Davida gulped. “They were?” She had not thought it possible that her father could guess her whereabouts, much less catch up with her so soon. And why was Pelham with him? She fought down the sense of hope that tried to invade her. She would permit herself no more of this failure to face reality.
“Yes, and I may add, frantic with worry over you. Your father looked ready to fall over, from having ridden so hard.”
Stricken with remorse, Davida began to wring her hands. “Oh, Your Grace, I’m so sorry, and sorry I’ve awakened you so early, and, and . . .” Tears began to flow.
He placed an arm around her and hugged her, offering her his handkerchief at the same time. After giving her a few minutes to compose herself, he put her gently away, took the kerchief from her, and dried her eyes.
“Now, Davie. I am quite abominably curious. Just cut line and tell me why you are here.”
“S-s-sorry to be such a watering pot, Your Grace.” Davida straightened her shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and poured her heart out to Sarah’s father.
He listened without comment or obvious emotion until she had completed her explanation.
“So you’ve decided you’ll take me up on my offer rather than marry Pelham?”
“Yes, that is if it was a real offer. Or were you just teasing?” Anxious blue eyes searched his face.
Lord Harwood studied her gravely for a long moment. “It would be the marriage of May and—if not December, at least September. It’s just too ridiculous, isn’t it? You laughed when I said it, you know.”
“I . . . I thought it was just a joke. It was Sarah put it in my mind you might be serious.”
“And what was Sarah’s opinion of her doddering old papa marrying her best friend?” Lord Harwood drawled the words, irony lacing his tone.
Davida winced. “I have been very stupid, Your Grace. I am so embarrassed.” Her attempt to leave was quickly parried by Harwood’s gentle but firm grasp of her shoulders as he pushed her back down onto the settee beside him.
“There’s no need for you to be embarrassed, Davida. Rather, I should be. No man likes to think of being ridiculed by his daughter.”
“But she didn’t, Your Grace. Not at all. She actually seemed to like the idea of our always being close, and of your not being left alone when she married. Though I warned her I would be a wicked stepmother.” Davida wrinkled her face into a vicious grimace and then twinkled a smile up at the duke when he barked with laughter.
“Minx.” He flicked her nose with his finger, then abruptly grew serious. “Tell me, Davida, what sort of marriage did you envision when you came here this morning?”
“I’m not sure I take your meaning?”
He cleared his throat and gazed into the distance for a moment, then turned to her. “Were you hoping for a marriage in name only, rather than for a more intimate connection, one that might result in children, for example.”
“Would . . . would you want children, Your Grace?” Davida inquired timidly, eyes lowered and a flush spreading over her cheeks. “That is, Sarah thought you were . . . ah, that you would want companionship.”
A faint unreadable smile crossed his face and then faded. “Well, of course, companionship is a very important part of a good marriage, but you are not answering my question, Davida, my dear.”
Thinking aloud, she mused, “It is not as if you need children. You have often said your brother’s three sons more than satisfactorily secured the succession. But I, well, I have always wanted children. But I don’t have to have them, I suppose. Oh, I just don’t know.”
Davida grew agitated. “I really wasn’t thinking very clearly about you, about us.”
“No, you were thinking of your young man. You love him very much, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Davida lifted eyes filled with tears to him. “But as I said, I don’t want to be married to him when he loves another. He might grow to hate me.”
“Yet you offer me the same fate.”
“Please forgive me, Your Grace. It was very wrong of me.” Choked with tears, Davida tried once more to rise, and was once more gently restrained.
This time Harwood pulled her into his arms and tenderly stroked her hair as she wept. “No, no, you mustn’t cry. You may be in the right, you know. Your young man might be miserable with you if he loves another. He seemed very concerned about you last night, but it could just be that he felt responsible.”
Now it seemed as if it was the duke’s turn to think out loud. “I can’t imagine you giving me any grief. You have such a sweet, giving nature, you see. You would do your best to be a good wife to me, I know. I’m sure I could be very happy with you.”
“Then . . . what are you saying, Your Grace?” Davida raised her head and looked into the eyes of a man she’d known all her life. There was tenderness and compassion there.
“I am saying that if you truly wish it, I would be very pleased to make you my wife.”
“Oh! Thank you, Your Grace. I do wish it.” Davida sat up, pulling away from him. “I shall do my best to see you never regret it.”
“There is still a very important unresolved issue here, however.” The Duke of Harwood’s expression was determined.
Her blush clearly told him that Davida knew exactly what he meant. “But I can’t be the one to decide. I mean, if you aren’t . . . that is if you can’t . . . I mean, I would understand, and, as you say, companionship . . .”
Lord Harwood chuckled and cupped Davida’s chin in one large hand, bending his face near hers. But what he might have said or done was interrupted by the butler’s stentorian tones announcing, “Lord Pelham and Sir Charles Gresham.”
Rushing into the room, Sir Charles burst out, “Davida, I don’t know whether to hug you or to beat you.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight.
“My precious girl, racketing about England alone. Thank God you’ve come to no harm.”
“Oh, Papa, I’m so sorry I worried you.” A look at his haggard face and Davida was sunk in shame at her thoughtless action. “Is Mama . . .?”
“She’s in London, anxiously awaiting news. I’ve sent a messenger to tell her you’ve been found. But what can you have been about, child?” Sir Charles looked from her to the duke.
Pelham stood surveying this scene from the doorway. The relief that had flooded him when Harwood’s messenger had arrived was beginning to be replaced by anger. Like Sir Charles he wanted to shake Davida and embrace her all at the same time. Denied the outlet of the embrace, his emotions erupted in anger. “Yes, what can you have been about? Your parents and I have been in agony over your disappearance. Such selfish behavior is inexcusable. And what did you mean in your note about a ‘more favorable match’?”
Harwood reached past Sir Charles to take Davida’s hand and pull her to his side. “Davida has done me the honor of consenting to be my wife.” The characteristic ironic twist he gave to “consenting” caused Davida to look up into his face questioningly.
“Indeed you two walked in before I could claim my engagement kiss.” He lowered his head and tipped a very surprised Davida’s face up so he could press a brief, firm kiss on her lips.
“You come in good time, Lord Pelham, and Sir Charles, old friend, to wish us happy.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Oh, no you don’t.” Pelham was almost purple with fury as he bounded across the room. “Davida is promised to me.”
Sir Charles quickly moved between the two men. “Please, Lord Pelham. Control yourself. No call for violence.”
“None at all,” the duke drawled urbanely. “Let us all sit and discuss this in a civilized manner.” Harwood did not look the least discomposed by Pelham’s outburst.
“I think we will all be much more able to deal intelligently with matters after we have broken our fast.” He gestured for the others to seat themselves while he rang for breakfast.
Thoughts in turmoil, Davida had the oddest fancy as they sat stiffly waiting until they could be served and be
private again. She thought that they were like one of those quartets in the opera, each member singing of his or her own emotions. The idea of the four of them suddenly bursting into song amused her and somehow had a calming effect on her. She dared a glance at Pelham, who was still glaring furiously at the duke.
What would he sing of, she wondered. Why had he come? Why was he still insisting on their engagement? No one would possibly blame him for crying off after her unchaperoned flight. She felt a faint flicker of hope, which she once again sternly repressed, being determined to face facts.
Pelham’s thoughts were very uncomfortable. The man is too old for Davida, can’t she see that? A distinguished-looking man, though. Somehow he made Pelham feel like a callow youth. He glanced at Sir Charles and was alarmed but not surprised that Davida’s father was looking quite pleased, his gaze moving from Davida to the duke and back again.
Damn all. The man had spent a good deal of the time on their harrowing ride in pursuit of Davida lamenting his unfortunate obsession with a title for her. “Many a fine young buck would have courted her, but no, I had to run them off. Only a title or a fortune or both would do for my girl. She don’t care. She’s always wanted to please me, but not at all ambitious for herself.” There had been a great deal more in this vein.
Sir Charles had sworn that if he got his daughter back safe and sound he’d let her choose her own husband and never raise a single objection.
Now his eyes were wide, his expression was bemused, and Pelham could just hear him thinking, My daughter, Duchess of Harwood.
Pelham turned toward Davida. She had a lost, confused look on her face. She looked tiny and young and terribly innocent next to the tall, sophisticated Duke of Harwood. Pelham felt something move fiercely through his whole being. I love her, he realized. I can’t bear to let any other man have her, and especially an old man she doesn’t love! Hands clenched, he began to think frantically. How was he to prevent losing the woman he loved to this handsome, urbane, and outstandingly eligible duke?
After their tray was carried in, Davida, hands shaking a little, poured tea and coffee, and the four helped themselves to sweet biscuits and croissants.
“Now then,” drawled the duke after these formalities were completed, “as I see it, the problem is that Davida has one too many fiancés. Yet she gave me to understand that she had terminated her engagement to you, Lord Pelham.”
“She has a mistaken notion that I want to marry another woman. I don’t! I want to marry her.” He spoke calmly now, but with conviction.
“Oh, Monty, stop.” Davida held out her hands in a supplicating gesture. “Don’t you see, now you can marry Elspeth. You love her, I know you do. Papa wouldn’t let me cry off before, but now he will, won’t you, Papa.”
Sir Charles looked somewhat embarrassed. “Never meant to force you to wed Pelham, my girl. Just thought it would work out. The boy seems genuinely fond of you, you know.”
“He’s fond of me, and I . . . am fond of him, too. We can be friends, can’t we, Monty?” She looked at him appealingly.
Before Pelham could find the exact words to convince Davida that it was her love, not her friendship he wanted, her father broke in. “Sly puss. Never let me know Harwood had offered for you,” he chuckled.
“I thought he was just teasing. I’m still not sure he wasn’t then, but he’s being very kind to . . .”
“Kind!” Pelham exploded. “He’d be deucedly lucky to have you for a wife and he knows it.” He jumped from his chair and strode toward Davida. “But I won’t let you marry this old lecher, Davida. You promised to marry me, and I mean to hold you to it.”
“Old lecher! Oh, Monty, how unfair.” She stood facing him defiantly, small fists clenched. “His Grace is not in the least like that. In fact, he wants a companion, someone to keep him from being alone when Sarah marries.” She tossed her head and glared at her erstwhile fiancé.
Pelham made a derisive noise. “And pigs can fly,” he snarled.
Harwood interrupted. “Children, children. No shouting, please. Charles, I think if we left these two alone for a few minutes they might be able to sort things out.”
“What? Oh, yes.” Sir Charles rose somewhat reluctantly.
“But before I go, Davida, it is only fair to clear up one important point. May we be private a moment?” He glanced at the other two, not really waiting for permission, and then took Davida’s elbow and led her across the room, to stand by the large bow window that looked out over the rose garden.
“Thank you for defending me from the charge of lechery,” he began, the curve of his mouth and his tone lacing his words with their usual irony. “I agree that Lord Pelham does not do me justice in giving me that name. But you may be expecting, and in fact hoping for, a very convenient sort of marriage, a marriage in name only, in fact. Is that true?”
Not knowing how to answer him, Davida stood with her head bowed, listening, feeling her cheeks grow progressively pinker with each word.
“I know, Davie, that I seem old to you. But I am only thirty-nine, by no means in my dotage. I am able to be a husband to you in every way, and so I mean to be, if you decide to have me. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Deeply embarrassed, as much by her näiveté as by the import of the duke’s words, Davida could only nod mutely, wide blue eyes barely meeting Harwood’s before she lowered them to study the pattern in the thick Aubusson carpet at her feet. Surely she had never blushed as she blushed now.
“Well, then, you must listen carefully to what your young man has to say. If you would accept a bit of friendly advice?”
“Yes, of course.”
“It may very well be that Lord Pelham is deeply attracted to Lady Elspeth but rationally knows she is the wrong sort of wife for him. If that be the case, and he freely chooses to marry you, it is unlikely that he would resent you or hate you, as you seem to fear.”
“Do you think not?” Hope flickered again in her heart.
“No, I don’t. Nor do I think he merely intends to marry you out of a misguided sense of honor. I get the strong impression he cares for you. But if you still feel uncomfortable with the idea of marrying him after this interview, I will be honored to make you my wife.”
He kissed her hands one after the other, bowed low, and strolled over to Sir Charles. “Come, old friend. I have a magnificent new stallion to show you. Arabian blood, fine lineage.”
Alone in the drawing room, Davida and Pelham let the silence settle around them. The soft crunch of his boots on the fine carpet warned Davida that he was approaching her at the window, where she stood staring out at the formal garden, not really seeing it.
“Davie?”
She turned and lifted troubled eyes to meet his.
“Davie, you can’t marry that old lecher.”
“He isn’t old and he isn’t a lecher.”
“It is clear enough he desires you. I have eyes, Davida.”
“And it is clear enough that Elspeth desires you and you desire her. Why are you here? Why aren’t you with her now, planning your wedding?”
“Because I don’t want to marry her. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“In the Raleighs’ gardens, I saw you take her into your arms and kiss her.”
“You saw her pull me off balance so that I had to grasp her to keep from falling. And it was she who kissed me.”
“Do give over, Monty.” Davida stamped her foot with frustration. “I heard what you said to one another, too.”
“What you heard was what Elspeth wanted you to hear.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. You did say it would be shabby not to marry me now, didn’t you, Monty? And you did kiss her on the very day you told me you didn’t love her anymore, the very day you kissed me in—oh! such a way—that evening in the Malcolms’ garden.” Davida’s cheeks burned with remembered desire and present embarrassment.
“It’s true, all of it. But it isn’t what you think. Hea
r me out, please! She threw herself at me that afternoon. She came to my home, veiled, and lay in wait for me. I did kiss her, but it was really that kiss that set the seal on the end of our relationship. I was even more sure then that it was you I wanted. And what little feeling I had for her, you may be sure she killed forever with that perfidious performance in the Raleighs’ garden.”
“How can I believe you? I didn’t hear you contradict her when she said that you loved her, but felt honorbound to marry me.”
“I was taken unawares. She spoke to me quite calmly, held her hand out and said she wanted to be friends. When she asked for a last kiss, all I could think of was how to get rid of her. She saw you coming up behind me and made sure what you saw and heard confirmed your fears.”
“Lord Pelham.” Davida drew herself up and looked at him sternly. “There is no more need to continue this charade. I have a much better offer now. You no longer have any responsibility to marry me. In fact . . .” She tensed and cleared her throat. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor to release me.”
“No! You don’t mean that! I won’t believe that of you.” Pelham grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “Davida, I realized something a few minutes ago. Hold still, look at me.”
She was struggling in his arms, turning her head away from his mesmerizing eyes, his tempting lips. She wouldn’t let desire master her, not this time.
Emotion charged Pelham’s voice as he sought to convince her. “I haven’t lied to you, not once. I made up my mind not to marry Elspeth after the picnic. My proposal was precipitated by her engagement announcement, I admit, but I’d already decided to commence courting you.”
“Pooh! When was this resolution taken?” Davida leaned back as far away from him as he would allow her, blue eyes flashing.
“The night before, when I learned you’d turned Curzon down. But that’s not important now. That decision was entirely a practical one. You seemed a good sort of girl. I thought we’d suit. My feelings weren’t engaged.”
June Calvin Page 19