“Absolutely not.” Her smile never faltered. “I promised Delilah my full support.”
“And yet you’re helping me.”
“Nonsense, I really haven’t done anything but ascertain your oh, worth if you will, for myself. Besides, my dear man, helping you is giving her my full support. Now then . . .” She cast him a brilliant smile. “Lovely weather for this time of year, don’t you think?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Gray was right.
He was a minor player in the production that was his wedding. Camille was the star, the prima donna, the diva. While she appeared as gracious and charming as always to Sam, there was as well a glint of steel in her blue eyes. No man who valued his life would dare to confront her at the moment. Sam was safe enough. He had no reason to confront Camille. Her sister was a different matter.
While typically the gentlemen stayed in the dining room or retired to the billiards room for port and cigars, tonight Camille had quietly suggested to her parents and to Grayson that it would be lovely if the gentlemen limited their after-dinner ritual to no more than a quarter of an hour. As much as it was a suggestion, no one wanted to cross Camille and now the entire company was once again in the parlor.
The younger of the Radnor sisters, Jessamine, played the piano while Miss Martin turned the sheet music and Lord Dantrey teased both young ladies, which did not help the quality of Jessamine’s musical skills. Around the room, the rest of the gathering broke into groups of two or three or more and stood or sat and chatted. Near the fireplace, Lord Briston and Lord Radnor engaged in a spirited discussion of Irish home rule although Sam wasn’t clear which of the men was for it and who was against. He suspected the true enjoyment for the gentlemen was more in the debate than real passion for either side of the question. On the sofa, Lady Briston, Mrs. Martin, and Lady Radnor were trying to decide whether they should have tables set up for cards although they did do so last night and perhaps they should try something different tonight. By the window, Beryl and Teddy and Camille chatted with Lord Latimer, who appeared quite taken with Teddy although, from what Sam overheard, they had known each other for years so he might have been mistaken. Mr. Martin was in one corner of the room, flirting with the older Miss Radnor, Frances. Delilah and Lord Charborough were on the far side of the room, speaking in a low and intimate manner to each other punctuated by occasional laughter. She was obviously having a delightful time.
Sam and Gray stood near the open doorway, each with a glass of brandy in his hand.
“What’s your opinion,” Gray said in a low voice. “Is she mad?”
Delilah was gazing up at Charborough as if he were the sun and the stars and the entire universe wrapped up in one perfect package.
“Yes,” Sam said in a hard tone.
“I was afraid of that.” Gray sighed. “At least it will never be boring. Living with a lunatic, that is.”
Sam’s gaze snapped to his friend’s. “What?”
“I see. We’re back to your problems now, aren’t we? You’re not talking about Camille at all.”
Sam shook his head in confusion. “Camille?”
“I asked if you thought she was mad.”
“I’m beginning to suspect everyone in this family is a bit mad.” Sam’s gaze strayed back to Delilah. Did she actually just flutter her lashes at the man?
“At least the female members.” Gray sipped his brandy. “Although I wouldn’t want to rule out a certain element of madness when it comes to either Lord Briston or Colonel Channing.”
“Colonel Channing?”
“Camille’s Uncle Basil. Lord Briston’s twin brother. He’s an adventurous sort. Spent his life in travel and the odd bit of exploration. He has always been an interesting character.”
“I can hardly wait to meet him.”
Good Lord, if Delilah leaned any closer to Charborough she’d fall into his lap.
“Camille wants him here for the wedding. He’d better arrive soon or there will be hell to pay.” Gray shuddered. “And I’ll probably be the one paying it.”
“Actually, I thought Camille seemed remarkably serene this evening.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Sam.” Gray swirled his brandy in his glass and stared at his future wife. “She’s a crafty sort. But then lunatics often are.”
Sam laughed. Delilah glanced his way then immediately turned her attention back to Charborough. The laughter died in his throat.
“I don’t know that anyone else has noticed but there seems to be steam coming out of your ears,” Gray said mildly. “I’ve never seen you jealous before.”
“I’m not . . .” Sam’s jaw tightened. “Look at the way she’s throwing herself at him.”
Delilah laughed at something Charborough said.
Gray studied the couple. “She does seem to be taken with the man.”
“But he’d never make her happy. Not really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re the only one who could truly make her happy?”
“Yes.”
“But he is everything she wants.”
“Everything she thinks she wants. Everything she’s expected to want. Oh, she might well be content with him.” Sam shook his head. “But she deserves more than merely content for the rest of her life.”
“I gather you still haven’t come up with a definitive plan.”
“Not yet.”
“Well, it seems to me you should probably do something and soon.” Gray nodded at the couple. “Unless you intend to wait until she is walking down the aisle toward someone else.”
Charborough’s gaze locked with Delilah’s and he leaned closer, as if he were about to kiss her. Surely, he wouldn’t do that here? In front of everyone? Surely, she wouldn’t allow it?
Beryl had said Delilah had a plan. What kind of plan could she possibly have? Did she plan to throw herself into Charborough’s willing arms in front of her family and everyone else? She was entirely too concerned with proper behavior to do anything of the sort. She was—at once the truth struck him.
“You’re right, Gray. And I’ve had quite enough of this.”
He handed Gray his glass then crossed the room to Delilah and the dashing Lord Charborough. Sam smiled in as pleasant a manner as he could manage. It wasn’t easy.
“Forgive me for interrupting, Lord Charborough, Delilah.” His gaze met hers and it was all he could do to keep a pleasant note in his voice. “Could I have a word with you? Privately?”
“Goodness, Sam, Victor and I were just engaged in a most fascinating discussion about . . .”
“The weather?” Charborough suggested.
“Native birds,” Delilah said at the same time.
“Surely both the weather and the birds can wait.” Sam glanced at the other man. “Do you mind if I borrow her for a few minutes?”
Charborough’s gaze shifted from Sam to Delilah and back. “Of course not. As long as you bring her back.”
Delilah laughed lightly and batted Charborough with her fan. “Why Victor, what a charming thing to say.” Her smile stayed on her face but she cast a scathing look at Sam. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“Charborough.” Sam nodded, took Delilah’s elbow, and steered her toward the door, fairly dragging her into the hall. “You can’t fool me, Dee. I know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not trying to make you jealous if that’s what you’re thinking.” She shook off his arm.
He glared down at her. “That’s not what I was thinking. And I was not jealous.”
“Really.” Her brow rose. “Given the way you were watching us, it seemed rather obvious to me.”
“You noticed?”
“It was hard to miss.”
He clenched his teeth. “Making me jealous is simply an unexpected benefit.”
“Nonsense, Sam. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re jealous or not,” she said in a lofty manner. “An unexpected benefit of what?”
“Your plan.” He fairly spit the words.
“My plan?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I may be many things but I am not an idiot.”
“I still don’t—”
“You’re trying to prove to me that you are no better than Lenore. You want me to think you are nothing more than a fortune hunter so that I’ll leave. And you’ll never face how you feel.”
“Nonsense, Sam. I know exactly how I feel. Furthermore, I detest that phrase. Fortune hunter.” She practically spit the words. “Might I point out there is a vast difference between myself and a woman who marries for position and money because she has neither. I have both. Therefore, the term really isn’t accurate.”
“Close enough.”
“Not at all. I’m not interested in a man’s wealth and title because it will improve my lot in life. Although one certainly doesn’t want to marry beneath oneself. I simply know what is appropriate in life. What is right. For me that is.”
“What’s expected you mean.”
“Oh come now, just because it’s what I am expected to do, what I want to do, doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.” She shrugged. “I have simply set my sights on a gentleman who meets all of my qualifications.”
“Qualifications which do not include love.”
“Exactly.” She sighed. “We’ve had this discussion or one very much like it before. I have not changed my mind.”
“There’s a difference, Dee. Now we’re talking about the two of us.”
“Because you claim I’m in love with you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nothing more than romantic rubbish and you know it.” She paused. “And while I am not a fortune hunter as the term is correctly defined, while my motives are entirely different, I suppose, when you get to the core of it all, I am exactly like your former fiancée. We are both looking for benefits to marriage that have nothing to do with love. The only difference between us is that I’m not willing to lie about it. I’m not willing to let a man believe I love him to get what I want.” She shook her head. “There is no two of us, Sam, and there never can be.”
“Why not?”
“Good Lord, you’re stubborn.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Because it’s not right. Because it wouldn’t work. Because we’re too different from each other. Because we’ll only cause each other pain in the end. You’ll break my heart or I’ll break yours. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I never imagined you to be a coward, Dee.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him.
He shook his head. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Yes, well, we’re all wrong about something on occasion. I am sorry to disappoint you but there you have it. I’m not the woman you thought I was. I am narrow-minded and stubborn, I don’t do the unexpected, and I am not one for adventure. And I don’t take risks.” She raised her chin. “Even you have to admit Victor is exactly the type of man I planned to marry.”
“There’s certainly no risk there.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“It’s right for me. He’s right for me.”
“I don’t give up easily, Dee,” he warned. “In fact, I can’t remember the last time I gave up at all.”
“Then this will be a new experience for you. You’ve lost, Sam, and whether you want to face it or not, this is best for both of us.” She turned to go back into the parlor. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Dee.” He gazed into her blue eyes. “Don’t turn your back on us.”
“Oh, Sam.” Her chin trembled and regret shone in her eyes. “There is no us.”
Their gazes locked for a long moment. Words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to say, how to make her see that they belonged together. That regardless of what was practical and what made sense, no matter how many obstacles they had to overcome, they belonged together.
“Call it fate or magic or whatever you wish, this is right. I know you love me.”
“I don’t believe in fate or magic. Silly, foolish, romantic notions.” She shook her head. “I’ve never said I loved you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know.” His gaze bored into hers. “I know, Dee, as surely as I have ever known anything in my life, as surely as I know the sun will come up tomorrow, I know I’m not wrong about that. And I—”
“May I be of assistance, Delilah?” Charborough stood in the doorway. His gaze shifted between Sam and Delilah.
“No, but thank you for the offer.” She pulled out of Sam’s grasp and cast Charborough a grateful smile. Sam’s heart twisted at the sight. “There is nothing to be concerned about.”
“No, there isn’t,” Sam said in a hard tone. “Nothing to be concerned about at all.” He stared at her and she stared coolly back. “Simply a misunderstanding. But Lady Hargate has convinced me . . . I was wrong.”
“Ah, well then.” Charborough offered his arm to Delilah and she took it. “Shall we?”
She nodded. “Sam.” She cast him a dismissive smile and accompanied Charborough back into the parlor.
He stood outside the doors to the parlor for a moment or perhaps it was forever. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn’t love him. Maybe she was right. Maybe this could only end in heartbreak for one of them, or for both of them.
He turned and started toward his rooms. He couldn’t remember ever having given up on anything he’d wanted before. But this was a game he didn’t know how to win. Damnation, he didn’t even know how to play. But he did know he’d lost even if he wasn’t entirely sure she had won.
He’d return to London with Jim and stay there until the wedding. It made perfect sense and was probably for the best. At least if he left, he could start putting her behind him, if that was possible.
No, there was no maybe about it. She was absolutely right about one part of it all.
His heart was already broken.
“My dear little cousin.” Sympathy shone in Victor’s eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“It’s not at all what I want.” She steeled herself and forced a smile. “But it is what’s best for both of us.”
He studied her closely. “As much as I hate to say this, I think you’re wrong.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“No, but I do know love when I see it.” Victor shook his head. “You’re breaking his heart and I suspect yours is broken as well.”
“Better now than after we’ve failed to build a life together.”
“Are you so sure it would fail?”
“We have nothing in common.”
“Some might say that love in common is enough.”
She shrugged. “Silly, romantic nonsense.”
“I’ve always thought there is much to be said for silly, romantic nonsense.”
“Then you’re every bit the fool he is.”
“Perhaps.” He chuckled. “Delilah.” He took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “If I am to salvage what’s left of my family’s heritage, I have no choice but to marry for financial considerations. But if a woman ever looked at me the way your American looks at you, I would abandon Charborough Castle and everything that goes along with it and spend the rest of my days thanking God for that rare and unique gift that so few of us find.”
“You mean love?” She scoffed. “I’ve tried love. It doesn’t always turn out the way one expects it to.”
“Even so, Delilah, isn’t it worth—”
“No, Victor. As much as I appreciate your help, this is the right thing to do.”
“You’re so very certain, Delilah.” He studied her curiously. “There’s no doubt in your mind? In your heart? No tiny part of you even now screaming that if there was so much of an iota of a chance that it is a chance worth taking?”
“No,” she lied. “You see, a few minutes ago Sam calle
d me a coward and he was right. I am terrified that I will give my heart away and it will be crushed.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“And you’re not willing to take the risk.”
She smiled. “I wish I was.”
Still, she and Sam were both wrong. She wasn’t a coward. Sending him away was the bravest thing she had ever done. And the hardest. And she needn’t worry ever again about anyone breaking her heart.
It was already too late.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two days before the wedding . . .
“. . . and yes, I think it’s an excellent idea and we should proceed.” Gray sat across the table in the restaurant of Sam’s hotel. “I’m glad moving to London has turned out to be so beneficial.”
“I have managed to get a great deal accomplished.” Sam nodded. “Aside from narrowing down properties that will work for a production site and meeting with several potential investors, Jim nearly has the motorwagon back in pristine condition. Oh, and did I tell you that Beryl has expressed interest in investing?”
“No, that must have slipped your mind,” Gray said wryly. “I can’t imagine why.”
Sam shrugged. “She mentioned it at dinner the night before I left.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s very astute about investments. She did quite well financially when she was between husbands.”
“You wouldn’t have any objections?”
“Not at all. I like the idea of risking Beryl’s money.” Gray chuckled. “I would certainly never admit this to her and I would deny it to her face but I’ve always rather admired her. Even, on occasion, liked her.”
“I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
“I knew you would.” Gray studied his friend closely. “Speaking of the grave, I must say, you look—”
“I know how I look,” Sam said sharply.
“Oh well, as long as you know.” Gray paused for a long moment as if he had nothing of importance to say. Sam braced himself. “Delilah looks dreadful as well.”
“Does she?” His brow rose. “Then I gather all is not going well with the perfect Lord Charborough?”
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride Page 31