The School of Charm: Books 1-5

by Maggie Dallen

  She glanced up at the big brute who was carting her still-shrieking stepmother out of the room.

  Her home was with him.

  She just hoped that he knew it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rupert was certain this dreadful night would never end.

  He watched Delilah closely as he, Tolston, and his men rehashed the events of the evening and put a plan of action in place to ensure the baroness was punished for her part and Everley was caught.

  The first light of dawn was starting to stream through the School of Charm’s windows when he walked over to where Delilah sat, surrounded by her friends.

  She looked tired, but otherwise unharmed.

  His hands clenched at his sides as rage threatened to consume him again. The entire ride to her home, he’d panicked about what he might find. His mind had raced incessantly, imagining every hideous scenario, every heartbreaking ending to a love story they had not yet written.

  When Rupert stopped before her, he saw her friends exchange a meaningful look before making their excuses. Once alone, she looked up at him with a wan smile before patting the seat beside her.

  He sat and his heart warmed when she leaned slightly so she was resting against him.

  He tucked his head to hide a grin. She was comfortable with him, of that there was no doubt. She felt safe with him, and that fact he adored.

  But did she know that she was loved by him?

  “How are you holding up?” he asked. He ached to slip an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer still but despite the bizarre circumstances, they were still surrounded by people and there was only so much scandal she could weather in one night.

  She sighed wearily. “Do you mean, how am I holding up now that my fiancé and stepmother failed to marry me off for my fortune and then murder me?”

  He winced at hearing her say it aloud like that. “Yes, that’s what I meant.”

  “I suppose I am doing as well as one could hope.” She tilted her head back to smile up at him. “Have I thanked you yet for rescuing me from my wicked stepmother the way you did?”

  He laughed. “One or two times.”

  In truth, she’d thanked him no less than twenty times on the carriage ride back to the school. The moment her stepmother and her men were trussed up to await their punishment and they were alone, she’d thrown her arms around his neck and the thanking had begun.

  He’d enjoyed it, no doubt, but it wasn’t her gratitude he wanted.

  “I wonder if my father was aware…” she said softly.

  He reached for her hand. “I went up to his room while questioning his servants.” He shook his head. “I do not think your father was aware of anything going on around him. And who knows how long he’s been like that.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I should have known.”

  “How could you have?”

  “I should have suspected. The fact that my father never left his rooms, that she never allowed me to see him, that she handled every correspondence and managed the household…” She sighed. “I thought he just did not wish to see me.”

  He stayed silent as she got lost in her thoughts. “I always knew the baroness was unhappy. I understood she did not like me. I just didn’t realize she hated me quite so much.”

  This time Rupert did give in to the urge to comfort her. Ignoring the others in the room he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. “You deserved better. As a child and as a young lady, you deserved so much more.”

  Her smile trembled a bit. “Thank you, but…I don’t know that that’s true.” He watched her with concern as tears welled up in her eyes. “How do you know what you’re worth, what you are owed, what your value is when all you’ve ever been worth was the sum of your dowry and the appearances that will surely fade?”

  He opened his mouth to reply but stopped when she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Do not answer that. And please, don’t listen to me. I’m being maudlin.” When she opened her eyes again, they were wet with tears and a tremulous, rueful smile was back in place. “I suppose learning about one’s planned murder will do that.”

  He gave a choked laugh at her gallows’ humor. “I suppose so.”

  She shifted so she was facing him head-on. “What of Everley?”

  “He has been caught.” That was one of the reasons they’d been up all night, waiting and coordinating.

  Her sigh of relief had her shoulders slumping forward and he tugged her close. She stiffened for only a moment before relaxing against his side, her head on his shoulder.

  “Rest, my love,” he murmured into her hair. “You are safe now.”

  “We should not…the others…” She started to stir and he kissed the top of her head.

  “The others are studiously looking the other way,” he informed her truthfully. Even Miss Grayson was making a show of calling for the servants and asking what refreshments everyone needed. “If ever there is a time propriety could be thwarted, this is it.”

  He felt her laugh more than heard it. “Says the man who’s made a life out of thwarting propriety.” Her tone was filled with amusement, and no heat, but the truth of it still stung.

  He had given up propriety along with everything else when he eschewed the honorary title and his place within society.

  At the time he’d given no thought to marriage, or that one day he might meet a lady who cared about such things. Who might deserve more than a hired investigator as a husband and a life on society’s sidelines.

  Regret hit him in the gut. Could she be happy with a man such as him?

  Would he want her to sacrifice her dreams for power in society and balls and gowns and whatever else it was young ladies of the ton wished for?

  He’d said it before and his words rung in his ears now. She deserves more.

  His thoughts were cut short by the feel of her hand tentatively touching his chest. “I cannot believe that you left without Everley.” She shook her head as if in disbelief, pulling back to look at his face. “You have spent so many years trying to make that man pay, and you had your chance—”

  “He will still pay,” Rupert cut in shortly, his voice choked with emotion that she worried about something like that. That she could think for one second that his quest for revenge meant more to him than she did.

  He reached a hand out to gently cup her chin. “Everley will pay, and dearly, for all that he did to you, what he planned to do, what he’s done to so many others…he will pay for what he did to Alston.”

  “You could have had him,” she said. “He was right there, along with the evidence. You could have had him and you walked away.” She licked her lips, her voice tremulous. “You walked away for me. To save me.”

  “Of course I did.” His response was quick, short, and more gruff with unchecked emotion than he’d anticipated.

  Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted in surprise.

  “Never doubt for one instant that you mean more than all of that. You wonder at your value, but I need you to know…” He stroked her cheek as his chest tight with emotions. “To me, you are more precious than anything else. You mean more than any revenge or any professional goals. You are…” His voice dipped as her eyes darkened. “Delilah, to me, you are everything.”

  Her eyes were so wide and so…tear filled.

  Terror shot through him that rivaled anything he’d ever felt while working an investigation. Was it possible she did not feel the same?

  Or perhaps things were different now that she was no longer dependent on him for safety, now that the threat she faced was gone…

  Perhaps she was realizing that she was no longer promised to Everley, that she might be able to step into the light where she belonged.

  She could have her pick of men once the scandal subsided. Gentlemen of the ton who would give her the life she’d always wanted.

  “Rupert, I—I—”

  “Your man has arrived!” Tolston shouted this news from across the roo
m and it startled Delilah so badly that she shot out of his arms, scrambling backwards to put some distance between them as the others turned to stare.

  His man. It took a moment for the words to register. His man who’d captured Everley and sent word that he’d be bringing him here.

  “Go,” she said, prodding him with a little shove to his arm. “Go see if you got your man and the justice you’ve been seeking.”

  He lingered, torn between staying with Delilah, making sure she was all right, and going off to make sure the man who would harm her was under his control along with his wretched partner.

  “Delilah will be in good hands, Mr. Calloway,” Miss Grayson said, coming to stand beside Delilah and placing a hand on her shoulder.

  His heart begged him to stay, but his mind told him it was time to leave. To walk away.

  He would be back to win her heart, but not until she was rested and healed and…

  Well, she might never be ready to hear what he had to say. But he could at the very least resist the urge to push her on the matter until she’d had the chance to sleep.

  “Take care of yourself, Delilah,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her hand.

  Take care of my precious heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Take care of yourself.

  Delilah jabbed her needle into the fabric with more force than was absolutely necessary. Take care of herself.

  For how long?

  She stirred restlessly, unreasonably irritated by the calm contentedness of the friends who surrounded her.

  The Beaumonts were hosting a ball tonight and by all rights, everyone here should be getting ready to attend. But Louisa, Addie, Prudence, and Miss Grayson had all declined without a question just to be here with her.

  Delilah might have been able to go, but with all the chaos going on this week surrounding her stepmother and Lord Everley…there was no saying just how badly her reputation would be affected.

  The gossips would be hard at work trying to sort out what exactly had happened that sent the baroness out of the country a ruined disgrace or why Lord Everley was being hauled off to prison.

  The truth would undoubtedly come out in the newspapers soon enough, and Tolston had assured her once again earlier today that her name would be kept out of it as much as possible.

  That was a good thing, she supposed. Perhaps she would get through to the other side with just a bit of scandal clinging to her name and not outright ruination.

  She jabbed her needle once more. Yes, she should be very grateful, all things considered.

  She should be pleased beyond reason that the entire ordeal was over and done with. Lord Tumberland had taken it upon himself to ensure that her father was being properly cared for and that his estate was being managed by reputable, trustworthy solicitors. Tolston had assured her that he still had men keeping an eye on the school on the off chance that Everley had accomplices who might seek revenge.

  She’d been lucky indeed that, aside from her stepmother, it seemed no one knew that she had spent several evenings unchaperoned in a bachelor’s home, so all in all…

  She’d managed to escape this ordeal with nothing more than a sore cheek from her stepmother’s attack.

  She was very lucky.

  All of these reasons to be grateful and glad. She stabbed the fabric one more time before throwing it to the side with an unladylike growl. “Where is he?”

  Every head lifted at once and all eyes were on her, but no one pretended to misunderstand, thank goodness. She would have whipped the hide of anyone who dared to utter ‘who?’

  “He will come to visit soon, I am sure of it,” Louisa said. Her normally cheerful smile had been replaced by a worried expression that seemed to belie her words.

  “Of course he will,” Addie said.

  Miss Grayson wore a kind smile but said nothing.

  Delilah looked to Prudence who wore a familiar pursed-lipped look of disapproval which was aimed at Louisa and Addie. “He has not come yet, I do not see why you’d expect him to come at all.” She turned her attention back to the embroidery in her hands. “He has no business with Delilah now that the sordid affair has concluded. If he has not come yet…” She shot Delilah a sidelong look and the disapproval was gone. A flicker of sympathy and understanding flickered in her eyes. “Perhaps it is best to keep your expectations in check.”

  “Pru!” Louisa chided. “Why must you be so discouraging?”

  Prudence shrugged. “I am merely pragmatic.”

  Delilah sighed. It was true. She was. Most of the time, Delilah appreciated that quality in Prudence. Unlike dreamy Louisa or optimistic Addie and kindhearted Miss Grayson, Prudence’s black-and-white view of the world was often refreshing.

  But not today.

  Delilah scowled at her friend. “Could you at least try to find something positive to say?”

  Prudence met her gaze evenly as she seemed to ponder the question. “You are alive and well thanks to Mr. Calloway. Is that not positive enough for you?”

  Delilah blinked, the meaning hitting home. Spoiled brat. Ungrateful cur.

  She swallowed and looked down at her embroidery, barely seeing the ivy pattern she’d been tediously working on as unexpected tears swam in her eyes.

  Perhaps she was spoiled, and selfish, and ungrateful, and every other bad thing she’d ever been accused of being.

  But she meant to change all that. She wanted to change, and for a little while there with Rupert, she’d felt like she was changing. The way he saw past all that, the way he challenged her to move beyond the behavior she’d learned as a child…

  Yes, she had changed. And she would continue to change…with or without him.

  She blinked and a traitorous tear fell. She swiped at it as her heart ached painfully in her chest.

  She’d just prefer to change with him, that was all.

  The settee sank beside her and Pru’s hand covered her own. “I am sorry, Dee,” she said softly. “I spoke without thinking. Of course he will come for you.”

  She did not truly believe it and hearing Prudence be disingenuous out of sympathy was almost more than she could bear.

  “I really like him, Pru.” It came out as a whisper and Prudence clutched her hand tighter.

  “I know.”

  “I maybe even…” She swallowed convulsively. “Love him.”

  “Oh, Delilah,” Prudence sighed.

  The sympathy in Pru’s voice made her want to weep. Her throat grew so tight she couldn’t swallow and her chest…her chest felt like it might explode from emotion.

  But she would not cry.

  Quite frankly, she was tired of crying.

  All week she’d found herself bursting into tears at the most inconvenient moments, and every time one of her friends or Miss Grayson had rushed to comfort her. But she was so tired of it. It was as though a lifetime of hurts and snubs and being ignored was all coming out this week and she was so tired of it.

  She was exhausted from it, truth be told.

  Louisa had told her it was good. Healthy, even. That she’d been in dire need of an emotional purge—that was Louisa’s term for it—and that she’d feel lighter and happier for it in the end.

  Delilah didn’t feel either of those things.

  She might have been letting go of her old grievances but with each passing hour that Rupert ignored her existence, her heart was breaking.

  Maybe he’d been swept up in the excitement of it all. Passions had been running high. It was only natural that he’d get carried away. Maybe even say things that he did not mean.

  Her heart pounded furiously at the thought of it.

  Delilah, to me, you are everything.

  She inhaled swiftly as her heart clenched painfully at the memory.

  No. She refused to believe that he’d said all that out of some temporary sense of elation. She pulled her hand out from beneath Pru’s and straightened her shoulders.

  If he had then…

  W
ell, who did he think he was?

  Irritation spread through her at the thought and the urge to cry lessened.

  Yes, anger was good. Anger made her feel less hopeless and more in control.

  Anger good. Heartbreak bad. That was the simple thought that had her frowning at her friend. “What kind of gentleman goes spouting off romantic things like that and then flees for days on end?”

  Pru’s brows shot up in surprise and the others in the room turned their attention her way.

  She made a show of arranging her skirts, her head held high and proud. “He had no right to say those things he said if he did not intend to court me.”

  Her friends were all staring at her wide-eyed.

  “He should never have opened his mouth if he did not mean to marry me,” she continued, anger coursing through her and making her feel like herself for the first time in days. She was no watering pot, and she never had been.

  Righteous anger had her coming to stand, her arms crossed in indignation. “What kind of man makes a woman fall in love with him if he doesn’t plan to marry her?” she demanded.

  A servant opened the door to the drawing room but she ignored them. She was on a roll. “He had no right to make me fall in love with him. It was indecent and despicable and—”

  “Beyond my control, I’m afraid.” Rupert’s voice in the doorway had her whipping her head to see him standing there, just behind the elderly housekeeper, whose eyes were wide with shock.

  Delilah’s heart leapt in her chest at the sight of him standing there—the same gentleman she remembered, but also…different.

  His hair was shorn neatly and his clothes were fine and well-cut. His seemingly permanent stubble was shaved and he was…

  Devastatingly handsome.

  No. She straightened. He was handsome, but still the same brute who’d left her here without a word for nearly a week.

  His grin was infuriating and smug.

  He’d heard.

  She narrowed her eyes in anger. Good. She was glad he’d heard. Her heart might have been racing away with excitement but she clung to her anger. Because if she was wrong…