The School of Charm: Books 1-5

by Maggie Dallen

  “Very well. If you wish it,” the baroness said.

  “I do.” Delilah followed her stepmother to the waiting carriage and they made their way together to Everley’s townhouse in Mayfair.

  The air smelled of rotting flowers as the unseasonable heat crept over the city, and Delilah did her best not to take it as a sign that the world seemed to have been burning with the flames of hell from the moment she’d agreed to marry the devil.

  Lord Everley.

  She pressed her lips together in annoyance at her own imagination. She was here to prove that Louisa, Addie, and most definitely that stranger had gotten it all wrong. Surely her fiancé wasn’t so bad as he was made out to be.

  Right?

  The nagging worry would be allayed as well once she’d cleared her mind of their dramatic notions.

  Everley greeted them warmly and some of her apprehensions faded even further at the attention he paid to her and her stepmother. His manners were impeccable.

  Smugglers surely did not have impeccable manners. Murderers, perhaps, but not common criminals.

  She smiled beatifically over tea, she answered his enquiries as to her health and her experience at the engagement ball with pleasure. See? This was a man she ought to be proud to marry. This was the man her father had chosen for her—from his sickbed, of course, but she was certain he’d done his due diligence.

  He would hardly hand her over to a murderer.

  She sipped her tea and worked herself into a righteous anger over the matter. Her husband-to-be was being unfairly persecuted and it was up to her to make this right.

  She imagined the look on that brute Mr. Calloway’s face when she slapped him across the face with her evidence. Or her lack of evidence.

  Either way, she would show him who needed saving. And it wasn’t her.

  Delilah Clemmons needed no help from anyone. Even less so once she was secure in a marriage to a man as wealthy as a king. Then she’d have power. She’d like to see Mr. Calloway try to talk to tell her she was a helpless princess then. Hmmph.

  “Delilah?” Her stepmother eyed her oddly and Delilah realized she hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Yes? What? Er…Pardon me.” She set her teacup down.

  Her stepmother’s smile was placid. Cool. Her father had married the epitome of grace and beauty in the hopes that she would be a good role model for Delilah. Growing up she’d often wished her father had focused more on finding her a mother figure rather than a role model, but perhaps the two were one in the same in some cases.

  Not in theirs.

  Though at this precise moment, her stepmother was doing an excellent job of feigning motherly concern. “Would you like to rest a bit, dear?” She glanced over at Lord Everley who wore matching look of beneficence. “Lord Everley and I can certainly handle matters from here.”

  Delilah wanted to protest. This was her wedding, her honeymoon…her future they were discussing. If anyone should take part in these conversations it was she.

  And since when had these two become such close friends?

  But all that was beside the point because this served her purposes quite nicely. Her stepmother had neatly handed her the excuse she needed. “Do you know, this weather does have me feeling a bit piqued,” she said with a flutter of her lashes. “If you both wouldn’t mind…”

  “Of course not!” Everley was beckoning to a servant to attend to her. “We must keep you in good health for the big day, mustn’t we?”

  She returned his smile evenly, trying not to note the excessively paternal note in his voice. It was nice that he was looking after her welfare.

  It was hardly necessary, of course, but perhaps he was used to dealing with women of less solid constitutions.

  “Henderson will take you to the sun room. You shall be quite comfortable there,” he said. Turning to the servant, he added, “Be sure to send her tea.”

  Delilah bit her lip to keep from telling them both that she didn’t wish to drink tea. The last thing she wanted was for servants to come and check on her and find her gone.

  Something about the look in Everley’s eyes stopped her from protesting. It was good manners to accept, anyhow. But the moment she and Henderson were out of view and earshot, she turned to the older man. “I do not require any more tea at the moment. But I will let you know when I do.”

  “Very good, miss.”

  And so she found herself in the sun room, which was indeed quite comfortable, and more importantly she found herself alone. Blissfully alone. She took a moment to enjoy the silence, the lack of pretense—and then she made her move.

  She crept quickly and quietly through the hallways. She’d done her fair share of exploring the main areas of the first floor on the night of the ball and tonight she navigated them smoothly. She had a lie prepared in the event that she ran into someone, but the lie was unnecessary. Aside from some voices coming from the top of a staircase as she passed, the home was utterly silent.

  Perhaps too silent. The ticking of the clock when she reached Everley’s office was ominous in the otherwise silent room. The door had been closed but not locked, like it had been the other night.

  She’d used extra hair pins in the event that she might need them, but again…her preparations proved unnecessary. The door swung open quietly and she found herself back in the room that had been haunting her dreams and her memories for the last two days.

  In the cold light of day, the room looked far more inviting, and without Mr. Calloway …

  Well, without him the room felt bigger, at least…and far less exciting.

  Not that he was exciting. Odds were he was just a lowly bow street runner hired to investigate Everley. Maybe he’d even been hired by Tolston himself. She scowled at the desk as she crossed to it. She’d continued to avoid the school, just as she had for weeks, but now it occurred to her that Addie might have had information on that infernal man who’d held her hostage.

  Not that it mattered.

  He didn’t matter.

  She looked around the spacious, bizarrely empty space with a feeling of…well, emptiness. It had seemed so different last time she was here and she supposed she’d been looking forward to this moment because she’d thought she’d recapture that sensation.

  The exhilaration. The thrill. The novelty of rising to a challenge, of taking her life in her own hands…

  She sighed as she shoved the disappointment aside and focused on the task before her. His desk. There was no better place to start, was there?

  A little while later, after carefully rifling through drawers and flipping through his diary, she had to admit that this plan was better in theory than in practicality.

  For one thing, she had no idea what she was looking for. If anything, she ought to hope to find nothing, for if he were innocent there would be no incriminating evidence to be found, now would there?

  The whole endeavor was starting to feel pointless, really. Maybe even silly. When no red flags reared up—and really, what had she expected to find? A confession of murder? A pirate’s flag with Everley’s name stamped upon it?

  “So daft, Delilah,” she sighed in irritation as she shut the last drawer, made a point of ensuring everything looked untouched and then headed toward the hallway.

  The door had no sooner clicked shut behind her when Everley and her stepmother came around the corner. They stopped at the sight of her there. Her stepmother did not seem surprised to see her, but then again…her stepmother likely did not know where the sun room was.

  Or that Delilah was supposed to be in it.

  She met Lord Everley’s gaze and it was there and gone in a heartbeat, but she’d seen it. Not anger.

  That would imply heat. No, this was something cold as ice.

  It was hatred.

  Cruelty.

  It was…evil.

  He covered it quickly, but it left her frozen in place, her mouth dry and her limbs trembling from that brief glance. When his eyes moved away from her, she nea
rly slumped over in relief, but his gaze merely moved to his office door and then back to her.

  He knows.

  He knew exactly what she’d been up to. Her mind teemed with too many thoughts to make any sense at all as her tongue seemed to swell to double its size.

  She had no excuse. What was her excuse?

  “The library!” The words tumbled out of her too quickly, and far too loud for the narrow chamber. “I was looking for the library.”

  Her stepmother’s brows hitched up in surprise but Everley was once more the picture of hospitality.

  “An avid reader, are you?” he said.

  “Umm, yes. That’s right.” She licked her lips. She was lying and they both knew it. She felt ridiculous continuing. But she’d come this far, so she forced herself to add, “I thought it might help me take my mind off the wedding details.”

  “Ah, I see.” His brows drew together and he feigned concern so well, she nearly believed it. “Is the impending wedding causing you distress?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “It is just…a lot to consider.”

  He eyed her as though he expected her to continue.

  When she did not, he gestured behind him. “You must have gotten turned around then. The library is in the opposite direction.”

  “Oh! How silly of me.” She gave her head a little shake. “It must be this heat.”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice dry and flat. “You do seem under the weather today. Perhaps we ought to send you home.”

  “That is probably for the best,” her stepmother chimed in. “You can take our carriage home, dear. I will send for a hired hack when we are through here.”

  Alarm shot through Delilah, along with relief. She wanted to be gone, but being dismissed so summarily made her uneasy. Any sense of control she’d been feeling since she’d decided to investigate her own fiancé had withered and died.

  Truthfully, it had fled the moment she’d stepped foot in Everley’s study and realized…she was alone.

  And she had no idea what she was doing.

  But here, now, with her mouth gaping as she searched for an excuse to stay. To make this right…

  She might as well have been a small child being sent off to bed without supper.

  “Nonsense,” Everley said with a sickening smile in her stepmother’s direction. “I shall have my carriage take you home when you are ready.”

  She dipped her head in humble thanks, and Delilah had the urge to snap at her. Charlatan. Her stepmother had always been the best actress she knew, but she rarely saw it on such flagrant display.

  At Miss Grayson’s school, Delilah was known for the sting of her tongue, for her sharp retorts and withering comebacks. And yet here, now, in the stifling presence of her stepmother and fiancé, all she could manage was a meek nod of assent as she turned toward the sun room and the library.

  “Miss Clemmons.” Everley had been calling her Delilah earlier today. She gulped at the change and froze with her back to her future husband. “Do stay in the library until the carriage is brought around, won’t you? We wouldn’t want you to get lost again.”

  She nodded quickly, already scurrying away.

  Chapter Seven

  Rupert tensed in the spot where he hid. She’d been in there forever. What on earth were they doing all day?

  Standing guard was never his favorite task when investigating. The long hours of waiting for action, of keeping vigilant watch while hours ticked by…

  It was tedious, at best.

  But today was worse than most.

  She was in there.

  His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically as he fought for calm. It was impossible that Delilah could look any more beautiful in the daylight than she had in the moonlight or the candlelight.

  But she had.

  Somehow that was infuriating. It wasn’t fair that she be quite so beautiful on top of being a spitfire with courage and wit.

  It was not fair that Everley had met her first, and it certainly was not right that she was to be his.

  He’d already had enough reason to want Everley out of the picture, but now, with Delilah’s future on the line, his plans had grown far more urgent. He could no longer dig into Everley’s life from the sidelines.

  It was time to face him head on.

  When the door to the townhouse opened, he tensed again, ready to lunge into action to follow the girl.

  It was a footman, carrying a message, no doubt. Rupert watched him go, and a part of him wished he could follow. If he’d had an accomplice here today he would have sent them off to do just that. But he couldn’t be in two places at once, and his priority had to be Delilah. He had to make sure she left here unharmed and that she got home safe. His chest tightened and a feeling he wasn’t quite familiar with crept over him.

  Was this…fear?

  He’d thought he was immune to such things. After spending years courting danger, it took a great deal to rattle his nerves.

  But perhaps that was because it had always been his own life in danger. He’d never had an innocent to worry over.

  And entitled brat or not, Delilah was an innocent. She was feisty and smart and unbearably haughty…but she was still an innocent.

  And she was his to protect.

  Her being involved added a new level of complications to his plans. Now it was no longer so clean cut. He couldn’t just take Everley down, he had to ensure she didn’t get harmed in the process.

  And he would take Everley down. It was just a matter of time.

  His informant at the docks seemed to think a shipment would be coming soon. Unfortunately his informant wasn’t close enough to Everley’s men to know any of the details.

  Little things like which day and what time.

  Frustration had him growling as he moved his neck to ease some of the tension building there.

  All afternoon she’d been in there, and now the sun was starting to set. Twilight was setting in and the gray overcast day made it feel later than it was.

  And then…sunshine appeared.

  He scoffed at his own stupidity as soon as the thought occurred, but there she was. Delilah, looking like a ray of sunshine on this cloudy day as she finally appeared on the steps of the townhouse.

  Everley and her stepmother were beside her as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of them.

  He watched Delilah climb in and waited for her stepmother to follow, but the perfectly put together blonde took a step back instead as the carriage door was shut.

  Delilah was alone.

  He eyed the carriage’s departure and Everley’s retreat into his home. Rupert did not even have to stop to decide where his loyalties lie. The moment the door shut behind the stepmother, he was on his horse and following the carriage.

  He had an idea where Delilah’s family lived, and so it was with no small amount of alarm that he watched the carriage take a wrong turn. And then another.

  They were heading through a neighborhood where a lady like Delilah should never visit, even if she were not alone and unprotected. Ice ran through his veins as he watched the inevitable, as though he’d read the novel and knew each player’s move before it occurred.

  Sure enough, the carriage came to a stop just as a group of rogues stepped out of the shadows.

  One of them threw open the door, but he did not hear Delilah scream.

  But then, she wouldn’t give the knaves that satisfaction.

  The driver was long gone by the time Rupert was on top of them, off his horse and throwing punches, his elbow colliding with a jaw before spinning to tear the rogue in the carriage door out of the way.

  Delilah cowered in the corner, her face pale as she scrambled back as far as she could go when he entered.

  “Get out of here you—you—” Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Hello, love,” he said, managing a grin to put her at ease as he reached for her hand. “I’m afraid I’ll need you to come with me.”

&nb
sp; She blinked once and then she moved into action, following his lead and not even feigning dismay when he tossed her unceremoniously atop his horse.

  The vagabonds had scattered.

  They likely weren’t getting paid enough to take a beating. Just to harm an innocent.

  Rage had always helped him focus, and right now his whole world came down to one thing. One person.

  Delilah.

  He had to keep her safe.

  Leaping up so he was seated behind her, he urged the horse into action, leaving the carriage where it was in the midst of a bad neighborhood, as onlookers peered out of dingy windows at the commotion.

  Neither of them spoke as he rode back toward his home. He helped her down, handing the horse over to a groomsman as he led her inside.

  She was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  He watched her carefully as he instructed a servant to bring refreshments to the parlor, the only room that was lit since he hadn’t been expecting guests.

  It wasn’t until the door to the parlor shut behind them that she seemed to come to life.

  “Where have you brought me?” Her voice was too high and far sharper than he’d expected.

  “To my home.”

  She huffed. “This is entirely improper.”

  He stared at her in surprise…and possibly some amusement, though he didn’t wish to admit it. He really should not be laughing at a helpless victim.

  And if she were to ever act helpless, he would certainly not be fighting laughter. “Would you have preferred that I wait for a chaperone before rescuing you?” he asked mildly.

  She blinked and turned to stare at a portrait on the wall. “You live here?”

  He looked around as if he might find a friend with whom he could commiserate. He’d brought a lunatic home with him. He’d just saved her life, and somehow this girl seemed put out about it.

  “I do,” he said, falling into a seat by the dormant fireplace.

  She studied the room with pursed lips, and some of his irritation with her behavior fled when he noticed how pale she looked.

  “It’s surprisingly…nice.”