The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 3)

by Maggie Dallen

  “It is not ideal,” Delilah said, her tone dry. “But it is where I am safe.”

  Rupert wasn’t certain, but he suspected his chest puffed to double its size at that show of confidence that he could keep her safe.

  He would.

  He had no doubt of that. He’d give his life before he let any harm come to her.

  But the fact that she knew it too—that was a boon to his pride.

  Once Miss Grayson was appeased and had gone off to her writing desk in the corner to compose the missive, Tolston turned the conversation back to more pressing business.

  “So, after all that…are we really no closer to having any proof that Everley is the man behind so many crimes?”

  Rupert sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

  Tolston gave Delilah a sidelong look that Rupert could well interpret. Time is running out.

  “We have plenty of circumstantial evidence,” Tolston said. “Perhaps with our testimony… I mean, having the Earl of Tolston and Lord—” He stopped himself when Rupert’s eyes narrowed. “Er, a distinguished fellow like yourself, Calloway.” Sitting back in his seat, Tolston crossed his arms over his chest. “Would that not be enough?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he muttered. Rupert was still shifting uncomfortably at the use of the title. It had been an age since he’d gone by the honorary title, and it didn’t sit right. It never had. Unlike his father and elder brother, he’d never seemed meant for the peerage. He was too big, too unrefined, too uninterested in societal politics, and even less interested in learning how to charm and persuade.

  He glanced over at Delilah to see if she had heard but she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

  What would she think if she knew he was the second son of a marquess?

  He felt his lips quirk with rueful humor. Would she still offer to pay him? He’d admit, that had stung.

  Worse, would she offer to marry him like she was some commodity he might accept in lieu of coins?

  He gave his head a little shake. Delilah’s safety was what was at stake and he had to focus.

  Tolston heaved a weary sigh that echoed his sentiments exactly. “So then, what do we do next?”

  He’d been pondering that all night—well, when he wasn’t reliving that kiss. He’d tossed and turned the night before, torn between concern for her safety and the desire to wake her just so he could relive that kiss.

  “Unfortunately our best lead is at the docks, but we don’t have any specifics.” Rupert shook his head in irritation. “I still think our clues lie in his home somewhere—we know he conducts his business there. I had my chance to search and I failed.” He glanced over at Delilah. Not that he could call their first interaction a failure.

  It had been monumental. Life changing…

  But no help in the course of his investigation.

  “If we knew he’d be out of the house, I could attempt to break into his office again, I suppose,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. “But we’d need to know ahead of time that he’d be gone.”

  He was about to suggest they send someone to bribe a servant when Delilah chimed in.

  “Tomorrow evening.”

  Both men turned to look at her.

  “Pardon?” Tolston said.

  She licked her lips. “He has an appointment tomorrow evening with someone named Albert on Rivington Street. I saw it in his diary.”

  The gentlemen continued to stare at her in silence. Rupert’s brain clicked into gear for what felt like the first time since that kiss had addled him. Albert. Rivington. “What time?”

  Her gaze shifted upward as she searched her memory. “Nine o’clock.”

  He and Tolston exchanged a look.

  “Why? What is it?” Delilah asked.

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed. Tolston grinned as well. Rupert did not wish to put the cart before the horse, but his gut told him this was it.

  This was precisely the bit of information he’d been trying to find.

  “Why are you laughing?” Delilah demanded, her tone delightfully peevish. He turned to find her scowling at him and he laughed harder.

  Oh yes, he much preferred this Delilah. She was much more fun to tease.

  “I’m laughing at you, silly girl.”

  Her frown deepened and he leaned toward her with a grin. “You are absolutely brilliant, did you know that?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, a smile tugging at her lips as she gave him a look of wary amusement. “Of course I know that,” she shot back. She folded her hands primly. “But why exactly do you know that?”

  He and Tolston filled her in on the fact that Albert was the name of a dock and Rivington was a street near the wharf that was lined with warehouses for storage.

  “You just asked if there was anything suspicious in his diary,” she muttered defensively. “How was I supposed to know any of this?”

  “You weren’t,” he assured her. “But now that we know…”

  “We can finally end this,” Tolston finished.

  The very thought of finally bringing justice to the man who murdered his best friend just to inherit the title…it should have brought a world of relief. His best friend’s so-call accident and Rupert’s suspicions around it were why he’d chosen this life in the first place.

  It had all begun with Everley, and Rupert’s inability to prove him responsible for murder.

  And now it was within his grasp and…

  He was worried.

  Blast it all. He was too worried to truly enjoy this new turn. His mind was already on Delilah, and what this would mean for her future.

  12

  Delilah listened as the two men sketched out a plan for the following night.

  She was to stay here at the school as they and their men descended on Everley, hoping to catch him in the midst of a dastardly act.

  Mr. Calloway had assured her no less than ten times now that he’d have ample security posted at and around the school’s premises.

  “We will ensure that all of you are safe,” Tolston added.

  She had no doubt that Tolston would move heaven and hell to make sure that Addie was protected. Her gaze met Mr. Calloway’s and her breath caught in her throat when she realized…

  He would do the same for her.

  Annoying, uncalled for tears stung the back of her eyes.

  Mercy, what was happening to her? She was never this emotional about anything.

  She supposed nearly dying was a valid excuse.

  She dropped her gaze, unable to hold it any longer because… He would see.

  That was the thing about Mr. Calloway. He seemed to see everything. Too much. The way he’d been looking at her earlier, she’d wanted to get up out of her seat and run.

  Instead, she’d born Miss Grayson’s kindness and Tolston’s concern and Mr. Calloway’s…

  Well, she wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been feeling. She had no earthly idea what he even thought of her. But he was protective of her and seemed to genuinely care about her survival.

  Maybe even her happiness.

  I’ll marry you.

  She gave her head a shake as she chided herself for even thinking it. He was a gentleman, that was all. He might not have a title or be a powerful man of society, but he’d clearly been raised to be a gentleman.

  She frowned down at her lap. Not for the first time she found herself curious about his upbringing. He had the manners of a knight, the appearance of a street thug, and the attitude of…she knew not what.

  He was at once arrogant, competent, caring, and unconcerned with society. He was an oddity, to be sure.

  But where had he come from?

  Perhaps he was a bastard—raised in a lord’s house, but not a true gentleman.

  She risked a peek in his direction. Yes, that would perhaps explain his odd conflicting behaviors.

  When at last it was time to leave, a plan was in place, and she was exhausted. Perhaps she ought to be anxious or fearful of what
was to come, but as she said her goodbyes to Miss Grayson and the others, all she felt was weary exhaustion.

  The entire carriage ride back she found herself sorting through all that had happened. Her mind racing to connect the dots and find a pattern in the chaos that was now her life. There was something missing. A piece to the puzzle she could not quite place…

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Calloway’s low voice, filled with concern, had her looking over quickly.

  “Fine,” she said automatically. “I am fine.”

  He studied her profile. “You do not have to be, you know.”

  The carriage drew to a halt and she was saved from having to respond. He got out first and held out a hand.

  As she took it and let him lead her into his home, she found herself wondering at the normalcy of this. At what point had she become complacent about traveling alone with an unwed man, or at entering his home and feeling like…

  Feeling like it was her home, too.

  She stopped in the entryway. She’d stayed here all of one night and yet she felt more comfortable here with him than she had staying at her own childhood home.

  What did that say about her? About her life? About where she belonged?

  “You look as though you could use a glass of sherry.” His voice was laced with amusement but concern etched his brow, making his gruff appearance that much more intimidating. “Come.”

  He led her into the parlor. The same warm, cozy room where he’d brought her the day before.

  She liked it in here. In this dark, wood-paneled room she felt as though the rest of the world might not exist. Like she was taking a seat in a place out of time, where it was just her and Mr. Calloway.

  For the remainder of today, at least, it was just the two of them. And that was an utter relief.

  He waited until she took a sip of sherry and winced. She never had liked the drink.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  She nodded, lying out of habit, before remembering who she was talking to. “Not really.”

  Her honesty was rewarded by a small smile of understanding. “You have been through much these past two days.”

  She nibbled on her lip and toyed with the glass as she considered that. “To be honest, I have not been entirely at ease since I learned of my engagement. But yes, over these past two days…the situation has certainly grown more dire.”

  He studied her as he leaned back on the settee beside her. They’d taken their positions from the evening before as if it was a habit. A routine. Like they were an old married couple who had their usual spots beside one another.

  Old married couple? What a silly idea. She set the sherry down. That was likely responsible for her ridiculous notions.

  “So, you were not set on marrying him then?”

  Her head came up suddenly. “Of course not.”

  He arched a brow. “You seemed awfully intent on it at your engagement ball the other night.”

  Shame shot through her at the way she’d defended the man even though she hadn’t known him. “Yes, well…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I suppose I didn’t want to believe that my father would hand me over to a ne’er-do-well, least of all a criminal.”

  His silence had her shifting uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure what she’d been looking for by admitting to that, but now that it was in the open, she regretted it.

  And yet, now that it was in the open, she could not let it go.

  “Do you think he knew?” She forced herself to look over at him, dreading the pity she would find there.

  But there was no pity, only sympathy. Affection, even.

  She tore her gaze away.

  Dratted sherry. It made her see things that could not be there. She’d been nothing but horrible to this man. She was his obligation, that was all. His burden, at best.

  She licked her lips as she stared straight ahead and rephrased the question that he clearly did not wish to answer. “Do you think my father knew that Everley is…who he is.”

  Cruel. Criminal. Evil.

  “I do not know,” Mr. Calloway said slowly, warily. “Your father has been out of society for some time now, has he not? I suppose it is possible that he was ignorant of Lord Everley’s true nature.”

  Possible, but not probable. She knew that was what he meant. His attempt to spare her feelings by offering up that optimistic suggestion made the truth that much harder to bear. “I wish I could believe that.”

  It came out on a whisper and to her despair, tears welled in her eyes before she quickly blinked them away.

  His hand covered hers on the seat between them. She was glad that he didn’t try to comfort her, to tell her that she was wrong and that her father only had her best interests at heart.

  She wouldn’t have believed him anyway and lying would not have suited him. “My father might not be an active participant in society since his health has taken a turn, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. And he’s done business with Everley for a long time.”

  Mr. Calloway stayed silent as she tried to reconcile herself to the fact that her father hadn’t cared one whit about her happiness. She’d never dreamt that he would put her wishes first when it came to finding a match, but she’d never thought he would knowingly choose someone who might hurt her.

  The thought left her cold. So cold she reached for the sherry again.

  “I was such a fool,” she said softly. “For wanting to trust my father. For blindly placing my faith in Everley…” She shook her head in shame at the way she’d stood up for him to this man that night in Everley’s study.

  “You could not have known,” he said.

  “You knew,” she said, accusation in her voice, though what she was accusing him of she wasn’t certain. Perhaps she was just accusing herself of being a dolt and she’d turned that tone on the wrong person.

  She was the one at fault here, not he.

  He shifted to face her better. “I only knew because Everley and I have a history.”

  She stilled. All day today she’d told herself that she barely knew this man. One kiss and a magnificent rescue did not mean he was not still a stranger, for all intents and purposes.

  But she wanted to know more about him. She wanted answers to the riddle that was Mr. Calloway. “What was your history with him?”

  “I believe he killed my best friend.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp. He’d made this accusation before, but it was no less shocking hearing it again.

  “I grew up with Andrew Alston, who was Everley’s cousin…and the rightful heir to the Everley title and the estate it was entailed to.”

  “Ah.” It came out as a sigh as she pieced it together.

  “Everley had never been kind to Alston. Their relationship was strained, at best. So when Everley invited him out to hunt…even then I was suspicious.” Mr. Calloway looked down at his hands, lost in his memories. “Though I never suspected it would end in murder. It wasn’t until I talked to other members of the hunting party and heard three different utterly inconsistent stories about how the ‘accident’ occurred that I really grew suspicious.” He looked over to her. “Everley had the means, the motive… And I knew in my heart that he was responsible for taking my best friend from me, directly or indirectly.”

  “So you investigated further?” she prompted.

  “I did, yes.” His laugh was humorless and self-deprecating. “I made a hash of it. I bungled it all and made Everley look like the martyr.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in a rare show of weariness that made her heart ache. “I never did find the evidence I was looking for, and in the process I made a handful of enemies.” He met her gaze. “Including your father.”

  Her breathing stilled as she met his dark, serious gaze. “Because he was friends with Everley. They were…” She waved a hand. “Cohorts.”

  She didn’t phrase it as a question and he did not answer.

  He didn’t have to.

  She knew it to be true.

  Her fa
ther was not a kind man, and she had little reason to believe he was honorable. It was becoming alarmingly apparent that he was not.

  How much did her stepmother know of all this?

  She shook off the question. What did it matter? Her stepmother was as powerless in her role as Delilah was in hers. Even if she’d suspected that Everley was a monster, she could not have done anything to prevent the engagement.

  “To think,” Delilah said, more to herself than to him. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have married him without a second thought.”

  “You give me the credit?” he asked, a hint of amusement breaking the tension. “You would have realized eventually—”

  “But not until it was too late.”

  He opened his mouth to argue the point, and she cut him off with a shake of his head. “I wouldn’t have seen it sooner because I wouldn’t have wanted to.” Her voice hitched and she had to take a deep breath to continue. “I did not wish to see Everley for who he was, because it would have meant knowing that…that my father truly did not care.”

  He shifted closer, reaching for her to comfort her like he had yesterday, but she pulled back. “No. Wait, please. There is something I need to say.”

  He stilled, his brow furrowed and his dark gaze locked on hers as though there was nothing in the world more important than whatever it was she had to say.

  “I owe you an apology.” The words were stiff, her lips frozen. She and apologies had never been friends. She’d never quite gotten the hang of them, but at least she’d managed to get the words out.

  He arched one brow in surprise but kept quiet as she’d asked. She smoothed her hands over her skirt in a nervous gesture. “When you offered to marry me last night—”

  “Delilah—” he started

  She spoke over him. “When you kindly offered to save my reputation by marrying me, I reacted horribly.” She closed her eyes as shame swept over her again. “I was unforgivably rude, and I am sorry.”

  “You were under a great deal of stress.”

  She rolled her eyes at his attempts to justify her bad behavior. “Perhaps, but that was not why I seemed so…so…”