Torgreave winked at Delia. She coloured delicately before hurrying off to their other guests.
"That went uncommonly well," commented Rupert hours later, when he was alone with Delia in the drawing room. He handed her a glass of wine, and took a very little himself.
Delia slipped off her slippers and tucked her feet beneath her on the sopha. Torgreave poked up the fire, then flung himself into a nearby chair.
"You," she reminded him, "nearly snapped Sir Thomas' head off once. Charles tended to moon over Susannah. Our guests made the evening a success."
He only grinned at her strictures. "I make no excuses for Charles, but for myself, well, Slimbridge stated the French had no chance of success ever in the war."
"At least Major Rhyle stepped in before you could say too much."
"I am surprised Gideon did not berate him. He knows better than anyone that we nearly lost the damned affair several times."
"Your average Englishman wishes to believe in the invincibility of his nation. And if your brother wishes to marry the average Englishman's daughter, you had best agree that your nation is invincible."
"You will not have it as your nation?" he queried, drinking a very little of his wine.
"I am Scottish," she said. Her manner was prim, but her eyes twinkled over the rim of her glass.
"Gideon Rhyle thinks you splendid." He was serious.
"Splendidly Scottish?" she teased, but he did not respond. She sobered and said, "He is a very fine man, and I have given him no reason to believe that I consider him more than a friend."
"He has said nothing?"
"We have spoken of...attachments. I believe he knows that I will love only you."
They were staring at each other, separated by the room, when Charles reentered. "Thank you," he burst into speech. "I do thank you both. I believe Sir Thomas has changed in his opinion mightily because of this night's work, and my suit may succeed. Was not Susannah in looks? And see she has worked me slippers. I do think you were correct Delia. She sees Taunton only as a friend, for Aurora is her boon companion. Lady Taunton is something of a tartar, is she not? I cannot wonder that the viscount remains at home in the country."
"Mr. Taunton confided that his father heartily dislikes the social round," Delia said. She allowed her attention to be diverted from Rupert.
Charles, euphoric and garrulous, continued, "Mr. Grillon excelled himself, did he not? The meal was very fine, and the pianoforte provided was superior. The young ladies played very well, would you not agree Delia? I fancy though that Susannah's performance was the finest. I cannot but think that since Sir Thomas accepted our invitation all will be well. Rupert, will you try to make excuse to see Slimbridge at least once more in the next week or two?"
The earl was staring at Delia who was regarding the fire with inordinate concentration. Finally he nodded abstractedly.
"Thank you," Charles pounded his brother's shoulder in gratitude. He crossed the room to kiss Delia's cheek. "And thank you, how splendid to have such a sister."
Delia smiled at him then watched him depart the room. When she turned away, she met Torgreave's gaze and recoiled from the intensity of emotion contained there.
"Do you wish to retire, Miss Delia?" Morag Lochmaddy spoke from the doorway. She seemed unaware of the emotional undercurrents churning within the parlour.
Delia stole another look at the earl's passionate face. She rose and slipped on her silk shoes. "I do," she whispered. "Good night my lord."
He made a convulsive gesture, quickly controlled it, and said nothing. He stared at the fragile glass in his hand as the ladies withdrew.
* * *
"Dearest Aunt, Charles thinks soon to place his suit before Sir Thomas, and we are hopeful of his success. We grow weary of Hotel life and feel cramped after the freedom of Manningford. We shall have to remove within days, for most of Grillon's has been appropriated by the Royals arriving to celebrate the Peace."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Despite the success of her dinner party, Delia found it increasingly difficult to sustain her spirits in the days that followed. Time passed in Rupert's company was commingled delight and anguish. She avoided him when she could, and kept Morag Lochmaddy at her side. The distress he could not conceal haunted her. She prayed for peace of mind.
She could not attain it. Were Rupert and Charles her half-brothers? The question was always with her. There remained few avenues for discovery of the truth left to them. Delia retained little hope that her aunt would obtain any information. That left only the Honourable Augustus Manningford, Rupert's uncle. She placed no dependence upon his information. He was by all accounts a sad rattle. Rupert, she thought, placed entirely too much hope in their remaining sources.
Delia could no longer deny to herself that there remained little reason for her to linger in Rupert's company, or in England. She had all in train for the refurbishment of Manningford; its completion waited only on the delivery of materials. Charles' affairs were soon to be settled. He was on the point of offering for Miss Slimbridge. She would have to admit that her questions and Rupert's concerns were without answer or solution. She began to make plans for her departure.
To counter the gathering lowness of her mood, Delia developed a new desire for company. Despite Morag Lochmaddy's disapproving grumbles, she indulged herself in visits with the Misses Slimbridge and shopping expeditions with Miss Taunton. She fortified her wardrobe for the changing season. Frequently she drove out, in company with Major Rhyle or Mr. Taunton. Charles reported that her appearance had caused a ripple of gossip within the ton gathering for the Season. But he noted that the talk was somewhat allayed by news of her cousinly relationship.
Delia carried constantly with her a deep concern for Rupert's well-being. As she withdrew from his company, it was clear that his newfound felicity was in jeopardy. His energy was dissipating. His finely modeled face resettled into lines of discontent.
She concealed her concerns however, whenever one of her new friends called. She was outwardly cheerful when Bowland announced Miss Taunton on a bright spring afternoon. It was immediately apparent that that young lady was not in spirits.
She greeted Delia affectionately, but with scarcely a smile. She removed her gloves and pulled at them. "Whatever shall I do, Delia? I do beg your pardon but I am quite put about. I am daily discovering the depth of my feelings for Captain Finglas, and my family will not credit it. I meet him everywhere, balls, routs, even at Almack's. He is accepted by the ton, but not by my Mama," she announced.
"Even Hugh will not support me, but to say that though Egon is a good man, Mama knows best. Mama thinks only of her hidebound opinion of what is suitable, and will not budge. Must her notions colour -- even destroy -- my future?"
Delia rang for tea and greeted, with a forced smile, Morag Lochmaddy who brought it. Her guest's emotions and questions too closely resembled her own turmoil. She could not be easy. Her response to Miss Taunton's query was careful. "Well, I cannot think her objections valid. The Captain's Irish heritage should not be held against him, as my Scottish heritage should alter no one's view of me. Were there any other impediment to a happy match, I should think again," she admitted, "but you are so well suited in all else. However, you are just eighteen. Your Mama and Papa have the right to make this decision for you, as Mr. Taunton says."
"I may take the power of the decision from them," said Aurora. "They had best have a care."
"Nonsense," Delia said. "Lady Taunton seemed to me a woman of sense, if a little overprotective of your future. Rebellion will accomplish nothing. Your acquiescence is more like to bring a change of her opinion and your papa's. Responsible behaviour -- proof of your maturity -- is what will move them. Meanwhile I think I shall arrange an outing before I make my return to Edinburgh."
"You are to leave us?" Miss Taunton cried, momentarily diverted from her own concerns.
"Very soon, I believe I must." From the corner of her eye, Delia saw Morag's dour face lighten. "
But you may spend the entire day on Wednesday next in the Captain's company, Aurora, for I have a desire to see Mr. Walpole's Strawberry Hill. Will you help me plan the excursion?"
"I will indeed," exclaimed the younger lady brightening.
Morag Lochmaddy spoke up. "Should ye think of such a thing, Miss Delia? You've scarcely time to gallivant."
"If I am to leave soon, Morag, I shall have a last outing with my English friends. You will not begrudge me that, I am sure."
Miss Taunton ignored the interchange between Delia and her attendant. "I daresay we should have Susannah here as well to help us lay plans. She has always such good ideas."
"Then let us go to her, and we shall discuss the scheme with Lady Slimbridge as well!" Delia laughed at the younger girl's enthusiasm.
Mrs. Lochmaddy, her lips compressed, went to fetch Delia's bonnet.
The rose and gold of sunset gleamed in the north window as the Manningford party dined that evening in their private suite. The days were warming and lengthening as the month passed, ushering in the height of the London Season. Charles and Rupert received Delia's plans for the excursion to Strawberry Hill without criticism, and with considerable pleasure.
"The entire day in Susannah's company. You have arranged it just as I will like, Delia," Charles exclaimed.
"I am glad," she responded.
Watching her, Rupert perceived more than a hint of strain in Delia's face and manner.
She continued, "I have reason to think that Lady Slimbridge, and Lady Taunton, will regard me as adequate chaperone for the young ladies. Miss Taunton's brother and Major Rhyle are to be of the company. And Mrs. Lochmaddy need not attend me."
"Then you have arranged things just as I will like," Rupert commented adroitly, but received no smiling response. He was more than pleased when Charles excused himself to attend a rout immediately following their meal. Rupert saw him to the door of the suite, chatting lightheartedly. Then he rejoined Delia in the parlor. She had moved to her needlework, at the drawing room table, where her silks were spread like a rainbow. They had avoided solitary communication for some days, but this evening he was determined upon conversation. Before he chose a seat, he absently stripped off his brass-buttoned coat, and dropped it on a chair near the door.
His first words were innocuous by design. His manner, by dint of no small effort, was casual. "Delia, shall we have some new paintings for Manningford? There is an exhibition at a display room in Bond Street. We might attend it."
"If you wish," she said. She did not look up from her silks. Her satinet gown of sea green, made high to the throat and long-sleeved, was modest and becoming. Her black curls brushed the pale curve of her cheek, and tangled with her earrings of jade. Torgreave could not look enough on her.
As the glow of sunset faded, Bowland entered, soft-footed. He gathered up the discarded coat before lighting the candles
Rupert waited impatiently for his departure, then continued, "I have been considering your decoration for the west passage. Are you certain you will like the gold damask wallpaper? If you had rather have the chinoiserie, or the lattice, I should be happy with your choice."
She did not immediately respond.
Rupert stilled, a slight concern suddenly magnified by his thoughts. "Where is Mrs. Lochmaddy?" he asked, with a belated concern for propriety.
Delia said, "She dined with Bowland, and now is at work with my wardrobe. The weather grows more pleasant daily and my gowns are warm and unsuitable."
"I have grown accustomed to her at your elbow these last weeks." Rupert needed her to look at him, needed to see her eyes to know what she was thinking.
"You should. I have asked for her constant attendance. Have you had no word of your uncle?" Delia did look up then.
He could see the trouble in the translucent depths of her eyes. He was startled by her urgency, but said, "I have not, though I have pressed my inquiries. Is it so important?" He knew the answer to his question.
"It is become imperative," she confirmed. "Your London Season is about to begin in earnest. In the ordinary course of things, I should enjoy it immensely. I shall be drawn in if I stay on, but I must not. As well, I no longer can find excuse to remain, and I cannot bear to be so much in your company."
Rupert took no trouble to conceal the hurt and despair he felt at her words. "You are little enough in my company," he retorted out of his distress. He relented as her face paled. "I will not tell you your presence is not precious to me," he said. "And that I do not also suffer."
"Tell me nothing, but that you have heard news," she implored.
"Rhyle expects information from Paris this week. The city is secured, and even now the first visitors are arriving. I am confidant Augustus will be there, for he must always be at the front of fashion. I stay my departure only upon confirmation."
It appeared to him that her tension eased a little. He came to stand before her. "You are wise to guard yourself with Mrs. Lochmaddy. I would that your scruples were less firm, your moral character more pliant," he said. His words were almost whimsical, although sadness etched his face.
"You had as easily desire that your own character were weak," she reminded him. "We shall not risk dishonour or sin. We must assume we are siblings until we have factual proof to the contrary."
He knelt before her abruptly, bending his dark head against the skirt of her rose muslin gown. He concealed his face and said, "I pray, daily, that we will discover that we are no more than cousins. I sometimes feel I would risk any disgrace, any sin, if I could just express my love for you. Am I evil?" Intensity shook his deep voice.
He felt her recoil, even as her touch warmed his coatless shoulder. Whether the hand was to push him away or draw him nearer, he could not have said. It merely lingered.
"No. For I know that you could not in truth contemplate such sin. But it is because of this very sort of drama that I must return to Edinburgh. I cannot bear it any longer. I simply cannot." Her lowered voice broke.
He rose and swung away. "I am sorry to give you pain," he said.
"You do not. You give me great joy," she said, her voice tear-choked. "It is our circumstance that gives me, and you, pain."
Morag Lochmaddy entered and stared from the earl's ravaged face to that of her mistress.
Rupert was scarcely aware of her arrival, so intent was he on Delia's words. "I would spare you pain always, give anything to bring you joy forever," he stated.
Delia broke down and frankly sobbed, covering her face with her slim hands.
Mrs. Lochmaddy drew an outraged breath. "My lord!" She placed a supportive arm about her mistress' shoulders.
Stung by her rebuke, Rupert impaled the companion with a ferocious glance. Rising abruptly, he turned on his heel and departed the chamber without greeting to her or farewell to Delia.
He crossed the passage to his bedchamber quickly. Within he paced its length, his strong shoulders sagging wearily, his vision impaired by grief.
Delia was right of course. She must return to Edinburgh. The strain of their proximity, the burden of his love, were too much for her. He should never have importuned her to return to London with him. His reasons had been selfish. He paused his frenzied pace and recalled her final words. To know that she would remember him with some joy, not simply regret, was a balm to his wounded spirit.
He stared in the mirror and could see her face, as he had moments before, with tears streaming down it.
"Thank God I found her." He was unaware that he spoke aloud, his voice hoarse. "But now I must lose her." He swung away from the mirror, raking both hands through his hair. "I must be damned, that fate should be so cruel."
Bowland entered silently.
"Miss Tyninghame has retired, my lord," he announced.
Torgreave straightened with an effort. He saw from Bowland's expression that his own face must show his anguish.
"There appears no solution to our problems, my friend," he managed to say. "Delia will in all likelihood soon re
turn to Edinburgh. Perhaps you should take up Rhyle's offer of employment. I shall be the devil to live with."
"I think not, my lord. I prefer the devil I know," was his valet's response.
***
The next morning Delia, pale and drawn, informed the gentlemen that she would depart for Edinburgh within a fortnight. She had made the decision the previous evening in concert with Morag Lochmaddy. It had not been an easy determination, but she had no doubt of its wisdom. And she had no intention of being swayed from her resolution.
To her relief, they accepted the news with expressions of regret but without surprise. She could bear no more than a brief look at Rupert's despondent face. Instead she concentrated on Charles' heartfelt utterances.
"I shall always be grateful for your arrival in our lives. You have brought Rupert and me together once more. That I can never forget. You have made possible my relationship with Miss Slimbridge. You have sponsored our future happiness."
"If you can summon the courage to make an offer to her father." Rupert tormented his brother, apparently from the depths of his own melancholy.
"I shall," the rector rose to his elder brother's bait. "I shall make an offer before Delia leaves."
She interrupted their incipient argument with a lightening heart. "I plan to enjoy to the full the last days of my visit." She ventured a glance at Rupert. The warmth of his gaze interrupted her breathing momentarily. "I shall take a precious store of memories home to Edinburgh."
The excursion to Strawberry Hill took place within the week. The chosen day was fine, for which Delia was thankful. Morag Lochmaddy was left at Grillon's, reconciled by the fact that she was to begin packing for departure. Their party was comprised only of young people, for Lady Taunton and Lady Slimbridge had deemed that Delia was chaperone enough. Everyone was in spirits.
Delia, with Charles and Rupert in a hired barouche, collected the Misses Slimbridge from North Audley Street. Maria sat bodkin between Susannah and Charles but she did nothing to inhibit their gentle flirtation. Beside Torgreave, facing the horses, Delia observed the flirtation with satisfaction.
The Rake's Reflection Page 17