Her future rested in his hands now.
She sucked in a deep breath of warm, scented air as she tried to steady herself. Her chin tilted up higher, her shoulders straightened.
A secret she’d learned a long time ago…the lower you feel, the higher you hold yourself. It worked like a charm. Pride and confidence did more to earn respect—and yes, sometimes fear—than all the smiles and simpering in the world.
So now she called upon that lesson as she headed toward the French doors leading outside.
Peering gazes followed her as she walked. Of course they were interested. She was the belle of the ball…for today, at least. This was her party and she ought to enjoy it. After all, she’d never had a proper coming out. She’d never had the sort of season other debutantes enjoyed, with charming men and endless dancing…
She’d be going from the schoolroom to her marriage bed so quickly her head was still spinning.
She stood still and shut her eyes. Marriage bed. She should not have gone there, not even in her mind.
One thing at a time. That was how she would adjust to her new life.
For now, she merely had to find air. Space. A brief respite from the crush of the crowd.
She’d also prefer to do so without running into her friends from Miss Grayson’s. She was still annoyed that her stepmother and Everley had planned the guest list without her.
But then again, she had little to do with this engagement or the wedding, so why start participating now?
Her stepmother was here somewhere, but Delilah was doing her best to avoid her as well. It was surprisingly easy to avoid running into Prudence, Addie, and Louisa when there were so many people trying to get close to her.
She’d pretended not to notice as they took turns frantically waving her down.
She knew what they wanted. They wanted to save her.
Silly girls.
As if she needed saving.
She sniffed at the thought. Hardly.
And besides, Everley certainly wasn’t all that bad. He might have had his faults but it wasn’t as though he’d been abusing her these past weeks. Just ignoring her. But that was hardly a crime, now was it?
Besides, every time she’d spotted him this evening, he’d worn a congenial smile. He hadn’t spoken to her, but he’d smiled. She reached the edge of a crowd with a sigh. A smile had to count for something.
The doors were within reach when she spotted familiar red hair.
Drat.
Louisa was heading toward the doors as well, her betrothed hovering beside her as she laughed at something he’d said.
If Louisa managed to get her alone outside, there would be no shaking her. The girl was tenacious—and melodramatic, to boot. Delilah’s insides fluttered wildly in panic at the sight of her.
So silly. No one ought to fear Louisa, for heaven’s sake. The girl was wild, unpredictable, dramatic, and loud, but she wasn’t—
Delilah turned toward the nearest hallway as her mind worked to finish that sentence.
Never mind. Perhaps one ought to fear Louisa for every reason she’d just listed.
After all, if there was one person to be counted on to cause a scene—intentionally or not—it was Louisa.
And all Delilah wanted right now was to get through this engagement and her wedding with her pride intact and her head held high.
The hallway she found herself in was dark. Private quarters, no doubt. She paused for a moment, eyeing the shadows before her. She ought to turn back. She ought to rejoin the party.
And yet…
The shadows seemed to call to her. A quiet, dark, safe mirage. Surely it couldn’t hurt to escape…just for a moment.
She took a step forward, fear making her pause as a voice spoke behind her. But it was a stranger addressing another stranger. And still, her heart picked up its pace. She shouldn’t be entering Everley’s private quarters—
But then again, why shouldn’t she? This would be her home, too, would it not?
Sooner rather than later.
The thought had her moving into action before she could think it through. Her breathing was coming in gasps now. If only she could slip away long enough to untie her stays. She needed to breathe. She needed—
Thwack!
She’d been rushing so quickly down the darkened hallway she ran headlong into a stranger. A gentleman whose features she couldn’t make out and who seemed to be a hunchback or a monster or—
“Ee—” Her strangled screech was cut short by a hand over her mouth. Large, warm, and calloused, it clapped over her mouth so hard her eyes bugged out. And then the form grew.
The shadowy figure grew, and grew, unfolding into a man.
A large man.
A giant.
She realized now that he hadn’t been a hunchback. He’d been bending over the doorknob of the doorway to her left. She could just make out pins sticking out of the lock before the stranger used his free hand to open the door with a snick.
She wanted to scream.
Fear had her immobile.
And then she was moving, but not of her own free will. With a rough grip, the burglar grabbed her by the arms and shoved her into the room.
She was drowning in the darkness. Her earlier feeling of breathlessness growing a millionfold as fear gripped her chest and made her heart pound against her ribcage.
His hand dropped but his low voice was dangerously close to her ear. “Do not scream.”
A scream died in her throat.
Not because he told her not to scream. She was just too scared to work her throat properly, that was all.
It wasn’t until he took a step back away from her that she remembered how to breathe. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was quiet but cold as ice and she was pleased to hear it did not shake.
The man muttered something she could not hear.
“I will give you to the count of three to leave this room, and if you do not, I shall call for help.”
The man was moving away from her.
Excellent. She felt a surge of satisfaction just as a match was struck and the dark room gave way to the glow of candlelight.
The gentleman held the candle in one hand as he approached her slowly.
She shuffled back a step. He wasn’t running away.
Why was he not running?
Hadn’t he understood?
“If my fiancé finds you here—”
“You’ll be ruined,” he finished.
She gasped in shock. “How dare you—”
“A young lady alone in a room with a stranger?” His low voice held a note of amusement that had her hands clenching at her sides. He sounded so casual, talking about her potential ruin as though they were discussing the weather.
And as though this was her fault, no less.
“I merely went off in search of a respite,” she said. Some of her normal composure was returning rapidly in the face of this stranger’s audacity. “You were the one sneaking around in the darkened hallways of…of my fiancé’s home.”
The word felt awkward on her tongue, like she’d taken too big of a spoonful of porridge.
His expression was impossible to read in the dim lighting, but she was nearly certain she’d felt him still at that word.
Her chin went up. The power had once again shifted back to her, and they both knew it.
“Fiancé,” he murmured. “So then you are…”
“Miss Delilah Clemmons,” she finished primly.
“Ah.”
She blinked, her eyes narrowing as though that might help her see past the candle’s glow to the shadowy figure behind it. His ‘ah’ said nothing…and everything. It was entirely too knowing for her liking. What does that mean? She itched to ask. But admitting to her curiosity would be handing over what little control she had, and that was unthinkable.
Her hands clasped neatly before her, she took a step toward the door. “Yes, well, now that we understand one another,” she started, p
ointedly ignoring the sound of her pounding heart.
“Do not leave just yet, Miss Clemmons.” His voice was low, soft…dangerous.
She should have been afraid. Distantly she was aware of this. And perhaps she was—just a bit—but more than that she was…
Well, she could not say what emotion had her pulse pounding and her breath finally coming in large gulps as though she’d finally found the oxygen in this house.
Perhaps she was…exhilarated.
She pursed her lips. Well, that would not do. She should definitely not be excited by this. “Is that an order?” she said. With a sniff she turned toward the door and reached for the handle. “I do not know who you think you are, sir, but—”
He moved so quickly she found herself blinking in surprise as the door clicked shut just as she’d opened it.
And now he was next to her. So close she could smell his scent—a mix of leather and cologne, and perhaps some sort of spirit. She could see his attire, too. Barely, but enough to make out the fine clothing of a gentleman. Despite the hulking width of his shoulders and his towering frame, he was a gentleman.
A guest.
A guest in her fiancé’s home. Soon to be her home.
She swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth. One day soon she’d come to grips with her new reality. “If I scream, it will be your word against mine,” she said, once again delighted by how even her voice was.
No one would guess that her heart was fluttering in her chest like a butterfly.
Again—not out of fear. Which made some distant part of her brain wonder about her sanity. Being locked in a room with a giant stranger with a low growl for a voice…
She really ought to be afraid.
Funny, how knowing that did nothing to help this growing sense of…excitement.
Yes, there was no denying it now. She had the same surge of energy she used to get as a child before racing her mare across the meadows on the far edge of their country estate.
“Do not scream,” he said softly.
She peered up at the man, wishing she could see his eyes, but only catching glimpses of a nose, a jawline, a twist of his lips as his face flickered in and out of shadows. “I do wish you’d stop telling me what to do, Mister…” She trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the silence.
He did not.
His voice had that irritating note of amusement again when he next spoke. “And I wish you’d stop behaving like a bloody princess and listen to what I have to say.”
Her lips parted on a gasp at his language. “I will not—”
“Just listen,” he said, and this time it was his exasperation that got through to her.
After all, murders and thieves weren’t exasperated, now were they? He could have gone into a rage, but all she’d gotten was a huff of irritation because she wasn’t fainting with fear.
And she never would, she decided as she crossed her arms and stared him down.
At least, she hoped she was staring him down. She aimed her gaze in the general direction of his eyes, anyway.
“I am here to protect you,” he said.
The words filled the air and hit her ears, but it took a heartbeat for them to register. When they did, she burst out in a laugh that startled her nearly as much as him. “Protect me?” she echoed, an alarming note of hysteria lacing her words. “From what? An intruder? A stranger in a dark room, perhaps?”
She heard his exhale again as she moved toward the door. Other than shoving her into the room, this man hadn’t touched her and she’d let that fact make her feel safe.
Safer than it ought.
One of his arms came around her waist and pulled her back away from the door like she weighed nothing.
Then, only then, did she finally think about screaming. In earnest, not just threatening to do it. The hand with the candle hovered before her, temporarily blinding her. She could feel his chest against her back, his breath against her temple as he muttered a curse she’d never heard before.
She should scream. She really ought to scream. “Just what do you think you are doing?”
It was not a scream. It wasn’t even as indignant as it ought to have been. It sounded like a prim and proper debutante asking about the weather.
She licked her lips and tried again. “Unhand me at once.”
There. Now she’d sounded like the princess he’d accused her of being before.
His husky chuckle sent a thrill down her spine. No, not a thrill. A chill. A chill of horror, obviously. There was no other explanation for it.
The silence that followed was amplified by the thudding of her heart. All she could hear was his breath, her heart, and very distantly—as though from another lifetime—the sound of music and laughter as the guests celebrated her engagement.
To a man she’d met once.
And she didn’t quite remember it, to be honest.
“There are things you need to know about the man you mean to marry,” he said.
“Oh yes?” It came out as a breath. How could she breathe properly when this strange man still had an arm wrapped firmly about her waist? “And what is that?”
“He is not what he seems,” the man murmured.
Lord Evil. The nickname rang in her ears and she scowled. Silly Louisa. It was her fault she harbored even the tiniest of doubts about his character. He’d never done anything really wrong, of that she was certain. For if he had he would not be celebrated by all the ton at this particular moment, now would he? The thought heartened her.
“You do not know him,” he said. “Lord Everley is—”
“Pardon me, but this is the man I am to marry.” Her tone conveyed nothing but disdain. “There is nothing you can say that will make a difference to me,” she said, her nose tilting upward as it was wont to do when she was lying.
He likely did know things about her betrothed. A good many things. Things she might not wish to hear…
But what good would that do her? Everley was the man she was to marry. Hearing rumors about his foul deeds wouldn’t change that. This was precisely why she’d been avoiding Louisa and Addie.
Prudence too, but mostly because Pru would ask her questions she did not wish to answer.
But the other two—they would wish to tell her things. False things. Hypothetical things.
She tugged against the arm that held her, but she might as well have been battling a stone wall. She grunted in irritation as her brief struggle only succeeded in making his grip tighten to the point that she could not easily breathe.
She’d been struggling to breathe all night, but this had less to do with crippling fear and tight stays, and everything to do with the forearm that was now lodged firmly beneath her ribs. “I need air,” she said.
Instantly his grip loosened, and if she’d been quicker—if she’d been afraid the way she ought to be—she would have used that opportunity to fight her way out of his embrace.
As it was, she found herself resting against his chest as she took a deep, calming breath.
His chest was so broad, so firm, so secure, so…sculpted—she might have been resting on her own personal throne.
“Better?”
She could feel his chest vibrate against her with that word.
She nodded.
She was better, oddly enough. While reason dictated that she should be afraid for her very life, she found that she was rather content just now. His embrace was warm and strong and…comforting.
It was also highly improper.
“Do you know, if anyone were to walk in and find us like this, you’ll be in just as much trouble as me,” she mused.
His laugh was quiet and…nice. “I had considered that, yes.”
Chapter Four
Rupert hadn’t just considered this fact. It had been on his mind from the moment he’d dragged her unceremoniously into this room.
If he got caught in Everley’s office, it would mean trouble. But if he got caught with Everley’s bride-to-be…?
What am I doing? The question echoed in his mind like a gong.
What on earth was he doing?
His mission tonight had been simple. Slip inside this opulent ball and search Everley’s office. Everley was too smart to leave incriminating evidence lying about, but he might have found some clue, something to point him in the right direction. A sliver of a clue that might help him pick up his old investigation, which had grown cold and fruitless years ago.
But things were different now.
Everley had grown comfortable. He’d even gone and gotten himself engaged, for heaven’s sake. Surely that was a sign that Everley’s heightened state of paranoia and careful precision were faltering. After all, he was letting this little minx into his life.
Into his house…
The little minx in question shifted against him. “You must surely understand that it would be best for both of us if you let me go at once.”
He stared down at the top of her head. From this point of view, all he could make out was dark curls and the pale glow of a high cheekbone but he’d seen enough earlier in the glow of the candlelight.
The girl was a beauty. A diamond of the first water. She could have had her pick of husbands, so how had she ended up with a cruel soul like Everley?
The answer was obvious, of course. Her father had arranged it. Either the old curmudgeon didn’t know the extent of Everley’s cruel nature or he didn’t care. Knowing the two gentlemen involved, he knew without a doubt that this was a business arrangement. Somehow they were both profiting from the merger.
But how?
And at whose expense?
He dipped his head slightly and caught another tantalizing whiff of the scent that had been driving him crazy from the moment he’d first held her close. She smelled of citrus and honey, with a hint of vanilla. A heady blend of sweet and tart that seemed to have entered his system and demand that he take more.
A man could grow addicted to this scent…to the feel of her in his arms…
Oh yes, Everley had found himself a most enticing bride. She would be the perfect addition to this world he was building for himself. The pretty princess on his arm. The smiling, perfect little doll to be pulled out for societal functions and placed back on her shelf when no longer needed.
The School of Charm: Books 1-5 Page 30
