She nodded quickly, already scurrying away.
7
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.”
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.”
He let out a huff of amusement. “Take out the ‘surprisingly’ and your compliment might also have been nice.”
To his delight, one corner of her mouth hitched up at that. “This is just not what I’d expect from…” She gestured toward him and it was impossible not to laugh.
“Oh no, do go on,” he said, resting his arm on the settee’s edge so he could slide down and make himself comfortable. “I would love to hear how that sentence will end.”
She pursed her lips and looked away. Unwilling, it seemed, to outright insult him in his own home. Though he suspected he knew what she meant. She thought he was a pauper. Maybe even something worse. She had no idea who he really was, and for the moment, that was how he preferred it.
He had a feeling if she knew his father was a marquess, she’d behave entirely differently and that he could not bear. He liked this Delilah, the one that said whatever was on her mind, no matter how rude or thoughtless.
It was… Well, it was refreshing
. She was cold lemonade on a hot day. Slightly sweet, a little sour, and anything but bland.
She turned to him suddenly, her arms wrapped around her waist as though she was cold—hard to imagine in this heat, but he supposed it could be shock.
The thought had him frowning, and his expression must have matched hers.
“You saved my life,” she said suddenly.
His eyes widened in surprise at the shift in conversation. “You’re welcome.”
She stared at him for a long moment and he watched her swallow. “Thank you.”
He nodded toward the end of the settee. “Have a seat.”
She rubbed her arms. “No, thank you, I should—”
“Have a seat.” His tone was less polite this time and he shifted forward, making more room for her as he eyed her steadily. “Please.”
She blinked rapidly at the ‘please’ and he thought he saw confusion flicker in her eyes.
Poor thing had just been through the scare of her life and she was trying her best not to show it.
His heart did something strange. It made its presence known with a lurch. An inanimate monster coming to life, just like in that novel he’d recently read.
He shook off the thought with a rueful little laugh. It seemed they’d both been shaken by today’s events.
She perched on the edge of the seat, her spine stiff and straight, her hands clasped daintily in her lap. When a servant entered and set the tray before her she blinked in surprise.
“I—I should not be here,” she said slowly.
He knew what she meant. She should not be here alone with him. He knew it too. The problem was…he had no idea what else to do with her.
“I should go home,” she said. Staring at the pot of tea before them but making no move to touch it.
“You should rest first.” Even he was surprised by the softness of his voice. It felt like it had been an age since he’d talked to anyone like this—gently, as if to a child. He cleared his throat and moved forward, pouring the tea since she looked unfit to move. “You’ve been through an ordeal,” he said. “You’re shaken. Perhaps in shock—”
“I am no such thing,” she said. “I am fine.” As she said it she began to tremble and he muttered a curse under his breath.
In one move he was right next to her, his thigh pressed to hers as he wrapped an arm around her.
She stiffened even more. “What do you think you are—”
“Hush,” he commanded. He held her tight, and after a heartbeat of holding herself stiffly, she collapsed against his side as though all the fight drained out of her at once.
She was warm and soft, and she smelled like heaven.
They sat like that for a long moment and he found himself wishing it wouldn’t end.
It had to, of course. But he would have been content to sit like that for eternity.
“I should go home,” she said when she finally stirred against his side. Her cheek rested against his heart and he wondered if she could feel the way it pounded heavily against his ribcage.
Of course, his heart had been working just fine his whole life, but he’d never been quite so aware of it before. He’d never felt it thudding away inside of him like this.
Like it wasn’t his to control.
Like it no longer belonged to him.
Stuff and nonsense.
It wasn’t until she made to move again that her words fully registered and when they did, it was with a thud.
She still didn’t understand. Or maybe she just didn’t wish to…
“You cannot go home, Delilah.”
She pulled away from his arm and sat upright, adjusting her skirts as if that would lend this moment some decency. “Of course I can. I must. They will worry if—”
“Delilah.” He leaned forward to see her face.
Her voice had an odd edge to it. She didn’t wish to understand. But she was starting to. His heart did that lurch again, and he reached a hand out to cover hers, gentling his voice as he said her name again. “Delilah…”
“Don’t.” She pulled her hand from his. “Don’t say it.”
“You cannot go home, love—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He shifted to face her. “Delilah, listen to me.”
She frowned, her lips pursing. She looked far more like herself, and he was glad, even as her pout made him sigh with frustration.
“It’s Miss Clemmons,” she snapped.
Stubborn little thing.
But that was how he liked her.
“Miss Clemmons…” He drew her name out exaggeratedly, making her scowl. “You cannot go home. You may not be safe there.”
Her face drained of color. He hadn’t thought she could grow any paler and he cursed himself for being responsible for her fear.
But what else could he do? She was in danger, and she had to know it.
“What happened just now,” he said slowly, making sure she registered every word. “That was no accident.”
Her lips parted on an intake of air and he reached for her. He didn’t think about it; his body seemed to be acting on its own as he took her by the arms and drew her close.
Again, he wanted to kiss her. Kiss away her fear and replace the dazed look of shock with a dazed look of passion.
Instead he held her in his arms and showed restraint…to some extent.
She was in shock. Now was not the time for a flirtation, for heaven’s sake.
“How can you be sure?” she asked, her voice breathless but strong.
She didn’t try to pull out of the circle of his arms, and for that he was grateful. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Delilah needed strength right now. She needed support. His arms braced her, held her upright, and though she fought it, he felt the moment she gave in and relaxed, letting him take some of her weight.
She nibbled on her lower lips, her gaze fixed on his chin, which likely needed a shave. Was it any wonder she thought him some uncouth vagabond? For the most part, he was. “If this wasn’t an accident, it means…it would mean…” Her gaze lifted suddenly and met his.
He felt the directness of it like a punch in the gut.
“That would mean my fiancé meant to kill me.”
He wanted to make her feel better, to cushion the blow. “Perhaps not kill…” he hedged.
Her eyes widened and he stopped speaking. He supposed offering the possibility of kidnapping would do little to ease her mind at this particular moment.
Her gaze was unbearably serious as it held his. “Are you certain it was not an accident, or…” She shrugged. “A coincidence, perhaps?”
He didn’t answer, and it seemed he didn’t have to.
She sighed and slumped against him. “I knew it.”
He moved his head and accidentally nuzzled her hair. Well, perhaps it wasn’t all that accidental. He shifted so they were once more comfortably seated, cuddled together in a way that would ruin them both were they to be discovered.
But this was his house, and his servants knew discretion.
And besides…she was a victim. He would help her, as he would any damsel in distress.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She’d clearly gotten lost in her own thoughts as they sat.
“You said ‘I knew it,’” he reminded her.
“Oh, I… That is, I only meant, I…” She trailed off with a sigh. “I did something unforgivably stupid.”
He stiffened. “What did you do?”
She leaned away from him just far enough to meet his gaze. “I tried to find proof.”
His brows shot up. “You…you did what?”
She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “And I was caught.”
He let out a sharp exhale. “You what?”
She frowned. “Do you have a hearing problem, Mr. Calloway?”
To his surprise and hers a short laugh was shocked out of him. “I suppose the fact that your tongue hasn’t lost its razor’s edge
means you are already on the road to recovery.”
Her lips twitched for a second before she adopted an expression of ennui, as if she were bored by the evening’s tedious adventure. “Now I suppose we need a plan.”
“We?” he echoed.
“Of course we.” She shot him a look. “Really, you must try to keep up, Mr. Calloway.”
He laughed under his breath at her audacity. “I merely meant, don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
She huffed in indignation as she crossed her arms, pulling back far enough that he was forced to drop his arms and release her. “If it weren’t for me, you would have no proof that Everley is a criminal.”
That had him straightening in surprise. “You have proof?”
She frowned and waved a hand in the direction of the door. “What do you call that back there in the carriage? That was proof, was it not? I shall tell the world that Everley tried to…to…” She blanched and stopped talking.
He sighed. “That is not proof, love. That’s just your word against his.”
“But you said—”
“I have no doubt it was not a coincidence,” he said. “I saw a footman set off with a message just prior to your departure, and on top of that, the carriage took the wrong route.”
She opened her mouth to speak but he spoke over her.
“But even so, that is not enough.”
She shut her mouth with another huff.
“What exactly did he find you doing today? Take me through it step by step.”
She talked rapidly, starting from the very beginning. She seemed to calm herself as she spoke. As if the very act of recounting it all helped her put it in perspective. For this reason, he found himself asking question after question, even when he’d gotten a good sense of all she had—and had not—discovered.
By the time they were done rehashing the day, the sun had fully set and the servants had brought them a cold supper of meats and bread before leaving them once more.
“So you found nothing in his desk,” he said for the tenth time. Frustration had him tearing the bread in his hands with too much force. Nothing. He’d been so sure that Everley in all his arrogance would make a mistake. Leave evidence or at least some sort of clue that pointed to his next moves.
The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 3) Page 6
