“Yes.” Delilah shrugged. “I prefer insensé, of course. She didn’t even use the French.”
A muscle ticked in Thomas’s jaw. “I’d say that’s the least offensive thing she did.”
Delilah studied her spoon, turning it over and over in the glass cup. “She’s been through a great deal. My father’s death was difficult on her.”
Thomas shook his head. “It was difficult on you too. You were a child, but she only seems to care about herself.” Thomas needed to change the subject. No good ever came of discussing Delilah’s mother. Delilah was loyal and loving, and kept trying to get her awful mother to show her some affection, however slight. Delilah might make light of her mother’s words, but he knew they affected her deeply.
Delilah flashed him a look of amusement. “Oh, Thomas, you’ve never liked her. Ever since she chastised you for throwing pebbles at my window when we were younger.”
It was true. He used to toss pebbles at Delilah’s window to get her attention. It was also true that Lady Vanessa had become incensed one night when she’d found him doing it, but that was not why he didn’t like the woman. He didn’t like the woman because she treated her wonderful daughter so poorly.
“Yes, well, I no longer toss pebbles at your window. Now, I simply pull my carriage to the door, but your mother remains not particularly motherly.” It was the kindest thing he could say about the woman.
“Perhaps.” Delilah took another bite of her ice. “But I’ve never been terribly daughterly either.”
Thomas furrowed his brow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Delilah shrugged. “I only mean that if I weren’t such a disappointment to her, I’m certain she’d be more agreeable to me.”
“I’m not certain about that at all.” Thomas glanced away. Delilah was smart and funny and beautiful and unique and a hundred other wonderful things. If her idiotic mother couldn’t see what a gem she had, she didn’t deserve her. But, Delilah’s intense loyalty was another thing he admired in her. Once she decided you were part of her inner circle, she would move heaven and earth for you if you needed her to. Her mother was no exception.
He stretched out his legs and laid an arm across the back of the bench. It was time to change the subject. “Do we have all the decorations for the play?”
“Nearly.” Her spoon arrested halfway to her lips, Delilah stopped and blinked. A sly smile crept onto her face. “Did I tell you Miss Adeline shall be in the play?”
Thomas’s smile faded. “No. You did not. May I resign my role in light of this news?”
Miss Adeline was Delilah’s parrot. She’d insisted on procuring a parrot when she learned that Cade Cavendish, her cousin Daphne’s brother-in-law, was a pirate. In truth, Cade was a privateer, but that version of events did not suit Delilah’s penchant for the dramatic. She insisted she was related to a pirate, and further insisted that the family must own a parrot as a result. The cursed thing lived at Daphne’s house, of course, because Lady Vanessa disliked animals. But Delilah had gamely offered to be the one to look after the bird. She’d had the thing for several months and had been calling it Miss Adeline before she discovered, to her chagrin, that it was in fact a male parrot. Delilah, never one to allow such mistakes to affect her greatly, decided it would be too confusing to the creature to change his name, and therefore insisted upon calling him Miss Adeline for the rest of his days. The parrot did not seem to mind.
Delilah rolled her eyes. “Must you fight with Miss Adeline?”
“I don’t fight with him,” Thomas replied. “He fights with me. Specifically by biting me every chance he gets. Plus, he has a ridiculous name.”
She shook her head. “First, he’s terribly jealous. And second, it’s impolite of you to mention his unfortunate name given the fact that you yourself have a ridiculous string of names.” She blinked at him innocently. “Thomas Marcus Devon Peabody Hobbs.”
“At least all of my names indicate the correct gender,” he said with a scowl.
Delilah stuck her nose in the air. “You’re far too judgmental.”
“Judgmental of a nuisance bird. What is he jealous of, at any rate?” Thomas leaned back and studied the leaves in the tree above them.
Delilah shrugged. “The time I spend with you, I suppose.”
“Which is ridiculous because I am a person and he is a parrot.”
“Don’t tell him that.” She took another bite of her ice.
Thomas rolled his head to the side and smiled at her. “You’re right. It may scar him to discover he’s a bird.”
Delilah waved her spoon in the air. “He knows he’s a bird, but he also knows he’s a special bird.”
“Yes, well, I for one cannot wait until that special bird bites the Duke of Branville.”
Delilah gasped. “How positively unsporting of you. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my chances with Branville. Now, I must worry about Miss Adeline biting him, a possibility I had not before considered.”
Thomas refused to be remorseful for his remark. “You know it’s bound to happen.”
Delilah plucked at her bottom lip. “I suppose you’re right. I must make preparations.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes as he studied her profile. “Do I even want to know what you’re scheming?”
Delilah shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”
He regarded her down the length of his nose. “So tell me. What is your plan to lure Branville?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Delilah primly pressed her lips together. “Don’t make it sound so suspect. It’s not as if I intend to trap him in a large box.”
Thomas propped an elbow on the table in front of them. “I wouldn’t put it past Lucy. You’d better check with her before you make that claim.”
Delilah laughed. “My plan is not complicated. I intend to attempt to be demure, ladylike, and charming. Isn’t that what you men like?”
Thomas scratched his chin. “I suppose some men like it. I’ve always preferred a woman who speaks her mind, enjoys herself, and is friendly for the sake of being friendly.”
Delilah offered him a fond smile. “I suppose that’s why you and I have always been friends, Thomas. You’re one of the few people who isn’t put off by my being unconventional. And you’re one of the few people who will make fun of the ridiculous strictures of the ton with me.”
She went to take another bite, missed, and the chocolate concoction dribbled down the front of her gown. She rolled her eyes skyward. “See? This is the exact sort of thing I mustn’t do in front of the Duke of Branville.”
Thomas handed her a napkin from the tabletop. “Branville’s never made a mistake before?”
She dabbed at the chocolate, which only served to smear it. “I highly doubt Lady Emmaline does things like drip chocolate ice on her gowns.”
“Well, perhaps she should.” Thomas rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. He would have liked nothing better than to come out and tell Delilah how he felt about her, how he’d always felt about her. But he’d known her long enough to understand that she became easily anxious over ideas that were not ostensibly her own. Besides, he had no way of surmising whether she returned his affections in the least. The fact that she’d set her very determined sights on the Duke of Branville meant she would have to give up that plan before she’d so much as entertain another.
Thomas’s plan at the moment consisted of hastening the end of her infatuation with Branville. It wouldn’t be easy, of course, because of her desire to please her mother. The entire situation was one that needed to be handled with extreme patience and care. Which was fine with him, because while Delilah may not have patience, as she often liked to point out, Thomas had patience in spades.
He cleared his throat. “You don’t actually plan to pretend you are conventional for the sake of attracting Branville, do you?”
She took the last bite of her ice and set the empty glass cup and spoon on the table in front of her. She tugged at the strings of
her bonnet. “I must make some effort to act like a future duchess should. I’m not about to bring him up to scratch by being loud and lacking decorum.”
Thomas eyed her carefully. “Do you truly want to marry him?”
She shrugged and glanced away. “I must marry someone, and marrying Branville will make Mother happy, at least.”
Thomas expelled his pent-up breath, but when he turned to Delilah, he forced himself to roll his eyes. Delilah would be terribly suspicious if he was anything other than his normal sarcastic, devil-may-care self. “Sounds terribly romantic.”
She plunked her hands on her hips. “You know these things aren’t always romantic, Thomas.”
“Really? Aren’t you the one who bragged about the love matches you made for your friends?”
“Yes, well, those ladies were quite fortunate. It doesn’t always happen that way.”
“Name one couple you know who wasn’t a love match,” Thomas prompted.
Delilah furrowed her brow. “Let’s see, there’s Lucy and Derek. Cass and Julian. Jane and Garrett.” She ticked off the couples on her fingers. “Cousin Daphne and Rafe. Alex and Owen. Christian and Sarah. Cade and Danielle. Meg and Hart.”
“All love matches, correct?” He grinned at her.
She frowned at him. “There has to be someone who married first and fell in love later.”
“I’m waiting.” He propped his chin on his elbow.
“How do I know I’m not in love with the Duke of Branville?” she finally answered primly.
He eyed her from the side. “You can’t be serious.”
Delilah shrugged. “He’s handsome, rich, and funny. I may well fall madly in love with him the moment I meet him.”
Thomas’s spine stiffened. “First, I do not believe he’s particularly funny. I don’t know who told you that. Second, I suppose there’s only one way to find out if you fall madly in love with him at first sight, isn’t there?” The thought made Thomas feel as if he’d been punched in the gut, but he said the words with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
“I suppose you’re right,” Delilah replied with a resolute nod.
He pushed his own empty glass cup farther onto the table. It was time to change the subject again, to one he must handle with extreme care. Thomas scratched his cheek. “I suppose I must marry someday as well.” He watched her from the corner of his eye.
Her eyes grew round as sovereigns. “You? Marry? I seem to recall that every time I’ve mentioned a potential match to you over the years, you’ve steadfastly declared yourself a bachelor and refused to even countenance the discussion. I believe you said something about giving up all the brandy in London. Or am I thinking of someone else?”
She had a point. Of course, he’d put off talk of his match over the years. He hadn’t wanted to discuss it until Delilah was ready to marry. Only he’d envisioned the whole thing happening in an entirely different manner. He assumed that one Season, she would announce her readiness to find a husband. Lucy would immediately realize that Delilah should marry Thomas. The duchess would set up an elaborate plot to push them together, all the while having no idea that Thomas was quite ready and willing to oblige. In the course of Lucy’s machinations, Delilah would come to realize how much she truly cared for Thomas, and how right they would be together as a married couple. He would choose a ring that sparkled nearly as much as she did, and he’d get down on one knee when the time was right, and that would be that.
It all made perfect sense. Only he hadn’t counted on Delilah picking out a different husband before she’d barely decided to make a match.
“I suppose that sounds like something I may have said,” he allowed, tipping his hat to the back of his head.
“All these years, whenever I’ve asked when you intend to take a bride and offered my services in matchmaking, you’ve refused.”
Thomas folded his arms over his chest. “Just because I haven’t been particularly eager to put the parson’s noose around my neck doesn’t mean I never plan to marry.”
“Yes, well. That day may come sooner than you think,” Delilah said, a sly grin on her pretty face.
Suspicion curled in his middle. “What do you mean?”
“Lucy has got the notion that you might be the best way to distract Lady Emmaline from the Duke of Branville.”
Thomas straightened his spine. “Pardon?”
Delilah shrugged. “She pointed out that you’re a rich, handsome duke too.”
He expelled his breath slowly and painfully. “How did I become involved in this madness?”
“By proximity, of course.” She giggled. “The same way anyone ever becomes involved in Lucy’s plots.”
Thomas wondered for the hundredth time if he should involve Lucy in his own plotting. It was tempting. The duchess would make a strong ally. On the other hand, Lucy was not known for her subtlety. Quite the opposite, actually. He could imagine her marching straight up to Delilah and pointedly asking her if she fancied Thomas. Then the entire plan would be ruined. Lucy Hunt had a long and storied history of making messes of people’s lives. True, things tended to work out for the best at the end of her plots, but the last thing Thomas wanted was for his courtship of Delilah to become a mess, even temporarily. It was too important to him.
No, wooing Delilah had to be done with subtlety and patience. Neither of which were qualities the Duchess of Claringdon possessed. Even if he had been tempted to ask for Lucy’s help, Delilah’s claim that Lucy wanted to use him to distract Lady Emmaline from Branville had made the final decision for him. Once Lucy got an elaborate scheme in her head, there was no stopping her. He’d do much better to wait and allow their machinations to play out before he made his move. It was all right. He had time. Delilah hadn’t even met Branville yet.
“Yes, well, I’m not convinced you should secure a match with the Duke of Branville,” Thomas said, putting a snobbish, drawn-out emphasis on the man’s title. He didn’t necessarily mean to outwardly disapprove of the man, but he also had no intention of encouraging the match.
Delilah pushed a curl behind her ear. “Why don’t you approve of him?”
Thomas crossed his arms over his chest again, a thunderous scowl on his face. “I never said I don’t approve of him.”
A seemingly helpless smile tugged at Delilah’s pink lips before she pursed them solemnly. “Then why do you say his name in that painful way of yours?”
Thomas clenched his jaw and looked away. “Because dukes are snobs by nature. You’ll be a snob if you marry Branville.”
She laughed. “Need I point out that you’re a duke?”
“Yes, but I’m not a snobby one. Quite rare, if you ask me.”
“Derek is a duke and he’s not a snob.”
“As you’ve already said, Derek is a duke because he was a war hero. He wasn’t raised in luxury.”
A breeze blew a curl across Delilah’s cheek, and she turned her head so it would fly away. “You’re ridiculous. Dukes are not snobs, and Branville is a perfectly nice man. I’ve heard as much from several people. I’m not such a ninny that I would seek to engage myself to an awful person merely to please my mother.”
“I’m glad to hear that, at least.” And that was what frightened him. What if Delilah got to know the Duke of Branville and did fall in love with him? What would Thomas do then?
Delilah twirled her bonnet ribbon and nonchalantly added, “All I must do is find out if the Duke of Branville meets the criteria on my list.”
Thomas’s arms dropped away from his chest, and he stared at her aghast. “What list?”
Delilah left off plucking at her sleeve, met his eyes, and winced. “I got the idea from your sister, actually. Alex told me that Owen met every criterion on her list.”
Thomas arched a brow. Oh, this was simply rich. His brows shot up, and he leaned forward over the table, his chin propped on one fist. “Dare I ask what’s on your list?”
She trailed her pink reticule around the tabletop with one
finger. She shot a glance at him. “Now that you mention it, it might help you to know. You may make yourself more pleasing to your future bride.”
He almost laughed aloud. “Now I must hear it. Where is this list?”
Delilah eyed him carefully. Then she drew her reticule into her lap, opened it, and pulled out a small sheet of paper that had been folded many times over. She carefully unfolded the paper and spread it on the table in front of her.
“Ahem.” She cleared her throat. “Before I read it, you must promise not to make fun of it.”
Thomas slowly shook his head with a smile on his face. “I can promise no such thing.”
Delilah arched a brow at him. “Fine. But don’t be mean.”
He lifted his palms in a gesture of innocence. “I’m never mean. Sarcastic, perhaps, but not mean.”
Shooting him a warning look, she lifted her chin and adjusted the paper just so for recitation. “Delilah Montebank’s Future Husband Qualities List,” she announced. “One must always title things properly.”
He inclined his head. “Of course.”
She lifted her chin higher. “Number one. Eligible.”
“Obviously.”
“Number two. Kind.”
“Important,” Thomas agreed.
“Number three. Intelligent.”
“One would hope.”
“Number four. Funny.”
“I already told you he’s not funny.”
“Shut up.” She paused. “Number five. Healthy.”
Thomas frowned. “How on earth would you know for certain?”
Delilah lifted one shoulder. “I suppose I can request a doctor’s report.”
“This is ridiculous, you know? But go on.” He nodded.
“Number six. Forgiving.” She paused again and arched a brow over the top edge of the paper. “One must be forgiving if one is going to spend one’s life with me. I often do things such as break expensive crystal bowls.”
Thomas scowled. “No doubt Branville can afford a new bowl or two.”
“Number seven.” Her face turned an adorable shade of pink. “Ahem. Handsome and kissable.”
No Other Duke But You--A Playful Brides Novel Page 5
