The Lady In Question (30 page)

“My hat?” she said with an amused smile.

“Of course.” He shook his head to clear it, handed her the hat, then grabbed the door handle, as much to secure it against anyone opening it from the outside as to open it himself. “Are you ready?”

She adjusted her hat, drew a steadying breath and nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” He cast her an encouraging smile and started to open the door. She grabbed his arm. “Tony.”

“Yes?”

She smiled the slow smile of a woman confident in her actions and confident as well of those of the man by her side. “That was indeed grand.”

“Not entirely.” He leaned forward and kissed her quickly. “But it will be. I promise.”

“I shall hold you to that, my lord.”

“I quite imagine you will.”

Tony climbed out of the carriage and assisted Delia to the ground. It was surprisingly difficult to release her and he realized this woman had become such a part of him he could not conceive of ever letting her go.

Ever living without her. Still, now was not the time to consider the future. They started toward the house and she hesitated. “Tony.” Her brow furrowed with concern. “I’m not quite sure how we’re going to accomplish this.”

He chuckled. “I thought we were well on the way to accomplishing it in the carriage.”

“Not that.” A charming blush washed up her face. “I have an excellent idea how we’ll accomplish that, but, well, I should hate to scandalize Gordon. He really is rather stuffy and narrow-minded about what women should or should not do. And I daresay bringing a gentleman to my bedchamber before noon —”

“And I’m certain it’s the time of day he will object to.”

Delia ignored him. “I would hate for him to think poorly of me.”

“Delia, I am sure the old gentleman is fond of you, but, well, frankly, my dear, he is a servant and you are the mistress of the house.

This is your house and your life and Gordon will just have to accept that you are an adult woman and can make your own decisions.“

“He’s become my friend, Tony,” she said staunchly. “In many ways, my confidant. I trust his advice.”

“And he has advised you to do what?”

“He thinks I should marry again.”

“We may well have something in common.” He started toward the door and realized Delia had not moved. He looked back.

She stared at him with an odd mix of annoyance and exasperation on her face. He wasn’t sure what he had done, but it was more than obvious he had done something. Something vile.

“That’s quite enough, my lord.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “What’s quite enough?”

“You have gone on and on and on about how you
might
wish to marry me or you could
possibly
want my hand in marriage or —”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Are you certain you want to discuss this now? Here on the street?”

She lowered her voice to match his. “I had no intention of discussing this at all, but — yes! Right here, right now.”

Tony had been in dangerous, even deadly situations in the past, and instinct warned him that right here, right now might well be the most treacherous of his life. And the most important.

“It is time, my lord, to stop mincing about the subject and tell me, one way or another: Do you or do you not wish to marry me?”

He chose his words carefully. “You said you were not interested in marriage at this time.”

She waved away his words. “I am not the topic of discussion. You are

“I have more than indicated my interest in marriage. I have said I wanted to share your life, your adventures” — he lowered his voice a notch and leaned closer — “your bed.”

“Yes, well, now we’ve come to it, haven’t we?”

“Come to what?” Tony considered himself an intelligent man, but Delia made no sense whatsoever. Were all women this insane, or was this sort of madness unique to Delia?

“We’re about to blithely waltz into my house and scandalize poor, dear Gordon —”

“He’ll survive,” Tony said firmly.

“And I want to know what your intentions are.”

He shook his head in confusion. “Those are my intentions.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Share your life, your adventures, your bed —”

“Shh!”

He lowered his voice. “And, at this very moment, my intention is to finish what we started in the carriage.”

“My dear Lord St. Stephens, it has dawned on me — quite unexpectedly, I might add — that, while my plan was to become a woman of experience and have a life of grand adventure, I am no longer certain I wish to gain that experience or have those adventures with anyone but you.”

“And that’s bad?” he said slowly.

“Yes! No. Not really, but you have mucked up my plans for my life and I’m not at all pleased because I have no idea what your plans for my life are.”

“I thought I was planning on marriage? I thought I had mentioned that?” He wasn’t sure why everything he said was coming out as a question. “With you?”

“Do you care to make that somewhat more definitive?”

He had no idea what to say and suspected anything he might say to this lovely lunatic, the lunatic who had captured his heart, would be wrong. “I’m not sure?”

“Very well, St. Stephens. Obviously, the next move is mine.” She clenched her fists by her sides. Fire flashed from her eyes. “Will you do me the great honor of becoming my husband?”

Shock hung between them. Delia was obviously as surprised by her impulsive words as he was. He crossed his arms over his chest and considered her, resisting the urge to laugh out loud with relief and something suspiciously like joy. “I don’t know.”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t know? What do you mean,
you don’t know
?”

“Will you take care of me in the manner to which I am accustomed?”

“Most certainly not.” She glared. “But I will allow you to take care of me.”

“I see. But if I am to accept your gracious proposal” — he paused — “there are conditions.”

“I expected as much,” she muttered.

“First, all of your
experience
from this moment forward shall be with me.” He forced a stern note to his voice and bit back a grin.

She thought for a moment. “Agreed.”

“Second, all of your adventures from this moment forth shall be with me.”

“I don’t —”

“And in return I guarantee there shall indeed be adventures.” He smiled slowly. “I shall endeavor to make every day an adventure.”

“Grand?” Grudging amusement sounded in her voice.

“That, my dear, will be entirely up to you.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “Then I find your conditions acceptable.”

“Then you, my dear Lady Wilmont, should consider yourself a betrothed woman.” He leaned closer.

“I would pull you into my arms right here on the street and kiss you until the blue of your eyes darkens to the color of a storm at sea, as I have noted it tends to do in rather delightful moments, but that might create a ripple of scandal, and I suspect you and I might cause any number of scandals in the future. In the pursuit of adventure, of course.”

“Of course.” She gazed up at him with a desire in her eyes that reflected his own.

“Therefore, it might be best if we resist the urge to begin courting scandal now.”

“In the interest of the children?”

“Exactly. Which is precisely why we must go in at once.”

“Agreed.”

She took his arm and they hurried up the front steps. Mac opened the door for them.

“Good day, my lady, my lord,” Mac said. “Did you have a pleasant ride?”

“It was,” Delia said with a laugh, pulling off her gloves and shawl and handing them to Mac, “quite un-forgettable.”

Tony chuckled.

Delia took off her hat and patted her hair, glancing around the entry. “Is Gordon about?”

“No, my lady he…” Mac’s gaze slid from Delia to Tony and a determined gleam sparked in his eyes. He squared his shoulders. “He’s gone, ma’am. Packed up and moved out.”

“Gone?” Delia voice rose in dismay.

“Gone?” Tony’s voice rose in shock.

“Yes, ma’am. Said something about an aunt.”

“You must be mistaken. He told me he had no family.”

Damnation. Why had he told her Gordon had no family? For one brief shining moment, he had seen a graceful means of escape that he’d had nothing to do with. Mac had handed it to him on a platter. And Tony was completely blameless.

“Perhaps you misunderstood,” Tony said hopefully.

“I most certainly did not. I remember it distinctly. Besides, he would never leave without saying good-bye.” Genuine hurt shone in her eyes.

It was Tony’s undoing. He shook his head reluctantly. “I doubt that he’s gone.”

“Oh, no, sir.” Mac nodded firmly. “He’s definitely gone.”

“I’m
certain
he isn’t.” Tony gritted his teeth. “In point of fact, I’d wager on it.”

“No?” Mac met his gaze. “You’ve no doubt at all, then?”

“No.”

Delia cast him a curious glance. “How can you be so sure?”

Tony chose his words carefully. “You said you and he have become friends. Therefore the man would not have left without notice.”

“He’s right, ma’am.” Mac sighed. “I must have mistaken Gordon for someone else. Sorry, my lady.”

“How on earth could you — Never mind.” She stared in confusion. “Is he in his room, then?”

“No,” Tony said quickly. Delia’s gaze snapped to him. “Well, the man just said he’d gone out.”

Delia drew her brows together. “He said he packed up and left because of an aunt.”

“Hat, ma’am,” Mac said quickly. “He packed up a hat. That’s what he did. To bring it somewhere for…for…”

“Repairs?” Tony suggested.

“That’s it. Repairs.” Mac breathed a sigh of relief. “Mr. Gordon packed up a hat to bring it for repairs, and he’s gone now, but he’ll be back.”

“I see,” Delia said slowly. “I think.”

“I confused
aunt
with
hat,
ma’am. Actually, I confused
hat
with
Pat,
because that’s my uncle’s name, which naturally reminded me of my aunt.” Mac shook his head regretfully. “I do that sort of thing on occasion. I was wounded in the war and, well, you know.”

“I think we can overlook it, Lady Wilmont. The man’s a veteran, after all.” Tony slapped Mac on the back, a shade harder than was necessary. “Probably been through a lot, haven’t you, old man?”

“More than I care to say, sir.”

Delia glanced from one man to the other. “Then Gordon is coming back?”

“As far as I know, my lady.” A distinct note of regret sounded in Mac’s voice.

“Good.” She studied Mac closely. “I do hope you feel better, MacPherson.”

“As do I, ma’am,” Mac murmured.

Delia paused as if debating her next words. She straightened her shoulders slightly, in defiance or determination. “Lord St. Stephens has expressed an interest in seeing the refurbishment my sister and I have just completed.”

She nodded at Tony, excitement mingling with hesitation in her eyes. She was not as sure of herself, as sure of what she wanted from him, or with him, as she would have him believe. As perhaps she herself would like to believe. There was an innocent, honest charm about that look that caught at his heart. She might well want to be a woman of experience with no concern for rules or propriety, but it did not come naturally to her and therefore took rather a lot of courage. She was quite remarkable.

“My lord?” She raised a brow.

“I shall be along shortly. I wish to speak to MacPherson for a moment. To make certain he’s recovered from the effects of his” — Tony tried not to choke on the words — “war injury.”

“How very thoughtful.” She smiled at them both and sailed up the stairs, her hips swaying with every step, her hat dangling from her hand. The very essence of sensual innocence. Both men watched until she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

“I believe you have already seen the refurbishment, sir,” Mac observed mildly.

“Not like this,” Tony murmured. “Regarding that.” He drew a steadying breath and pulled his thoughts away from what awaited in Delia’s redecorated bedchamber. “While I tried to keep an eye on the virtual army that invaded this house in recent days, now that they are gone, have you recalled seeing anything of an unusual nature?”

Tony, Mac and Mrs. Miller, along with the other “servants,” had made it a point to keep those working on the house under surveillance at all times. If someone wished to find something hidden here, there could be no better guise than that of a painter or other workman.

“Nothing of note, sir, although Mrs. Miller did find a hidden niche in the paneling around the parlor fireplace today while you were out, where Wilmont might have kept valuables. It was empty.”

“Mrs. Miller found it?”

“Cleaning, sir.” Mac grimaced. “Or that’s what she calls it.”

“Of course.” Tony bit back a grin. “And what of the women involved in the refurbishing?”

The workers had included several women charged with stitching all manner of fabric, coverlets, and curtains, and whatever else Miss Effington had decreed necessary for the room.

“Again, sir, they did not behave suspiciously, although I must say, that sister of Lady Wilmont’s rules with something of an iron fist.” Mac grinned. “We could have used her during the war. Probably would have beaten the French that much sooner with more like her.”

“The flower of British womanhood. They are a force to be reckoned with.” Tony laughed and started toward the stairs.

“Sir?” Mac’s brow furrowed disapprovingly. “It’s probably not my place —”

“Probably.” Tony studied the other man. Obviously Delia’s nonexistent butler was not the only one who was fond of Lady Wilmont. Even protective.

“Nonetheless…” Mac paused. “We’ve been talking, the other men and I, and we think Lady Wilmont has been dealt with poorly.”

“You do?”

“Between that business with Wilmont and the scandal, and it was in truth the department’s fault and we all feel somewhat responsible, and now our deception, your deception —”