Duel of Hearts

by Farr, Diane

  Lilah was about to follow, but Miss Pickens pulled warningly on her arm, stopping her. “My dear Lilah, what will the landlady think?” she whispered, seeming much agitated. “Two single ladies, traveling with a bachelor! It must look very odd. She seems a most respectable person; I am afraid she will refuse to house us.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake!” said Lilah, exasperated. “You should have thought of that before. It was you, after all, who insisted that we share a coach with Drake. Did you think we would reach London in a day?”

  Miss Pickens looked unhappy. Before she could speak, however, the evils of their situation were forcibly brought home to Lilah; the landlady, in the adjoining room, had a penetrating voice. And she was saying to Drake, “I hope Lady Drakesley did not suffer any injury? Your companion was telling us, a moment ago, how bad the road was.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Lilah faintly.

  “Just so,” murmured Miss Pickens, agreeing.

  “We must put a stop to this before it becomes awkward.”

  “It is already more than awkward,” objected Miss Pickens, but Lilah swept her determinedly aside and entered the room. The landlady was behind a counter, thumbing the pages of an enormous ledger. Drake leaned on the counter, still dripping.

  “It’s not often we house guests of your rank, but I think you’ll find the beds comfortable and the linens well-aired,” the landlady declared. “No need to bring your own sheets to my inn, if I do say so myself. We’re nearly full tonight, but the best bedchamber was vacated only this morning so I’ll be pleased to put you and Lady Drakesley in it. I’ve a smaller room down the hall for—”

  “For me,” said Drake smoothly. “I’m a single gentleman. You may give the larger room to my cousin, Miss Chadwick, and her companion.”

  The landlady looked up from her ledger, appearing surprised. Her gaze traveled doubtfully from Drake to Lilah. She was all-too-obviously replaying her memory of Drake carrying Lilah across the threshold, and struggling unsuccessfully to place that picture in an innocent context.

  Lilah flashed her most confident smile and nodded at the landlady. “That will do,” she said brightly. “Miss Pickens and I will gladly share a room.”

  The landlady pursed her lips for a moment, and her manner noticeably cooled, but she assigned the rooms Drake requested without demur. As she was being shown to her room it occurred to Lilah that Drake had not stretched the truth by much when he called her “cousin.” If Papa married Eugenia Mayhew, she and Drake would, in fact, be connected through the marriage. Cousin Drake! The notion was not only alarming, it was somehow distasteful.

  They really must scotch that marriage.

  Chapter 5

  The landlady had not exaggerated. The beds at her inn were comfortable, clean and dry. Nevertheless, sleep eluded Lilah for a long while. Too much had happened this day. Long after Miss Pickens was gently snoring beside her she lay awake, unsure which was to blame for her restlessness: the storm that was rattling the windows or the storm that was rattling her composure.

  Her thoughts raced chaotically as she listened to the rain and wind. Worry about her father plagued her, but the bulk of her agitation seemed to be centered on the irritating Earl of Drakesley. He occupied her thoughts to an annoying degree, and refused to be banished from them. When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were feverish and highly-colored. And they featured Drake. She awoke feeling keyed-up, cross, and far from rested.

  Morning had dawned unexpectedly sunny. Miss Pickens apparently saw nothing suspicious in the care Lilah took with her toilette, and actually voiced approval when she donned her best muslin. “How pretty you look, my dear!” she said. “I am so thankful that Sir Horace had dresses made up for you in London. It seemed an extravagance at the time, for who knew that we would find ourselves in such exalted company? But now that we are forced to travel with an earl, I own it is a comfort to feel that we need not be ashamed of our appearance. I daresay you look as elegant as any lady of rank.”

  “As elegant as Lord Drakesley, at any rate,” Lilah replied, pulling a face. “Not that that’s saying much.”

  “He’s a most unpretentious man,” said Miss Pickens, as if agreeing with her.

  “Unpretentious? Is that what you call it?” Lilah refused to be drawn into praising Lord Drakesley. “I suspect he is just too arrogant to care what anyone may think of him.” She leaned toward the small looking-glass mounted atop the washstand, carefully fastening a delicate earring to dance against the background of her shining hair. “I think he may be queer in his attic,” she said darkly. “Do you know, Picky, he actually bragged to me about his wealth? Told me he was rich as Croesus. I hardly knew where to look.”

  Miss Pickens looked shocked. “No. Really? My dear Lilah, you must have misunderstood him. No man of breeding would mention such a thing.”

  “My point precisely. One hears that men of rank are frequently eccentric, but Lord Drakesley’s behavior is beyond the pale. I’ve never met anyone so ill-bred.” Lilah, satisfied with her appearance at last, straightened and picked up her gloves. “I shall be glad when our association with him is a thing of the past,” she said airily, but she did not meet Miss Pickens’s eyes as she said it. “In fact, I hope we will be able to hire a vehicle of our own today. We will let Drake have that smelly old coach all to himself. You and I can go by post-chaise.”

  “Whatever you decide, my dear,” said Miss Pickens, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. She trailed after Lilah as they descended the narrow stairs to the private parlor Lord Drakesley had reserved for their party.

  Drake was there before them, and Lilah, to her annoyance, felt a flutter of nerves when she saw him. She wasn’t sure why this should be. He was doing nothing out of the ordinary. He was seated at a linen-covered table, prosaically consuming a mouthful of ham. But for some reason, the sight of him affected her in a most peculiar way. She halted inside the doorway, struggling to compose herself, while Drake rose to greet them, swallowing.

  “G’morning,” he said. Hardly an effusive greeting. Really, what was the matter with her?

  “Good morning,” she said. She was pleased to note that her voice sounded perfectly normal.

  Miss Pickens peered brightly over Lilah’s shoulder. “Good morning, Lord Drakesley,” she piped. “Drake, I should say! Such a pretty morning. May we join you?”

  “For breakfast, she means,” added Lilah, smiling determinedly. “Miss Pickens and I will not trespass on your time beyond that.”

  One of Drake’s eyebrows climbed. “Really? I’m not sure I follow you. But I’m never at my best until the third cup of coffee. Sit down, sit down, ladies. They serve a very tolerable breakfast here.” He rang for the waiter and returned to his meal while the ladies took their places across from him. “I don’t mean to hurry you, but how soon will you be ready to depart?”

  “You won’t hurry us,” Lilah assured him brightly. She would not let him get the better of her. “We will be ready to leave by the time our arrangements are complete. We have not yet hired a post-chaise, or had our baggage removed from your coach. But I daresay that sort of thing can be done in a twinkling.”

  Drake’s brooding, hooded eyes regarded her, their expression hard to fathom. “If you are referring to that malodorous monstrosity we shared yesterday, your baggage has already been removed from it. And mine as well. Neither of us is taking that coach. We are traveling in comfort from this point forward.”

  The note of authority in his tone made Lilah’s hackles rise. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘we,’” she said, with an artificial-sounding laugh. “You may travel in comfort. That is entirely your own affair. But Miss Pickens and I will choose speed over comfort, and take a post-chaise. I am not sure why you ordered my baggage to be moved without securing my permission—”

  “Did you want it left on that reeking heap of firewood?”

  “Of course not. But—”

  “Then why the deuce are you ripping up at me? I did you a favor.”<
br />
  “I am not ripping up at you,” said Lilah, sitting very straight in her chair. “But you should have consulted me before issuing orders on my behalf.”

  He leaned back in his chair, chewing in a ruminative way. The waiter entered, bearing coffee in one hand and tea in the other. He claimed the ladies’ attention for a bit, but Lilah was unnervingly aware throughout her conversation with the waiter that Drake’s eyes were on her. When the waiter left, Drake addressed her with his customary bluntness.

  “What is bothering you, Miss Chadwick?”

  “Nothing,” she said crisply.

  “You appear rattled.”

  “Well, I’m not.” She dumped a dollop of cream into her coffee and stirred it vigorously, her teaspoon ringing sharply against the porcelain cup. “Kindly stop staring at me. And you may dispense with the personal remarks as well. They’re rude.”

  Miss Pickens fluttered at her side, murmuring agitatedly. Lilah ignored her. She knew she was behaving badly, but could not seem to help it. Something about Lord Drakesley cast her into high fidgets.

  Drake addressed himself to Miss Pickens, jerking a thumb at Lilah. “Is she always like this?” Sympathy sounded in his voice, as if he believed Miss Pickens was a saint to put up with it.

  Miss Pickens, very pink indeed, hastened to reassure his lordship. “Oh, no, my lord—indeed, I know you are joking with us, but I feel I must tell you how kind, how universally kind Miss Chadwick generally is! Why, she is the best-natured girl imaginable. So sunny and cheerful! A smile for everyone. And clever—my word! I never met a child with a sharper mind. Truly, my lord, she is a joy to be around. Such a comfort to her papa…” It seemed to occur to her that she was entering dangerous territory, and her voice faded. She shot an anxious glance at Drake. “You must not judge Miss Chadwick harshly, Lord Drakesley. She has encountered much to overset her during the past twenty-four hours.”

  Lilah squirmed a little. “Thank you, Picky, that will do! Pray hand me the sugar tongs.”

  Drake skewered another slice of ham, still watching Lilah with a sardonic gleam. “Perhaps you rose on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Miss Chadwick.”

  Lilah tried to keep the edge off of her voice. “And perhaps you are deliberately provoking me,” she suggested, with an overbright smile.

  “You are easily provoked,” he observed. “It seems to me that you lose your temper the instant you are forced to relinquish the reins.”

  Lilah dropped a sugar cube into her cup with great precision. “And it seems to me,” she snapped, “that you seize the reins whenever you choose, without so much as a by-your-leave.” She pointed the sugar tongs at him. “You, my lord, have a strong streak of the tyrant in you.”

  “Oh, no doubt,” he said equably. “But so do you.”

  Lilah gasped. “I? I do not go behind your back and order your things to be moved! I do not demand to know when you will be ready to leave! I do not badger you to tell me what you are thinking! I—”

  “Yes, yes, pray spare me a catalogue of all the sins you have nobly refrained from committing! You have also not ordered our baggage to be combined and jointly loaded onto an alternate coach.” Drake paused long enough to fork a morsel of ham into his mouth. “Which I have done,” he added, in case his meaning was unclear.

  Lilah stared at him, bereft of speech. He swallowed and touched the corner of his napkin to his mouth. She could have sworn he was hiding a grin. “Perhaps I should explain,” he offered.

  She found her tongue. “Yes! I think you should.”

  “We spoke yesterday of going on from here in separate conveyances. Now that I’ve had a chance to think it over, I believe that’s not a good idea.”

  Lilah flushed with annoyance. “What you fail to appreciate, however, is that your beliefs and ideas are entirely beside the point! Who placed you in charge of this expedition? By what authority do you—”

  “Hear me out!” Drake growled. “If we hire separate coaches after arriving together it will raise eyebrows, and I think the landlady is already suspicious enough. Besides that, we have unfinished business to discuss. We had better place our ducks in a row before arriving in London. And there is a third consideration which has just occurred to me.” He nodded toward Miss Pickens. “You will make your companion ill if you jounce her about in a post-chaise. They don’t call them ‘yellow bounders’ for nothing.”

  Lilah’s lips compressed into a thin line while she struggled to master her anger and chagrin. She had not thought of that. Drat the man! He was right.

  She turned to Miss Pickens. “Have you ever ridden in a post-chaise, Picky?”

  Her companion looked miserable. “Once,” she admitted.

  “And did it make you ill?”

  Miss Pickens toyed nervously with her fork. “I own, it was not a pleasant adventure. I took to my bed for two days afterward. But I survived it, after all, and in the end was none the worse for the experience. I am perfectly willing to go to London in a post-chaise, Lilah, if you deem it best. Perhaps it will not make me so ill this time.”

  Lilah closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with a sigh. “Picky, for heaven’s sake. Why did you not say anything when I advanced this plan?”

  Miss Pickens wriggled in her chair and tugged at her gloves, obviously distressed. “Oh, Lilah, pray don’t scold me! It’s not my place to complain. You must order things as you see fit. Indeed, I would have gone with you gladly. I know you are anxious to reach London as quickly as you can—”

  “Not at the price of torturing you, dear friend. This is absurd! What difference would an hour or two make? We are not flying to someone’s deathbed.”

  Drake coughed. “Are we all in agreement? Let us take a well-sprung, comfortable coach. And travel together.”

  Lilah shot him a glance of acute exasperation. “Since you have already made those plans on our behalf, and transferred our belongings as well, we have no choice but to agree.”

  “You could order your baggage to be taken off the coach,” he said.

  Lilah was not deceived by the mildness of his tone. “I could,” she agreed, “if I wished to make a spectacle of myself. You have placed me in a most awkward position. I cannot countermand your orders without creating a scene.”

  “I am surprised that that consideration carries weight with you. You had no objection to creating a scene yesterday.”

  Lilah’s bosom swelled with indignation. “I didn’t create that scene,” she retorted. “You did.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I hope you intend to thank me for pointing out what should have been obvious to you—that Miss Pickens is susceptible to motion sickness. You should be grateful to me for stepping into the breach. Your skills in arranging a journey are lacking, Miss Chadwick.”

  Lilah glared. “I am not indifferent to Miss Pickens’s comfort,” she informed him icily. “Whatever you may believe! I had only thought to reach London in the shortest possible time. A post-chaise, whatever else it may be, is speedy. And,” she added, her voice rising as her composure slipped a bit, “a post-chaise holds only two persons! It would be worth a little bouncing, to dispense with your escort.”

  Drake’s eyes narrowed. “Do you imagine I want to spend another interminable day in your company? My sole purpose in escorting you to London is to ensure that we present a united front to your father and my cousin. Need I remind you, my shrewish young friend, that if we fail to prevent their marriage you and I will be forced to endure each other for years to come?”

  Lilah gave an eloquent shudder. “No, you need not remind me. That very thought kept me awake most of the night.”

  “Then what the devil are we arguing about? Pass the salt.”

  The command was barked at Lilah, but Miss Pickens, who was sitting rather nearer the salt cellar than Lilah, passed it to him hastily. “Oh! Certainly, Lord Dr—certainly, Drake. Since you did ask us to call you that, and if we are to travel together, we must remain on a friendly footing, mustn’t we?
As to our mode of travel, Lilah, I’m sure his lordship knows best. He is doubtless a far more experienced traveler than either you or I, and I daresay our best course is to rely on his judgment. I own, I am grateful that he thinks there is no particular advantage to our taking a post-chaise. Now that there is no chance of our being forced to take one, I don’t mind telling you I was dreading it! They are quite hideously uncomfortable. Pray be calm, my love, and allow me to hand you the butter.”

  Lilah felt a strong, and decidedly unladylike, impulse to throw a tantrum. She repressed it with difficulty and kept her eyes on her plate to hide the anger sparking in them. She did not trust herself to speak, so her contributions to the remainder of the breakfast conversation were minimal. At the end of the meal she rose from the table, excusing herself so that she might finish packing the items in her room.

  Lord Drakesley, leisurely salting his second helping of buttered eggs, barely glanced at her. “No need,” he said. “I’ve already arranged for that as well.”

  “I don’t understand. Arranged for what?”

  “I ordered the staff to pack up our gear while we breakfasted.”

  Lilah struggled to keep her temper, but failed. She flung down her napkin like a gauntlet. “This is intolerable!” she announced, her voice shaking. “First you order my baggage moved from one coach to another without my permission, and then you send strangers to pack my things! I take leave to tell you, my lord, that your arrogance is insufferable!”

  His angry scowl immediately descended. “And I take leave to tell you, Miss Chadwick, that you are behaving like a two year-old. Remember, I agreed to take you along on the express condition that you not delay me.”

  Lilah placed her fists on her hips. “I would not have delayed you. You are still eating.”

  “Confound it, woman!” Drake pushed himself away from the table, looking as if he would like to strangle her. “Let’s be off, then. I’d rather starve than listen to your carping.”