The Lady In Question (41 page)

“And he told you he was a butler.” Cassie shrugged.

“Perhaps he did not break my heart and perhaps I didn’t really mean that I wanted him out of my life,” Delia said slowly. “But I am angry at him. Furious, in fact.”

“And you have every right to be. There’s no reason why you have to forgive him today or even tomorrow. Indeed, I think you should make him suffer and expect a fair amount of groveling as well before you take him back.”

Delia brightened. “That’s exactly what I should do. Why, never seeing him again would only serve to make
me
miserable.”

Cassie nodded. “If he were with you, you could make him miserable. At least a little, now and then. Why, think of the power you would wield over him for the rest of your lives. Whenever he did anything the tiniest bit annoying, you could…” Cassie thought for a moment, then grinned. “You could call him Gordon. You would scarcely have to do more than that.”

“How perfectly brilliant.” Delia lifted her glass to her sister. “That way of thinking is precisely why you

’re the sister everyone always expected —”

Cassie arched a brow.

“Perhaps that wasn’t, given the circumstances…” Delia sighed and propped her chin in her hand. “I do so love him, Cassie. And aside from this butler-spy-viscount nonsense, he really is wonderful.”

“You could certainly do worse.”

“Indeed, and given the opportunity I probably would.” Delia met her sister’s gaze and both women grinned. “I must say, Cassie, I do feel much better.”

“Good.” Cassie rose to her feet. “Now, I think the very next thing we should do is send you back to your bed, because you look like you have had no sleep whatsoever.”

Delia stood and yawned. “I am extremely tired.”

“And extremely rational.” Cassie hooked her arm through her sister’s elbow and led her toward the door. “I’m going to send my carriage home with a note for Mother —”

Delia groaned

“I won’t say anything about fraudulent butlers or spies, nor will I mention that you have thrown your new husband out. I will simply tell her there was a small problem and all of your servants have fled.”

“That is true, after all.”

“You should have a temporary staff by midafternoon. And I think we should simply tell the rest of the family that St. Stephens was called away unexpectedly. Some sort of crisis regarding his inheritance. I assume you don’t want them to know about all of this.”

“The last thing I want is for them to think I have made another mistake in marriage.” Delia sighed.

“And when you awake, we shall discuss what we’re going to do about your parlor.”

“Scarlet or cream,” Delia murmured, then looked at her sister. “How long, Cassie?”

“How long what?”

“How long should I make him suffer before I take him back?”

Cassie laughed. “How long can you bear being without him?”

“A month?” Delia shook her head. “No, perhaps only a fortnight. Yes, that’s good. Two weeks. That

’s long enough for him to suffer.” She cast her sister a wicked smile. “And long enough for me to suffer as well.”

Scarcely a week later, Delia decided she was ready to graciously forgive her husband and welcome him back in her life and her bed.

Within a day of that momentous decision, she realized as well she had no idea where to find him.

Chapter 23

Two months later

My Dear Delia
,

Excellent news. I have just this morning learned St. Stephens has returned to London, and
furthermore I have the location of his town house. There is other news as well and I shall deliver
that in person.

I should tell you this information is courtesy of our brothers, although courtesy is perhaps not
the best term. Leo, Chris and Drew are in the foulest of moods, which somewhat matches their
appearance. It was they who located St. Stephens and, as best I can determine, took it upon
themselves to call on him with the express purpose of doing him bodily harm. They said St.
Stephens was assisted by a Scot and I believe they’re referring to one of your former footmen.
Regardless of the fact that your husband and his friend were outmanned, they apparently gave as
good as they got, as evidenced by the bruised and battered faces of our brothers. Apparently, the
match was something of a draw and ended in the consumption of a great deal of liquor and the
promise of all present to do whatever possible to encourage your forgiveness of your husband.
Extremely generous on the part of our brothers indeed, as they still have no idea precisely what
St. Stephens did.

To that end, I suspect Leo, Chris and Drew will each bring up the subject of reconciliation with
your husband when next they call on you. Odd how regularly they have been doing that of late…

“I wonder when he is planning to call,” Delia said, more to herself than her sister. Cassie sat on one of a pair of matching Grecian-style settees and watched her sister with amusement.

“I suspect —”

“Or if indeed he is planning to call at all.”

Delia paced the floor of her newly refurbished parlor, redecorated in shades of wine and yellow. A bit out of the ordinary, but quite striking nonetheless. Cassie had done an excellent job in the parlor as she had in every other room in Delia’s house. Indeed, it was Cassie’s determination to complete Delia’s entire house as quickly as possible, and her insistence that her sister be involved in every detail, that had more than likely saved Delia’s sanity.

“I daresay he —”

“It’s been two months, Cassie. In truth, it’s been two months and four days. Two very long months and four endless days. He certainly could have returned long before now.”

It had not been all that difficult to determine that Tony had gone to his estate in the country, obviously to take on the duties of his new title. It was both admirable that he took his newfound responsibilities seriously and annoying. Delia never imagined he’d actually leave London. When she’d told him to get out, she’d only meant her house, not her town. Given his declarations of undying love and his vow to return, she’d expected he’d wage a concerted campaign to win her back. Instead, the man had effectively vanished.

“How was he to know you’d welcome him back?” Cassie’s tone was deceptively idle. “Unless you wrote him, of course.”

“You know full well I didn’t write him,” Delia snapped.

For at least the last six weeks, Cassie had urged her sister on a daily basis to write to Tony, quite logically pointing out he would never know of the possibility of forgiveness if she did not inform him. Delia absolutely refused. It simply wasn’t in the spirit of making him grovel for her to approach him. Besides, he owed her abject apologies and he should make the first move. She was the one wronged in all of this. Still, if she had known it was going to take him so bloody long…

“What if he’s decided I’m simply not worth the trouble?”

Cassie rolled her gaze toward the ceiling.

“I know, I know, I’ve probably mentioned this before,” Delia said quickly. “But it preys on my mind. Even you have to admit everything about our entire relationship from the very beginning was rather unique and indeed could be called quite odd, and I fear that —”

“That’s quite enough,” Cassie said firmly.

Delia collapsed on the other settee. “What am I going to do now?”

“I wouldn’t hazard a guess. However” — Cassie flashed a knowing grin — “I’m fairly confident I know what he is planning to do.”

Delia sat up straight. “What?”

Cassie pulled a folded piece of paper from her reticule. “This” — she waved it temptingly before her sister — “is from St. Stephens.”

“For me? Why on earth would he send you a note for me?” Delia reached for it.

“Not so fast, dear sister.” Cassie jerked the note out of Delia’s way and smirked. “It’s not for you, it’

s for me.”

“Oh?” Delia raised a brow. “And were there roses accompanying it?”

“Not this time.” Cassie grinned and handed her the note. “You may read it, however.”

“How very gracious of you.” Delia skimmed the brief note. Her brows pulled together thoughtfully.

“He says he wants your counsel on the refurbishing of his town house and requests you call on him this afternoon.” She met her sister’s gaze. “Don’t you think this is rather odd?”

Cassie laughed. “My dear Delia, being in love and being without your husband has no doubt addled your mind.”

“No doubt.” Delia stared in confusion. “As I haven’t the vaguest idea what you mean.”

“Obviously the man is uncertain as to his reception from you and wishes to speak to me first to ascertain your feelings or possibly ask advice on how best to approach you.”

“Do you really think so?” The very idea was delightful. “But why you?” Delia studied her sister. “You’

ve barely met him. And I didn’t think you particularly liked him.”

“Who better than me? Leo, perhaps?” Cassie snorted with disdain. “Even a man who has completely lost his senses would be more astute than that. And it’s not that I didn’t like him. I scarcely know him; I was simply not overly fond of your involvement with him. However.” Cassie shrugged in surrender. “You love him, and everything he’s done indicates he loves you as well. Besides, I think it’s rather endearing that he hopes to find out from me how to get back into your good graces.”

“It is endearing, isn’t it?” Delia stared at his signature on the note, his hand firm and sure and strong. If she’d realized nothing else in these last two months without him, she’d realized how very much she missed him and how empty her life was without him.

“Is there anything in particular you wish me to tell him?”

“I’m not entirely sure I want you to tell him anything,” Delia said thoughtfully. “But there are any number of things I should like to know.”

“Very well. What should I ask him?”

“
You
, dear sister, shall not ask him anything.”

Cassie stared for a moment, then smiled. “I see.”

“I thought you would.” Delia’s smile mirrored her sister’s. “Tony used
Gordon
to find out how I felt about him. It’s only fair that I use the same ploy.”

Tony glanced at the overly ornate bronze-cased clock on the mantel for perhaps the fifteenth time in as many minutes. In the back of his mind, he noted once again how the clock and damn near everything else in this house was not to his liking. Of course, it would be very much to his liking once it had a blue bedroom to match the blue eyes of its mistress.

Once it had a mistress.

Miss Effington was the first step toward that and the only way he could think of to approach Delia. He wanted to simply pound on Delia’s door, but he had no idea if her attitude toward him had as yet softened. It had been two interminably endless months since he’d seen her, but if it took another two and another two after that and so on for the rest of his life, if necessary, he absolutely would not give up. Where was Miss Effington anyway? Would she honor his request with her appearance? And if she did, would her attitude be like her brothers‘?

Tony rubbed his jaw gingerly. Delia’s brothers knew nothing of what had passed between Tony and Delia. They only knew their sister was upset and evasive and her husband, for whatever reason, was not in evidence. Without revealing most of the circumstances surrounding Tony and Delia’s marriage, Tony managed to convince the men that his absence was not his choice but hers. Granted, the effort took persuasion both physical and verbal in nature, as well as the application of a great deal of liquor, but the end result was worth it. He now had the support, if somewhat begrudging, of Delia’s brothers. Still, that was not nearly as important as the backing of Delia’s sister. Delia’s twin sister. As if on cue, he heard her arrival in the hall. In spite of himself, his heart skipped a beat. Cassandra Effington even sounded like her sister.

A moment later, Mac stepped into the room. “Sir, Miss Effington is here Tony drew a deep breath.

”Excellent.“

When Tony had left the department, Mac had come with him. He said he’d been with Tony so long he wasn’t certain how to behave without him. Besides, he’d rather enjoyed helping Tony run Delia’s household and thought he’d try his hand at running things on his own, pointing out he could certainly manage to do no worse a job than Tony had. Neither was especially certain what Mac’s true position was: He was as much companion as servant. Indeed, both men thought of the Scot as essentially second in command in Tony’s household, on the estate and probably in his life as well.

“Sir…” Mac hesitated, a puzzled look on his face.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“I’m not quite sure.” Mac shook his head thoughtfully. “It’s probably simply nothing more than that it has been some time since I’ve seen Miss Effington. The resemblance to Lady St. Stephens is remarkable.”

“Yes, well, let’s hope both women have considerably softened their attitudes toward me. Show her in, Mac.”

Mac stepped out of the room and a moment later reappeared, holding the door open for Delia’s sister. Miss Effington swept into the parlor and his breath caught. He knew full well this wasn’t his wife, but the resemblance was indeed remarkable.

“Good day, my lord.” Her manner was brisk but not unpleasant.

“Miss Effington.” Tony nodded, not entirely sure how one greeted the sister of an estranged spouse.

“I am exceedingly grateful you could see your way clear to meet me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” A polite smile slightly lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Would you care for tea? I have an excellent cook.”

“Really? And does she also” — Miss Effington paused for emphasis — “kill husbands?”

Mac choked back a cough.