“I’ve come to ask for your help,” Lavinia said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Delilah didn’t want to turn her back to the lady. She didn’t trust her. She shuffled over to her wardrobe. “I told you, Lucy and I are doing our best to put Lord Berwick in your path, but—”
“Putting him in my path isn’t good enough,” Lavinia shot back.
“I’m not certain I know what you mean,” Delilah replied.
“Don’t you?” Lavinia drawled. A slow smile spread across her face, a smile that looked partially evil.
“No.” Delilah frowned. What in heaven’s name was Lavinia getting at?
The smile dropped from the other woman’s face, and she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Delilah. It doesn’t suit you. I’m talking about the potion you’ve got.”
“P-potion?” Delilah sucked in her breath. How in heaven’s name had Lavinia, of all people, found out about the potion?
“Yes, the magic perfume,” Lavinia continued. “The one you and Danielle bought.”
Delilah swallowed hard. “Why do you think I have a ma-ma-magic potion?” She was a horrible liar. She tended to stutter when she lied.
Lavinia drummed her fingertips along the sides of her folded arms. “I overheard Danielle telling you about it at one of the rehearsals in London.”
So Lavinia had been eavesdropping that day? Leave it to her to do something so underhanded. Delilah eyed the older woman. Lavinia was clever, and she obviously knew about the elixir. Was there any use denying it any longer? Very well. They might as well have it out. This was certain to be unpleasant. How in the world had Thomas and his lovely sister Alexandra come from the same parents as this awful woman?
“You want to try it on Lord Berwick?” Delilah asked.
Lavinia’s smile was tight and fake. “Of course, I want to try it on Lord Berwick.”
Delilah moved to position herself between Lavinia and her trunk where the perfume was hidden, as if Lavinia might jump into action and attempt to steal it from her. Truthfully, Delilah wouldn’t put that past her. “I’ve no idea if it even works, you know?” She would at least attempt to reason with the woman.
“It cannot hurt, though, now can it?” Lavinia opened her hand to reveal a small empty glass vial. She handed it to Delilah. “I’m willing to try. Give me some.”
Delilah expelled her breath. This was going to be even more difficult than she’d originally thought. “I cannot give it to you.”
Lavinia’s eyes narrowed even more. “Why not?”
Delilah tightened the dressing gown’s belt around her waist, pulling hard on both ends. “Because I promised Madame Rosa.”
“Who is Madame Rosa?” Lavinia asked in a bored voice that indicated she didn’t give one whit who Madame Rosa was.
“The woman who sold me the perfume,” Delilah replied. “She made me promise to follow the rules.”
Lavinia’s eyes were barely opened slits. “Rules? What rules?”
“One of them is not to share the elixir with anyone else.”
Lavinia dropped one hand to her hip. “Do you think me a fool? You’re obviously making that up to keep it from me.”
Delilah shook her head. “I swear I’m not.”
Lavinia took a step closer and searched her face. “What does it matter if you share it?”
“I don’t know.” Delilah shrugged. “But I promised I wouldn’t.”
Lavinia raised her chin. “Fine, then, you can either give it to me or share it with me. The choice is yours.”
Delilah pursed her lips for a moment as if in actual thought. “I choose neither.”
Lavinia turned on her heel and marched toward the door. “Then I shall tell the Duke of Branville what you’re planning.”
Delilah dropped the belt and clenched her fist, a fist that itched to pummel Thomas’s sister at the moment. “If you do that, you won’t be able to use it on Berwick either, because I won’t give it to you.” Mon Dieu, this woman was difficult.
“Perhaps, but you won’t be able to use it either.”
Delilah glared at her. “You’d be that spiteful? To render it useless to both of us?”
Lavinia moved back toward Delilah. Her voice turned cajoling. “Share it. Who knows why that was a rule to begin with? No doubt it was simply because the woman wanted your friends to come and buy a vial of their own so she could make more money.”
Why was awful Lavinia suddenly making sense?
“Besides,” she continued, “at this point, either we both use it or neither of us use it. The choice is yours.”
Delilah eyed the older woman carefully. She supposed she had no choice. Even if breaking the rule rendered the elixir useless, she at least wanted the opportunity to try it. Besides, Lavinia might actually be right about Madame Rosa’s reason for the rule to begin with. Either way, Delilah couldn’t let Branville find out that she’d intended to sneak into his room and sprinkle magic perfume on his eyes. She’d end up in Bedlam if anyone else found out.
The guilt that had been riding her since she’d purchased the perfume multiplied tenfold as she opened her empty palm and presented it to Lavinia. “Fine. Give me your vial. I’ll share my elixir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, the sky a cloudless blue. A slight breeze in the air kept it from being too hot, and both the day and night promised to be lovely. Coaches began arriving from London, filled with playgoers who’d paid a hefty sum to attend the private performance.
Thomas had awakened with the sun. He’d gone for a long ride about Claringdon’s property. A long ride in which he’d had plenty of time to think.
Delilah’s magic potion scheme was madness. It was probably the most insane thing he’d ever known her to get up to, and that list included a great many insane things. But the scheme also posed the perfect solution to his dilemma. He’d been waiting for the opportunity to tell her how he felt about her. But he’d been worried that if she didn’t feel the same, the entire plan would fail and he’d be left without his friend.
Today was her birthday. He’d intended to tell her how he felt about her after the performance tonight. He’d intended to ask to speak with her alone and confess his feelings, to ask her if she thought she might be able to return them.
Instead, he decided to use her deuced elixir plot to gain what he wanted. He reasoned that he’d be doing her a favor. If Delilah did end up tiptoeing about the Duke of Branville’s bedchamber tonight, not only might it cause a huge scandal—one from which she’d never be able to extract herself—but lovable, clumsy Delilah also might trip and fall on the bed, wake the duke, and horrify him with her forwardness. That would cause her no end of embarrassment. More importantly, Thomas loved her and always had, so the silly fairy dust might just be the perfect way to show her his true feelings.
It was finally time to ask one of the gentlemen for assistance.
Thomas returned from his ride, went to his bedchamber to change his clothing, and met a group of similarly early risers in the breakfast room. After finishing his meal, he waited until Claringdon left the room before he excused himself and followed Derek out into the corridor.
“A moment of your time, Your Grace,” Thomas said.
Derek turned and inclined his head. “Of course. My study is around the corner.”
The older man led Thomas to the large room and closed the door behind them. Thomas took a seat in the leather chair that sat in front of Claringdon’s desk. Claringdon made his way behind the desk and took his own seat.
“What did you want to speak to me about, Huntley?” Derek asked, as soon as he was settled.
Thomas leaned back in his chair. He could only hope Claringdon was an understanding man. “I need your help.”
Claringdon’s astute eyes searched Thomas’s face. He nodded. “Name it.”
Thomas took a deep breath. “First, I must warn you, it’s going to sound … unconventional and perhaps … odd. Even ludic
rous.”
Derek grinned at him. “I’ve spent many years with Lucy, my friend. I’m an expert in the unconventional and odd. And I’m well-acquainted with ludicrous.”
Thomas threw back his head and laughed. Perhaps this would go better than he’d hoped. “Excellent. Then perhaps you won’t be shocked when I ask for you to help me switch bedchambers with the Duke of Branville tonight.”
Derek narrowed his eyes. “Branville?”
Thomas nodded. “Yes, but Lucy mustn’t know. None of the ladies must know.”
Derek drummed his fingers on the desk. “Out of curiosity, why do you want to switch rooms?”
“Here comes the ludicrous part.” Thomas bit the inside of his cheek. “Delilah purchased a vial of perfume that she intends to … sprinkle on Branville’s eyes because…” He choked a little. “It’s, err, purported to make him fall in love with her.”
Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re right. Even after all the schemes I’ve known Lucy to get up to, including the invention of an entirely fictional chaperone named Mrs. Bunbury, that does sound ludicrous.”
Thomas tugged at his cravat. It had sounded even more ludicrous when he’d said it aloud. “Nevertheless, it’s true.”
Derek resumed drumming his fingers. “I assume you want to switch rooms because you want to be the one who falls in love.”
“I’m already in love,” Thomas admitted with a sigh. “I merely want an opportunity to let her know it.”
“Switching bedchambers, eh?” Claringdon said, smiling a little. “This sounds like something my wife and her friends would do, you know.”
“Is that a no?” Thomas asked, his gut clenching.
“On the contrary,” Claringdon replied. “I’m happy to prove that my wife is not the only one who can matchmake if need be. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Thomas stood and all but fled the room. He made it into the corridor before he leaned back against the wall and expelled his breath. He grinned to himself. That had gone better than expected. He’d known Claringdon was a good man, but Thomas hadn’t been entirely certain the duke would agree to such mischief. Derek had a point, however. Being married to Lucy Hunt all these years had to have upped the man’s tolerance for the absurd. Lucy was always up to something.
A slight twinge of guilt pinged Thomas’s conscience. The deception he intended to play upon Delilah wasn’t right. But, he reminded himself, it also wasn’t as if love potion truly existed. Delilah had always been fanciful, and sometimes too easily convinced. If she sprinkled the elixir on Branville, all she would receive was bitter disappointment. This unfortunate way, however, Thomas would get his chance to show her how he truly felt about her.
He’d spent all these weeks showing her he possessed the qualities she wanted in a husband. She needed to see him in a different light. Not as a friend. If he could wake up tomorrow morning and confess he was in love with her, perhaps she’d change her mind. Perhaps she’d finally realize they were made for each other. That damned potion was the perfect excuse.
His plan was simple. He would switch rooms with Branville, and when Delilah came to sprinkle the elixir, he’d ensure she couldn’t see his face until after she’d done it. Then he would have to make certain she saw him so she’d know he was the one who was enchanted. It was as easy and as absurd as that.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, made his way to the foyer, and bounded up the stairs to his bedchamber. By this time tomorrow, he would finally be able to tell Delilah how he truly felt about her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The gown Delilah wore to play Helena was a simple white one, gathered at the waist and shoulders with a deeply rounded collar and no sleeves. Danielle Cavendish and her maids had worked endless hours to make all the costumes, and Cousin Daphne had been in charge of ensuring all of the players had enough cosmetics on their faces to be seen from the audience. Daphne had applied rouge and powder to Delilah’s face and lips, and used soot mixed with oil to outline her eyebrows and eyelashes. She finished the look with lip salve made from the attar of roses that gave a decided pink hue to Delilah’s mouth. The effect was quite startling when Delilah saw herself in the looking glass. But Daphne had assured her that all players wore such substances on their faces. Apparently, her cousin had gone to the Drury Lane Theatre and discussed it with them at length.
Before the play began, all of the players met in the corridor outside the library, where the sets and stage had been set up. The small audience faced the stage in five rows of seats, separated by an aisle. There were approximately fifty people who’d come for the play, but it might as well have been five hundred for the amount of nerves in Delilah’s belly.
Lucy’s library had been transformed into a woodland copse at night. Trees and vines covered every space, and twinkling stars hung from the ceiling. Cass’s lovely paintings of trees graced the room. The moss and leaves and all of the other items they’d spent the last few months collecting had been artfully arranged by Cass and Danielle to make the room look like one had stumbled into the forest.
Out in the corridor next to the library’s side entrance, excitement bubbled in the air. The players spoke in hushed and anxious voices, all of them ready to finally put their hard work to use. Delilah’s slipper tapped against the floor like a jackrabbit’s foot while Lady Rothwell from the Royal Society for the Human Treatment of Animals made a speech to the crowd about how kind and generous the players were to take on such a feat for the assistance of the animals. The audience clapped. Then Jane Upton sailed into the library, climbed onstage, and announced the performance.
The last of her words floated out into the corridor, making Delilah’s stomach flip. “And so we give you William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
More applause followed before Rafe Cavendish’s voice began the play as Duke Theseus with Lavinia as his Hippolyta.
“Nervous?” Thomas asked, sliding into the space next to Delilah as they waited by the library doors.
His part came before hers so there was little time to answer before he winked at her and entered the library.
Lucy, dressed as Titania, the fairy queen, was a sight to behold. She had sparkles all over her face and arms and neck, and her hair was entwined with leaves, twigs, and berries. She wore a golden gown that looked like a robe a Roman goddess would have owned. She winked at Delilah in passing.
Scene after scene was executed if not flawlessly, then at least as good as could be expected. Delilah recited her lines in each of her scenes, barely aware of them. Thank goodness her memory was accurate because her mind was elsewhere. It resided firmly in the plot to sprinkle elixir on Branville’s eyes later. The sane, reasonable part of herself argued that she should pour out the elixir and stop the madness, while the mad, desperate part of herself kept whispering that it would all work out perfectly if only she stuck to her plan.
They’d made it all the way to the part where the lovers wake up in the glade the next morning before Delilah even realized how much time had passed. After Thomas as Demetrius delivered his line, “Why, then, we are awake. Let’s follow him. And by the way let us recount our dreams.” He turned, pulled Delilah into his arms and … kissed her.
For the first time all evening, Delilah was catapulted into the present moment. Thomas’s lips on hers shocked her into reality. Her head fell back, and her lips parted as the kiss seemed to go on forever. Her toes curled in her slippers, and her body went hot and feverish. Her knees nearly buckled. The audience stood and clapped, and Delilah was vaguely aware that Jane and Garrett as Lysander and Hermia must be kissing too, before Thomas’s mouth pulled away from hers, and he whispered in her ear, “Happy birthday, my dearest friend.”
She could barely stand. He had to help steady her as they made their way back into the corridor.
The rest of the performance was over in a blur as Delilah recited her lines as best she could while trying to make sense of the kiss Thomas had given he
r. It hadn’t been a play kiss. Nothing they’d rehearsed. It had been more like a … real kiss. Like the one he’d given her in the Hillards’ garden. The one that had stolen her breath and made her knees weak too. Yes, that was it. Her knees had been weak again. But it all made no sense because it was Thomas who’d kissed her. Not the Duke of Branville, but Thomas. And she’d been caught up in it. She’d looked up into his eyes and had a moment of wanting to wrap her arms around his neck, kiss him again, and never stop kissing him. What was the meaning of that?
It felt like only minutes had passed before Cade Cavendish gave his final speech to the audience as Puck, resounding applause followed, and then Delilah and the other players were whisked out of the corridor, back into the library, and onto the stage to take their final bow.
And then it was over. The play they’d all worked so diligently on all summer was complete. Relief flooded her, along with a sense of melancholy. No more rehearsals. No more costumes. No more reason to see her friends three times a week. At least she would no longer have to sneak about and lie to her mother. No doubt the fact that she’d kissed Thomas would make its way back to the London gossip mills, and therefore back to Mère, but Delilah would worry about that later.
Tonight, she had a secret operation to carry out. But first, there would be a party where all of the playgoers would mingle with the players. She could only hope Lavinia wouldn’t give away their secret.
* * *
The party was well underway in the estate’s giant ballroom when Delilah made her way over to Lucy’s side. All of the players had gone up to their bedchambers to remove their cosmetics and change out of their costumes. By the time the ballroom was filled with the partygoers and players enjoying drinks carried on silver salvers by footmen, it was well past midnight. Mon Dieu. Delilah had officially failed to secure an offer from Branville by her birthday. But no matter. She intended to get one in the morning at her earliest convenience. Besides, as long as she had the offer before she returned to London, Mother would hardly quibble over that minor detail.
No Other Duke But You--A Playful Brides Novel Page 16