The entire ride back to London, all she could think about was Thomas and the wrong she’d done him. They were nearly to Mayfair before she even had a chance to think about the other implications of the elixir plot going so horribly awry. Namely that the Duke of Branville was hardly in danger of falling madly in love with her anytime soon, and she had not secured an offer from him by the appointed time. Her mother would be looking for her. She’d gloat when she discovered that Delilah had failed. She’d gloat, and she’d demand Delilah marry Clarence Hilton.
But none of that mattered at the moment. All Delilah cared about was ensuring that she did right by Thomas. She’d changed him, her closest friend, her confidant, the person who was always there for her and always would be. She’d done something to him that she shouldn’t have, and she hadn’t even been brave enough to admit it. Instead, she’d run away like a coward in search of a quick solution. The antidote.
Oh, she would explain it all to him. Eventually. She’d confess and beg his forgiveness, but first, first, she had to find a way to make him Thomas again. To make him her friend. Not some love-addled fool who thought she was perfect. He’d even said it. Those words tore at her heart. She was none of those things. She never had been, and she never would be. The elixir had made him say them. Tears stung her eyes, but she dashed them away with her fingers.
It didn’t matter if she was forced to become engaged to Clarence. Nothing mattered but making things right with Thomas. She had to find Madame Rosa. She had to discover how to clean up the mess she’d made.
They didn’t stop at Delilah’s house or at Danielle’s. Instead, Danielle instructed the coachman to drive directly to Lombard Street. It was dark by the time the coach pulled to a halt. Delilah flew from the carriage, Danielle close on her heels. They made their way down the street to the little gate they’d entered the last time. The footman accompanied them like before, but unlike before, when they reached the entrance, Delilah didn’t knock. She pushed opened the green wooden door and barged inside.
“Madame Rosa?” she called, desperation making her voice thin. “Madame?”
A strange, cold wind blew through the little shop and slammed the door behind them. Danielle jumped.
“Who’s there?” came Madame Rosa’s strained voice. A few moments later, the old woman hobbled out of the back of the shop, leaning heavily upon a cane. When she saw Delilah, her eyes lit with concern.
She tottered over to the same table where she’d sat the first time and took a seat, leaning on her cane and breathing heavily.
“Something bad has happened,” Madame Rosa said in an eerie, matter-of-fact voice.
Delilah swallowed and nodded. She approached the table and sat on the edge of one of the chairs in front of it. “Yes. Yes. We’ve come for the antidote.”
The old lady’s eyes crinkled in a frown. “Antidote?” She pronounced the word as if she didn’t know what it meant.
“Yes, we need it immediately,” Delilah breathed, searching the old woman’s face.
“Settle down, lass,” the old lady said. “First ye must remind me what potion I sold ye.”
Panic clawed at Delilah’s insides. Madame Rosa didn’t remember her. Delilah forced herself to take three deep breaths. Of course the old woman wouldn’t remember her. Madame sold potions to ladies every day. Madame Rosa was memorable to Delilah, not the other way around.
“I’m Lady Delilah Montebank, and this is my cousin Danielle. You sold us a vial of Cupid’s Elixir.” Danielle had come to sit on the other chair in front of Madame Rosa’s table.
“Oh. Yes.” The old woman pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot help ye then.”
“What?” Delilah’s voice went up an octave. “What are you talking about? You must help us. There must be an antidote.”
“Antidote,” the woman repeated strangely as if she’d heard the word for the first time. “Do ye know what antidote means, lass?”
Delilah clasped her shaking hands in her lap. Madame Rosa wanted to talk about the meaning of words at a time like this? “It means it will fix what happened. Do the opposite, perhaps?”
“It comes from Latin,” the old lady replied. “Antidotum. Meaning remedy against poison.”
“Yes, that’s what I want,” Delilah replied. “The remedy against it.”
“No.” Madame Rosa shook her head. “Ye see, Cupid’s Elixir isn’t a poison, lass. There is no antidotum for it.”
A chill spread through Delilah’s body. “There must be some way to fix it. To reverse what it’s done.”
“Did it do its work?” Madame Rosa asked. “Did it bring true love to the heart of the one whose eyes were touched by its essence?”
“Yes,” Delilah said flatly, “but I accidentally put it on the eyes of the wrong man.”
Madame Rosa’s soft laughter filled the stale air of the room. The Roma woman was laughing. This had to be the worst moment of Delilah’s life, and the woman was actually laughing at her. Delilah hung her head.
“There’s nothing funny about this,” she whispered. “I’ve made an awful mistake. I’ve ruined someone’s life.”
“No, no, lass,” Madame Rosa said, shaking her head again. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Delilah pulled her handkerchief from her reticule. She wanted to rip the thing in half. “I’m afraid it is. You don’t understand the situation.”
Madame Rosa smiled up at her, exposing her mostly toothless grin. She reached over and patted Delilah’s face with a papery hand. “There is nothing I can do,” she said. “Verus amor nullum facit errata.”
Delilah stood. The room seemed to be closing in around her. She’d no idea what the old woman had just said. She barely paid any attention in her Latin studies—the subject had bored her senseless. Something about the mistakes of love. But whatever the lady had said, Delilah was clear on one thing: Madame Rosa obviously had no intention of helping her. She spun toward the door. “Let’s go, Danielle. We’ll find no assistance here.”
Danielle nodded, stood, and quietly followed Delilah out of the shop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Delilah spent the ride to her mother’s town house staring blankly out the window. “I cannot believe she wouldn’t help me,” she said to Danielle, who sat beside her and patted her hand.
“She said there was nothing she could do,” Danielle offered.
“Absurdité. There had to be something she could do. If the Roma have a potion that can make a person fall in love, why in heaven’s name do they not have a potion that can reverse the effect?”
“I’m not certain these things work that way,” Danielle replied softly.
Delilah sighed. “Obviously not. I’ve been such a fool. How am I going to explain this to Thomas?”
The coach pulled to a stop in front of her mother’s house.
“Don’t worry about it tonight, dear,” Danielle said. “Get some rest. Things may look better in the morning. Sleep tends to fix many problems.”
Delilah gave a vague nod. Sleep sounded good. She could only hope her mother had already retired for the evening. She couldn’t face the woman tonight.
The footman helped her down from the coach and delivered her trunk, and the conveyance remained in the street until she made it safely up the steps and entered the front door.
The moment she stepped inside, her mother’s voice rang out from the gold salon. Delilah closed her eyes as misery washed over her.
“There you are!” Mother marched into the foyer, her eyes blazing with anger.
“I cannot talk right now, Mother. I’ll speak with you in the morning.” Delilah tried to turn toward the staircase, but her mother caught her arm and whirled her around to face her.
“How dare you lie to me?” Mother raised a hand and slapped Delilah across the face. Delilah’s ears rang and tears filled her eyes, but she’d barely felt the blow, and her tears weren’t for her mother.
She did her best to focus on the woman’s en
raged face. “Lie to you about what?” she asked calmly.
Another backhanded slap across the face sent Delilah to her knees. She stayed there, staring at the marble floor. Her mother could beat her to death for all she cared at the moment.
“Don’t feign ignorance with me. Half the town is talking about the play you were in. The play at the Duchess of Claringdon’s country home. The one in which you kissed a man.”
So Mother was angry about the play. Delilah had expected this moment. It was still worth it to have raised the money for animals.
Delilah slowly raised herself to her feet and took a step away from her mother. “It was only Thomas I kissed, and the play was for charity,” she said in a voice devoid of all emotion.
“You think that makes it acceptable?” Her mother raised her hand to slap her again.
“Vanessa, we talked about this.”
The Earl of Hilton stepped out of the gold salon, and instantly Delilah’s mother dropped her hand.
“Yes, but I had no idea she’d be so insolent, Edgar,” Mother replied, her eyes still blazing.
Delilah cradled her rapidly swelling cheek in her palm. “I’m not being insolent. I was telling the truth.”
Her mother’s jaw was clenched so tightly the muscle in her cheek jumped. “The truth? Please. You’ve been lying to me for weeks. I had to be informed that my daughter had turned into an actress by a woman at church this morning. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me?”
“I’m not an actress. It was only one performance, and it wasn’t as if it was in public.”
“Public or not, I—”
“The damage is done, Vanessa,” came Hilton’s clipped voice behind her. “We should turn our attention to the future. Don’t you agree?”
“Ah, yes, the future,” Mother spat. “I’m certain the Duke of Branville won’t be pleased when he finds out you kissed Huntley in front of half the ton. Tell me, are you betrothed or not?”
“No.” Delilah slowly rose to her feet. “I’m not.”
Her mother’s nostrils flared. “I knew it. You’ve always been nothing but a disappointment. Why I even entertained the notion that Branville would offer for you, I’ll never know.”
“I just want to go to bed now,” Delilah said, staring longingly toward the staircase.
“No, you don’t.” Her mother’s hands clenched in fists at her sides. “You may not have become betrothed, but I have. Edgar and I intend to marry, and we won’t have you hovering around our new home like the unwanted little spinster you are. We’re going to see to it that you’re married. As soon as possible.”
Delilah lifted her skirts and made her way toward the staircase. “I don’t care. Do what you like.”
“Fine, then. We’ll post the first banns for your marriage to Clarence next Sunday.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next morning, Delilah sat in the gold salon, hugging a sapphire throw pillow to her chest while her mother flitted around the room with two of the maids and discussed the plans for both of their weddings.
“We’ll need appointments at the dressmakers, the flower shop, and we must plan a wedding breakfast.” She turned toward Delilah. “Now that I think on it, I don’t see why we don’t all get married at once. It will save quite a lot of trouble and expense.” The woman seemed completely oblivious to both her daughter’s red, swollen cheek and her complete lack of interest in her words.
Delilah stared unseeing at the wall. “Whatever you like.”
She had spent the night tossing and turning. Now, she was pretending to listen as her mother spoke. Meanwhile, her mind raced with thoughts of Thomas. Where was he? What did he think? By now, he must have guessed she’d used the potion on him. What else could explain his thinking she was his friend one day, and declaring his love for her the next?
But every time she had that thought, the memory of their kiss on the stage flitted through her mind. At the time it had felt quite … real. Real enough to curl her toes. Real enough to make her knees weak. It had been the first moment she’d truly thought about Thomas as someone other than just her friend. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The first moment she had that thought had been when he’d kissed her in the Hillards’ gardens. Or actually, perhaps it had been when Rebecca had informed her that Thomas was the most eligible bachelor of the Season at the Penningtons’ ball.
“You’re fortunate that Clarence is willing to overlook the scandal your kiss with Huntley caused,” Mother said, jolting Delilah from her thoughts.
“Is there a scandal?” Delilah asked uninterestedly. Of course, Clarence was willing to overlook it. No one else would marry him.
“I’m certain there will be a scandal,” Mother continued. “You know as well as I do that a young, unmarried lady cannot go about kissing a young, unmarried gentleman in front of others without causing a scandal. Why, I’ve half a mind to ask Edgar to call out Huntley. He had no right to touch you.”
Delilah tentatively fingered her bruised cheek. “We were acting, Mother.”
“Still, it’s completely inappropriate and—”
A knock on the salon door interrupted her mother’s diatribe. Goodfellow stepped into the room. “The Duke of Huntley is here to see you, my lady.”
Delilah’s heart thundered in her chest. Thomas was here? This was certain to be awkward with Mother present.
“I’ll bet he is,” Lady Vanessa said, arching a brow. “Show him in. I refuse to allow him to be alone with you,” she said to Delilah.
Delilah squelched her smile. At least Mother would allow her to see him.
Moments later, Thomas strolled through the door to the salon. He looked so handsome. Delilah wanted to rush into his arms.
He took in the scene with Delilah and her mother. “Good morning, Lady Vanessa,” he said in his most polite drawing-room voice. “You’re looking well.”
“Huntley,” Mother intoned. “I’m surprised you’d show your face here after what you’ve done.”
He blinked. “I’m not certain what you mean.”
“Must you both be liars?” Mother said, sighing. “Are you honestly going to pretend that you didn’t kiss Delilah in front of half the ton at the Duchess of Claringdon’s play the other night?”
The familiar grin spread across Thomas’s face. It made butterflies scatter in Delilah’s stomach. “Oh, yes, well, I did do that. But it was in front of only about fifty people, and have you not read today’s paper? Delilah and I were praised for our performances.”
Mother’s face drained of color. “My daughter is in the paper as an acknowledged actress?”
“No, nothing like that.” Thomas stuck his head outside the door and called to Goodfellow for a copy of the Times. “The play was lauded as a lark for charity, which is precisely what it was. All of the players were applauded for their generosity.”
When Goodfellow returned with the paper, Thomas quickly opened it to the correct page and handed it to Mother. Mother, of course, never read anything. In their house, the paper was mostly used to wrap old food after Delilah finished reading it.
Mother’s eyes scanned the page. Thomas gazed at Delilah while her mother was momentarily distracted. “Why is your cheek red, Delilah?” Suspicion laced his words as he eyed her mother. Delilah shook her head and glanced away.
Mother was still studying the paper. “Well,” she said haughtily. “If that’s not the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Nothing ridiculous about it,” Thomas replied, an edge to his voice. “Lady Rothwell and the others at the Royal Society are quite pleased with the money we raised.”
Mother tossed the paper to the tabletop. Her nostrils flared. “Why exactly are you here, Your Grace?”
The look on Thomas’s face turned completely serious. He stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “I’m here, my lady, to ask you formally if I may court your daughter.”
Mother’s face went from white to mottled purple in a matter of seconds. She looked
as if she was about to have an apoplectic fit. “Court my … Delilah?”
Thomas nodded. “Do you have any other daughters?”
Delilah winced. He shouldn’t have said that, but she admired him for it. If only she could say such things to Mother. Delilah held her breath. Mon Dieu. How would Mother react if Thomas blurted out that he thought he was madly in love with her? Delilah could only guess her mother would be nothing but pleased with a proposal from a duke. It was Delilah who didn’t want to marry a man she’d tricked into it.
It took the better part of a minute for Mother to regain control of her features and for her face to return to a normal color. When she did, she pressed her thin lips together tightly, turned to Thomas and said, “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Your Grace. I’ve already accepted an offer for Delilah’s hand from Lord Clarence Hilton.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
““Mon Dieu, Lucy, you should have seen the look on Mère’s face when Thomas asked to court me. Then you should have seen the look on Thomas’s face when Mère told him that she’d already promised me to Clarence. If my life wasn’t such a disaster at the moment, I’d laugh about it.”
It was later that same afternoon and the two friends were sitting in the gold salon. Lucy had returned from the country, and her first order of business had been to find Delilah and ask what had happened with Madame Rosa and the elixir. Mother, merci a Dieu, had gone out to shop for the weddings, but not before rebuking Lucy for allowing her daughter to be part of a common play.
“It was not common at all, Lady Vanessa,” Lucy had replied, tucking an errant curl back into her coiffure. “It was extraordinary, if I do say so myself.”
“To ensure you never do anything like that again,” Mother said, narrowing her eyes on Lucy, “I intend to hire a new chaperone for Delilah. One who will keep a close eye on her until her wedding.” Mother had never cared much that Lucy was a duchess and far above her in social standing.
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