No Other Duke But You--A Playful Brides Novel

by Valerie Bowman

“I, er,…” Delilah rushed the bird back to his perch so fast, feathers went flying in every direction. She all but dumped the bird, then hurried back to Branville with the robe. She’d extended her arm to give him the robe when she tripped over one of the boxes of decorations and flew straight into Branville’s arms. The duke caught her, but apparently her hand had become entangled in his waistcoat. As she pulled away, she ripped his shirtfront straight down the middle.

  The shirtfront flapped open, and Branville’s chest was partially bared to all present. Poor Delilah’s face was nearly purple. She pulled away from Branville and stood gaping at him as if she’d shot him.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said, pushing the robe toward him so he could cover himself.

  “I daresay this is a first,” he said with a laugh, but his cheeks were decidedly red.

  Lucy lunged forward. “My apologies, Your Grace. If you’d like to repair to the salon, one of the servants can bring you one of Derek’s shirts to change into.” She stepped in front of her guest to shield him from prying eyes while he pressed the robe to his chest.

  “Yes, um, perhaps that would be best,” the duke said. “Excuse me, won’t you?” he added to the rest of the party before hurrying out of the room on Lucy’s heels.

  * * *

  Delilah slunk over to the corner, pressed her back to the wall, and slid down to sit on the floor. What had she done? Her mother was always telling her what a clumsy oaf she was, but usually she injured herself or inanimate objects. She’d never tripped and ripped a duke’s shirt half off before. And not just any duke, but the duke she was trying desperately to impress.

  She briefly considered going to the salon to find him and apologize again, but quickly thought better of it. No doubt she’d only embarrass the man further by walking in on him while he was changing his clothing.

  Instead, she concentrated on planning what she should say to him when next she saw him. You look better with a full shirt. No, that would only call attention to it.

  I should have ripped off the entire thing. No. Too bold. Although from the slight glimpse she’d got, the man did have a fine physique. And wasn’t Lucy always telling her to be bold?

  I’d wager you’ve never had your shirt ripped off before. Too obvious.

  Perhaps it would be best if she simply acted as if it had never happened. She’d begged his pardon, what more could she say?

  A shadow fell across her, and she looked up to see Thomas standing over her, his face inscrutable. Normally Thomas would give her a ribbing for such a performance, but he squatted down and chucked her under the chin. “You’re being hard on yourself, aren’t you?”

  Thomas always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. “Yes,” she admitted in a small voice that she hated.

  “You shouldn’t, you know,” he replied.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she mumbled.

  “Because it won’t change what happened.”

  She leaned her head back against the wall and blinked at him. “I suppose you have a point.”

  Thomas turned and lowered himself to sit next to her with his back against the wall too. “If it makes you feel any better, I can rip my shirt half off too and pretend it’s the new rage.”

  Delilah had to smile at that. Then she let her head drop. “I made a complete fool of myself in front of Branville.”

  Thomas pushed his shoulder against hers. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  He shrugged. “So what if you did?”

  “So what? I’m trying to impress him.”

  Thomas pulled up his knees and propped his wrists atop them. “He should be trying to impress you.”

  A half-smile popped to Delilah’s lips. “You’re only saying that because you’re my friend.”

  “I’m saying it because it’s true, but look on the bright side. At least Miss Adeline didn’t bite him. That was a success.”

  Delilah reached over and slowly patted his hand. “Thomas, you are kind.”

  * * *

  A surge of satisfaction rolled through Thomas’s chest. Another check off the list. Of course, he hadn’t said those things to gain her favor. He meant every one of them, especially the part about how Branville should be trying to impress Delilah, not the other way around. But he would take his successes, however slight.

  The door to the library cracked opened, and Lucy came hurrying over to them. The Duke of Branville was not with her. “Thomas,” Lucy said, “Lady Rebecca is in the foyer, and she’s asking for you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When Branville returned from the salon with a fresh, unripped shirt, Delilah was too busy glaring at Lady Rebecca to hardly spare him a glance.

  Rebecca had come marching into the library after Branville had left and spied Delilah sitting on the floor next to Thomas. She’d wasted no time. “Lady Delilah, it’s so good to see you,” she gushed, hurrying toward them. “Thank you for inviting me to the rehearsal.”

  Delilah hadn’t invited her to the rehearsal, Rebecca had insisted upon coming. But Rebecca was her friend, and Delilah reminded herself that she did like her, despite the woman’s recent brash interest in Thomas.

  Thomas helped Delilah to her feet and then turned to Rebecca. “Good to see you again, my lady.” He bowed.

  “I’d hoped you would be here this evening, Your Grace.” Rebecca’s grin was ridiculously wide, and she performed a perfect curtsy. One from which she did not need to be rescued, Delilah noted with mild pique.

  “I bet you did,” Delilah mumbled under her breath.

  “What’s that?” Rebecca asked, frowning.

  “Nothing.” Delilah forced a smile to her lips.

  Delilah watched them together. She tried to picture how Thomas must see her friend. Rebecca was a beautiful young woman. Well-mannered. Good family. No doubt she was precisely the type of young woman Thomas should marry.

  And Rebecca definitely seemed enamored of Thomas. Delilah had simply never thought about it before—Thomas, her friend, her closest friend, falling in love and marrying someone … a woman. Perhaps she’d been terribly naïve not to have envisioned this moment, but she’d somehow thought she and Thomas would go on forever as they always had, talking and laughing and ribbing each other. She’d matchmake, and he’d avoid marriage, and they’d both grow old together. It wasn’t that she’d planned for it to happen that way. It was only that she hadn’t specifically considered it happening any other way.

  Delilah watched with narrowed eyes as Rebecca laughed at Thomas’s jests and reached out to touch his sleeve. Twice. She also noted that Rebecca did not rattle off poorly pronounced, nonsensical French, nor did she rip any of Thomas’s clothing. How a courtship should be, Delilah thought with intense chagrin.

  Moments later, Lucy swept toward them with a welcoming smile. “Lady Rebecca, it’s good to meet you.”

  “Yes,” Delilah said, happy to have someone else to introduce Rebecca to in order to divert her attention from Thomas. “Lady Rebecca Abernathy, the Duchess of Claringdon.”

  Rebecca and Lucy began talking as if they’d been friends for an age, and soon the Duke of Branville came strolling toward them in his new shirt. As he made his way over to their little group, Delilah tried to scrunch herself into a ball in the corner as if she might hide from him.

  “Your shirt looks better,” Lucy said. “I do hope the incident didn’t put you off from playacting.”

  “Not at all,” the duke replied graciously.

  Delilah still wanted to hide.

  Branville smiled and turned to Rebecca. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend, Your Grace?” he said to Lucy.

  She nodded. “Ah, yes, my apologies. Your Grace, this is Lady Rebecca Abernathy. Lady Rebecca, the Duke of Branville.”

  Rebecca smiled and curtsied and was perfectly polite, but she didn’t show Branville half the attention she’d lavished upon Thomas. Which, of course, was good because with Lady Emmaline as her competition already, the last thing
Delilah needed was more rivalry for Branville from Rebecca. But when Rebecca turned her attention back to Thomas, Delilah couldn’t help but find herself even more irritated.

  “Will you join our company, Your Grace?” Lucy asked Branville. “Will you play Hermia’s father?”

  The duke inclined his head. “Thank you for the invitation. I do believe I will accept.”

  Lucy clapped her hands this time. Thomas rolled his eyes. And Rebecca’s focus remained on Thomas.

  “Excellent,” Lucy replied. “We meet three nights a week. See you tomorrow.”

  “I do hope there’s room in the company for one more,” Rebecca blurted. “I would so like to be a part of this wonderful performance for charity.”

  Delilah opened her mouth to decline even the mere thought, but Lucy was faster. “Of course, Lady Rebecca. We’ll find you something. Peaseblossom, perhaps.”

  Delilah snapped her mouth shut. What was Lucy thinking? No good could come of having Rebecca in the play.

  “I would be honored to join,” Lady Rebecca said. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She stepped closer to Thomas and gave him an inviting smile.

  “Ah, I hadn’t realized you were not already a part of the play, Lady Rebecca,” Branville said, the dimple appearing in his cheek. “We’ll both be new to the production, then.”

  Delilah frowned. At least Branville had agreed to join them, despite the embarrassment with the shirt. Perhaps he’d said yes because two other dukes were already in the performance. Perhaps he’d agreed because he truly did value the Royal Society for the Humane Treatment of Animals. Perhaps it was because Lucy could be uncannily convincing when she wanted to be.

  Regardless of his reasons, Delilah breathed a sigh of relief. Branville would be coming back three times a week. She would have an opportunity to make up for her ridiculousness to date. No more mindless French. And no more shirt-ripping. She’d also do well not to bring Miss Adeline around. She glanced at the parrot from across the room and found him watching her with a particular glare in his eyes, as though he could read her thoughts.

  “In addition to Peaseblossom,” Branville said, “I wonder if there are any more roles for females as yet unfulfilled.”

  Lucy’s smile faltered slightly. “Why do you ask, Your Grace?”

  “I told Lady Emmaline Rochester about the play last night, and she also expressed her interest in joining.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “What do you think of pairing Lord Berwick with my friend Rebecca?” Delilah asked Lucy the next afternoon over tea in the duchess’s drawing room. Delilah had nearly got over her acute embarrassment from the day before. Her outrage over Lady Emmaline joining the production had served to burn off a great deal of it.

  The nerve of Lady Emmaline to ask Branville if she could be a part of the company! Clever and cunning of her, yes, but still, Delilah was smarting from being outwitted at her own game.

  Lucy dropped a fourth lump of sugar into her teacup. “Berwick. The man playing Snout?”

  “Yes,” Delilah replied. “He’s eligible. He’s an earl.”

  Lucy cast her a wary glance. “Why are you interested in pairing off Rebecca? Did she ask you to?”

  “No, but…”

  “But what?” Lucy prodded. “I daresay we already have our hands full this Season.”

  Delilah eyed her friend surreptitiously. “I thought you enjoyed a challenge.”

  “I do, dear, but something tells me you have another reason for wanting to pair off Lady Rebecca.”

  Delilah cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “Fine. I think she has her sights set on Thomas, and I … don’t want her to be disappointed.”

  Lucy shook her head. “No. Not Thomas. Not with Lady Rebecca.”

  Delilah expelled her breath. She was relieved she didn’t have to explain or think too closely about why she didn’t like the match. “I’m glad you agree.”

  “Yes, if Lady Rebecca is setting her sights on Thomas, let’s be certain to pair her with Berwick.”

  Delilah smiled and nodded. “Agreed. Now. What about Lavinia? How did she get on with Lord Stanley last night?”

  Lucy winced. “She wasn’t awful to him. For Lavinia, that’s something. However, it remains to be seen if Stanley will overlook her shrewishness for the purse Thomas’s settled on her.”

  “Did Lord Stanley seem interested?” Delilah asked, studying the steam curling off the top of her tea.

  “He asked if he might pay her a call, and she agreed.” Lucy snorted. “I’d say they’re halfway to the altar.”

  “That is promising,” Delilah replied with a laugh.

  “Now…” Lucy peered hard at her friend. “What about you and Branville?”

  Delilah shook her head. “What about us? It hardly seems encouraging that he invited Lady Emmaline to join the company.”

  A catlike smile appeared on Lucy’s face. “But that is why we cannot possibly pair Lady Rebecca with Thomas. We still need Thomas to distract Lady Emmaline from Branville to give you more time with him.”

  Delilah didn’t particularly like that idea either, but that was hardly the point at the moment, and she couldn’t explain her feelings to Lucy, who was working so diligently at putting her in Branville’s path. “After my disastrous turn with him yesterday, I’m not certain he wants more time with me.”

  Lucy pointed a spoon in Delilah’s direction. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

  “No, of course not. I merely thought perhaps we could give it time so he forgets some of the more poignant points of what happened. Such as the part where his shirt was ripped half off.”

  The smile returned to Lucy’s face. “You want to be memorable to a man.”

  Delilah winced. “Not that memorable.”

  “Memorable is always better than forgettable,” Lucy replied, picking up her teacup again.

  Delilah took a sip from her own cup. “I’m not certain how you intend to use Thomas to distract Lady Emmaline when he has shown absolutely no interest in doing so.”

  “Yes, I know,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “It’s quite frustrating. He told me he doesn’t want to lead her on.”

  “How does he know he wouldn’t like her if he hasn’t given her a chance?” Delilah asked, even as the very thought made her feel sick in the middle.

  “Precisely what I told him. And you know, I do think it worked, dear.”

  “What?” Delilah coughed when she realized how panicked she sounded. She tried again, forcing herself to remain calm. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it seems we have yet another goal this Season.”

  “What goal?”

  “Last night after rehearsal, Thomas officially asked me to find him a match.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Hillards’ ball two nights later should have been the perfect place for Delilah and Lucy to put some of their plans in motion. All the players were there. Thomas, Emmaline, Lavinia, Lord Stanley, Rebecca, Berwick, and Branville. But the moment Thomas escorted his sister to where they stood near the refreshment table, Delilah knew something was amiss. Thomas looked as handsome as usual, with buff-colored breeches, a black coat, and white waistcoat and cravat. Delilah had chosen to wear a gown of light green for a change. Her mother had insisted on the fabric, but she thought she looked like a leaf.

  “Lavinia, has something to say to you both,” Thomas announced.

  Lucy, who was wearing a gorgeous red silk gown, raised her brows. “Yes?”

  Lavinia, dressed in a lovely lavender gown with diamonds at her ears and throat, pursed her lips. “I’ve settled upon a certain gentleman.”

  Lucy’s eyes lighted. “Wonderful. We were hoping you’d fancy Lord Stanley. He’s an excellent choice, and—”

  “Not Lord Stanley,” Lavinia declared, narrowing her eyes. She snapped open her fan and fluttered it in front of her face.

  Delilah sucked in her breath. Oh, no. This did not bode well. “Who then?” she asked, a sinking feeling in the
pit of her stomach.

  “I fancy Lord Berwick.” Lavinia snapped her fan shut and smoothed her long sleeves one after the other.

  Delilah and Lucy exchanged worried glances.

  “But don’t you think Lord Stanley is more your … sort, dear?” Lucy attempted. Delilah knew she’d wanted to say age, but had obviously thought better of it.

  “Lord Stanley is dull,” Lavinia replied. “He spent the better part of an hour talking to me about drainage. Drainage! Can you imagine? Besides, he’s merely a viscount. I daresay an earl is more my sort.”

  “It’s true. Lord Berwick is an earl,” Delilah said inanely, but she was already thinking about how difficult it would be to interest Lord Berwick in Lavinia, not to mention the fact that Delilah had already decided Lord Berwick would be the perfect man to distract Rebecca from Thomas.

  “I know that,” Lavinia replied with a tight smile. “I’d like to dance with him this evening. See to it, please.”

  She floated off into the crowd then, leaving Delilah, Lucy, and Thomas alone.

  “I tried to tell her she cannot order you both about as if you are her servants,” Thomas said sheepishly, pressing his palm to his forehead.

  “We’re matchmakers. It’s what we do,” Lucy replied with a sigh. “It does make it difficult, however. I’ve no idea how Berwick feels about Lavinia. Have they even met?”

  “Yes,” Thomas replied. “They met at rehearsal the other night, apparently, and Lavinia took a liking to him.”

  “But we’ve picked Berwick for Rebecca,” Delilah said to Lucy with a note of desperation in her voice that she couldn’t quite seem to quell.

  “Rebecca?” Thomas echoed. “I thought she fancied me,” he added with a grin.

  Delilah lifted her chin. “I’m trying to do you a favor by distracting her.”

  “Who said I wanted such a favor?” he countered, raising his brows.

  She opened her mouth to retort, but then snapped it shut, averting her attention from his handsome face. She’d found herself inexplicably perturbed with Thomas ever since her teatime conversation with Lucy. After all these years, he had finally decided to look for a match, and he’d chosen the exact same Season she was looking? That seemed entirely selfish to Delilah. Thomas knew she was quite busy this Season. The least he could do was wait till next Season to find his bride. Not to mention it had hurt her feelings to know that he’d asked Lucy to aid him and not her. Didn’t he know Delilah and Lucy were a pair? Didn’t he want her help?