June Calvin (17 page)

Painfully she faced the fact that time and time again she had looked the other way, refusing to see the evidence of her eyes and ears, refusing to face the truth of her own instincts, because she wanted to stay engaged to Pelham.

Again and again her mind returned to the scene in the Malcolm’s garden. It had haunted her since it happened. To remember that deep, intimate kiss always filled her with contradictory emotions, a fiery tingling, and yet a shuddering, shivery sensation, too. She didn’t know how to interpret what it made her feel, except that she wanted to feel that way again.

But tonight as she thought of it, she cringed with shame and self-disgust. She had let him kiss her that way and hadn’t even protested. She had let him press himself against her and had wanted more. And all the time he was doubtless wishing it was Elspeth he held, Elspeth he kissed.

As she recalled what had been said in the Raleighs’ garden tonight, she realized that he had admitted to kissing Elspeth on the very day he had assured her that his love for Elspeth was gone. It had been that very evening that he had kissed Davida so intimately in the Malcolms’ garden.

It had seemed right to her because she loved him. But to him it must have been merely an expression of lust and, yes, of mastery. He knew his power over her. Anytime she expressed her misgivings, he seemed to kiss them away.

Davida thought of all the gossip she had heard about affairs among members of the
ton.
Perhaps Pelham thought he could have both of them. Perhaps he planned to make Elspeth his lover as soon as they all were safely wed. That kind of marriage seemed to be what Curzon had been hinting at in the garden. The very thought of it filled her with revulsion. Somehow she had to escape this doomed marriage that would make them both miserable.

For a long while her thoughts went in circles, but suddenly, somewhere in that ambiguous hour just before dawn, the solution came to her.

She knew her father’s fears that she’d never make another match half so good were justified. Nor did she truly want any husband but Pelham. But the only way her father would permit her to cry off was if she had a better match.

Unknown to him, she’d already been offered a better match, in the worldly sense, at least. Her mind went back to the day she and Sarah had modeled two of their new gowns for Sarah’s father, on the eve of their departure for London.

As she had twirled about for the duke, her jonquil yellow sprigged muslin flaring out from its high waist, he had stared, seemingly stunned. When she stopped to look up into his face quizzically, he had seemed almost to shake himself before drawling in his ironical way, “You’ve become a lovely woman, Davida. I’ve a mind to marry you myself. If you don’t find a suitable husband in London, remember that you have a devoted suitor, right here in your home county.”

Davida had laughed and blushed and had thought little of it. But Sarah, reminding her of it after the breakup with Curzon, had said she thought her father was serious. He would be lonely when Sarah married, and he’d want a woman to run his household, too, wouldn’t he?

What was it he had said at her come-out ball? Oh, yes. He had agreed that he was relieved not to have to marry her. But had there had been something in his manner, in his eyes . . .? And hadn’t he told Pelham how fortunate he was?

Almost forty, the duke would surely not be looking for anything from a wife but companionship. That Davida could offer him. And her father certainly couldn’t complain if she were to become a duchess!

But the Duke of Harwood had returned to his country estate the day following the ball. He couldn’t stand to remain in the town mansion where his wife had died one second longer than necessary. Somehow, she would have to get Harwood Court if she was to ask him to marry her.

As dawn crept slowly into the sky, Davida rose from her bed, dressed in a sensible carriage dress, packed a portmanteau, and retrieved what remained of her quarter’s allowance from the top drawer of her dressing table.

From her jewelry box she took a few small items that might supplement her money in case of an emergency, trying not to look at the box containing the Pelham emeralds which she had donned so proudly last night. They could be returned later, she thought as she locked the jewelry box again. Doubtless they would be perfect to set off Elspeth’s green eyes!

She silently slipped down the stairs. Muted sounds told her the servants had begun their day’s work in the kitchen, but none were in view as she padded as quietly as possible to the front door, threw the bolt, and let herself out.

Chapter Twenty

“
G
one? Where?” Lord Pelham stood aghast in the Greshams’ morning room, facing her anxious parents. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. He had tried unsuccessfully to catch up to Davida when she fled from him, and by the time he had been able to arrange transportation from the ball, the Greshams’ home was dark. He had decided to wait until morning to go to Davida and explain.

Racing up the steps to the Gresham town house long before the fashionable hour, he had been astonished to find the door open and the servants standing about like lost souls. Perry had finally noticed him and stepped forward. “Miss Davida . . . isn’t below, my lord. Shall I direct you to her parents?”

Now he stood shocked in the Greshams’ morning room, where a red-eyed Lady Elizabeth dabbed at her nose while Sir Charles held a sheet of paper out to him.

“She didn’t leave us a note, but she left one for you. I took the liberty of opening it. I felt my daughter’s safety demanded it.”

“Yes, of course.” Pelham hastily opened the folded sheet and read its contents.

Dear Lord Pelham:

It is as I feared. You are obviously still very much in love with Lady Elspeth. Our engagement has become an obstacle to your happiness.

As my father does not seem likely to permit me to withdraw quietly from the match, I have decided to terminate it in a way he won’t refuse—by contracting a more favorable match as soon as may be.

I wish you and your lady all happiness and hope we may remain friends.

Your Obedient and Humble etc.

Davida Gresham

Pelham cleared his emotion-choked throat. “What does she mean, a more favorable match? Was there another offer she was considering?”

Sir Charles shook his head. “The only suitor I know of that she was seriously considering was Mr. Curzon. But she took him in dislike at the end. Other offers there were, but none that were both suitable and acceptable to Davida.”

“Perhaps she went to Curzon, then.” Pelham frowned at the thought.

“I think mayhap she has. I’ve ordered my carriage around.”

“May I accompany you, sir?”

“Indeed, I hope you will. Or . . . I say,
do
you wish the match to be broken off?”

“Certainly not.”

“You’re not so hen-hearted as to marry out of a sense of honor, if you truly love another woman? I hope you will be honest with us, for Davida’s sake as well as your own.”

“I do believe at this late date it would be dishonorable to cry off.” Pelham ran a hand distractedly through his auburn hair. “Still, I wouldn’t marry Davida if it were really Elspeth I wanted. I swear to you it’s not. As for last night, far from realizing that I still love her, I have seen her revealed as a person of very low character, in addition to having a temperament I never could endure.”

“Ah! I suspected as much. But Davida must have it that you were consumed with love for her, and simply couldn’t honorably break the engagement.”

“Consumed with fury, more like! The bit—excuse me, Lady Elizabeth, the jade! What Davida saw and overheard last night was a deliberate plot on Elspeth’s part to drive my fiancée to cry off.”

“We’d guessed as much,” Lady Elizabeth said. “But Davida simply couldn’t bear the thought of making you unhappy.”

Just then Perry’s round face appeared in the doorway. “The carriage is at the ready, sir.”

“Good. Wait here, m’dear, we should know something soon.” Sir Charles patted his wife on the shoulder before leaving with Pelham.

***

Harrison Curzon stood before his early morning visitors in his dressing gown, as astonished as he was disheveled.

“Davida, here? What’s happened?” Curzon’s sleepy countenance became enlivened with a certain ironic amusement. “Never say she’s jilted you. Becoming quite the thing this season, jilting Baron Pelham.”

Too concerned to pay attention to the jibe, Pelham kept on as if he hadn’t heard. “I hope we can rely upon your discretion, Harry.” Sir Charles paced nervously as he listened. “Elspeth played a bit of a trick on us last night, and now Davida’s gone missing. Her note said something about making an acceptable match elsewhere, and we thought perhaps . . .”

“Good God, no! Even if she had come here, I wouldn’t want second place in her life any more than she wants it in yours. Can’t say I blame her. Damn all, Pelham. You should never have offered for her. Now you’ve hurt her. I should call you out for this!”

Angrily Pelham retorted, “I am at your service! Speaking of hurting her, perhaps you would like to explain why she trembles with fear whenever she comes near you?”

In a steely voice that reminded both young men that he had once been a commanding officer, Sir Charles brought them to attention. “That will do for now. You young cocks may posture and fight later, if you like, but right now the essential thing is to find Davida.”

Curzon turned to Sir Charles. “Surely she has some sort of sensible plan? She’s a bright gel, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t come to any harm. Perhaps she’s with her friend, what is her name . . . the duke’s daughter?”

“Right now she’s a very young, innocent girl on her own in a large, wicked city.” Davida’s father’s voice was heavy with pain. “If you do hear anything, you’ll let us know?”

“Of course. And don’t worry. Won’t say anything to a soul. You’ve my word on it.” He directed his remarks to Sir Charles. “If there’s any way I can aid you, let me know.” They shook hands, and then the dejected father and fiancé climbed back into Sir Charles’s carriage.

“Any other ideas, sir?”

“None. Of course we must see if she’s at Sarah’s, but her note seemed to indicate . . . a more favorable match.’ ‘A more favorable match.’” Sir Charles mused on Davida’s words and then a look of horror crossed his face. “She surely wouldn’t have gone to old Lord Tarkington!”

Pelham swore violently. “Never say you considered him?”

“Not for a minute, nor did Davida. But he did offer and we joked about it. About marrying her to his title.” Sir Charles dropped his head in his hands in dejection. “Never really cared about the title, you know. Not really. Wanted her to be happy. Thought she would be, with you.”

They drove to Sarah’s aunt’s home, where the servants assured them Miss Davida had not been there. In fact, Lady Sarah and Lady D’Alatri were on their way to the Greshams’.

The two men drove silently back to the Gresham house, to find Sarah and her aunt with Lady Elizabeth in the drawing room.

“Oh, George. Sarah thinks Davida may have gone to her father!”

“Harwood? Why?”

“My father teased Davida about marrying him. Just before we left for London, he told her if she didn’t find what she was looking for during the season, he’d offer for her.”

“But he was joking, surely.”

“Davida took it so at the time, sir, but I know my father. There was something about his manner. I felt if she’d taken him seriously, he would have been pleased. I said as much to her after she turned down Mr. Curzon.”

Lady D’Alatri nodded her head. “I know my brother admires Davida very much. In the letter in which he informed me that he wasn’t coming to Sarah’s ball, he alluded to her engagement as an ‘expected disappointment.’”

“My, my.” The look in Sir Charles eyes made Pelham suddenly doubt the old knight’s disdain for a title. With a chilling sense of foreboding he realized that a baron was a poor prospect if a duke was in the running.

Lady Elizabeth was anxiously looking at her husband for confirmation. “Could she have gone home, George? But how?” Suddenly she began to cry. “My baby, traveling to Queenswicke all alone.”

“Now, now, mother. We’ll leave immediately. That is to say . . .” Sir Charles lifted a questioning eye to Lord Pelham.

“Yes, sir, of course I’ll go, but with your permission, I’ll ride ahead, see if I can get some confirmation that she is traveling in that direction. I can travel much faster on horseback.”

“Oh, Charles. I just know that’s what she’s done. I’m coming with you.”

“Someone must stay here in case she returns. Sarah, Lady D’Alatri, would you keep Elizabeth company?” At Sarah’s eager nod, and her aunt’s murmured “of course,” Sir Charles turned to Pelham. “If you can mount me, Lord Pelham, I’ll ride with you instead of taking the traveling coach. Every minute may count. You can’t tell what kind of villain she may run into.”

Reluctantly Lady Elizabeth saw her husband off to Pelham’s mews to select two of his fastest horses. Then she turned to her guests.

“You must help me keep rumor at bay. I’m sure many people noticed something odd at the ball last night. Soon all the old tabbies will be here to sniff out a scandal.”

“I’m sure you are right, Cousin Elizabeth. Stories were already flying at the Raleighs’ last night. That’s what brought me here so early.”

“We’ll put it about that she has an influenza. No, perhaps just a cold. They may get her back in time for the wedding, so it must be something mild.”

Lady D’Alatri agreed. “And if anyone asks about last night, you can just admit they had a lovers’ tiff, but say that all is well now.”

Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “And I’ll say I looked in on her this morning and she could hardly speak for sneezing. We’ll be very anxious for her to get well in time for the wedding.”

“How shall we account for both Lord Pelham and my husband’s absence?” Lady Elizabeth looked anxiously from one to the other.

Sarah tapped her toes, looking at the ceiling for inspiration. “Perhaps . . . perhaps they are with the lawyers, working to complete the settlements before the wedding?”

Davida’s mother looked downcast. “Do you think there’ll be a wedding? After this start, Pelham may not want her.”

“Oh, Cousin Elizabeth. I think Monty cares for her very much. I shouldn’t be surprised at all to find he loves her, though he may not know it yet.”

“Yes, I’ve thought as much myself. I was quite surprised when Davida told me of his tryst with Lady Elspeth last night.”

“If only . . .”

“What, Sarah dear?”

“Oh, forgive me, Cousin Elizabeth, but I was just wondering. If Sir Charles learns she could be a duchess, will he still want her to wed Lord Pelham?”

Lady Elizabeth stared at Sarah, speechless, for a long moment, then answered in a firm, determined voice. “I’m sure he’ll give her a choice. He certainly won’t
make
her take your father if she prefers Pelham. Not if he ever wants any peace in his own home, at least!”

Sarah smiled and hugged Lady Elizabeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Oh, I do wonder how it will all come out.”

Davida was certainly a very young, very innocent girl on her own in a wicked world. But she was also very resourceful. And even in the large, wicked world there were many decent people. She was fortunate enough to find some of them on her journey north.

When she crept into the barely gray morning, her first goal was a hackney cab stand she knew of not too far from her home. Here she found a driver dozing on his box as his horse dozed in its traces.

First he tried to talk her into returning to her home. Clearly such a well-spoken young lady had no business going about London on her own! But when she insisted, and turned to look for another cab, he relented and took her straight to the Swan With Two Necks. He didn’t overcharge her on her fare and even carried her bag inside and helped her buy a ticket.

Davida knew that traveling to Queenswicke in a post chaise would require an overnight stay, with its attendant expenses and dangers. And she was ill-equipped to do the bargaining with hostlers and postillions that would be required. If she took one of the new Fast Coaches, she could be in her little village before midnight. She decided the lack of comfort and privacy of a public coach was preferable to an overnight stay.

She soon found herself hurtling down the road at a breakneck pace, almost as fast as the famous mail coaches. Her fellow travelers were all of a lower social status than she was accustomed to dealing with. However, a plump, talkative farmer’s wife soon had them all transformed from strangers into friends.

She took Davida under her wing immediately, not that she needed any protecting from the others, a young law student and a thin, sickly former soldier with only one arm.

From each of her fellow travelers the farmer’s wife seemed determined to extract a story, as if planning to play Chaucer and develop her own
Canterbury Tales.
When Davida’s turn came, she told an edited version of the truth, having little experience with contriving made-up stories. She found sympathy from the others, and the goodwife, Mrs. Randall, offered her something even better, the promise of a generous helping from the picnic basket she had brought.

Having had no breakfast, Davida was quite starved and very grateful. On a brief stop at a posting house, while the horses were swiftly changed, Mrs. Randall admonished her, “Don’t try to buy food, you won’t have time any way. We’ll go to the withdrawing room to freshen up, and then purchase a jug of tea to wash down my picnic.”

Davida was soon glad she had followed this excellent advice; it was astonishing how quickly the horses were changed and they were called back to the coach. She ate hard boiled eggs, thickly sliced ham, bread and fruit, all washed down with the tea as the carriage rumbled on.

“That was the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” Davida sighed.

Mrs. Randall winked as she passed some rations to the others. “There’s naught like hunger to improve the cook.”

At the next, slightly longer, stop, a ribbon merchant replaced the young law clerk, who had hardly taken his rapturous gaze off Davida since she entered the coach, but had never gathered his nerve to speak to her.

The ribbon merchant, a jovial man, had Davida’s story from Mrs. Randall, and insisted on buying them both a dish of tea and some scones at the next posting house. When Davida tried to demur, he wouldn’t accept her refusal. “Now, miss, I’ll bet you’ve bought many a ribbon from me indirectly, through Mr. Barstow there in Meersford. ’Tis only right that I treat ye!”

Since Davida had indeed patronized the Barstows whenever her father took them to the nearby market town, she smiled and accepted graciously.