“We did it!” Lucy declared when Delilah stepped into place next to her. Lucy reached out and squeezed her hand.
“We certainly did,” Delilah replied. She leaned over and hugged Cass and Jane, who were drinking glasses of champagne nearby. They handed one to Delilah.
“Lucy,” she whispered, “I need to speak to you.”
Lucy nodded and excused herself from the group. She and Delilah made their way over to the wall near a potted palm, where Lucy turned to face her. “What is it?” Her two different colored eyes searched Delilah’s face.
Delilah clasped her hands together and squeezed them hard. “I kissed Thomas tonight.”
The hint of a smile played across Lucy’s lips. “I know, dear. We all saw. It was quite convincing. Well done.”
“No, I mean, we kissed. It wasn’t an act. I promise.” Delilah tried to keep the panic from her voice, but she feared she hadn’t done a good job of it.
Lucy’s tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “What exactly are you trying to say, dear?”
“I’m trying to say I kissed Thomas, and I … liked it.” Now that the admission was out, it felt good. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Lucy shook her head and squelched a smile. “Delilah dear, there’s absolutely no harm in enjoying a kiss with a handsome young man. Why, you’re only human, after all.”
“I know, but it makes me feel so … confused.” Confused wasn’t the precise word she wanted, but it would do.
Lucy rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “Because of your pursuit of Branville, dear?” Sympathy shone in her eyes.
“Yes. Meanwhile, I don’t think Branville has spoken two words to me all evening.” Delilah bit her lip.
She hadn’t told Lucy that Branville had asked for her help with Rebecca. Her reasoning being that once she used the elixir—if she used the elixir—how would she explain Branville’s abandoning Rebecca so suddenly? She glanced over to where Branville sipped champagne at Rebecca’s side.
Guilt sliced through Delilah again. Not only did she intend to drastically alter Branville’s life tonight, she would also be altering Rebecca’s. Only Rebecca was still glancing longingly at Thomas, she noted. Meanwhile, Thomas seemed to be deep in conversation with Lady Emmaline, whose attention was obviously fully attuned to Branville.
The entire thing had become so terribly complicated, and it wasn’t helping anything that when Delilah closed her eyes, all she could think about was Thomas’s kiss.
“Go speak to Branville, dear,” Lucy said. “He’s not going to notice you if you’re all the way over here.”
Delilah nodded, and Lucy folded back into the crowd, but instead of going to speak to the Duke of Branville, Delilah made her way over to the Duke of Claringdon’s side. She tapped Derek’s arm and the tall, formidable man turned.
“Delilah?”
With a nod, she motioned for him to follow her.
Derek walked behind her until they were several paces away from the others. “What is it?”
Delilah pressed a hand to her chest to slow the painful pounding of her heart. “I need a favor, Derek, but I must also request that you ask me no questions about why I want to know.”
He frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“I need to know where the Duke of Branville’s guest bedchamber is, but I cannot tell you why I want to know. I will say, however, that my intentions are entirely honorable. Well, my intentions are not indecent, I mean.”
Derek shook his head. “I’m certain I don’t want to know,” he replied dryly. “But I trust you, Delilah. I would warn you, however, whatever you’re up to, be careful.”
“I will be, Your Grace. I promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Delilah glanced up and down the dim hallway. It was well past three in the morning, she was still dressed in the pink ball gown she’d worn to the party, and she clutched the small vial of Cupid’s Elixir in her sweaty, guilty palm. She pressed her back against the shadowed wall not far from the Duke of Branville’s bedchamber. She could do this. More importantly, she would do this. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? What did a little sneaking about in the middle of the night matter?
She’d got detailed instructions to Branville’s room from Derek, who thankfully hadn’t asked any questions about why she wanted to know. According to him, the room was four doors to the right, just past the staircase on the third floor. The third floor was where all the bachelor gentlemen were sleeping. It would be a complete scandal if she was found lurking about alone at this time of night, but she’d waited until the household seemed quite asleep and then waited a bit longer for good measure. Anyone who saw her now would be skulking about themselves, which meant they would hardly be in a position to judge her. She briefly wondered if she’d run into Lavinia.
It was not as if she was out to do anything particularly scandalous. It was more silly and frivolous than anything else. She’d simply die, however, if Branville woke up and asked her what she was doing sprinkling pixie water in his eyes. She’d already decided to pretend as if she were dreaming, thinking she was Puck in the play. Sleepwalking. That would make all the sense in the world. Wouldn’t it? She swallowed hard. Probably not, but she wasn’t about to let the fear of being caught stop her. Besides, all of her and Lucy’s matchmaking had turned into a colossal mess. If a spray of perfume could sort it out, so be it. Of course, Delilah’s conscience reminded her that she hadn’t offered any of the perfume to Rebecca to use on Thomas. She didn’t want to even contemplate that. She’d already shared it with one other person, and that made her guilty enough. The image of Madame Rosa’s disapproving, craggy face had haunted her all evening.
Delilah shook off the thought and turned her attention back to the matter at hand. Pressing her empty palm against the darkened wall, she inched her way along until she came to Branville’s door. She felt like a spy. This was how professional spies did such things, wasn’t it? Too bad she was too embarrassed by her actions to ask the veritable house full of professional spies who happened to be asleep behind other doors right now.
She transferred the vial into her opposite hand and slowly reached to grasp the door handle. The metal was cold in her bare hand. She’d discarded her gloves, deciding that they would make her actions more clumsy. The last thing she needed tonight was to be more clumsy than usual. Decidedly, she needed to be less so.
She clutched the door handle like a lifeline and closed her eyes, steadying her shaking fingers on the knob. She was close, so close. Praying that the door wouldn’t squeak, she turned the handle slowly. The only sound was the thumping of her own heart in her ears.
When the handle was turned as far as it would go, she pushed it, praying fervently that it wasn’t locked. It took a moment before she realized the door was opening. Its hinges silent, merci a Dieu. Completely silent.
She slipped inside the cool, dark room. Steady, deep breathing came from the bed. Thank goodness, she hadn’t woken the duke with her entrance. She could barely see a thing, but she didn’t dare light a candle. A tiny stream of moonlight filtered into the room through a small opening in the curtains on the far window. She used that to identify the hulking bed in the center of the room. She tiptoed over to it slowly, taking care in case there was anything to trip over. No doubt she would find it if there was.
She made it to the foot of the bed without incident and paused, trying to quell her nerves and dispel her guilt. She clutched the vial more tightly in her palm, shaking with fear and anxiety. Now that she was here, she had no earthly idea how to drop liquid on a man’s eyes without awakening him. Besides, how much of it was she supposed to use? Surely not much. She would employ the tiniest drops possible so as not to disturb him, but she also needed to ensure the perfume touched his eyelids. Tricky business, this being a fairy. She had a sudden appreciation for Puck.
Holding her breath, she lifted her skirts with her free hand and tiptoed to the right side of the bed. Because it was summer,
the bed curtains weren’t drawn. The window was open, and a slight breeze blew through the crack in the curtains.
The outline of the duke’s body was barely visible in the moonlight. He was turned away on his side, his back to her, his face toward the window. She would have to lean over his body to sprinkle the elixir on his eyes. The bed was tall. She must carefully climb up to do this task properly. She only hoped she didn’t jostle the mattress enough to wake him.
She waited in silence for a few moments to ensure his breathing remained steady, then she carefully lifted first one knee and then the other, bracing them on the mattress and pulling herself up, still clutching the vial. She winced as he moved slightly in his sleep, but he kept his face turned away. Blast it.
Once she was fully atop the bed, she paused and hoped the hammering of her heart didn’t wake him. He smelled good, a combination of soap and maleness that she wanted to breathe in. There was something vaguely familiar about his scent.
Shaking away that unhelpful thought, she moved gingerly across the mattress on her knees until she came to a stop at his side. His shirt was off. The beam of moonlight hit his smooth, muscled arm. She swallowed. The man’s chest was positively swoon-worthy. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and uncorked the vial. Then she carefully leaned over as far as she could to locate his eyes. They remained shrouded in the dark, but she took a guess as to their general direction and tipped the little vial as slowly and carefully as she could. He turned then, and she was afforded enough light to see that the first tiny drop of liquid did indeed fall directly onto his eyelid.
He blinked, and she held her breath. When he settled back into sleep, she closed her eyes and said a brief prayer that she would get away with it a second time before tipping the vial once more to allow another tiny drop to fall on his other eyelid.
He blinked and rubbed at his eyes while Delilah held her breath again, paralyzed with fear. Soon, he settled back into his pillow and his breathing returned to its steady pace.
She pressed a hand to her throat. It was over. She was done. All she had to do was extract herself from the bed and the room without being seen or heard. The difficult part was behind her.
Still praying he wouldn’t stir, she backed away from the duke. Slowly. Slowly. She’d nearly made it to the edge of the bed when he flipped over to face her. A beam of moonlight slid over his sleeping features.
Delilah gasped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Delilah had no idea how she’d managed to get out of the bedchamber without waking Thomas. The volume of her gasp alone should have brought half the house running, but she managed to make it to the corridor with him still sleeping in the bed. The moment she shut his bedchamber door behind her, she raced across the darkened corridor, flew down the stairs to Lucy’s room on the second floor, and pounded on the door. Moments later, a none-too-amused Derek opened the door, wearing only his breeches. He stepped behind the portal when he realized who it was. “Delilah, what is it?”
“Delilah?” came Lucy’s sleepy voice from behind her husband.
Delilah was too beside herself to even care that she was clearly being inappropriate coming to a married couple’s door in the middle of the night.
“What’s happened?” Lucy materialized and pulled her into the room.
Derek had vanished into his adjoining bedchamber. He returned moments later, properly robed. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern etching his brow.
Delilah’s eyes were wide. She couldn’t catch her breath. Aunt Willie had told her once she must take shallow breaths and not try to speak when she was like this, but Lucy and Derek clearly wanted an explanation for her late-night arrival, and she owed them one.
“I need you to tell me which room Danielle and Cade are in,” she choked out.
Lucy searched Delilah’s face. “What? Why?”
“I … I … I must talk to Danielle immediately.”
Lucy squeezed her shoulders. “Calm down, dear. Tell me. What’s happened?” She put her arm around Delilah and led her to a small sitting area on the other side of the bed. She forced her friend to sit.
Delilah lowered herself to a green velvet chair and let her head drop into her hands. “It’s going to sound mad.”
Derek chuckled. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
Lucy lifted a brow toward her husband before turning back to Delilah. “Derek is correct, dear. I’ve heard and done many mad things.”
Delilah still couldn’t breathe. A thousand thoughts whirled through her mind. What had she done? What had she done? “I need Danielle. I must speak with Danielle.”
Lucy nodded. “What if Derek goes to fetch her while you tell me what happened? Would you like that?”
Delilah nodded. When Lucy inclined her head toward the door, Derek gave a nod and left. Lucy lowered herself to kneel on the thick rug in front of Delilah’s chair and grasped her hands. “Your fingers are freezing, dear. If didn’t know any better, I’d think you saw a ghost.”
Delilah shook her head. “It was worse than a ghost! Much worse. It’s real!”
“What’s real, dear? Did you have a bad dream?”
“I…” Delilah bit her lip. How would she ever explain herself? She’d promised not to tell Lucy anything about this, but how else would she find Danielle in the middle of the night? And now, after what had happened, Danielle couldn’t possibly blame her for enlisting Lucy’s aid.
“Dear, whatever it is, it’ll be all right. I promise. Just tell me so I can help you.”
“Lucy, I made a mistake. A large one.”
Lucy gave her a matter-of-fact look. “What did you do?”
The door swung open, and Danielle hurried in with Derek at her heels. The French woman wore her night rail and a dressing gown. “Delilah, darling, what is it?” She hurried over to kneel next to Lucy in front of Delilah.
Delilah stood from her chair and paced across the room to the fireplace, where she rubbed her freezing hands together in front of the flames. “Danielle, I made a terrible mistake.”
“What happened?” came her cousin’s worried voice from behind her. The two women remained sitting on the rug, facing her.
Delilah braced one hand against the mantelpiece and pressed the other to her middle, certain she would cast up her accounts at any moment. “I went into the wrong room,” she moaned.
“What?” Danielle’s voice was filled with alarm.
Delilah whirled to face all three of them. Derek and Lucy exchanged a worried glance.
She wrung her hands. “I went to the wrong room. I thought I was going to the Duke of Branville’s room, but I went to Thomas’s room instead.”
Danielle hurried over to her, grabbed her shoulders, and searched her face. “Are you certain, Delilah? Can you be sure?”
“I’m sure. I thought I followed the instructions precisely. But it was so dark. I must have chosen the wrong door. Only I didn’t know it until it was too late.”
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Danielle prompted.
Delilah nodded. “I tiptoed over to the bed, and I—”
Derek cleared his throat. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be hearing this.”
She reached a hand toward the duke. “No, Derek, please stay. It’s not what you think.”
“What is it?” Lucy asked, clearly thinking the same thing Derek had.
“Go on,” Danielle said.
Delilah forced herself to take a deep breath. “I climbed up to the top of the mattress, leaned over, and tipped the vial.”
“What vial?” Lucy asked, frowning.
Delilah ignored her. “I let one drop fall on each eye. At least I thought it was his eyes. It was difficult to tell in the darkness.”
“You tried to blind someone?” Derek scratched his head.
“If it was so dark, how did you discover it was the wrong room?” Danielle prompted, worry lines creasing the sides of her mouth.
“Because after I did it, he rolled over into the moonlight
and … it was Thomas,” Delilah finished miserably.
“You tried to blind Thomas?” Lucy chimed.
“She didn’t try to blind anyone,” Danielle replied, as if the entire story made perfect sense. “She was applying the Elixir of Cupid to his eyes.”
“Elixir of Cupid?” Lucy dropped to her backside and blinked at the fireplace.
Danielle nodded and turned to face Lucy. “Yes, it’s a special perfume that’s purported to make the person you use it on fall in love with you.”
“Love potion,” Lucy breathed, a wondrous expression on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me, Delilah?”
Delilah rushed back over to where Lucy sat, kneeled down, and grasped the duchess’s hand. “I assumed you’d think I was mad.”
“I don’t think that at all,” Lucy said, climbing to her feet with Delilah’s help. “I’ve heard talk of the potion before. I just didn’t know it actually existed.”
“I got it from a Roma woman in London who Danielle knows,” Delilah explained.
Lucy sighed. “Danielle knows all the most interesting people.”
Derek eyed the lot of them as if they’d lost their minds.
Delilah turned to Danielle. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted me to keep all of this a secret, but it spiraled out of control.”
Danielle stood too and hugged Delilah. “It’s all right. I understand. You need help now that you’ve made a mistake. I can only guess how frightened you were when you discovered you were in the wrong room.”
Lucy gave Danielle an accusing glare before placing her fists on her hips. “If you knew there was a love potion out there all these years, why didn’t you tell me?”
The hint of a smile touched Danielle’s lips. “I thought you’d think I was mad too. Delilah seemed interested and open to it.”
“You’re all missing the point!” Delilah raised her voice. “The deed is done, and I’ve administered the potion to the wrong duke.”
No Other Duke But You--A Playful Brides Novel Page 17