“How do you feel, Delilah?” Improper though it was, he couldn’t help but reach for her hands.
She let him clasp her fingers and she tilted her face up toward his. “I feel I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve always felt so ungainly. Too tall, and red headed besides.” Her dulcet voice came out breathless. “I’m never elegant, or lovely or…wanted. When you look at me, I feel as if I am all those things. All things wonderful and right. I think that is a look I could wake to every day, Winston.”
Nathan went still. He shut his eyes to keep her from reading his thoughts. Damn it. Winston. He was going to kill his brother this time. He had to tell her. Surely, she would understand. They would laugh.
She pulled her hands from his. “Winston?”
He opened his eyes. He tried for a smile.
“I said the wrong thing,” she whispered.
The stricken look on her face twisted him inside. “No, you said nothing wrong,” he said, words rushing out. “You’re the most—”
“Winston.” He silently cursed the sound of his mother’s voice, then turned. She and Lady Cartwell ambled across the terrace toward them. Both looked pleased. “Winston, I have someone else for you to meet.”
“Delilah, dear,” Lady Cartwell said. “Mister Baker has been looking for you. I believe you promised him a set.”
Delilah cast Nathan a confused look, but didn’t protest as her aunt led her away. She did look back, twice, before disappearing inside. Each time, Nathan willed her to see the apology in his eyes. Once she was out of sight, he rounded on his mother.
“I don’t care to meet anyone else, Mother,” he snapped.
“Don’t take that tone with me, young man.” His mother’s smile evaporated.
“I beg your pardon.” He sighed, contrite. “I truly don’t wish to meet anyone else, though, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Nor do I wish you to.” She patted his cheek with a gentle hand. “Mattie and I are overjoyed. We can’t wait for the announcement. We simply wished to avoid any scandal. It’s not fair to Delilah, after all.”
“Scandal? Announcement?” Were they having the same conversation?
“Anyone could see what you were after when you led her out here, dear. We were all young once. She deserves better than being kissed on a terrace in front of everyone. A formal proposal and an announcement.”
“Of marriage?” Yes, of course. He would ask her to marry him. He headed in the direction Delilah had gone.
“Winston.” His mother’s footsteps pattered after him. “Winston, not tonight.” She caught his arm, turned him back. Keen eyes studied his face. “Oh dear. You’re in no state not to muddle this. I think it’s time you took me home.”
He looked down at her. She was right. He couldn’t ask Delilah to marry him until he explained he wasn’t Winston, a conversation best held in a quiet parlor tomorrow. He also couldn’t watch her dance with other men. He’d end up jailed.
“Very well, Mother.”
He led her inside and across the ballroom. He was relieved not to catch sight of Delilah dancing with another, yet miserable not to have one more glimpse of her beauty. She was nowhere to be seen. He fidgeted as they waited for their carriage, longing to find her. His mother kept her hand on his arm until he helped her into their carriage.
“I must admit, I am surprised our plan went over so magnificently.” She beamed as he settled into the seat opposite her. “I thought to introduce Dalilah to Nathan, but Mattie was sure you were the correct choice. That’s one for her. You usually fixate on such tiny little things, I thought Delilah wouldn’t suit. Mattie said that’s why she would, because she’s different.”
Nathan grimaced and turned his gaze out the window. He took his mother home, but left again as soon as he was able. Too late to return to the ball. Too agitated to sleep. He went to his club for cards.
Finding a table full of acquaintances, he joined in, both the hand and the betting. As the minutes ticked by, he became aware he wasn’t playing with his usual acumen, but he stuck it out. Anything to break into his worry over not telling Delilah the truth.
A shadow fell across his cards. “What are you playing at, Mitchel?”
Nathan looked up to find Snotty Parkin glaring down at him. “A bit of loo. Care to be dealt in next round?”
“I mean with my cousin. When I caught you in the garden with Lydia, the only thing that kept me from calling you out was that you got down on one knee and proposed, right then and there.”
Shock reverberated through Nathan. Winston had really done it. How quickly would word reach Delilah that the man she’d danced two sets with had proposed to another woman that same night?
“When Lydia and I arrived at the Cartwell’s, all the talk was of how you danced two sets with Lady Cartwell’s niece.”
Nathan set his cards down. “Did I now?”
“Do you deny it? Have you any idea how Lydia feels? Half of London saw you dancing with the girl.” Snotty threw up his hands. “This is reprehensible even for you, Winny. Do you think I won’t challenge you, for old time’s sake? Lydia’s my little cousin.”
“Go ahead, then.” That would teach Winston. “Challenge me.”
“Go ahead?” Snotty squeaked. “You really don’t have an excuse? You always have an excuse.”
“Not this time, Snotty. Call me out. You’re holding up the game.”
“Will you pick pistols?” Snotty tugged at his cravat.
“Assuredly.”
Snotty looked around the room. About the table, a ring of their peers eyed him with amusement. Everyone knew Nathan and Winston were crack shots. Snotty cleared his throat. “Well, ah, I challenge you, then.”
“Excellent. Send your second round in the morning. Make sure you tell him he’s to advise Winston Mitchel where you shall meet to settle this.”
“Ah, right.” Snotty retreated.
“Where were we?” Nathan took up his cards, but his mind returned to Delilah. Winston really had gone and proposed. Had Delilah already heard that he—Winston—had proposed to another woman? Delilah was new to town, likely without many friends yet. Maybe she wouldn’t hear. Nathan forced back anger. Winston had best hope she didn’t hear, for once Nathan put this right with her, Winston was getting a reckoning for each tear she shed.
One table over, a gentleman stood from his game. “Did I overhear that you are Winston Mitchel, sir?”
Nathan sighed. “Let’s say I am.” He could feel the amusement of his companions.
The man crossed the three steps to his chair. Hand on the back of Nathan’s chair, he leaned down, bringing his face near. “What sort of a jackanapes are you, sir?”
Nathan locked eyes with the man. “The sort of jackanapes who doesn’t have the foggiest notion who’s addressing him.”
“I’m Marcus Cartwell, and I issue you a challenge.”
Wonderful. Nathan pushed his out chair from the table, forcing Cartwell to back away. Rising to his full height, Nathan looked down at Cartwell. “You’re issuing me a challenge?”
Cartwell rocked back slightly. He swallowed, glanced around the room, and tried to stand taller. “Look, just because my sister is a great big clod of a girl, and country born, doesn’t mean you can treat her like some London doxy.”
Fury coalesced in Nathan’s gut. He looked Cartwell up and down, taking in his red hair and stubble, his poorly tailored suit in last year’s fashion. He wasn’t quite as tall as Delilah, and Nathan suspected the fop had heels on his shoes. So, this was the man who had convinced the most beautiful woman ever to walk the earth that she was unworthy.
Nathan’s mouth twisted with disdain. “Challenge accepted.” He pulled his card from his jacket pocket. “Send your second round in the morning with the details for Winston Mitchel.” Nathan extended the card toward the man.
Cartwell took it. His eyes shifted to the card and he frowned. “This says Nathan Mitchel.”
“This is my brother’s suit.”
Chapter Three
N athan woke to someone hammering on his chamber door. He pried his eyes open to rosy sunlight filtering through the window at a low angle. Had he slept until sunset? But no, the sun set on the opposite side of the townhouse. That meant… “Dawn?” Bloody hell.
“Nathan, wake up,” Winston called. The door creaked open.
Nathan reached for the boot he’d left by the bed in anticipation of just this occasion, then stilled. Dawn. He sat up, swung his feet to the floor. He needn’t wait to call on Delilah. He could find her in the park, riding, at eight.
Winston stuck his head in. “You are up.”
Nathan cast Winston a disgruntled look. “No one could sleep through that incessant pounding.”
His brother marched in, clad in his bedclothes and a robe. He slapped two letters down on Nathan’s bedside table. “What is the meaning of these?”
“Forgot how to read again, did you?” Nathan reached for the letters. Both were addressed to Winston.
“They’re challenges, and our footman was instructed to wake me to receive them. Wake me, at this hour. What the blazes did you do last night?”
“Met the woman I’m going to marry.” Nathan opened the first envelope, then the other. No seconds. Only two notes stipulating the time and place, both at half past seven in the park. Did Cartwell and Snotty know each other? Without seconds to negotiate, they could cry foul and not show. Seven-thirty in the park. Nathan could easily wound Cartwell for calling Delilah a clod and be off to find her, all before breakfast.
Realizing Winston had been silent for far too long, Nathan looked up. His brother stared at him as if he’d sprouted horns. “What?” Nathan asked.
“How do you mean, met the woman you’re going to marry? Have you gone mad?”
“So, it’s all fine for you to barge in here, telling me you’re going to propose to Snotty Perkin’s little cousin, le Fount’s niece, no less, but I can’t declare my intention to marry Miss Cartwell?”
“Is that what those are about?” Winston jabbed a finger at the letters. “You proposed to Lady Cartwell’s niece last night, when you were pretending to be me?” Winston threw up his hands. “You are mad, and bent on taking me down with you.”
“I didn’t get the chance to propose.” But he would, the moment he explained to her that he wasn’t Winston. “And you’ve hardly known Snotty’s cousin any longer.”
Winston adopted a superior look. “Ten days is far longer than the scant ten hours you’ve known Miss Cartwell.”
“Be that as it may, I knew I was in love by the end of the second set.”
“You danced two sets with the girl?” Winston groaned. “Don’t you know she’s Lydia’s dearest friend? They live near one another, in Kent. They’re practically inseparable.”
“They weren’t inseparable last night.”
“Yes, well, Lydia was occupied in the Perkin’s garden, with me, implementing the plan. Both sets of parentals will have to agree to us wedding now that Snotty caught us kissing.”
Nathan eyed his brother. “He said you’d proposed when he issued his challenge. Interrupted a perfectly good hand of loo.”
“I didn’t think Snotty had it in him to challenge me.”
“I wouldn’t have myself.” Nathan chuckled. “You should have seen him sweating. That kiss must have been rather scandalous.”
Winston grinned.
“Of course, given Snotty’s outrage, I had no choice but to accept his challenge on your behalf, and did the same with Miss Cartwell’s weasel of a brother.”
“You’re too kind,” Winston said dryly. He shrugged. “Nothing for it, I suppose. Let’s head out and explain ourselves. Snotty will forgive us.”
“Hopefully, Marcus Cartwell will not.”
Curiosity flickered across Winston’s face, but he turned and left the room.
Nathan called for his valet and a footman. He ordered their horses and pistols readied, and then dressed. Half an hour later, he met his brother in the foyer. Winston’s mood appeared improved. Selecting from his vast wardrobe usually had that effect.
They rode to the park and the shallow, tree-lined gully stipulated in the notes. Leaving their horses at the top, they descended on foot. Well-trained as the mounts were, it was still safer not to have them too near pistol fire, though Nathan doubted there would be any.
The gully was empty, the air caught in it chill. Sunlight angled between the trunks, cutting thin streaks in the mist that swirled around their roots. A shroud of silence blanketed them. It was an ungodly hour to be awake.
The sound of footsteps drew Nathan’s gaze to the path. Two cloaked and hooded figures descended, one too tall to be Snotty or Cartwell, the other too short. Although her hood concealed her face, Nathan recognized Dalilah’s grace. Suddenly, the early hour didn’t matter, the mist wasn’t cold.
“Delilah.” He strode toward her.
She stopped. Her hands came out from beneath her cloak. One hand pushed back her hood, the other leveled a pistol at him. “Stay where you are, Mister Mitchel. Both of you.”
Winston stepped up beside Nathan and opened his mouth to respond.
“Not a word,” Delilah said, more beautiful than ever in the morning light. “You’ll ruin our experiment.”
“But—” Winston began.
“I said, no speaking.” She turned the pistol toward Winston.
He cast Nathan a startled look.
She continued down the slope with her companion, whose movements suggested she was also a woman. They reached the floor of the gully and the other woman cast off her hood to reveal Miss Kirkland. She also brandished a pistol. A line of worry marred her brow. She looked askance at Delilah, biting her lip.
“I was very pleased to make your acquaintance yesterday evening, Mister Mitchel.” Delilah looked back and forth between Nathan and Winston. “And I truly thought we shared something special.” Her perfect lips turned down at the corners. “Imagine my shock when Lydia arrived, full of the news she’d become engaged to her secret paramour, and finally revealed his name to me.”
She didn’t sound surprised. She sounded angry and hurt. Her pain tore at Nathan’s heart. “I—”
“No talking, sir.” Miss Kirkland spoke for the first time. She didn’t sound as firm as Delilah, but her look was determined. “It will ruin our plan.”
Nathan looked the question at them, aware of Winston shifting beside him.
Delilah drew in a breath, squaring her shoulders. “We know Marcus and Mister Perkin both challenged you on our behalf, which we did not ask them to do.”
“We talked them out of it,” Miss Kirkland said.
“We have a better idea.” Delilah’s blue eyes narrowed, her gaze locking with Nathan’s.
He strove to put his apology in his eyes, to reveal his heart. If she didn’t want words, he would respect that. His face would tell her all she needed to know.
Her expression softened, the pistol wavered.
“Tell them the plan.” Miss Kirkland elbowed Delilah. “Remember, he danced with you, courted you, not an hour after asking me to marry him.”
Delilah’s expression firmed. She nodded. “We’ve decided to shoot you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Winston blurted.
“No talking.” Miss Kirkland emphasized her words by stomping her foot.
“We’re going to count to three and each shoot the one of you we want.” Delilah’s voice was calm. She met Nathan’s gaze again. “If we both shoot the same one, well, that should take care of our problem.”
Nathan grinned. She was magnificent, pistol aimed at him, eyes glowing.
“That’s daft,” Winston said. “What if you kill both of us?” He strode toward Miss Kirkland. “Are those even loaded? You can’t tell me you know how to load a pistol, Lydia.”
“Stay away,” Miss Kirkland squeaked, scuttling backward.
“Give me the pistol, sweetest.” Winston entreated as he neared her. “I can explain everythin
g.”
Miss Kirkland continued to back away. Her skirt caught. She cried out and toppled backwards. The blare of pistol fire ricocheted through the gully. A loud crack sounded above them.
“Lydia!” Winston lunged for her.
Leaves showered down. With a creak, a limb broke free of the tree and plummeted toward Miss Kirkland, who stared up, eyes wide. Winston dove between her and the branch. The wood hit him square across the shoulders.
Winston levered himself up onto his elbows and looked down at her. “Lydia, sweetest, are you hurt?”
Nathan snapped his gaze back to Delilah as she turned her face toward him, pistol still trained at his chest. “You really persuaded Snotty and your brother to let you two come in their stead?” he asked.
“Certainly not. We persuaded them it was all a misunderstanding and our honor hadn’t been besmirched. They believe we’re riding, as usual.” She tilted her head, contemplative. “Apparently, you’re a crack shot. Mister Perkin was practically shaking at the thought of confronting you. Either of you.”
Nathan grinned, but the expression fell away when she remained serious. “If you deduced it wasn’t Winston with you, why come here to shoot me?” Nathan was aware of Winston helping Miss Kirkland up, but their murmured words weren’t worth focusing on when Delilah stood before him.
Her eyes narrowed. “Can you imagine the pain when I all but declared my love, and you flinched? For the first time in my life, I met a man who is everything I’ve dreamed of, who gives every indication of feeling the same, and you flinched, Mister Mitchel.” Her voice was stricken. “Then, my dear friend arrives, after you have disappeared, to finally reveal the name of her secret paramour, and it’s your name.”
Her anguish cut like a knife. He deserved to suffer as she had. “Shoot me.”
Her magnificent eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wronged you, hurt you. I deserve it, and if being shot is what will mend this rift between us, then you can’t do it soon enough. Shoot me.”
She lowered the pistol. “I’m not truly going to shoot you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m Nathan,” he blurted. “I will never hurt you again. I love you, Delilah.”
One Shot for a Gentleman (Ladies Always Shoot First Book 3) Page 2
