Delilah shivered beside Sam. Now that they weren’t playing, he felt the chill as well. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her. Instead, he picked up his jacket from a chair beside the court, thought about wrapping it around her shoulders, then discarded the idea. The gesture would be entirely too intimate for her and they’d had such a good time together, he hated to spoil it.
“Here.” He thrust the jacket at her. “You’re cold, you should put this on.”
She hesitated then took the jacket. “Thank you.” She shrugged into the jacket and tucked her racket under her arm.
“You’re very attached to that, aren’t you?”
“I’ve had this racket for years. I love tennis. I play as often as I can.”
“Did your husband play?”
“No,” she said and offered no further information. He had the distinct impression she didn’t wish to speak of her late husband. “But aren’t you cold? You’re in your shirtsleeves after all.”
“Ah, but we Americans are a hardy bunch.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. The others were already out of sight. Good. He wanted to spend a few minutes alone with her. The day had gone so well after all. “We scoff at minor inconveniences.”
“Somehow, I didn’t think of you as the type of man who would put up with minor inconveniences.”
“I’m not.” He glanced down at her and smiled. “Now.”
“Now?”
“We’re not all born to wealth and privilege, you know.”
Her brow rose. “Yours is a rags to riches story, then?”
“I wouldn’t say rags exactly.” He paused. “My father owned a small foundry my grandfather had started. It was never overly successful but provided a decent enough living. He died shortly after my youngest sisters were born.” He glanced at her. “Twins.”
“But they’re the youngest?”
“They are.”
“They have each other then.” She nodded. “Go on.”
“I was studying law at the time but I took over the foundry, specialized, diversified, expanded, invested . . .” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re no more interested in the whys and wherefores of business than your sister.”
“Yes, but I would never admit that to someone talking about his business,” she said in a lofty manner.
“Because it would be rude?”
“Exactly.” She bit back a smile. “And I am never rude. Please continue.”
“Suffice it to say, I made intelligent and sometimes risky decisions. Most of which turned out to be quite profitable. A few of them proved to be . . .” He thought for a moment. “Oh, more falsely seductive I would say than successful. Luring me in with a promise of potential that did not materialize.”
“And you think this motorwagon scheme will be more successful than seductive?”
“I think it’s both.” He paused. “Now that you’ve seen it, have you changed your mind about it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And you really have no desire to ride in it?”
“I do not.” She paused. “Although I will admit it’s a handsome looking device. In the manner in which the internal mechanism of a finely crafted clock is handsome.”
“I’ll take that admission as a sign that your attitude toward my machine is weakening.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said in a firm manner. “I do not weaken.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well you should. I never say anything I don’t mean.”
“Never?”
“Rarely then.” She studied him. “Why don’t you believe me? About the motorwagon, that is.”
“Because you’re an intelligent woman. Which is not merely a compliment but an observation,” he added quickly. “And a person of intelligence does not take an unyielding stand but is open to logic and reason.”
“Thank you, for part of that anyway. I’m not sure anyone has ever called me intelligent before.” She thought for a moment. “At least not to my face. Beauty is usually the quality most men desire in a woman.”
“And you have both intelligence and beauty.”
“That’s very kind of you to say but it scarcely matters.” She shrugged. “Intelligence is rarely deemed important.”
“And that is a very great shame.” He shook his head. “I much prefer women who are clever and knowledgeable and can converse about subjects beyond the latest gossip and newest fashion. A woman who thinks. Regardless of a woman’s appearance, I find women without a brain in their heads to be as boring as you find talk of business.”
“Still you must admit most men rarely see beyond how a woman will look by their side.”
“I am not most men.”
“Apparently not.”
“You should have no trouble finding a new husband,” he said without thinking.
She cast him a startled look. “Oh?”
“We’ve already established you’re both pretty and intelligent.”
“And probably penniless as well,” she said wryly. “That is always conducive to a good match.”
“Any man who would allow the state of your finances to sway his affection would be a fool.”
“Unless of course, the man in question wishes to avoid a woman who seeks nothing more in a new husband than wealth and a title.”
“Ouch.” He winced. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Indeed you did.” She thought for a moment. “I am a practical sort of woman, Samuel. If I do not marry, I don’t know what I will do with the rest of my life. I do not have the temperament to become a teacher or a governess.”
“You don’t like children?”
“Oh, I suspect I shall like my own and I do hope to have them one day, but other people’s children . . .” She shuddered. “No, I don’t think I would do that at all well.” She raised her chin slightly as if bracing herself against the winds of the future. There was a subtle strength about her and he suspected she was as unaware of that as she was the gesture. “I was trained to be the wife of a man with position and wealth. To be a perfect hostess, to run an efficient household, to look good on a man’s arm, to be an asset. I don’t really know how to do anything else.” She uttered an uncomfortable laugh. She had obviously said more than she had intended.
“Be that as it may, you have forgotten to list your greatest skill,” he said in an overly somber manner.
“Have I?”
“You play an excellent game of tennis.” He grinned.
She stared at him for a moment then laughed and the moment lightened. “As do you, Samuel.”
“Now, you’re just being kind.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “A few minutes ago you said I was no more than adequate. And as you never say anything you don’t mean . . .”
“Ah well there is that.” She shook her head mournfully. “I’m sure with additional practice you can be more than adequate.”
“I shall keep that in mind.”
“I’m certain there are any number of other things you do quite well.”
“Indeed there are.” He cast her a wicked smile.
She stopped in midstep and glared at him. “Will you never let me forget that?”
He stared. “Forget what?”
“You know what,” she snapped and started off without him.
He hurried to catch up. He hadn’t intended to remind her of their night together. It was completely inadvertent on his part. Not that she’d believe that. Sam caught her arm and spun her around to face him. “There’s nothing to forget. Remember we’ve never met.”
“I actually thought we could accomplish this . . . this farce!”
“It was not my idea.”
She ignored him. “I’ve been doing my best to avoid you and then you request me as your partner!”
He drew his brows together. “We won, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we won.” She huffed. “That’s beside the point.”
“There is no other point. I certainly didn’t want to play a
gainst you. I chose you as a partner because I thought we would play well together. And I was right.”
“Well, we shall never play together again!”
“I’m talking about tennis.” He stepped closer and stared down at her. It might have been a mistake. He was close enough to pull her into his arms and kiss her thoroughly, the way she was meant to be kissed. “What are you talking about?”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Nothing!” She turned, started off, then turned back. “In my entire life, I have always done exactly what was expected of me. I married the man I was supposed to marry. I lived the life I was expected to live. The one time, the only time, I have deviated from what was expected of me was when I met you.”
“Your adventure.”
“My mistake!” She shook her head. “You and I are not . . . you’re not . . .”
“I’m not what?”
“You’re not right. Not for me,” she said more to herself than to him and he had to lean closer to hear. She ran her hand over her forehead in a weary manner then met his gaze. “You’re not . . . right. You’re not what I want.” Her voice grew stronger with every word. “You’re not what I have planned. We would never suit. Marriage between us—”
“Marriage?” Shock coursed through him. “I never said anything about marriage.”
“Nonetheless . . .” Her eyes widened as if she had just now realized what she had said. “You were thinking it!”
“You have no idea what I was thinking but I never mentioned marriage. In fact, I haven’t mentioned anything. You’ve given me no opportunity. The moment you saw me again, you began behaving like a lunatic—”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I did not!”
“And . . .” He paused to emphasize his words. “You were rude!”
She gasped.
“You may well be the maddest woman I have ever met!” He turned and stalked off. “Crazy, lunatic Englishwoman.”
“Insufferable American!” she called after him.
He couldn’t remember ever having been this infuriated by a female before. She was mad. Completely, utterly irrational. He stopped and turned back to her. “Do you want to know what I was thinking?”
“No!”
He ignored her. “Before I came to England, I was thinking a lot about a captivating, intriguing creature with whom I spent an interlude that was very nearly magical. An enchantress who disappeared from my life as surely as if she was never there. In fact, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Or for that matter my dreams. But that was when she was Mrs. Hargate. Lady Hargate is not to my liking.”
“Good!” she snapped. “Because she would never marry you.”
“I would never ask!” His tone hardened. “I want more in a wife than a woman who wants me only for my money and my position.”
“I wish you well then because if you have anything else to offer it’s not readily apparent.”
“Interesting as Mrs. Hargate thought I had a great deal to offer.”
“Mrs. Hargate does not exist!”
“Obviously, that is my loss.” He scowled at her. “And hers!”
“Hmph.” She huffed and started off again, but he grabbed her and pulled her back. “Unhand me at once!”
“One more thing,” he said in a hard tone. In the back of his mind he noted there was only anger in her eyes, not fear. No matter what else passed between them, he would hate to scare her. “If I remember correctly, the terrace will be in sight just over this rise. If you want to continue this little charade you’ve embroiled me in, you’ll calm down.”
“I am calm!” She wrenched out of his grasp.
“Don’t forget, it’s not my reputation at stake. I’m not the one trying to find the perfect husband.”
“I am calm,” she said through clenched teeth, then pulled off his jacket and flung it at him.
He snorted and released her.
She stared at him for a long moment. She might not be afraid of him, but only a fool wouldn’t be uneasy at the look in her eye. A lesser man might well be terrified. He was grateful she was only armed with a tennis racket.
She cast him a last scathing look, drew a deep breath, then started toward the manor. He stepped up beside her. The moment the terrace was in sight, she adopted a polite smile.
“Do not be fooled by my pleasant demeanor, Mr. Russell.”
“I haven’t been thus far, Lady Hargate.”
“I think you’re a beast.”
“Then perhaps we are well suited after all.” His smile matched hers. “I think you’re a bitch.”
She sucked in a hard breath. “I should slap your face for that.” Her eyes narrowed but her smile remained.
As did his. “Try it.”
Neither said another word until they reached the terrace then each went their own way. Sam made it a point to avoid her for the rest of the evening. Much to Camille and Teddy’s disappointment, the day grew colder with the setting sun and most of the guests preferred to take their leave rather than wait for the musicians to move from the terrace to inside the house. Sam took the first available opportunity to slip away. He needed to talk to Jim about the motorwagon. That was what should be foremost in his mind, not an irrational little termagant with a bouncing bustle and endless blue eyes.
Why did he have to keep reminding himself he did not want this woman?
And why did it feel like a lie?
Chapter Nine
Delilah Hargate was not the sort of woman to be confused. Of course, she was never rude either and that no longer seemed to be true.
She paced the floor of her room, the same rooms she’d occupied as a girl. She refused to consider that in many ways, she had come full circle, back to where she began. Hopefully, the years had taught her much. Unfortunately, not enough. Apparently, when one made one mistake, it was impossible to avoid another. And another. And so on.
The rest of the day had been a blur after she’d left Samuel. But then what could one expect after having had a revelation of epic proportions? Or perhaps it wasn’t a revelation as much as a realization. As much as an acceptance of a truth she’d prefer not to face.
She’d gone through the motions of enjoying the rest of the party. She’d been pleasant and polite and even laughed at the occasional joke but she’d been more than a little relieved when the gathering had ended earlier than expected and everyone had departed. Fortunately, both her sister and her friend had been too busy attending to the guests and preoccupied with future plans to note any difference in Delilah’s demeanor. Teddy would surely have noticed otherwise and Camille was proving to be far more perceptive than her sister had expected. Nor had she eaten; she hadn’t been the least bit hungry, which in and of itself was something Teddy would have remarked upon if her attention had not been otherwise occupied. Delilah rarely passed up food. She was relieved as well to notice Samuel too had taken his leave. Delilah was simply not up to pretending they had just met.
She’d gone to her rooms as soon as she could gracefully escape, pleading a headache. The housemaid who’d come to turn down her bed told her Camille and Teddy had also retired. Good. Neither would be seeking her out and she wasn’t up to pretense with them either.
She had gone to bed far earlier than was her custom but after a day of tennis and emotional turmoil, a good night’s sleep was called for. Things always did look better in the morning.
Still, morning was very far away and she couldn’t sleep a wink. Every time she closed her eyes he was there. Every moment they’d shared filled her head. From their first meeting and the vague hint of confusion in the eyes of a tall, blond American to the wicked smile of a pirate at a masked ball. From the pride in his voice today when he’d explained the intricacies of his horseless carriage to his look of triumph at their tennis victory to the justifiable anger in his dark eyes at her irrational fury. When she closed her eyes she saw the look on his face before he’d kissed her for the first time. And when he’d kissed her for the last.
After ho
urs of tossing and turning she’d given up the attempt entirely. She’d been pacing the floor for a good hour now, hashing and rehashing everything that had passed between them. Everything she now understood and everything he didn’t know.
Rational thought was certainly called for even if it was as elusive as sleep. She never should have responded to Samuel today the way she did. She could have ignored the way he smiled when she’d asked what else he was good at. But God help her, that was the only thing on her mind when he was around. It had been bloody hard to concentrate on the game when he was behind her, watching her every move. Even when they were arguing, she was all too aware of the passion that emanated from the man. His presence was not merely a constant reminder of what had passed between them, but more and more it was a temptation. And a warning.
It was time, past time really, to face the truth at least to herself. She hadn’t up to now. Hadn’t dared to accept the truth even in her own mind.
Samuel Russell had terrified her from the moment his laugh had wrapped around her heart.
She wasn’t used to being afraid. It was as if she were standing at the edge of an endless precipice and it would take no more than a nudge to push her over. And she would be lost. She had no idea how to deal with such fear. But as long as she never saw him again, she wouldn’t have to. He could remain her secret. Like a treasure hidden away only to be taken out on occasion when one needed a measure of comfort from a memory and the thought of what might have been.
She pulled her lace-trimmed wrapper tighter around herself and continued to pace. He was wrong though. He was wrong about all of it.
It wasn’t the possibility of scandal that concerned her. Her life had always been scandal free. One misadvised adventure certainly wouldn’t ruin her. And she was a widow after all. It wasn’t how gossip might affect her prospects for a second marriage that worried her either. Even as much of a stickler for propriety as she was, she had no intention of marrying anyone who would allow gossip to influence his choice of wife.
She’d been appalled not so much by her behavior in New York but because she had let her guard down. But she’d felt so, well, free in those few days. Not at all constrained by the rules she lived by. She could have stopped what happened between them at any time. But she hadn’t wanted to. From the moment his hand had brushed hers, she hadn’t wanted anything but him. She had quite simply been swept away. For the first time she had known what even the most practical woman would acknowledge as magic. And in that had violated the one rule she’d set for herself.
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride Page 13