“I’m afraid I don’t . . .” He winced. “Yes, ma’am.”
There was no need for further explanations. She didn’t doubt for a moment that the servants were well aware of the debate at the dinner table. There were no secrets at Millworth.
“Where?”
For a moment, she felt sorry for the poor boy, torn as he was between answering her question and the avoidance of additional conflict in the household.
“I am not certain but I think, well . . .” He drew a deep breath. “The carriage house, Lady Hargate. It was put in the carriage house.”
“Thank you, William.” She nodded and turned to go, then turned back. “Did you see it?”
He nodded. “It arrived shortly before the first guests.”
“And? What did you think of it?”
“It’s not my place to say, ma’am.”
“Come now, William, I’m simply asking your opinion.” Goodness, did the poor boy think she would disembowel him if he disagreed with her? “I promise I will not hold it against you.”
“Of course not, ma’am. I never imagined . . .” William drew a deep breath. “It’s quite the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen. Smaller than I expected. I have not seen it run yet though and—”
She held up her hand to stop him. “I daresay you’ll get your chance soon enough. Thank you, William.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hesitated.
“Is there something else?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, for asking but . . .” The young man squared his shoulders. “Some of us were wondering, well, hoping that perhaps Mr. Russell’s man, the one who arrived with the vehicle, might possibly give us rides in it. Not now, of course,” he added quickly. “But when we’re not otherwise engaged.”
No doubt everyone in the household would want to ride in the blasted thing. Although that might well keep Samuel occupied. “I don’t see why not.”
“Thank you, Lady Hargate.” He nodded and started to leave, then turned back to her. “And if I might ask another favor?”
“You don’t want me to mention this request to Clement? Is that it?”
He nodded with relief. “He would see this as overstepping, my lady.”
“He would be right of course but . . .” She sighed. “It’s understandable that you and the rest of the staff, as well as my sister and everyone else in existence, would be curious about this piece of mechanical nonsense. I won’t say a word to Clement.”
“Thank you, my lady.” William nodded and hurried off.
The carriage house and the adjoining stables were in the opposite direction of the tennis courts from the manor and no more than a five-minute walk. Delilah started toward it at a brisk pace. She would not allow Teddy’s efforts to make this event a success go to waste simply because Samuel and his infernal machine were irresistible to some members of the company.
As soon as the carriage house was within sight she could see a small group clustered together. She drew a deep breath, plastered a friendly smile on her face, and started toward the others, determined to be pleasant no matter what feelings Samuel might provoke within her. She was nearly there when the gathering parted, as did the clouds above, allowing a shaft of sunlight to illuminate the vehicle. The motorwagon, for surely that’s what it was, gleamed in metallic splendor. Good Lord. She cast an annoyed look heavenward. You too? Although it was more likely the American had positioned the contraption to its best advantage and not that it had any sort of celestial blessing. Why, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if Samuel hadn’t arranged as well for a heavenly choir to burst into a song of praise at any moment.
“Delilah.” Camille caught sight of her sister. “What are you doing here?” She cast an uneasy glance at the machine.
“I haven’t come to ruin your fun, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“She would never think that,” Grayson said, although doubt lingered in his eyes as well.
Samuel and another man, tall, dark haired, and not unattractive, American by the sound of him, pointed out various parts of the vehicle to Winfield and Miranda, who appeared quite taken with the thing. They didn’t notice her arrival, which gave her a moment to look at the machine.
“Why are you here?”
Delilah raised a brow. “Nervous, are you? As to my intentions?”
He studied her closely, then laughed. “No, of course not.”
“I don’t believe you but I shall give you the benefit of the doubt.” Delilah directed her words toward Grayson, but her gaze was on the vehicle. “Just because I think it’s silly doesn’t mean I’m not curious.” She stepped closer.
William was right. It was smaller than she had expected, resembling a small phaeton with three wheels instead of two. The back wheels were considerably larger than the one in front. There was room for no more than two people on the leather bench seat. Something that was probably a steering mechanism, a lever of some sort, was affixed to wooden floorboards directly behind the front wheel. The motor was positioned behind the seat. It was at once the most absurd thing she had ever seen and just possibly one of the most intriguing. Not that she intended to admit that. Nor did she wish to ride in it but she was curious to see if it did indeed run.
“Well?” Sam said, without warning at her side.
“Well what?” She cast him a pleasant smile.
“Well, what do you think?”
She met his gaze directly. “Do you really want to know?”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid I do.”
“In that case.” She studied the vehicle for a moment. “I think it’s . . . interesting.”
He laughed. “That’s better than I expected.”
Her brow rose. “What did you expect?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He grinned. “A scathing comment. A diatribe on the ills of progress. An impassioned speech about the joys of tradition. Something along those lines.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you.”
He leaned close and spoke softly, for her ears alone. “I doubt you could ever disappoint me, regardless of how hard you tried.”
She struggled not to let her surprise show on her face. What on earth did he mean by that?
“I think it’s fascinating.” Lady Stillwell’s eyes shone with eagerness. “Winfield should be the first to order one.”
“I think we should wait to see if it works first,” her husband said wryly.
“Oh, it definitely works,” the other American said. “At least it did when it left Benz’s hands.”
“Jim, allow me to introduce Lady Hargate,” Samuel said. “Delilah, this is Jim Moore, my assistant. Delilah is Lady Lydingham’s sister.”
“The sister?” Mr. Moore’s eyes widened.
Samuel winced.
“One of them.” Delilah refused to let his obvious wariness annoy her. What had the man been told? She cast him her brightest smile. “Delighted to have you at Millworth, Mr. Moore.”
“My apologies, Lady Hargate.” Mr. Moore grimaced. “I must have left my manners on that last train.” He shook his head. “It’s been a long journey.”
“No need to apologize.” Delilah shook her head. “I know all too well how wearing travel can be.”
“While I was dealing with Benz,” Samuel began, “Jim was learning all he could about the motorwagon. He’s more in the business end of my projects now but he started as an engineer.”
“I can’t build one from scratch, not yet anyway. But it’s not as complicated at it looks.” Mr. Moore’s gaze returned to the machine. “I should be able to keep it running.”
“When can we see it run?” Lady Stillwell asked.
“More to the point.” Camille grinned. “When can we ride in it?”
“You can’t ride in it now,” Delilah said, her voice a bit sharper than she had intended. She adopted a more congenial tone. “I was actually sent to fetch you. The games are about to begin and frankly, your absence is delaying everything. It is awkward, you know, when the hosts have
abandoned their guests.”
Camille wrinkled her nose. “You’re right, of course. I simply lost my head in the excitement of seeing the motorwagon.”
“And I would not want to do anything to delay the festivities,” Samuel said. “We should be joining the others. Besides, we have had to send into the village for fuel so we can’t start it up yet anyway.”
“Something to look forward to then.” Delilah gestured toward the road. “Shall we?”
Camille, Grayson, and Lord and Lady Stillwell started off, chatting about the motorwagon, Delilah a step behind them. Samuel stayed to exchange a few words with Mr. Moore.
“I’m afraid I haven’t played in a long time,” Miranda said to Camille. “I’m quite out of practice. In truth, I stopped playing with anyone in my family years ago.” She shuddered. “They all have a tendency to be quite cutthroat and it’s no longer a game but warfare.”
“Oh, this should be just a friendly game.” Camille laughed. “And no one is expected to be very good.”
Grayson chuckled. “There’s no such thing as a friendly game when Winfield plays.”
“I do intend to beat you into the ground,” his cousin replied. “So tell me about this plan of yours and Russell’s to market . . .”
Goodness, it was like herding recalcitrant sheep. Delilah was tempted to smack Camille’s bustled backside with her racket to get them all to walk a bit quicker.
“I hope you’re a good player.” Sam caught up to Delilah.
“I am.” She cast him a smug smile.
“Good.” He chuckled. “As I requested you be my partner.”
She stopped in mid-stride and stared at him. “Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because I am no fool, Delilah.” He hooked his arm through hers and started after the others. “I am not stupid enough to allow you to be on the opposite side of the net with something as potentially lethal as a tennis ball at your disposal.”
She tried and failed to stifle an amused smile. “Frightened, are you?”
“There are any number of emotions you invoke in me, my dear.” Amusement curved his lips. “Fear is not one of them.”
“Perhaps then you’re not as clever as you think.”
“Perhaps.” He chuckled. “Besides, if we are attempting to act as if we have never met before, I don’t think playing against one another is wise. Your irritation at my very existence is already proving harder to disguise than you expected.” He glanced at her. “Or am I wrong?”
“No.” She sighed. “You’re right. It is hard to keep my feelings entirely to myself.”
They walked on in silence for a few minutes.
“Why are you so angry with me?”
“I’m not . . .” Why deny it? He wouldn’t believe her anyway. “Well, yes, I suppose I am.”
“Why? What have I done?”
“Nothing, really. Nothing specific, that is. It’s just . . .” She stopped and glared at him. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
He frowned. “Are you going to stamp your foot?”
“Of course not. That would be childish.” Although she had come very close to doing exactly that.
“Delilah.” His voice softened and again he took her arm and they started after the others. “I am here and I don’t intend to leave. I am sorry if that upsets your plans but we will both have to make the best of it.”
“Now, you’re being reasonable.”
“You find it annoying, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” She paused. “But then you know that.”
“I do.” He chuckled.
She sighed. “I do wish you wouldn’t find everything I say quite so amusing.”
“It’s annoying, isn’t it?”
“You know full well it is.” She blew a long breath. “You probably wanted to be my partner because it would be easier to annoy me.”
“Not at all.” He paused. “Although it’s not a bad reason.”
“Hmph.”
“But aside from the fact that I didn’t think it was a good idea to be on opposing sides, you strike me as a competitive type of woman.”
She glanced at him. “I’m not sure if that is a compliment or a criticism.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it depends on how you look at it.”
“I simply think if one is going to play a game, one should play to win.”
“My sentiments exactly.” He grinned. “And that, my dear Lady Hargate, is why I wanted you as my partner.”
“Because you like to win.”
“Because I too play to win.” A wicked smile quirked his lips. “And I never accept defeat.”
Chapter Eight
“Two more points and we win this game,” Delilah said quietly to Sam, smiling at their opponents on the other side of the net.
Strands of her dark hair had escaped her pert straw hat to dance around her flushed face. Her blue eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. Sam tried not to remember the last time he had seen her chest heaving with every breath and her skin flushed with exertion. He had never thought of tennis as being particularly erotic but then he had never played with a woman he had known intimately before.
“And the set.” He grinned down at her. “And the match.”
“I probably should have told you before we started.” A smug smile curved her lips. “I never accept defeat either.”
“I expected nothing less.” He handed her the ball. “Let’s win this game, shall we?”
She flashed him a grin and moved to her serving position. Delilah employed an overhand serve, which had struck him as odd at first. His sisters all served underhanded. But she had excellent control and was an accomplished player. She hit her ball to Lord Stillwell as often as she did to his wife. While Sam would never admit it to her, she was probably better than he was especially as she had a handicap he did not. She played with the hindrance of a long skirt, corset, and bustle while he played in shirtsleeves. Nonetheless, she was good, very good. Unfortunately, so were their opponents.
They were matched against Lord and Lady Stillwell, although it took Lady Stillwell most of the first set to hit her stride. Fortunately for Sam. Delilah played closer to the net than he, and the sight of her loose bustle, bouncing behind her, emphasizing her lush curves, was nearly his undoing. Her dress was a white and off-white striped concoction and coupled with her blue eyes gave her the look of an angel come to earth. If one discounted the fierce look of a trained assassin in her eyes. Perhaps avenging angel was a more accurate description. And that too was most disconcerting.
He had to give her credit for not only her excellent play but also for not biting his head off when he made an error, as he had done more than once in the beginning. Delilah was just so damned distracting. Given her constant irritation with him, he had expected her to be less than patient with any mistake on his part. But she’d been cool and calm. He’d had to make a conscious effort to push all thoughts of her from his head and focus on the game. It was easier if he kept reminding himself that she wanted nothing more to do with him. And he was not interested in a fortune hunter.
Sam and Delilah easily won the first set, just lost the second, and now the last and final was being hard fought on both sides.
Delilah served a fast ball, barely in bounds, forcing Lady Stillwell to lunge for the return. Her shot was uncontrolled, nearly out of bounds.
“I have it,” Sam yelled and made the shot.
The ball took an odd spin. Lord Stilwell swung at it, tipped the ball with the edge of his racket, and it shot out of bounds.
The ball was tossed back to Delilah. She caught Sam’s eye, he nodded slightly, and she prepared to serve. Interesting, how quickly they’d learned to communicate and play to each other’s strengths.
Between sets, he and Delilah had noted how a serve directed as close as possible to the centerline tended to be successful. It was apparent the newlyweds had not played together before. Delilah took careful aim, tossed the ball up, and hit it hard. It smacked
the court just in Lady Stillwell’s service box, almost perfectly between their opponents.
“Mine!” Lord and Lady Stillwell called at the same time, then both made the fatal mistake of hesitating. By the time they realized their error it was too late to fully recover. The ball hit the court and spun out of reach. Lady Stillwell did manage to connect with the ball but drove it into the net. And the game was over.
“Good job!” Sam beamed at his partner and moved to the net.
“Yes, well . . .” Delilah pushed a strand of hair out of her face and grinned back at him. “I had a more than adequate partner.”
“Well done, Delilah.” Lady Stillwell stepped to the net. “We must do it again while you’re here at Millworth. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy tennis. I haven’t had such an exhilarating time in longer than I can remember.”
“It would have been much more fun if we had won.” Lord Stillwell’s smile belied his words. He shook Sam’s hand over the net then turned his attention to Delilah. “Now I remember playing with you when you were a girl.”
“And you didn’t learn your lesson?” She gave him a saucy smile.
Saucy? This was a side Sam hadn’t seen of her. It struck him that for the first time, even including their days in New York, she was completely unguarded.
“Excellent match.” Gray strode onto the court. “On both sides.”
Camille had chosen not to play in favor of her duties as hostess and Gray’s game on the second court was long over. It was later than Sam had thought and their observers had abandoned them to return to the house. In fact, the sky had clouded over and the pleasantly warm autumn day had grown much cooler. They had been too busy to notice.
“I was told to give you no more than half an hour to finish then I was supposed to end the match if it wasn’t over,” Gray said. “But it was a very good match.” He grinned. “It seemed wrong to end it.”
“You just wanted to see me lose,” Lord Stillwell grumbled.
“Yes, there was that.” Gray turned toward the house. “Come on then.” He and the others started off. “We should hurry, although I daresay it won’t make much difference at this point.”
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride Page 12