Page 9 of The Spinster’s Last Dance (One Night in Blackhaven #7)

S he is everything I ever wanted . And, in truth, never expected to find. But the intimacy of the cave had been too sweet, and this —holding Delilah in the rain and kissing her breathless—was as if the storm outside had swept into his heart. He felt all her shock, all her wonder, and then there was sheer delight as her passion was aroused to match his, elemental and utterly overwhelming.

But dear God, what was he thinking? This was neither the time nor the place to indulge. When he finally forced himself to break the astounding kiss and she claimed his mouth again, he could have taken her right there on the sand, pounded by wind and rain and rampaging need. It took a heroic effort to stop, but he had to care for her.

Still, he felt like a schoolboy with his first infatuation as he took her hand and ran with her, so aware of her every movement at his side, her firm grip on his fingers. She trusted him. She desired him.

He wanted to laugh and sing into the wind, but he needed all his energy for speeding along the beach to shelter.

They were both utterly soaked through—again—by the time they reached the town. Fortunately, the streets were deserted, but still he dropped her hand, dragging her arm through his instead. He guided her into the hotel stable yard, where the grooms and ostlers, including Alf, his coachman, were playing cards under cover.

They leapt to their feet as he appeared.

Alf said, “Sir?”

“I’m sorry, Alf, but I need you and the coach,” Denzil said. “The lady needs to go home. Quickly as you can.” He bent toward Delilah, and she gave a little shiver at the caress of his breath on her ear. “Wait here,” he murmured, “and go straight into the carriage when it’s readied…”

Although he hesitated to leave her alone with the stable staff, it would do her reputation less harm than trailing through the hotel with him, soaked to the skin, her clothes clinging all too revealingly to her every curve.

Glancing over his shoulder from the back door of the hotel, he saw Alf and a couple of stable lads bustling about, fetching horses and harnesses. The rest had already returned to their game, ignoring Delilah, who stood shivering just inside the open door, self-possessed as ever. At least on the outside.

He could not help smiling as he raced along the passage and up the staff stairs to his bedchamber, seeing no one but a maid carrying a tray of hot chocolate.

He was already shrugging off his wet coat as he entered his room. He changed with furious speed, abandoning his sodden garments on the floor and throwing on the first replacements he could find. Then, seizing a dry overcoat, he went to Elaine’s rooms.

She was alone and pacing her sitting room floor. “Denzil! Have you seen Antonia?”

“No. Lend me a gown and cloak and stockings. And a shawl, perhaps.”

To her credit, Elaine went immediately to her wardrobe, hauling things out apparently at random and shoving them at him as she spoke. “She took Edward with her to go on some expedition with Sir Julius. I think he meant to take them sailing. In this, Denzil!”

“There can’t be a more experienced sailor in the country than Julius Vale,” Denzil said, reaching for the carpetbag at the bottom of the wardrobe and shoving her garments inside. “They will be quite safe.”

“You are right, of course,” she admitted, though still anxiously. “Who are the clothes for?”

“Delilah Vale. We got caught in the storm. I’m taking her home.”

“Oh,” said Elaine, smiling.

At any other time, he would have challenged that particular Oh. Right now, he couldn’t spare the time. “With luck, I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Take care, Denzil. Alf won’t love you for this.”

Denzil only raised a hand in response. He was already striding from the room.

A couple of minutes later, he ran across the stable yard to where the carriage awaited. The horses were snorting and stamping with annoyance, but at least the thunder had moved on to a mere distant rumble.

As Denzil climbed into the coach from one side, Alf, wrapped up against the storm, ushered Delilah in from the other. She was dripping wet and shivering again, strands of hair escaping her wrecked hat and clinging to her face, and yet his heart lifted at the sight of her. She was as beautiful as this semi-drowned waif as she was as an elegant lady in a ball gown.

He sat on the back-facing seat, the carpetbag on his knees. Delilah stepped inside and paused, her eyes widening to see him there.

“Oh!” She sat opposite with a bump. “You don’t need to come, too. I am only grateful for the—”

“Hush,” he interrupted, and leaned over to place the bag beside her. The carriage lurched as Alf mounted the box, and then the horses set off at a reluctant trot. “Take off your wet things and change into these.”

Her jaw dropped. “I most certainly will not!”

“Pull down the blinds if you’re so modest, but no one else will be foolish enough to be out in this.”

“You are,” she retorted.

“Being a gentleman,” he said, “I shall gaze at the window until you are comfortable. The clothes are Elaine’s, and she is happy to lend them to you.”

She blushed, much to his delight.

“Please,” he said more seriously. “You will be much more comfortable, and I would hate you to take ill from our adventure.”

She hesitated, then nodded with odd abruptness. He pulled down all the blinds, then turned his head and stared at the blank window beside him. He tried not to think about the rustling and squelching as the wet clothes were dropped on the carriage floor.

What would she look like in nothing but her chemise? Without the chemise…

He shifted position and searched rather wildly for a distraction. “Elaine was worried about Antonia. Apparently she and Edward went sailing with Sir Julius.”

“They will be safe. But Julius never minds the weather,” she added with some satisfaction, “so she’ll be as wet as I am and thoroughly outraged.”

She underestimated Antonia, he suspected. “You might fight find her and Edward at Black Hill.”

More rustling. The gown must be on, he thought with mingled relief and regret.

“I shan’t be unkind,” she said quietly. “You are right. I should not judge before I know her.”

Her trust in his advice warmed him so much, he turned to smile at her, and all the breath left his body.

The gown was on, but it was not fastened at the back, allowing him a tantalizing glimpse of bare back and shoulders. More, she had drawn up the skirts at one side to pull on a stocking, and only a powerful effort of will prevented him reaching for her.

With a gasp, she flicked the skirts back over her leg.

“Sorry,” he muttered, averting his eyes again. “I thought you were finished.”

“I’m sure it is nothing you have not seen before,” she said with deliberate lightness.

“If I have, it has not affected me so before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? Do you really not know you are beautiful?”

“I do not need flattery, my lord. You may turn now if you wish.”

“I do wish.”

She was drawing a warm shawl from the bag, about to place it around her shoulders. Without thought he said, “Allow me to help with the fastenings.”

Her breath hitched. Her gaze flew to his.

“I kissed you,” he said softly. “I liked it very much. But you may trust me not to ravish you just yet.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning her back.

He moved across to the seat beside her. With some difficulty, because the carriage was lurching so much, he began to hook the fastenings of her gown. Her skin was soft and cool as his fingers brushed against it. A little shiver of awareness ran through her.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

She shook her head. He couldn’t resist brushing his lips against her nape. She gasped, arching her neck as though she couldn’t help it.

“I hope you don’t regret this day,” he said, reaching around her to draw the shawl from her lap. “Because I do not. Can we see it as a beginning, Delilah?”

She glanced over her shoulder, searching his eyes. He placed the shawl around her, letting his hands linger on her shoulders. He kissed her mouth, softly, and then more deeply, savoring her, rejoicing in her instant response.

“The beginning of what?” she asked hoarsely.

“I don’t know. Isn’t that the exciting part?”

She swallowed. “I cannot tell. I have never been…here before.”

“Neither have I.”

“Please,” she said, with a hint of pain, straightening and reaching for the dry cloak, which she whisked around her with no help from him. “I am not the first woman you have kissed.”

“I am almost five and thirty,” he said. “And I confess I have had my share of kisses, love affairs, and liaisons, each of them charming in their way. I know that, but right now, I can’t remember them because there is only you.”

“Carpe diem,” she said, so softly that he almost didn’t hear. “Seize the day.”

“I want more than today,” he confessed.

Color seeped into her pale face. “So do I,” she whispered.

He took her hands in his and kissed her. To his delight, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he put his arms around her and simply held her. His heart was full.

“I will come to the theatre with you,” she said.

It jolted him back to reality. To why he had sought her out in the first place. “We have much to talk about,” he said, tightening his grip. “But perhaps not today.”

*

Delilah hurried from the bottom of the drive, where she had made Lord Linfield leave her, and up to the house alone. Fortunately, the rain had lessened, so she hoped his return to Blackhaven would be untroubled. Cornelius had worked wonders with the new drainage ditches. When they first came home, the roads and fields had flooded all the time…

She entered the house by the side door and fled unseen to her bedchamber to change. From somewhere in the house, she could hear the laughter of the twins, and a higher-pitched, more childish voice joining in. Antonia’s son, no doubt, which meant she was here.

Because of today, because of him , she had more understanding of the powerful emotions of love. Vulnerability could so easily lead to mistakes… And so she would be kind to Antonia and her child. She was so happy, she would be kind to the whole world.

Dressed in her own clothes, she carefully hung up Miss Talbot’s borrowed garments. As she smoothed down the gown, something rustled. Like her, Elaine must have pockets sewn into her everyday dresses. She smiled as she located the pocket and drew out the scrap of brown paper inside. It was screwed up, so she assumed it to be rubbish—until, as she walked to the wastepaper basket by her desk, something about it caught her eye.

A glimpse of ink, of a clear, familiarly shaped letter C . She smoothed the scrap out. Only a few letters were visible.

r. Charl

It could have been anything with any meaning, except that the handwriting was undoubtedly Delilah’s, and the brown paper it was written on looked very like that she had used to wrap up the documents for her client, Mr. Charles of York.

“How the devil did you get into Miss Talbot’s pocket?” she asked aloud.

She could think of only one solution, and a highly unlikely one at that. Miss Talbot, for whatever reason, was masquerading as Mr. Charles.

*

It was very strange, joining her family for dinner. She felt changed by what had happened between her and Linfield, a pleasant knot of excitement in her stomach, happiness thrumming through her veins.

She looked with fresh eyes on Antonia, prepared to be convinced that the woman was as innocent as Julius in the events of ten years ago. Her delightful, lively son helped, of course. He already appeared devoted to Julius, with whom he seemed to be playing an ongoing game of pirates, and Antonia was clearly a loving mother, keeping him in line with a gentle word or two, but never damping his spirit with excessive strictness.

They too had been soaked in the storm, which sprang up faster than even Julius had anticipated, and Antonia was anxious for little Edward. Remembering her own terrible fears over Aubrey’s asthma, Delilah had considerable sympathy for her in that too. She could even be glad they had chosen to stay the night.

It was a surprisingly pleasant evening, and yet Delilah was glad to say goodnight. She wanted to be alone, to savor her time with Linfield, to remember every moment of his kisses, every word he had said to her. And yet as soon as her head touched the pillow, she slept.

She woke to sunshine, outside and in.

She didn’t even mind that at breakfast Julius was looking just a little too pleased with himself. Matters had progressed, she suspected, with Antonia.

Antonia and Edward left early, escorted by Aubrey en route to the pump room. Immediately, Julius went off to inspect the storm damage around the estate and, no doubt, to confer with Cornelius.

Delilah went happily about her own duties. It was her turn in the garden today, which meant a lot of clearing up after the storm. The ground was soggy, stray tree branches had fallen into new flowerbeds, and some saplings had been bent or uprooted by the wind.

She did what she could and then went inside to begin the hemming of the bedroom curtains. Her thoughts were still full of Lord Linfield, whom she would see tomorrow at the castle garden party.

At some point in the afternoon, she heard Julius’s voice, and his distinctive, quick yet uneven footfall on the stairs. It was time that she told him about Timothy Macy’s approach to her the other day.

She set aside her sewing and went quickly along the passage to Julius’s door.

“Enter!” he called at once, and Delilah walked in.

She blinked, for he had already changed into evening clothes. It must be later than she had noticed. “Oh, you are dressed to go out. And very smartly, too. What event are you gracing with your presence tonight?”

“I don’t know yet,” he confessed. “I was hoping to dine with Linfield, but I may be too late.”

It felt like a splash of cold water when she had been expecting warm. Perhaps mere jealousy because he would be with Linfield and she would not.

“By Linfield I gather you mean Mrs. Macy,” she said, more waspishly than she had intended.

“She is usually present with Miss Talbot.”

“You only saw her this morning,” Delilah pointed out, uneasiness creeping in despite her good intentions. “Do you have to pursue her quite so assiduously?”

“I don’t have to, no.”

There was a warning in his voice, but she chose to ignore it. “Julius, you are making a spectacle of the woman and harming her reputation into the bargain. For goodness’ sake, leave her alone for a few days.”

He held her gaze. “Disingenuous, Delly. Don’t pretend you give a fig for Mrs. Macy’s reputation. Though I hope you will come to.”

Heat crept into her face, but she refused to back down. “I care for yours. I don’t want you making a fool of yourself. More than that, I don’t want her ruining your life a second time.”

Although it came out too harshly, it had to be said. Julius sighed, but he did not look entirely surprised by her outburst.

“There is no question of that,” he said. “We understand the lies told to each of us ten years ago. And you should know, I have asked Mrs. Macy to marry me—and she has accepted.”

Delilah’s blood ran cold. Dear God, so soon ? That was sheer idiocy after what had happened before. Appalled, she clenched her fists at her side, then slowly unclenched them. She was giving Antonia a chance—really, she was—but for her brother’s sake, she could not allow things to progress at this heedless speed.

“I’m afraid you must be told that she will not marry you,” Delilah blurted. “She is already engaged to another, much richer man. She must be stringing you along for reasons of her own. Revenge, no doubt, because you sailed away from her before. Remember, she did not see your agony then.”

“You make her sound like a monster,” he said, scowling as he strode past her to the door. “Stop being ridiculous.”

She caught his arm. “Can’t you see it is you being ridiculous? Julius, she is going to marry Mr. Dunnett!”

He blinked and then laughed with what appeared to be genuine amusement. She had not even dented his confidence. “Dunnett is not rich, and she barely knows him.”

“Oh, he is a lot richer than you think.” Her cheeks burned with anger. “I had a very enlightening conversation with Mr. Timothy Macy just the other day. She used your interest in her to inspire Dunnett to propose. But I suppose she couldn’t tell you that while she was at your mercy in a boat in a storm and then a guest in your house!”

Julius’s eyes were freezing. If she had been under his command at sea, she would have withered.

“I did not constrain her to come with me,” he snapped, “and you have gone beyond ridiculous to offensive on so many points that I don’t know where to begin. Just never imagine I shall tolerate it. Goodnight.”

As though struck, she snatched her fingers back, and he walked away.

*

After dinner, the Vales dispersed quickly. Roderick had gone to Carlisle to promote the guarding business he and an old army friend were setting up. Julius had not returned.

Alone, Delilah paced the drawing room floor, her stomach knotted. Despite the urgings of Mr. Macy and Mr. Dunnett, despite her distrust of Antonia, she’d had no intention of spreading their lies in whatever cause. The very idea had made her feel grubby and treacherous.

And yet as soon as Julius had told her about his proposal of marriage, she had blurted it out, her one aim being to remove his blindness where Antonia was concerned, to slow the runaway horse of his courtship. But it had not worked. She had been prepared for his disappointment, grief, even anger. Instead, any disappointment had been with her.

He had been quite right not to believe the story. He could he be right about Antonia, too. Macy had shown he was quite happy to intervene in Antonia’s affairs. Perhaps he had done so ten years ago to secure her for his brother. In which case, Antonia was as much a victim as Julius, and she, Delilah, was playing into the hands of their enemies.

At the sound of horses’ hooves trotting into the yard, she hurried to the drawing room door, waiting impatiently for Julius to appear. One of the stable lads must have dealt with his horse, for he didn’t take long.

She knew his leg was paining him by his halting advance across the hall and his slow ascent of the stairs. Even in the dim candlelight, she could see the lines and shadows of exhaustion on his face.

Impulsively, she went to him. “What is it?”

His eyes widened as though he were surprised to see her. “You were right. She is determined to marry Dunnett, and I don’t know why. Do you? Beyond the grudge you bear her for ten years ago.”

“No,” she said honestly. “I did not ask. I just wanted her away from you.”

“Something is going on between him and Macy. And she is the victim. She and Edward. That isn’t right.”

“No,” Delilah whispered. “It isn’t.”

“She would not tell me.”

Delilah swallowed. “She might. I believe she will be at the garden party at Braithwaite Castle tomorrow. I’ll speak to her.”