And not only had he not asked her, he hadn’t even mentioned it to her. He’d left Lucy to tell her. Over the last two days, Delilah had struggled with her feelings, and hadn’t yet decided exactly what to say to Thomas about it or even if she should say anything. Too bad it wasn’t in her nature to keep silent.
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Delilah and Thomas. “We may have picked Berwick for Rebecca, but we’re forgetting one of the essential truths of matchmaking.”
“What’s that?” Delilah asked, her gaze scanning the ballroom for Branville.
Lucy tossed her head. “Sometimes the matchees are not agreeable to the matches. If that’s the case, it can make things nearly impossible.”
“We must convince them,” Delilah retorted, frowning. She and Lucy had participated in some complicated matchmaking in the past, but this Season’s antics were becoming troublesome indeed. None of their plans were materializing the way they’d hoped.
“Convincing rarely works, dear,” Lucy pointed out.
“Yes, best of luck with that,” Thomas replied, scrunching up his nose.
“But isn’t part of being a good matchmaker making the matches realize that sometimes you know better than they do?” Delilah was not ready to give up on the matches she’d already settled in her mind.
“That’s also true,” Lucy replied with a sigh.
“Then I refuse to give up,” Delilah declared.
Lucy waved a hand in the air. “All we can do at present is continue with the plans we have made and hope for the best.”
“What plans?” Thomas asked, scratching his cheek.
Lucy eyed him up and down. “Are you quite certain you don’t want to help us distract Lady Emmaline Rochester from Branville?”
“Quite,” Thomas replied with a nod.
“Very well, Huntley,” Lucy said. “Who would you like me to match you with?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
One hour later, Thomas escorted Lucy across the ballroom in order for her to introduce him to Lady Emmaline Rochester. After Lucy had put him on the spot in front of Delilah, he’d been forced to lie and say he had no idea who he should be matched with, and that had only served to make Lucy steadfastly talk him into meeting Lady Emmaline. How could he possibly know she wasn’t the love of his life, Lucy argued, when he’d never so much as met the woman? In the end, he’d been forced to concede the point or explain why he was so adamant in his refusal, and it had seemed the easier of the two choices to agree to meet Lady Emmaline and get it over with.
Of course, the last thing he wanted was to help put Delilah in Branville’s way, but Thomas supposed he owed it to Lucy to assist in her scheme at least temporarily, since she was doing her best to help pair off Lavinia.
“Lady Emmaline,” Lucy said, a wide smile on her face as soon as they approached the stunning blond. “Have you met my dear friend, the Duke of Huntley?”
Lady Emmaline nodded and smiled and said all the correct things, but Thomas knew immediately she was barely paying attention to him. Nevertheless, he dutifully asked Lady Emmaline to dance, he laughed at her unfunny jests, and he willingly trotted off to get her a glass of lemonade, while the blonde shot longing gazes across the room toward the Duke of Branville.
Lucy was right. You could put two people in each other’s paths, but you certainly couldn’t force their feelings. If that were possible, he would force himself to forget about a match with Delilah. Everything would be much simpler that way. Instead, he kept glancing across the room at her, where she hovered at Branville’s side. It rankled him. What happened to her plan to be elusive? Had she discarded that notion entirely? Here he was playing attendant to a young woman who clearly didn’t give a toss about him, while the woman he was desperately in love with threw herself at another man. How had he got himself into this situation?
At least spending time with Lady Rebecca was enjoyable. That young lady was interesting to talk to, and her interest in him was certainly preferable to Lady Emmaline humoring him.
Thomas had the sinking feeling that he’d gone about handling the entire situation incorrectly. Perhaps it had been a mistake to declare to Lucy that he was ready for a match. He’d partially hoped she would take the hint and pair him with Delilah. Instead, the duchess had immediately pushed him toward Lady Emmaline, which made him wonder how seriously she was taking his request. He’d really only told Lucy he wanted a match in order to attempt to make Delilah jealous. He’d assumed Lucy would try to match him with Lady Rebecca, and he’d hoped the more time he spent with Lady Rebecca, the more Delilah would look at him as a potential suitor.
None of it had gone the way he’d planned, however. At least he’d managed to demonstrate to Delilah that he was both eligible and kind. Well, hopefully, she already knew he was kind, but it didn’t hurt to reiterate it, especially when she was in the market for a husband and had a specific list of qualities she wanted. He hoped she’d piece it together and figure out that he was all the things she’d been looking for. What was next on her list? Oh, intelligence. He had to have Branville there.
Thomas was contemplating whether he should ask Lady Emmaline to dance once more before giving up his halfhearted courtship of her for the night when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“There you are, Your Grace,” Lady Rebecca said when he turned. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Thomas gave her his widest smile. “You have?”
“Indeed. I was hoping you’d ask me to dance.”
Thomas arched a brow. She was bold. He liked that about her. She was friendly and bright and pleasant as well. Too bad he didn’t feel much for her other than friendship. He hated to turn her down, but he also didn’t want to give the lady false hope. His decision was made, however, when he glanced over to see Delilah watching them. Suddenly, he decided he would indeed like to dance with Lady Rebecca.
Thomas led Rebecca to the floor, and as they danced a quadrille, he surreptitiously darted glances at Delilah to find her staring at them, arms crossed over her chest. She looked none too pleased with being left on the sidelines. A smile threatened. Dare he hope she was … jealous? There was one way to find out. As soon as the dance ended, he maneuvered Lady Rebecca toward where Delilah stood.
“Good to see you, Rebecca,” Delilah said, her voice prim.
“How did we look dancing together?” Rebecca asked Delilah, fanning her flushed, happy face and smiling up at Thomas.
Delilah’s face turned slightly purple, and it seemed for a moment as if she might choke, but she quickly regained her wits. “Lovely. Quite lovely,” she managed in a strained voice, studiously avoiding Thomas’s gaze.
“I saw you dancing with the Duke of Branville,” Rebecca continued.
“Yes, he asked about you, actually,” Delilah said. “I believe he intends to ask you to dance.”
Surprise registered on Rebecca’s pretty face as the Duke of Branville himself materialized at her side.
“Lady Rebecca,” Branville said. “May I have this dance?”
Rebecca agreed, and the two took off toward the dance floor as a cotillion began to play. Left alone together, Delilah and Thomas stood silently watching the couple dancing. Thomas resisted the urge to fidget like a child, painfully aware of her presence so close to him as never before, the soft fragrance of her perfume.
Finally, Thomas cleared his throat. “The waltz dates back to the sixteenth century, you know. It was recorded in 1580 in Augsburg.”
When he glanced at her, Delilah frowned. “I thought it came from Vienna.”
“No. I believe Vienna was where the name was changed, but the actual dance is really much older.”
“I never knew you to have such an interest in the history of dancing, Thomas,” she said with a hint of a smile.
He folded his hands behind his back. “I may not have finished my schooling, but I greatly enjoy reading.”
“Of course you do,” she replied. “I daresay you’re more educated than those wh
o took a first with all the reading you’ve done.”
Thomas nodded and willed his cheeks not to warm. Delilah had always known he had a sore spot over not officially finishing his work at Oxford.
“They do make a lovely couple, don’t they?” Delilah said after another awkward silence, watching Lady Rebecca and Branville dancing.
“Careful,” Thomas replied. “You may have more competition there.”
“No, I don’t. Rebecca is merely trying to make you jealous.” Delilah sighed. “She already told me she intended to do it. She knows I’ve got my sights set on him.”
“She’d best watch herself. Lady Emmaline may well scratch out her eyes. She couldn’t keep her attention off Branville while she was dancing with me. I’m afraid Lucy’s little plan to keep her away from him isn’t working well.”
“How did you find Lady Emmaline?” Delilah asked, her eyes still trained on Branville and Rebecca.
“She’s quite lovely for a woman who is obviously in love with another man,” Thomas replied aridly.
As he’d known she would, Delilah glanced around the ballroom and immediately zeroed in on Lady Emmaline, who was staring longingly at Branville as he danced with Lady Rebecca.
Delilah shook her head. “Why must everything be so very complicated?”
Thomas frowned. “What do you mean?”
She tugged absently at the strings to her reticule that hung from her wrist. “Nothing is going right. Absolutely nothing.”
“Like what?”
Delilah tossed her free hand in the air. “Lavinia wants Berwick. Rebecca wants you. Emmaline wants Branville, and I’ve frankly no idea who Branville wants.”
“Not to worry,” Thomas said with a grin, “I haven’t entirely given up on my attempts at Lady Emmaline.”
Delilah blinked. “You haven’t?”
He shrugged. “You’re not the only one who enjoys a challenge. As to the others, why do you care if Berwick courts Lavinia?”
She fluttered a hand in the air. “It simply ruins the whole plan. That’s all.”
“What plan?” Thomas frowned again.
“The plan for Berwick to court Lady Rebecca.”
He shook his head in confusion. “Berwick is courting Lady Rebecca?”
“No, but we’d hoped for him to.”
“Why?”
“Because … because…” Her cheeks reddened. “Oh, it’s too complicated to explain.”
“Far be it from me to interrupt your and Lucy’s grand schemes, but it seems to me that as long as Lady Rebecca doesn’t have her sights set on Branville, what does it matter who she chooses?”
Two tiny lines appeared between Delilah’s brows. “It matters because she obviously fancies you, and you’re supposed to be distracting Lady Emmaline.”
Thomas chuckled. “I have many talents, perhaps I can manage to distract both of them.”
Delilah put a fist on her hip. “Don’t tease.”
“Who’s teasing? I may fancy one of them,” he replied with a sly grin.
“Yes, and that’s another thing,” Delilah declared.
Thomas pivoted to look at her. “What?”
“You asked Lucy to find you a match, and not me.” Her voice was small, and he could hear the hurt in it. It threw him so off guard he was momentarily wordless.
“Lucy told me you asked her to find a match for you this Season,” Delilah reiterated. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
Thomas blew air into his cheeks. He had to handle this carefully. He’d never considered the fact that it might hurt Delilah’s feelings if he didn’t ask her. “I thought perhaps you were too busy this Season chasing Branville around.”
“I’m not chasing Branville around, I’m…” Her face fell. “Oh, mon Dieu. I am chasing Branville around, aren’t I? He’s supposed to be courting me. Instead, I’m chasing him around like a lovesick fool.”
Thomas cocked his head to the side. He tried to keep the emotion from his voice. “Are you lovesick?”
“No,” Delilah replied miserably, “but for all the advice I’ve given others on the subject, I’m woefully unprepared for my own courtship. I obviously don’t even know what I’m about.”
Thomas cracked a grin. “What do you want to know? Perhaps I can help.”
The sound that came out of Delilah’s throat was a most unladylike snort-laugh.
“What’s that for?” His smile grew as he studied her expressive features.
“You can’t help me learn how to be courted.”
“Why can’t I? I’m a man, aren’t I?”
“For one thing, you’ve never courted anyone,” she pointed out.
“Not yet. But the time is fast approaching.” He leaned closer so that his lips were nearly against her ear and, in a conspiratorial tone, said, “Perhaps we both need practice. Tell me what you want to learn, and we can try it.”
Delilah rubbed her forehead. “This is preposterous, you know.”
He nudged her shoulder. “No, it’s not. Why shouldn’t we help each other? Tell me.”
She took a deep breath and contemplated the matter for a moment. “Very well. I suppose a proper courtship would involve walking in the gardens together at some point.”
“The gardens?” Thomas scratched his chin, wrinkling his nose. “Why?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be naïve. Couples often sneak into the gardens at balls to talk. It happens quite often, according to my friends. It’s called a rendezvous.”
Thomas choked back a laugh. “You think couples sneak into the gardens to talk, and you’re calling me naïve?”
Her brows lowered. “They don’t talk?”
“There might be some talking, but I suspect they, ahem, do other things as well.”
“Like what?” She blinked at him with those big, brown, naïve eyes.
Thomas shook his head. “Your lady friends haven’t told you?”
Delilah put her hands on her hips and eyed him warily. “Do you mean…” She lowered her voice. “Kiss?”
He gave a solemn nod. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you telling me you’ve sneaked into the gardens at a ball and kissed someone?”
“Can’t say I have,” Thomas replied, scratching the back of his neck directly above his cravat. “Suppose I need the practice too.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Why haven’t you done it yet?”
“Why haven’t you?” he countered.
She pointed her nose in the air. “I’ve been busy arranging assignations for my friends all these years. I haven’t given a thought to my own until now.”
“And now you want to try it?” he prodded.
“I suppose I must. I refuse to make a ninny of myself in front of Branville again.”
Thomas arched a brow. “Have you asked Branville to take you to the gardens?”
“See? That merely demonstrates how naïve you are. You don’t ask a gentleman to take you to the gardens. You secretly meet him there.”
“Is that how it works?” His voice dripped sarcasm.
Delilah nodded primly. “Yes, he implies that he would like to meet you in the gardens, and you pretend to consider it for a moment and then agree.”
“And then you meet and kiss?” Thomas batted his eyelashes at her. He teased her even as his heart thrummed in his chest, and perhaps other areas too.
“Well, I’m certain you don’t kiss immediately.” She waved a hand in the air. “There’s bound to be a bit of small talk or some flirtatious exchange.”
“Ah, yes, the flirtatious exchange,” Thomas replied with an irrepressible grin.
“I only wish I could practice with someone who doesn’t set off my nerves as the Duke of Branville seems to.” She wrung her gloved hands, casting an unsettled glance in the other duke’s direction.
“Very well.” Thomas sighed as though the idea cost him dearly. “Meet me in the gardens. I’ll kiss you. There may even be a flirtatious exchange.”
Delilah thought he was jesting. Thomas had to be jesting, didn’t he? Only she didn’t have a chance to find out because he added, “See you there in a quarter of an hour,” before he essentially bolted from the ballroom.
She was left to stare after him, blinking and wondering what she’d got herself into. She hadn’t meant to imply that Thomas should be the one to kiss her. The notion was ludicrous, but now she had to go out into the gardens to tell him so. She didn’t want to leave him out there waiting. That would be unkind.
So, she did what any good debutante with a planned rendezvous would and waited twenty minutes, to be safe, before she sneaked out the French doors on the far end of the room and scurried around the side of the house.
The Hillards’ gardens were particularly well-designed for a rendezvous. They happened to include a maze of hedgerows, and everyone knew hedgerow mazes were the perfect place for an assignation.
Delilah bit her lip and glanced back toward the house with its glowing windows. No one was outside on the wide stone patio at the moment. She turned to contemplate the large hedgerow. The maze was lit with tiny white candles, glancing off the shiny dark green leaves of the hedges. She presumed Thomas had already made his way into the maze. Where else could he be?
She took the first tentative step onto the gravel path and forced herself to inhale a deep breath. Why was she nervous? This was nothing to be nervous about. Only Thomas would be at the end of this path, not Branville. She lifted her skirts and hurried forward.
He was standing in a patch of moonlight next to a stone bench in the center of the maze. The soft light highlighted his dark hair, one cheekbone, one bright eye as he casually rested a hip against the side of the bench. He’s gorgeous. The realization nearly made her take a step back. What was she doing? She had no business thinking Thomas, of all people, was gorgeous. He was her friend. Her closest friend. They’d enjoyed making sarcastic comments about members of the ton together for years. He finished her sentences. He knew her thoughts. He indulged her love of chocolate ices at Gunter’s, and helped her when she brought him yet another hurt puppy or kitten she found on the streets.
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