by Rue Allyn
Delilah gasped. “How dare you!”
The judge banged his gavel again and she fell silent. Incurring his wrath might harm her case.
“Miss Daysland, I have allowed you to speak and refute the baron’s charges. You must do him the same courtesy and give him the chance to defend against your claims.”
She bit her lip, sickened by Augustus’s righteous tone when he answered, “Thank you, honorable sir. I feel for my darling wife. I did promise her father I would look after her if anything were to befall him. I was doing my duty when I offered to marry her. The earl betrayed me when he helped her hide and took her as his lover in the midst of a gypsy celebration. The naive child mistook his lust for love.”
An unladylike snort escaped Delilah’s lips before she could prevent it. Tyrone squeezed her hand and she bowed her head to conceal her feelings.
“What say you to the charges she has brought against you saying you are responsible for her father’s death, and are you indeed half brother and sister?”
Augustus snickered. “Preposterous, sir. I have here the announcement of my birth and hers to prove her claim false.” Paper crinkled and she assumed said document was being examined by the judge.
After a moment the judge sighed. “So it would seem all in order. What say you to all this, Lord Frost?”
“I believe Miss Daysland and the gypsy Deagan’s claim, honorable sir.”
“Do you have any proof to back up these claims?”
“No, sir, but I was given the task to see her safe and happily wed by the king himself. The way I see it, Miss Daysland is neither happy nor safe in the baron’s care. After all, she wandered away from his estate and all manner of dangers might have befallen her, if not for the gypsies who took her in.”
“Ha!” the baron bellowed. “The gypsies did naught but fill her head with ridiculous ideas and she nearly burned to death while in their camp. Why I — ”
“Enough!” The judge banged his gavel. “It seems clear to me since the king did order Lord Frost to see Miss Daysland safely wed, his duty is done. However, it is clear in this case she is not happy about the situation. I see no other alternative but to return her to her husband’s care until the king himself can be consulted.”
“No!” Delilah’s scream reverberated off the walls of the little chamber, startling even her. She collapsed in the chair, and Tyrone wrapped his arms around her. Sobs wracked her body until she was no longer aware of anything except pure terror and profound sorrow.
• • •
Tyrone steadied Delilah as she sank to the chair sobbing. Was the judge deaf? How could he turn her over to a monster like March? “Sir, I beg you to reconsider leaving Miss Daysland in my care.”
The judge shook his head. “Impossible, for who would chaperone her? Did you not have your way with her in a gypsy camp, in full view of any who happened by? I cannot understand what has become of the morals of you country folk.”
“Honorable sir, I am not condoning what we did, but under different circumstances I would not hesitate to make an honorable match with her, at the court’s earliest convenience and the king’s blessing, of course.”
“You had your chance to do right by your charge, Lord Frost. I hope the king punishes you for the misdeeds you have committed. To mislead such an innocent young soul is a terrible sin. You should be ashamed.”
Delilah’s heartfelt sobs pulled at Tyrone’s heart more than he ever thought anything could. “Please, sir, consider what might happen to Miss Daysland in the baron’s care if there is truth to her story. At least allow her to return to her own home under the protection of her most faithful servants.”
“You cannot be serious.” The baron hurried to the judge’s podium. “It is sheer folly to allow an invalid to remain alone in a large house with no chaperone. In her distressed mental condition she might do herself harm — ”
“Enough!” The judge banged his gavel and the room fell silent, except for Delilah’s quiet weeping. The judge tugged at his wig with a heavy sigh. “In order to satisfy you both until the king can rightfully decide what is to be done with Miss Daysland, I have decided to release her to her home, in the care of two of her most trusted servants.”
Augustus waved his fist in an agitated way. “See here — ”
“Enough I say!” the judge growled. “If you persist in challenging my authority, Baron March, I will see you imprisoned until the matter is settled. Do I make myself clear?”
The baron glowered but nodded.
The judge turned back to Tyrone. “You are not to remain at Westpoint while Miss Daysland is present, nor is the baron permitted to press his nuptials until the king has his say. If there is any breech of my orders, I will come down hard and fast on both of you, understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Tyrone glanced at the baron out of the corner of his eye. The younger man nodded, despite the anger sparkling in his dark eyes.
“Good. Now Lord Frost, I expect you to see your former charge back home safely. Repeat my directions to the servants, with the addition that if they fail to see to their mistress’s care and protection they will serve the rest of their days in Newgate.”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge brought his gavel down one last time and then left the room, mumbling about the decline of propriety in the upper crust.
Tyrone placed his silk handkerchief in Delilah’s hand. “Here, dry your tears before we must make our way through the throng of curious public to the carriage.”
Sniffing, she raised the bit of cloth and dabbed at her eyes and cheeks. “The king will allow me to remain as I was before all this came to pass, will he not?”
“I have no idea what thoughts his majesty might have on the situation, but rest assured I will do my utmost to convince him to annul your marriage to the baron.” And agree to my own suit, his consciousness added. “Are you ready to return home?”
Her chin raised in stubborn determination and she took a deep breath before nodding. Placing her still bandaged hand on his arm, he wished there were a way he could slip her away without exposing her to the morbid crowd of on lookers outside.
• • •
Once Delilah was returned to her home, Tyrone gathered his things and turned his horse back in the direction of town. He rode in worried silence for a while, his valet in the luggage coach trailing at an appropriate pace behind. What was to stop the baron from harming Delilah until the king arrived to make sense of the situation? Aims and Teresa were the most faithful of her servants, he was convinced, nevertheless the question still lingered as to which of the few servants remaining were not. Though he was sure Delilah was safer in her own home than the baron’s, the fact remained she still could be in danger. Could the butler protect her from an unseen, unknown enemy?
Unease made him rein in his mount when they came to the little trail to the pool where he first encountered his wood nymph. Perhaps he should stay hidden in the secret place, to be nearby in case Delilah should need him. He wouldn’t be disobeying the court’s order; after all the pool spanned on the edge of Westpoint and the baron’s land. Yes, he would camp out here to keep a watchful eye on his ward until the king arrived.
Turning in his saddle, he summoned the coach to draw up alongside. He leaned in the window to speak with his valet. “Take all my things, except a small satchel of the basics to the inn in town and rent the best room and meals. I am going to stay behind and watch over Miss Daysland. You will stay in the room in my stead, careful to keep your presence a mystery in case the baron should send a spy there. When the king arrives in a few days’ time come fetch me here.” He tossed a sack of coins through the window and onto the valet’s lap. The servant filled a satchel from the items in one of the trunks stacked inside the conveyance and handed it to him. With a nod of thanks Tyrone tapped on the roof to signal the driver to carry on and then turned his horse down the path in the woods.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Delilah tossed and turned, unable to quiet he
r restless mind. Would the king see fit to permit her to continue on as she was before, or would he insist she return to Augustus? Perhaps he would again decree that Tyrone find her a suitable husband. Her heart pinched at the idea of being married to any other than the earl. She sighed and rolled over onto her other side. Tyrone didn’t really want her, did he? Could his offer of marriage only be a way to atone for their sin of passion at the gypsy camp? Her heart cried out against the falseness of her thoughts. He felt something for her, perhaps not love, but at least a fondness of sorts. Groaning at the idea she rolled back over. The room was stuffy and uncomfortable. Never did she experience such a warm, dry fall.
Flipping back the tangled covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt for her slippers with her toes. After locating them, she slipped them on and rose. Stretching she made her way to the window, fumbled for the latch, and opened it. A slight breeze tickled her cheeks as she leaned against the windowsill and took a deep breath through her nose. A hint of crispness, mixed with musty leaves and dried grass made her long to be outside. She turned away from the window as an owl hooted and reached for the thin cotton servant’s frock at the foot of her bed. It wouldn’t hurt to go for a short ride, for she was confident she was safe enough until the king came to set down his ruling.
Once dressed, she crossed to the door and twisted the knob. It opened without sound as usual and she slipped out into the hall. The stale house air was so still it was almost eerie. After a moment’s pause she made her way down the hall to the stairs, trailing her fingers along the familiar walls. Once she descended the staircase, she stopped at the base to listen. The tiniest of noises reached her and a chill of alarm raised the fine dusting of hair on her arms. Was someone there, in the dark, watching and waiting for her? She strained to catch the sound again over the thumping of her heart. Nothing but silence. She shook off the feeling. Damn the baron for making me ill at ease in my own home. In disgust she carried on, groping her way to the kitchen and the back door to the herb garden.
The door squeaked as she opened it and she froze lest anyone heard and came to investigate. When no footsteps sounded in the hall or on the servant’s stairs, she stepped out of the house. Something warm brushed her outstretched hand and her heart leaped into her throat before she giggled, realizing it was her guide.
“Good eve, Jester.” The pony nickered and she stroked his velvety soft muzzle. “I cannot sleep either, old friend.”
She grasped the harness, pulled herself onto his back, and then clucked for him to walk on. A sense of peace radiated from the pony. Her stressed mind soaked it in and she began to relax, focusing on the rocking motion of the animal under her. As Jester plodded on at his ever steady pace, she gave thanks to her deceased Uncle Deagan for providing such a trustworthy guide to see her through life’s obstacles. The gypsy leader meant well, despite his actions.
The rush of the waterfall reached her ears before its dampness touched her with icy fingers. The water would be too cold now for a swim; just to sit upon the banks and savor its calmness would be enough this night. As the twigs brushed her legs a different scent reached her. Smoke. The faintest trace, as if a campfire burned down to coals. Did a roving band of gypsies come to camp here? She was sure they wouldn’t harm her if she told them she was of Deagan’s blood. Jester stopped and altered his course to the right, his unexpected shift in direction jarring her.
Delilah became aware of the sharp essence of mint before the leaves rustled as he rose from the ground before her. “Tyrone? What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same thing.”
The pony came to an abrupt halt, leading her to believe the earl now held him by the headstall. “I could not sleep.”
“Nor could I.” He chuckled. “The water is far too cold for a swim, you know.”
She smiled at the light admonishment. “I know, I just thought to sit upon the bank and bask in the serenity of the place.”
“Allow me help you down.”
Even though she didn’t need his help, she permitted him to guide her to the forest floor. “You have not answered my question of why you are here, my lord.”
“I came to watch over you, Delilah.”
For a moment she pondered the soberness of his answer. He was worried about her, which meant he cared for her at least. “How did you know I would come here when the water is so cold?”
His warm hand slipped around to cradle the small of her back as he guided her to the pool’s edge to sit. “I didn’t. I was waiting to be sure the manor was asleep before I set up a watch on the property.”
“Oh.” With a grin she sat on the fabric he spread upon the bank, glad in the dark he wouldn’t be able to see how much his care pleased her.
He chuckled. “It pleases you.”
She let the smile slip from her lips. “How do you know?”
“I can sense it. You have taught me well to see without my eyes, Delilah.”
“Have I?”
Again he chuckled. “Most assuredly. I find my senses sharpened where you are concerned.”
She allowed the comment to pass and drew her knees up to rest her arms across them. “Soon it will be winter and I will not be able to venture very far from the house.”
His arm brushed hers as he sat beside her. “Then what will you do when your mind is too restless to sleep?”
“Other things.” She shrugged and rested her head atop her arms. It was nice here, with him. Comfortable and easy.
“Such as?”
The lightness of his tone told her he was teasing and she smiled. “Read, play my pianoforte, and dance.”
“Will you dance as you did at the gypsy camp?”
The idea of dancing again with wild abandon thrilled her. “Perhaps, though to dance by one’s self without music might be seen as a little noddy to the servants.”
“Indeed.” He shifted beside her. “Perhaps I shall dance with you.”
Her heart constricted at the idea of his embrace, knowing it would never be. Her sigh of despair lingered over the water. “If it could be. I suspect the king will seek to have me wed to some proper gentleman of his choosing before the snow flies, if he releases me from my agreement with Augustus.”
Silence stretched between them for many moments before he answered. “I will make him see the wisdom of an annulment, Delilah.” The cricket’s chirping mingled with the rustling leaves and tumbling waterfall. Delilah closed her eyes and her mind wandered back to dancing with him.
“Would you have me if I petitioned the king for your hand?”
Startled by his question she gasped. “What?”
“Would you marry me?”
Her heart soared. She would like nothing more than to be near him every day, yet doubt about his feelings made her temper her reply. “If I have to marry, I would choose it to be you.”
He was too quiet, and for a minute she wondered if he regretted his offer. “Then I shall ask the king when he arrives. Come, it is time you retire to the safety of your room.”
Though she didn’t want to return to her solitary room, she didn’t resist when he helped her aboard the pony and led the animal back along the trail. The silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid thoughts and feelings. Did they have a future together?
• • •
The next night found Delilah again unable to sleep, and in frustration she slipped down to the kitchen in hopes the cook left her a snack. She found the treat as easily as the cook intended and took it to sit on a stool by the rough table. With a deep sniff, she savored the sweet smell of apples and spicy hint of cinnamon. A slice of leftover apple pie, my favorite. She giggled, disturbing the silence. All foods are my favorite. The tastes and textures thrilled her senses, making every snack and meal an adventure. Breaking off a generous chunk with her fingers, she popped it in her mouth, savoring its stimulation of her taste buds. The flaky pastry all but melted on her tongue, the tangy bits of apple and spices making her moan. She smo
thered a second giggle as the seductive sound echoed in the room. There was much joy in the simple things. A shuffling noise made her turn toward the doorway. “Forgive me, Mrs. Smith, for interrupting your sleep. I was just enjoying the pie you so thoughtfully left me.”
“Enjoy it while you can, Miss Daysland.”
The sinister male voice made her freeze, her hand halfway to her lips. She choked on the crumbs left in her mouth. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I am here to deliver a message,” the man answered.
She set down the pie. “From the earl? Has the king come already?”
“No. The baron sent me to fetch the beast and advise you to change your tale.”
Icy fingers of fear clawed her chest. “Jester? What have you done to him?”
“Nothing yet. If you recant your gypsy story and agree to let your marriage to the baron stand, he will be returned to you unharmed.”
“The baron will kill me regardless.”
“No, he has decided to let you live, but he’ll kill you both the first chance he gets if you decline his suggestion.”
There was no doubt in her mind Augustus meant his threat. Could she live looking over her shoulder? Could Tyrone protect her forever and keep watch for her sightless eyes? No, no matter how able the man, it was not possible. One day there would come a time when he would fail. She nodded, knowing there was no other choice. She owed it to Jester to protect him, as he protected her all these years.
When the door closed behind the mysterious man she pushed away her forgotten snack, laid her head on the table, and cried for the man she loved, whom she would never marry.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tyrone rubbed a hand over the two days’ worth of stubble on his chin and blinked to refocus his bleary gaze. Two nights he had sat here in the shadows of the garden elm tree and seen no one, other than one man enter the kitchen from the stable and then exit a short time after. He presumed the fellow was a stable hand after a late night snack and found something to tempt his appetite in the cook’s pantry.