by Rue Allyn
Delilah grimaced. “No, no, not like that exactly. Once the vows have been read I will return here to live as I did before. The marriage will be in name only, ensuring my continued way of life and the baron the funds to refurbish his estate.”
“I see, miss. Lord Frost has already found appointments for much of the staff. Is the baron to hire new servants?”
“No, and Lord Frost is not to know of the arrangement with the baron. I want you to pick half a dozen house servants who are most loyal to me and arrange for them to stay back after everyone leaves. I will return a day or two after the nuptials are complete and then everything will be as before.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled. “At last, things will be as they were, quiet and predictable.”
“As you wish, miss.”
She noted the maid’s exit, well pleased with herself. Take that, Lord Frostbite. I have bested you at your own game. The grin on her lips slipped as she made her way to the veranda doors. Somehow the hard fought victory seemed petty now. Why did she feel so guilty for deceiving the earl? It wasn’t as if her deceit would hurt anyone … Opening the doors she stood and savored the mid-afternoon breeze. The light cadence of hooves proved Jester was there, as always, waiting for her.
“Good afternoon, Jester. Shall we go for a walk?”
The pony nickered soft and low, brushing against her skirts.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
Delilah spun around at the sound of the earl’s voice. “You startled me, my lord.”
“I am sorry, it was not my intention. I thought you would have heard me approach.”
“That’s nearly an impossible feat, for a man you walk like a cat on the prowl.” With a sigh she smoothed the wrinkles of annoyance from her brow with her fingertips. “Forgive me for being snappish — I am not myself today it would seem. Must be this confounded heat.”
His hand closed over hers and he shifted it to rest on the soft fabric of his sleeve. “It is understandable given the weather and all the excitement of your upcoming nuptials.”
Her stomach coiled at the thought of the dreaded day she kept at bay in her sub consciousness. “Perhaps.”
“Miss Daysland, I … ”
“Yes?” Delilah forced her breathing to remain steady.
“I wondered if there was anything you need, for the nuptials I mean.”
In effort to ignore her guilty conscience she forced a stiff smile to her lips. “No, there is nothing, my lord, thank you for asking.”
“Oh.”
Was his response one of relief or disappointment? She couldn’t discern. They continued down the path in unnerving silence for a while.
Coming to an abrupt halt the earl rotated to take both her hands in his. “You will not hesitate to come to me if you should need me … I mean, need anything?”
“Of course, my lord.” His breath tickled her forehead. For a moment she wondered why his breath always smelled so sweet. Did he chew mint leaves? Perhaps it was some kind of soap he used. She sniffed before she could help herself. No, there was a mild vanilla scent of soap to him, beneath the herb.
He chuckled. “Do you enjoy my scent?”
Heat flooded her face and she shrugged from his light grip. “I just wondered why you always smell of mint.”
“I drink it seeped into a tea.”
“Oh.” She puzzled his answer for a moment. “I would have thought you would drink something stronger, my lord.”
“Stronger? No, I dislike most spirits and liquor. Mint is good for the digestion I hear. Why is it you always smell delightfully of citrus?”
Pleasure at his notice curved her lips. “I love oranges. I eat one every day and have the juice infused in the special soap I use for my hair. It keeps my locks clean and easier to untangle.”
“I shall remember that,” he murmured.
Would he? Silence stretched between them and Delilah fidgeted with the ribbon on her sleeve. “Is there something else, my lord?”
“I just wondered if perhaps you would care to read for a while? It is so nice a day out … ”
Since Delilah could think of no suitable excuse and she was eager to hear the rest of the story she nodded. Besides, it seemed safe enough to admit to herself that she rather enjoyed sitting with him. As they seated themselves on a bench by the path she pondered her conflicting emotions. He is not the enemy anymore. By accepting the baron’s false suit I vanquished the earl from foe to friend, have I not? Still, if it was not for him I would not have had to even consider the idea of marriage. She groaned internally. Either he is a friend or a foe, he cannot be both. Maybe I really am noddy.
“Now, let’s see, where did we leave off last time?”
Casting her thoughts aside she redirected her attention to the story. “We were at the part where the pirate captain was about to make the hero walk the plank into the shark filled waters below.” A small shiver of excitement stole up Delilah’s spine.
“Ah, right, here we are. A most exciting part to be sure. John stepped to the end of the plank, the captain’s sword point resting between his shoulder blades and looked down at the churning water … ”
Delilah lost herself in the tale, the earl’s smooth voice adding to her enjoyment.
• • •
The earl closed the book with a slight snap. “Shall we leave off there for today?”
“I suppose, though I am dying to know how John is going to escape from the collapsed tomb. He must save his love, Maria, for if he does not it will be a most disappointing tale.”
Lord Frost chuckled. “Ah, so you do have a romantic streak, Miss Daysland.”
“Of course, every woman desires romance.”
His voice softened. “Do you desire romantic gestures from the baron, Delilah?”
Delilah bit her lip. “No. I mean, perhaps under different circumstances. There is nothing romantic about being forced to marry, my lord.”
A hint of regret colored his reply. “I am sorry this match is not the one every lady dreams of. It was not my intention to force you into anything you did not desire. Marriage is a necessity for you under the circumstances.”
“In the king’s eyes only.” She struggled to keep her tears of frustration at bay. “It is simply not fair that I do not have a say in the matter. My father did not seek to see me wed, why should the king care?”
Silence stretched between them until it was broken by the earl’s heavy sigh. “It is the king’s duty to see to the welfare of his subjects, and mine to do as he requests.”
Delilah crossed her arms. “Why, because you are his loyal subject?”
“Yes, no, it is more complicated than that.”
“I fail to see how.”
“It is a political matter.”
“My welfare is a political matter?” Delilah snorted. “I assure you, my lord, there can be no possible political reason to force me into marriage. My father was a simple country squire and poet, not a political figure.”
The earl shifted beside her on the bench. “The politics are between the king and I, and have naught to do with your father. I have designs on becoming the next leader of the Whig party and as such need the backing of the king to seek such a high appointment. He has offered his support in exchange for my help in this matter.”
“Oh.” Delilah dropped her hands to her lap. “So, I am naught but a political agenda. No one is concerned about what I want or need.”
“That is not true, Delilah. I care about what you want and need. I know you want some romantic notion of love but there is not time for months or years of searching for a true love that may never be found. After all, most men and women live happily in their marriages without love at all, that is the way of it.”
“As you pointed out, my lord, I am not like most women.”
“Indeed you are not.” The earl stood and squeezed her hand. “If you will excuse me, I have some pressing business matters to attend.”
The dried leaves crunched beneath his feet as
he moved in the direction of the house.
Delilah leaned back on the bench. Why did that have to be the way of it?
Chapter Fifteen
Delilah rolled over the morning of her wedding and groaned. Hours of strange dreams made her toss and turn until the wee hours, leaving her tired and out of sorts. Flopping onto her back, she assessed the situation. Since the incident on the horse there were no other unusual occurrences, for which she was grateful. Still, the strain of expecting one wore her nerves raw.
Perhaps she was too rash in accepting the baron’s suit. Maybe she could still back out. She frowned as the downstairs clock struck ten, its forlorn chimes echoing throughout the great house. The wedding guests would be here in mere hours. With a sigh she rang for Teresa. There was no turning back now. It wouldn’t be so bad. After a few days at the baron’s to accomplish the ruse, she could return to her former life.
The door opened with a click. “You must hurry and dress, Miss Daysland,” Teresa chirped, far too merry for Delilah’s resigned mood. “His lordship did say to let you sleep in this morning, but I’ll not be responsible for you being late.”
Was the earl trying to sabotage the wedding? Delilah almost wished he would. How romantic would it be if he called a halt to the proceedings and announced his everlasting love just like in some of the romantic poems her father wrote? She frowned. Good Lord, I am as noddy as everyone else believes. As if it would ever happen. “Let us get on with this.” Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she got up and counted the steps to the dressing table. With little enthusiasm she waited while Teresa fastened her corset in place and tugged the laces. “Not so tight, Teresa, I should like to be able to breathe.”
The maid giggled. “Yes, miss.”
When she finished Delilah sat so the maid could fix her hair.
“Shall I pin your hair with the seashell combs your mother left you?”
Delilah shrugged. “Do as you please.”
It didn’t take long. With a sigh Teresa gave it one last pat, her tone well pleased with herself. “Perfect. Now which dress would you prefer to wear today?”
“What difference should it make to me? This day is designed to get my life back, the cut and color of my gown will not change it.” When the maid sighed Delilah relented. “You decide what will flatter me most, Teresa.”
“Hmm … I should think the deep violet muslin, for it matches your eyes so beautifully.”
Delilah tried to recall the exact shade of her eyes, but the color eluded her memory. “A good choice, Teresa.” Standing, she held up her arms to be clothed with the delicate gown. “I feel like I am being cheated, like I’m cheating myself.”
Teresa’s gentle hands guided Delilah to turn around and then she began to do up the tiny row of buttons along the back of the gown. “How so, miss?”
“One’s wedding day should be filled with excitement and anticipation. I cannot help but wish I was marrying some handsome young man who spouts poetry to my loveliness and makes my heart flutter. It sounds silly I know.”
“It does not sound silly at all. The baron is not unhandsome, if you’ll permit me saying, miss.”
“Perhaps, but this is hardly the day of my dreams. If my father were still here … ” Delilah squared her shoulders. “Listen to me pining on about silly dreams. I agreed to the arrangement because it is practical and accomplishes my goal.” When Teresa fastened the last button Delilah turned around and favored her with a weak smile. “It is almost time.”
• • •
The clock downstairs didn’t finish striking twelve when the knock Delilah was dreading came. She turned to face it as the maid hurried to open the door. Goosebumps rose along her arms from the slight draft as it opened.
The earl cleared his throat. “You look lovely, Miss Daysland.”
“I shall have to take your word for it,” she snapped. “I am sorry, my lord, thank you for the compliment. I am nervous and did not mean to be short.”
His footsteps whispered across the carpet and then ceased before her. “That is perfectly understandable. Perhaps on such a momentous occasion we can dispense with the formality? Call me Tyrone.” Warm fingers closed over hers and then he placed a wide flat box on her palm. “I brought you a wedding gift.”
She ran her fingers over the textured surface. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
Curious, she fingered the clasp and lifted the lid. Following the line of the box, she slid her hand down to rest on something smooth and cold, tracing the object in a circle with her fingertips. It was a necklace she realized, with tiny teardrop stones dangling at regular intervals along its chain. “Thank you, Tyrone. I am sure it is lovely.”
“Here, I will put it on you.”
She pivoted so he could slide the cool gems around her neck and couldn’t help shivering when his rough fingers brushed her nape as he fumbled with the clasp.
“They match your eyes, you know.”
“Violet?”
“More dark like your eyes when you are angry.” He finished with the clasp and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her back to face the door.
Her heart fluttered in her chest as his hands remained lightly on her shoulders. She should be angry at his comment, but instead a sense of breathless anticipation tightened her chest. Attraction to him was foolhardy. He was the enemy. Wasn’t he?
“I never lie.”
The echo of a slamming door broke the moment and he stepped away. “Come, the guests await you in the chapel.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her downstairs.
Her chest grew tighter as she was overtaken by a moment of sheer panic. The closer they got to the estate’s chapel, the louder the guests’ voices became. Her palms grew moist with sweat. Little by little her distress increased. The struggle for air became more difficult as the panic attack intensified.
“Delilah?”
The concern in Tyrone’s voice gave her something to cling to, to focus on in order to stay afloat in the tidal wave of fear engulfing her. What if I have made a mistake? What if Augustus does not live up to his word? All these people … watching … staring … witnessing my fate. Her fingers clawed his arm.
“Delilah? Are you all right?”
“I need to sit.” Her knees buckled and she sagged against him.
Tyrone’s strong arm encircled her. “Right here? Now?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her head beginning to spin.
He lowered her to the grass and pressed her head between her knees. She struggled to take slow, deep breaths. Unmindful of her delicate dress scrunched in her clammy hands, she willed her mind to relax.
“Is there something I can do, some way I can help?”
Delilah shook her head. “No.” Those hated crowds of people. Always watching, whispering … waiting for me to make a fool of myself. As her chest began to tighten again she forced the thoughts from her head. Squeezing her eyes shut she concentrated on taking deep breaths, exhaling slow and steady until the spinning sensation stopped. I can do this. All I have to do is walk down the aisle, repeat the simple vows, and it will all be over.
A familiar nicker gave her hope. “Jester.” At the soft clip clop of his approach she held out her hand until his leg brushed it. With a grateful smile she pulled herself to her feet using his harness. “Jester will take me the rest of the way.”
“Jester cannot give you away.”
She snickered at his disgruntlement. “Yes he can. Jester, chapel.” The pony shuffled forward. As she stepped into the chapel the rumble of voices hushed. Forcing the smile to remain on her lips, she continued on to the front of the room. This is just a formality. In a few days my life will go back to the way it was. Forever. Tyrone’s footsteps fell into step behind her.
The preacher’s voice startled her from her inner thoughts and Jester came to a halt. “We are gathered here today … ”
• • •
Delilah paused on the threshold of t
he ballroom. Crystal clinked over top the laughter and soft music playing. Her light-headedness returned when she realized there must be close to a hundred guests in attendance to celebrate her supposed joyful union. She tightened her grip on her new husband’s arm but he strolled on, oblivious to her alarm. Is everyone staring at me? Oh, how I wish this night were over. Augustus deposited her in a chair and left to procure a glass of champagne on her behalf.
Fighting a sense of abandonment, she perched on the chair toying with the ruffles on her skirt. Why did there have to be a celebration ball anyway? No one here knew her, or in all likelihood cared who she was; besides, their marriage was a sham to foil Tyrone’s plans. The orchestra began to play a light, fanciful waltz. She tried to lose herself in the forbidden melody, her fingers taking up position on an imaginary keyboard of their own accord. Playing as part of the orchestra would be much preferable to sitting here as the object of every gossip’s attention.
“I have brought you refreshment.”
Stilling her fingers she sought the glass Augustus held. A cool crystal goblet was pressed into her hand. Wrapping both around the delicate vessel, she raised it to her lips and sipped the contents, more for something to do than out of thirst. The tangy champagne bubbles teased her taste buds before sliding down her throat.
Augustus cleared his throat. “I suppose to complete the ruse of an adoring couple, we should dance.”
Delilah almost choked at the idea and lowered the glass in haste. “To a waltz? I am surprised you allow such an inappropriate dance.”
“I hear it is all the rage in France.” Augustus sniffed. “And I make the effort to keep up with all the current trends.”
No doubt it accounts for his need for money. She sighed. Why should she care what he did with her father’s blunt once she returned home with her dowry? “If we must dance then let us get it over with.” Truth be told she loved to dance, though the prospect was far from thrilling with one of the Augustus’ ilk. Tyrone, she surmised, was apt to be a skilled dancer. She rose and held out her hand. Biting her lip she chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to wander in such an unacceptable path. Tyrone didn’t want her any more than any other man. Delilah tried to concentrate on copying her husband’s steps rather than her present situation. One, two, three. One, two, three. The overpowering stench of his cologne made her eyes water. His arms were like iron bars, imprisoning her against his bony chest. She fought the urge to revolt and flee.