Lindsay, is it not?” Lord North was saying smoothly. “How delightful to see you in London again.”

Corianne colored with pleasure. “It is k-kind of you to remember me, my lord,” she said with becoming modesty. “Won't you … er … come in?” She stepped aside, and North entered, followed by his friend.

Wilfred Shirley, standing in the corridor, was bewildered and confused, unsure of what was now expected of him. “I say,” he objected, catching Ingalls' arm, “she's supposed to come walking with
me
!”

Ingalls raised his quizzing glass in a good imitation of North's manner and looked Mr. Shirley over carefully. “Some other time, my boy,” he said in condescending dismissal and turned to enter the box.

“Not your place to dismiss me,” young Shirley muttered, angered into asserting himself. “Ought to tell me herself if she's dismissing me.” With unwonted courage, he followed Ingalls into the Stanborough box.

Meanwhile, inside, Corianne was announcing in barely restrained glee the arrival of their lofty visitor. “Aunt Laurelia, look who's come to see us!”

“Why … it's
North
!” Lady Stanborough exclaimed with pleasure, casting a sidelong glance of triumph at her daughter. “Where have you been hiding this age, my lord?” She held out a hand to him. “In all sorts of iniquitous places, I have no doubt.”

“She's supposed to be taking a stroll with
me,
” Wilfred Shirley mumbled to no one in particular.

North smiled at Lady Stanborough enigmatically, kissed her fingers and presented his friend. “Pleasure to meet you, ma'am,” Anthony Ingalls said with a deep bow. “I hope you and your sisters are enjoying the music.”

Lady Stanborough giggled with pleasure, tapping Ingalls affectionately on the wrist with her fan. “Did you hear that, Lady Howard?” she chortled to her friend on the other side of the barrier. “My
sisters
, indeed! You are a dreadful flatterer, Mr. Ingalls. That young lady over there is my very own daughter, Sarah. And this one is my niece, Corianne Lindsay. And may I also present Squire Edward Middleton, who is visiting London for a while?”

Bows and greetings were exchanged, and Lord North came to the front of the box to take a better look at the man rising from the seat beside Sarah. This left a bit of room for Wilfred Shirley to come closer to his target. “She's supposed to be taking a stroll with
me
,” he repeated, a bit louder.

North surveyed Edward carefully through his quizzing glass. “Middleton, is it?” he asked, reaching out a hand. “You look deucedly familiar. Where have I seen you—?” He paused as a shock of recognition flashed across his mind. “Sarah, my dear, is he not … the
bumpkin
?”

“I see that your manners haven't improved with time, my lord,” Sarah said coldly.

“I probably
am
a bumpkin, sir,” Edward said pleasantly, “since I
am
from the country and feel at a decided disadvantage.
Have
we met before?”

Lord North snorted and looked from Edward to Sarah with brows raised. “You don't remember? Well, if Miss Stanborough has not seen fit to remind you, I shall also refrain.”

Anthony Ingalls, having made his bow to all the ladies in both boxes, closed in on his target. “Miss Lindsay, I wonder if you would care to take a stroll in the corridor to exercise your limbs before the onslaught of the second act?” he asked in Corianne's ear.

“I heard that!” Wilfred cried furiously. “I heard! I s-say, Miss L-Lindsay, didn't you tell me that
I
was to escort you?”

“Go away, fellow,” Ingalls said in a low voice, trying to urge the agitated young man from the box. “Can't you see the lady's occupied elsewhere?”

But Mr. Shirley was determined to make a fight of it. “Stop pushing!” he grunted, shoving back at Ingalls with all his strength. “She promised
me
—!”

The force of his exertion succeeded in causing Mr. Ingalls to totter backward and trip over a vacant chair. He and the chair tumbled to the floor with a noisy crash. Although no damage was done either to the chair or to himself, Ingalls flushed with fury and humiliation as Mr. Shirley crowed with impolite, ignoble, but very satisfactory triumph.

Lord North helped Ingalls to his feet, while Edward frowned at Corianne in disapproval. This was just the sort of scene the girl always seemed to inspire. Corianne, however, was enjoying herself hugely, hoping that her power to bring grown men to fisticuffs was making an impression on Lord North. “Oh, dear,” she murmured guiltily as she glanced up at North with a mischievous twinkle, “I
did
promise Mr. Shirley! How dreadful that I forgot about him. I suppose I
should
stroll out with him, but I shouldn't like to disappoint your friend, either. You must help me, your lordship. What shall I do now?”

North glanced down at her and said smoothly, “The only course is to take them both. One on each arm.”

Corianne, who had expected him to offer to take both their places, was trapped. “Very well, your lordship,” she said with a pout, “if you think I should.” And, taking each one of the combatants by the arm, she did as he bid. The trio left the box, but none of them was made happy by the compromise.

In the quiet that followed their exit, Lady Stanborough invited Lord North to take the seat vacated by Corianne, just at Sarah's right. After exchanging a few more words, Lord North turned to Sarah. Lady Stanborough moved her chair closer to the barrier between her box and Lady Howard's, and the two began to whisper. It was not hard for Sarah to guess the subject of their exchange.

“Have you come to London on business, Mr. Middleton?” Lord North asked, again scrutinizing Edward through his quizzing glass.

Edward, who had not resumed his seat, was wondering if his presence was interfering with what could be a tête-à-tête. “No, my lord,” he answered, “I'm on a holiday, you might say.” He turned to Sarah. “I wonder, ma'am, if you'd care for a glass of champagne before the second act begins.”

“No, not at all,” Sarah said quickly. “I'm not the least bit thirsty. Please don't trouble.”

Edward was not deaf to the plea in her voice. But Lady Stanborough, who had quite the opposite intention for her daughter than her daughter wished, looked up at him at once. “
I
should like a glass, Mr. Middleton, if you don't mind. All that strenuous singing has left me parched.”

Sarah bit her lip in chagrin, but Edward had no choice. He bowed and left.

North, fully aware of the byplay, smiled wickedly. “So, Miss Stanborough, you've been outmaneuvered. You
must
speak to me, like it or no. Tell me, my dear, is that fellow a new suitor?”

Sarah shuddered again. Would North never change? “I don't see that it is any concern of yours, my lord,” she said quietly, “but I shall admit that I barely know the man. He is escorting Miss Lindsay, who has just arrived from Daynwood.”

“I see. I didn't think so during our first encounter, but he's a pleasant-enough fellow, isn't he?”

“I couldn't say, my lord,” Sarah responded, carefully noncommittal.

“I sincerely hope, Sarah, that your acquaintance with Mr. Middleton will not develop into intimacy.”

Sarah looked at him coldly. “I don't know what you mean, sir.”

“Don't play the innocent, my girl. With time and further acquaintance, the fellow may take more than a friendly interest in you. If that should happen, I advise you not to encourage him.”

Sarah sighed in discouragement. She'd endured this sort of conversation with him so many times before. “Lord North,” she began, “
please
—”

“I mean it, Sarah. I haven't changed. I'm still determined that no one but I will ever lead you to the altar.”

She clenched her hands tightly and forced a smile. “What nonsense you speak, sir. Surely you realize that I'm well past the age for marrying. I'm quite content with matters just as they are.”

Lord North leaned back against his seat and looked her over admiringly. “It's you who are speaking nonsense. To me you're one of those rare women who will remain desirable even when you reach advanced age.”

“Thank you, my lord, but I think the dim light has obscured your vision.”

He laughed and reached for her hand. “You're still evading me, aren't you? What can I do to earn a jot of encourage—?”

But Edward had returned. The sound of his step distracted Lord North enough to permit Sarah to snatch her hand from his grasp. Edward brought the two glasses of champagne to Lady Stanborough and her companion, and Lord North rose, whispered to Sarah that he would find a way to see her soon again, and took his leave.

Edward took his seat, glancing at Sarah in some concern. He'd seen her snatch her hand away from Lord North's hold, and the slight tremor of her fingers showed him that she was still agitated. He wondered what had passed between them. But, of course, the matter was not his affair. “A little while ago, Miss Stanborough, you were asking me what I thought of the music,” he reminded her gently, hoping to take her mind from the troubles which were evidently besetting her.

She smiled at him gratefully. “Yes, I was. The singing is superb, don't you agree? What did you think of Madame Milani?”

“I'm far from expert on sopranos, I'm afraid. I found the music to be sometimes lovely and sometimes tedious.” He grinned his disconcerting grin at her. “You see, I have only a
bumpkin's
taste.”

Sarah colored. “I must apologize for Lord North. He can sometimes be … tiresome.”

“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I found his remarks very interesting. Would I be
gauche
, Miss Stanborough, to inquire about where he'd met me before?”

“Not
gauche
, sir, but I would prefer not to answer. It would be a matter of extreme embarrassment to me to recall to your mind a scene which does me little credit.”

“I can't believe you've
ever
done anything discreditable, ma'am. But I shall refrain from pressing you further. Besides, the curtain is about to go up.”

He settled back into his chair. Then, suddenly, he remembered Corianne. “Confound it,” he murmured, looking back at the door of the box, “what can be keeping Cory? Doesn't she know the curtain's up?”

Sarah didn't answer. Corianne was being thoughtless, as usual, but it was unlikely that there was any reason to feel alarm for the girl's safety. She glanced over at Edward's face. He was looking at the stage, but his brow was knit in troubled irritation. Corianne's hold on his emotions must be very strong, Sarah thought, to cause him such concern. Sarah felt her spirits sink even further. Poor Edward Middleton. How sad that he was burdened with a love that was obviously hopeless.

After a few moments, the box door opened and Corianne tiptoed in, smiled apologetically at her aunt and slipped into her seat. Edward glanced at her disapprovingly, but she didn't look in his direction. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining. She'd evidently enjoyed the intermission more than the opera.

He sat back and turned his eyes to the stage, but the opera failed to engage him as it had before. The intermission had given him much to think about. First and foremost was the fact that, even in London, the provincial Corianne attracted too much attention. He would have to find a way to convince her to restrain her tendency toward flagrant flirtations with casual acquaintances, but he was not at all sure he would be successful. Secondly, he would like to help the troubled Miss Stanborough. She was in some way deeply involved with Lord North. He knew it was none of his business, but he didn't like to see an admirable young woman like Miss Stanborough lose her heart to such a man. His first impression of the man was not at all favorable. There was something about his lordship that set up Edward's bristles … a coldness in the eyes and the look of the voluptuary about the mouth. Edward glanced at Sarah surreptitiously. Her eyes were fixed on the stage, but her fingers were plucking nervously at the thin scarf in her lap. Except for that small movement, there was nothing in her upright posture, the aristocratic tilt of her head, or the repose of her features that revealed any inner turmoil. She was much too fine, he thought, for a man like North.

Just then she turned her head and met his eye. He gave her a small, awkward smile and abruptly looked away. Sarah, too, turned her eyes back to the stage. But the little smile he'd given her was oddly comforting. Even though the conversation with Lord North had chilled her to the bone, she suddenly realized that the evening had not been without its triumphs for her. There had been two. Not large triumphs, perhaps, but rather pleasing nevertheless. The first had occurred when she'd come down the stairs and had seen Edward's expression of astonished admiration. And then, during the intermission, she'd actually caused him to forget about Corianne, at least for a minute or two. And
that
, under the circumstances, was a triumph indeed.

Chapter Seven

T
HE EVENING AT
the opera marked the beginning of an intoxicating whirl of activity for Corianne, for it was not only Anthony Ingalls who had admired her appearance that night. Several other young gentlemen in the audience had leveled their glasses in her direction. As a result, a number of Mamas of enterprising young sons found themselves knocking at Lady Stanborough's door with invitations in their reticules or their eager young sons in tow. And when Lady Howard let it slip that the girl was
very
well to pass (“… and, my dear, how many of your
true
beauties are rich as well?”), the number of aspirants practically trampled over each other to reach her door.

They found themselves more often frustrated than not. As Wilfred Shirley remarked to his mother in disgust, “That damned nail Ingalls seems to have gotten the inside track.” Tony Ingalls
did
seem to be running ahead of the pack, and he was quite puffed up with his success. But Corianne tactfully refrained from admitting to Mr. Ingalls the reason she so frequently accepted his invitations—that he was the one, of all her suitors, who was intimately acquainted with her Marquis, Lord North. Quite calculatingly, she permitted Mr. Ingalls to believe that she was a bit attracted to him. She confided the truth to no one but her friend Belinda, to whom she poured out her heart every few days in long, cross-hatched and emotional letters. The letter she wrote about a week after the night at the opera was typical of many.
I've seen Tony three afternoons and two evenings this Week
, she wrote,
and cannot help but Laugh at how readily he accepts the belief that I have developed a Tendre for him. He is quite Puffed up with his own Consequence. He grows to be a Dreadful Bore, even though his Appearance is top-of-the-trees, and he is very Knowing. But I must keep him Dangling, since he is the only link I have to J.N. So far, however, I have seen J.N. only once since the Opera. No matter how loudly and gaily I laughed that Evening, and no matter how many teasing Quips I tossed in his direction, J.N. took no Notice of me. I am beginning to realize that my task may not be as Easy as I first believed. I shall not Despair, however, for I have many Callers to keep me occupied, and dozens of Invitations for all sorts of Amusements. My Aunt says I am quite the Rage, and although I know you will think me Shockingly Boastful to repeat the remark to you, it is quite true
.