Duel of Hearts (12 page)

This time he caught her and pushed her against a stone garden wall. Releasing her arm, he leaned to pin her there with a hand on either side of her. The light from the colored lanterns reflected in his eyes, giving him an eerie aspect and frightening her. Her own eyes widened when he leaned even closer.

His anger suddenly gone, he spoke quite softly. “Do you know what 'tis, Leah? We are better matched than you think—we both have devilish tempers.”

Shrinking against the wall, she was not at all certain she liked the change, either. “Release me this instant, my lord—else I shall scream.”

He was so close that she could smell the clean scent of lavender soap and she could feel the warmth of his body as he leaned into hers even before he touched her. His coat sleeve brushed against her bare arm, sending a shiver down her spine.

“You tempt a man, Leah—all that fire and spirit,” he whispered.

“You would not dare . . .”

Her voice trailed off uncertainly as he blotted all else out with his head. The glittering light in his eyes was the last thing she saw before she closed her own to hide from him. His breath was warm and alive against her cheek, and then he brushed her lips lightly, sending another shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold through her. His lips lingered there, warming her own, as his arms moved from the wall, one to cradle her head, the other to clasp her waist and pull her closer. Her mouth opened slightly in protest, only to be stilled by her first real kiss.

She was utterly unprepared for the sensation he gave her as the kiss deepened. For a moment she thought her knees would buckle, and she clung to him for support. She was both shocked and thrilled by the feel of his skin against hers, and when he finally released her lips, his cheek turned to nuzzle hers.

Behind them, small twigs snapped and leaves crunched, bringing both back to their senses. Leah stared wide-eyed in the starry darkness as Tony released her. Clasping her hand, he turned to face the intruder.

“Thought it was too cold for anybody to be out, told Letty so when she had 'em hang the damned lamps, but I guess I was mistaken.” Their host took in Leah's expression and winked at Tony. “Daresay a little chill don't stop a hot-blooded buck, though. Damme if you ain't a hand with the females, Lyndon.”

Tony felt Leah's fingers stiffen in his and he could have cursed Wicklow. “Miss Cole was overcome with the heat inside.” He spoke evenly.

“Guess you are wishing me at Jericho, ain't you? Just came out to see what happened to you after Rotherfield left, that's all.” Peering closer, he studied Tony. “Damme if I don't think this is a love match, after all.”

“We were just going in,” Tony lied.

“Ought to, I suppose. Ain't the thing to dally in the garden on a night like this—gel's probably dashed cold out here.”

Embarrassed, Leah pulled her hand away and started back inside, leaving Tony to follow on her heels. Just inside the doors, she stopped, still shivering, and collected her disordered thoughts. Almost immediately, Lord Barrasford was bearing down on her, ready for his dance. She managed to smile, thankful that it was to be a country dance, for she did not think she was up to being held for another waltz.

Outside in the street, a very self-satisfied earl leaned back against the lushly upholstered carriage seat, his long legs stretched across the interior, his hat pushed back on his black locks. That strange half-smile of his played about his mouth as he surveyed the woman across from him. Lacing his fingers together across his flat abdomen, he noted, “You know, Elaine, if you exhaust all your protectors, you just might try for the stage.”

Tears flowed unchecked down her lovely face, streaking her artfully applied rouge, while she stared silently into the street. “You know, Marcus,” she said finally, “while you were enjoying yourself with your little Cit . . .” Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen and his face tighten in the shadows, and she hastily amended, “. . . with your Miss Cole, then—while you were dancing with her, I was being summarily dismissed by Tony. I am afraid you will have to get the girl for yourself,” she sighed.

Rotherfield shrugged. “ 'Twas to be expected, I suppose—'tis said he is determined to hang in her pocket until the wedding. But,” he added generously, “you still have Carrington. A trifle old, I'll admit, but rich enough to afford your tastes, and who knows, the old fool might even offer marriage.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Come, Elaine, 'tisn't as though you expected Lyndon to offer for you,” he consoled.

“He means to have her, Marcus—I know he does.”

“Then he is doomed to disappointment, my dear, for I have put my spoke squarely in his wheel.”

A
nthony Barsett awoke to the unwelcome news that the Earl of Rotherfield was paying him a morning call. Rousing himself from sleep, he glanced at the card on the tray and considered having his valet convey to the butler that he was not receiving. But there was something about the rather austere “Marcus C. W. Halvert, Earl of Rotherfield” that leapt from the cream-colored cardboard and demanded attention. And, as if reading his lordship's thoughts, the valet nodded, his own disapproval patent in his expression.

“Fitch says Lord Rotherfield has expressed his intent to wait however long 'tis necessary for an audience with you.”

“Damn the man! What time can it be, anyway?” Tony leaned to open the cover of his pocket watch. “ 'Tis but ten,” he grumbled. “One would think he keeps country hours, when he is never in the country.”

“Perhaps Fitch should—”

“No.” Tony sat on the side of his bed and ran his fingers through his rumpled hair as though he could restore order to it. “Have James bring up some coffee—and tell Fitch to direct Rotherfield up.”

“Up here, sir?”

“Well, I am scarce prepared to come down,” Tony snapped irritably, “and I'd not have him in my house all morning, either. Hand me the dressing gown.” Rising, he shrugged into the brocaded robe and fastened the black braid frogs. He knew instinctively that whatever the earl wanted, it concerned Leah, and after the night he'd spent, Tony welcomed the confrontation.

“Lyndon.”

One thing he had to give Marcus Halvert—the man could make one word sound like a challenge.

“Hallo, Marcus,” Tony acknowledged coolly. “Coffee?”

“No—I shan't stay long. I have come on business merely,” he added, cutting immediately to the heart of the matter. For the briefest moment he appeared to be absorbed in the heavy gold-and-onyx signet ring he wore, and then his black eyes met Tony's. “ 'Tis quite simple really—you find yourself in dun territory, and I am prepared to assist you out of it.”

“You will of course forgive me if I take a cup?” Tony inquired politely, spooning a dollop of heavy cream into his coffee and stirring it. “Now, I do not consider myself sufficiently acquainted with you, Marcus, to discuss my affairs. The state of my fortune need not concern you.” His eyes still on the earl, he lifted the cup and sipped. “Are you quite certain you do not wish some? 'Tis the best to be had of Johnathen's—excellent really.”

“Do not be a fool!” Rotherfield snapped.

Tony's eyes went hard over the rim. “You have been misinformed, my lord—I do not require your aid.”

“I am prepared to match Cole's settlement, Lyndon.”

“My dear Marcus, you could not possibly. For one thing—”

“How much do you owe?” the earl broke in harshly. “Ten thousand? Twenty? Thirty?”

“As I was about to say, the lovely Leah is the most tempting part of Jeptha Cole's offer.”

“She doesn't want to marry you.”

“But her father approves the match.”

“Name your price, Lyndon—I am not averse to your making a profit in the course of our agreement.”

“I have no price, Marcus—none. Like you, I want the girl herself, so we are at cross-purposes, are we not?” Tony's voice was soft but there was no mistaking the will beneath. “So if you do not care for coffee, there's naught else to be said between us.”

“I'd not thought you a foolish man—or a stupid one.”

A chill ran down Tony's spine at the veiled threat in the other man's words, but his face did not betray him. “If you mean to call me out, Marcus, by all means do so. I am not afraid to meet you, you know—and unlike Calicott, I am better than a fair shot. I am also less than half his age.”

The muscles in the earl's jaw worked as his mind overruled his anger. “Thirty thousand today, Lyndon,” he offered evenly.

Tony's face grew pained. “I thought I made myself plain on that head—I mean to have Leah Cole.”

“Cole might prefer to make her a countess,” Rotherfield countered.

“No. I can see she is received, my dear Marcus, which is something you cannot quite manage. And despite what you might think, the old man is rather fond of his daughter. So . . . we have reached
point non plus
between us, I think.” Turning away, Tony set his empty cup on the tray and prepared to pour himself some more of the coffee. “Good day, Marcus.”

Grasping the head of his walking stick as though he would strangle it, the earl executed the stiffest and slightest of bows to acknowledge his dismissal. “ 'Twould seem the hand is yours, Lyndon,” he murmured in that cold voice of his, “but the game is not yet done.”

“A line worthy of the great Edmund Kean.” Tony lifted his steaming cup in a mock toast to Rotherfield's back and then sighed heavily at the sound of the earl's measured tread on the stairs. Once again, he could have strangled his betrothed—through her he'd gained an enemy no man wanted.

Unable to dismiss the earl's visit lightly, Tony bathed and endured the ministrations of his valet before presenting himself in Hans Town to speak with Jeptha Cole. Consoling himself with the thought that Rotherfield's sudden ardor for Leah would probably cool in their absence, he prepared to discuss the wedding trip.

In the process of directing the cleaning of the marble floor herself, Leah was in the foyer when he rang. And, for once, she appeared self-conscious in his presence. As the door opened to admit him, her hand flew to the dust cap that covered her hair, snatching it off to hold it behind her.

“If you are looking for Papa, he has gone to Garraway's for an auction sale of salvaged goods,” she offered, not meeting his eyes. “Mrs. Crome, will you inquire of Millie if there are any polishing cloths left? I fear that 'twill take more than we have to do the task correctly. And, Timothy—do go with her to carry.” Looking up quickly and then down again, she added to Tony, “You find us at sixes and sevens with the cleaning, I fear. Whether there are guests or no, Papa would have the place shipshape for the wedding.”

“Miss Cole . . . Leah . . .”

“If you are come to apologize for kissing me last night, I—”

“Not for the kiss, Leah, but for the quarrel.” Moving in front of her, he reached to take the cap and, flinging it aside, possessed both her hands. To his surprise, she did not pull away. “Come, can we not cry friends, my dear? I shall promise to treat you with the respect you deserve in hopes that you will cease ripping up at me.”

This time, when she dared meet his eyes, they were searching her face soberly, and she felt an involuntary lurch in her chest. A man ought not to look at one quite like that. “I daresay the fault was not all yours, my lord,” she answered slowly. “You are not the first to accuse me of a devilish temper, after all.” Pulling her hands free, she turned her back on him and rubbed at a finger smudge on the highly polished staircase newel. “I would, however, prefer that you not see Mrs. Chandler publicly. 'Tis narrow-minded of me, I know, but I . . . well, I would not be the object of false pity, my lord,” she finished, stiffening her back.

“I do not mean to see her at all.”

“Never?”

“She is gone from my life, Leah.” He came up behind her, but made no move to touch her. “ 'Tis not admirable of me, I know, but then you do not know how ‘twas between us.” When she remained silent, he sighed and sought to explain. “I cannot expect you to understand everything, of course, but there are women who sell their favors outright, and there are those who flatter and pretend affection for gifts. Elaine Chandler is one of the latter, Leah. I was not her first protector nor am I her last.”

“How can you know she did not care?” Swinging around to face him suddenly, she looked up, demanding, “How can you just cast away someone?”

“I have reason to believe she had already sought another, wealthier man than I—that only word of my imminent rescue by your father brought her back.”

“Oh.”

“That and the
on-dit
that my Cit was quite beautiful. I think perhaps the gossip stung her pride. Elaine is rather noted for choosing her protectors, rather than for being chosen.”

“And she came to the duchess's party to see you.”

“Not me—you. That was my mistake, Leah—I sought to make her leave and drew even more attention to her. Had I the chance again, I should ignore her.”

“But how can you?” Her gray eyes searched his face as she sought to understand him. “I mean . . . that is, after what she has been to you . . . well, you must have felt something for her once.”

It was a highly improper conversation between them, but Tony realized that she deserved an answer. “No,” he admitted baldly. “ 'Twas merely a business arrangement. When I saw she sported Carrington's gifts, I knew our liaison was over.”

“Carrington? But he is old and fat and ugly!” She nearly choked with revulsion at the thought of the aging roué she'd met at the Childredges' party. “Surely not!”

“Old men pay more to get what they want, Leah.”

“ 'Tis disgusting!”

“I suppose it is,” he admitted, smiling at her innocence. “I find the notion distasteful myself, but 'tis the way of things. Now . . . ” His blue eyes gleamed as he moved closer to lean his tall frame on the banister. “Having admitted my folly, I'd ask of yours, my dear—what is Rotherfield to you?”

“The earl?” She appeared taken aback by the sudden shift in direction the conversation had taken. “I like him—I'd count him a friend, I think.”

“Leah, I think you should know that—”

“There are no more cleaning rags to be had, Miss Leah,” laundry is done, we shall have to contrive with what we have. And with the wedding coming so soon upon us, I don't know as how—” She stopped and caught herself guiltily. “Well, daresay it can be managed, of course, if you two was to get out of our way. Ain't a bit of sense to havin' four people standing about when two's got to work.”

“I cannot stay,” Tony murmured apologetically. “ 'Twas my intent to take you driving, as the weather is quite warm.”

“Alas, but I cannot, my lord. I am scarce prepared to be seen, and I . . . well, there is so much to do. Despite the fact that there will not be many to eat it, Papa is determined that we have a particularly fine supper, and—”

“Enough! 'Tis comforting to know I shall be leg- shackled with some ceremony then. If you will but see me to my curricle, I'd have of you just where 'tis you would go on the wedding trip.”

“Oh, I had not thought . . .” Looking around her, she caught the intense interest of the old housekeeper and the footman. “Yes . . . of course,” she managed, hiding her consternation at the thought of leaving her home forever with him.

He held the door open for her and followed her out into the early-afternoon sun. “You did think to go somewhere, did you not? I seem to distinctly recall speaking of France or Italy, my dear.”

“I have never been away from London in my life, sir,” she admitted frankly, “and I have not the least notion of where to go. Indeed, I'd hoped that perhaps we could just stay here with Papa.”

He shook his head. “ 'Twould be too much remarked —and I should like to show you Paris if you do not object. However, if 'tis Italy you prefer, then I thought perhaps Florence or Milano—Rome is dirty and crowded.”

“As Paris is closer, I think I should prefer that—I'd not be gone from Papa overlong.”

“As you wish then. I shall send my man ahead to bespeak accommodations for us.” They'd reached his curricle and he turned back to face her. “I think you will find the experience enjoyable, Leah.”

The soft spring breeze caught his blond hair and ruffled it and the sun reflected warmly in his blue eyes as he looked down on her. The thought flitted through her mind that he did indeed look like the conquering Alexander. Sucking in her breath, she managed to nod. “But you will not forget our agreement, will you?” she blurted out finally.

A slow smile lifted both corners of his mouth and one eyebrow. “That your citadel is safe from me? Miss Cole, I herewith promise to make no direct assaults on your fort.”

“And indirect?”

“Now, that depends on you. I am not above attempting to gain the keys to the gate, but then 'tis up to you to keep them.”

“If that means you hope to charm me, Lord Lyndon, you will discover the task difficult indeed.” But the sharpness of her words was eased by the mischief in her eyes. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

He stood watching her as she skipped back up the steps and into the house. If that could be construed as a challenge, Tony meant to take it. Whistling softly, he took the ribbons from his groom and swung his tall frame up into the seat. Seeing the drapery lift slightly in the front saloon, he tipped his beaver-brimmed hat in that direction before clicking the reins.

As he drove out of sight, she let the curtain fall. If Tony Barsett thought to turn her up sweet with those incredibly handsome looks of his . . . She paused mid- thought, fearing that he just might be able to do it. He was a rake and a gamester—an unprincipled fellow who mounted mistresses and discarded them, she reminded herself severely. And as long as she could remember that, she could guard not only her citadel but also her heart.