“Nothing,” Delilah repeated with a sigh.
Delilah, for her part, was using a fork and knife and using dainty movements that seemed entirely out of place with the casual fare and atmosphere.
He suspected she was clinging to propriety for the normalcy it brought to this otherwise entirely abnormal day.
He dropped his food onto the plate and scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration as he leaned back to study her. “What were he and your stepmother discussing?”
“Wedding plans, I presume.”
“All day?” he asked. “Are weddings truly that complicated?”
She gave him a small smile and he felt his chest swell with pride. It was ridiculous the effect she had on him. It made no sense whatsoever, but now was not the time to try and sort it out.
“Weddings themselves might not be, but then there are the other matters,” she said with a little wave of her fork.
“Other matters?”
“Yes. Dowries and such.” She made a funny little face as she wrinkled her nose. “You know…the business of marriage.”
He blinked at the note of bitterness in her voice and for the millionth time that day he felt a pang of sympathy for this odd girl with her snooty ways.
From a distance one might think she was just a spoiled wealthy young lady. But one would be wrong. She was that…but there was more to her than just that.
She just did a remarkable job of hiding it. But even so, her act didn’t work on him.
He’d made a career out of learning people’s real identities and ferreting out their true natures.
This girl wasn’t nearly as shallow as she pretended, nor as hardened. But he’d bet money he was one of few who knew that.
“You stepmother handles the…business of your marriage?” he asked.
She nodded. “It is not typical, I know, but my father is in ill health. He has been for years. My stepmother has all but taken over the day-to-day work with running an estate, and I am part of that estate.”
She didn’t sound sad and that casual mention of herself as just a part of her father’s estate made him inexplicably angry.
“Most people would put their solicitor in charge, or appoint a guardian—”
She shook her head. “My father doesn’t trust many people, and he trusts no one as much as he does his wife.”
He eyed her. “Are you and your father close?”
The flinch was so subtle one might have missed it. Rupert did not.
“No.”
No. That was it. No explanations or justifications. Just no.
“It is getting late,” she said, setting down her utensils as she looked toward the dark window. “I had better get home.”
He gaped at her. She couldn’t be serious. “You are not going home. You would not be safe there.”
She huffed. “Fine. Then I will go back to the school. I’m certain Miss Grayson will have my room—”
“You cannot go there, either.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
He glowered at her as he leaned forward. “Do you honestly think Miss Grayson or any of the other girls could keep you safe if trouble follows?”
She opened her mouth but he wasn’t done.
“Would you want to be responsible for putting them in harm’s way?”
She blinked and clamped her mouth shut. “Then…” Her cheeks stained pink. “W-where shall I go?”
His heart threatened to combust with emotions at the rare display of vulnerability. “You’re not going anywhere, love.” He reached for her hand. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here.”
8
She stared at this strange man in horror. “Here?” Her voice rose an octave higher than usual without her say so. “You want me to stay here?”
He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just suggested that they ruin her reputation in one rash move.
“That is ridiculous.”
He leaned back, looking far too amused for her liking. She hated when this man laughed at her, and it seemed to be most of the time.
The rest of the time he was being even more irritating by comforting her like she was a child or someone to be pitied.
She was neither. She was Miss Delilah Clemmons and while her situation might not have been ideal, it was not dire.
She hadn’t died today, after all.
That was a good start.
And that was very much thanks to this man.
She shoved the thought to the side. She was grateful for his assistance, yes, but she couldn’t afford to focus on that now or she might forget that he was not her friend.
He was a stranger.
A stranger who’d held her in his arms and made her feel safe, a stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere when she’d needed him, a stranger who’d saved her life…
But still a stranger.
She looked around her at the uncommonly nice surroundings and she was reminded once again of just how little she knew about him.
What kind of man looked like he did—the very picture of gruff and disheveled—but lived in a place like this?
“Do you live alone?” she asked.
He nodded slowly. “Just me and a few servants.”
“And you expect me to stay here. Overnight.”
“I do.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I cannot do that.”
He met her stare for a long moment, and she hated him for it. Those rough features that looked as though he’d been in too many fights. The broad, muscular shoulders that didn’t seem to fit in this elegant home. His frame was too big for the furniture, it seemed…
But the perfect fit for her to lean against.
She shut her eyes to stop herself from going there. It was bad enough that she’d let him hold her—twice.
It was even worse that she’d enjoyed it.
But now they were discussing her ruin, thank you very much. This was definitely not the time to swoon. “I cannot,” she said again.
“Why not?”
Her eyes grew so wide, it actually started to hurt. But honestly… “Are you serious?”
He shrugged, like they were discussing the weather. “Of course. You cannot go home, you shouldn’t go to the school…where do you think you ought to go?”
Her mind raced to think of other options. She had no family to speak of aside from her father, no friends other than the girls at the school…
She was alone.
The weight of this realization hit her so hard and so quick, she didn’t have time to brace for it. Once when she was a child, she fell from a low tree branch and the air from her lungs had left in a rush. She couldn’t draw in a breath right away and there had been this moment of panic as she fought for air.
That was exactly how she felt now. Like she could not breathe. Like she might never be able to breathe.
“Easy, love.” He moved to her, drew her out of her seat and held her like a child, cradling her to his chest and stroking her back, her hair. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I have you.”
She clutched the fabric of his shirt. Her heart was racing too fast, her hands shaking, and her eyes…
Oh drat. She squeezed them shut, willing away the tears.
It was the shock of it all, that was all.
His hands on her back were so large and so warm. So rough she could feel his callouses through the thin material of her dress.
When her breathing started to slow, he pulled back to look down at her and the threat of tears started all over again at the tenderness she saw there. His dark eyes were filled with a warmth she’d never seen before.
A warmth that wasn’t friendship and wasn’t familial—and yet it made her feel loved.
Ridiculous, obviously. But it helped to soothe her all the same.
“I’ll have Mrs. Tate ready a room for you,” he said.
She gulped, wanting to protest but knowing she’d lost this argument.
She bit her lip as she tried to resign herself to this new
reality. “My family will be worried when I do not return.”
He eyed her steadily and she wondered if he knew that she was lying. There was every chance no one would even notice.
“We can send word that you are well.”
She frowned. “You wish me to tell them that I am well. That I am merely staying at a strange man’s home. Nothing to worry about.”
His lips twitched at her sarcasm. “I’d thought perhaps we could lie. Tell them you decided to stay at the school for the night.”
She nodded slowly. “I could say that I went there to see friends and lost track of time, perhaps.” Her voice trailed off. The details of her lie didn’t really matter. Her stepmother would likely be pleased to have her out of the house for a while and her father…
Well, she wasn’t even sure he knew she’d been staying with them.
She sighed. “Very well. I suppose I will have to talk to Miss Grayson tomorrow. Let her know what is happening so she can lie on my behalf should anyone ask.”
He nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
She wanted to argue but the truth was, she wasn’t certain she’d feel safe without him at her side.
“Come,” he said. “Let us get you situated so you can rest.”
She nodded, letting him lead her toward the door. She stopped as the biggest fear of all had her worrying her lower lip. “What will we say if anyone discovers that I’ve been staying here…with you?”
He eyed her for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was low and even. “If that happens, we will just have to wed.”
9
The moment the words came out of his mouth, he knew it was a mistake.
Or rather, he knew that it was a mistake to say it aloud.
He also realized at the same exact time, that it was a mistake to say it aloud because…he meant it. He would marry her if it meant keeping her and her reputation safe. He stared at her blankly as the realization hit home.
He wasn’t certain who was more horrified.
She broke the silence with a wail. “I cannot marry you.”
Well then. It seemed Delilah was definitely the more horrified of the two.
“Then let us hope it does not come to that,” he said, hoping to end the discussion.
But she continued to gape at him in horror. “I cannot marry you,” she said again, changing the emphasis as though he might not have understood.
“Yes, you have said that already.” He kept his voice low and even. This conversation had to end. Now. He wasn’t an overly proud man. He’d never deluded himself into thinking he was so devastatingly handsome to those of the fairer sex. He knew he had none of the charm and manners that a young woman like Delilah expected. He’d been out of society too long to remember all that was proper and pleasing to a lady. And yet…
“I cannot marry you.” She was shaking her head now and looked frighteningly close to tears at the thought.
“Yes,” he said. “You have made this very clear.”
His pride stung. He could admit it. He’d never actually proposed to a lady before—in fact, up until tonight, he’d assumed he’d continue his life as a bachelor quite contentedly. From the moment he’d opted to live outside society and pursue justice instead of the life of a gentleman, he’d understood that he was likely not fit to marry. At least not a lady of the ton.
It was a lonely life he’d chosen, and he had no qualms with that. There were moments, of course, on long and lonely assignments, when perhaps he’d considered what it would be to have a partner to come home to, but even in those fantasies he’d known better than to imagine some society darling. No, what he needed was a helpmate. A woman with skills and prowess of her own. Someone strong who could face the dangers that came with his line of work.
Someone he wouldn’t have to worry about.
“I just...I meant to say…” She shook her head, apparently now too horrified to piece words together. Which was for the best as he had an inkling what she was about to say.
Again.
Sure enough… “I cannot—”
“Marry me. Yes, I understand that very well, Miss Clemmons. Your point has been made.” But you might not have a choice.
He did not say that, of course.
The poor girl was only just now recovering from her earlier shock. Her life had gone through an epic upheaval, and he couldn’t expect her to now understand and comprehend the fact that her life plans, such as they were, may have been forever altered.
“But I might have to,” she said, a high, breathless note in her voice hinting at hysteria. “That’s what you mean to say. I might have to marry you or risk total ruin.”
He studied her with increasing alarm.
She’d clearly been in shock earlier, just after the accident. That had been expected. Her life had been in danger, and her world turned upside down.
But he suspected she was only now beginning to see the ramifications. She was just now beginning to understand that the life she’d been meant to live might never come about.
She might just end up a scandal. Or worse, stuck with a man like him.
“I-I…Y-You—” Her voice was edging up, and her breathing was coming in dangerously shallow gasps. Her eyes were unfocused and her hands fluttered helplessly at her side.
And all at the thought of marrying me.
He tried not to take it personally, he truly did. “Hush, Delilah,” he said, taking a small step forward, afraid of alarming her further, but wanting to comfort her all the same.
For a man who’d eschewed polite society to build a life of independence, competence, and strength, it was a rare moment indeed to find himself so incredibly…useless.
When she didn’t try to back away he took another step forward. Her eyes were darting about and her breathing was growing so erratic, he feared she might faint. “There, there.” He reached out to pat her arm. It was meant to be consoling but just seemed rather awkward.
He wasn’t sure what his problem was. Twice this afternoon he’d held her in his arms, more intimately than he’d ever held anyone, truth be told.
But that was before he’d gone and mentioned marriage. And now…
Well, now it was impossible not to look at her and imagine what it might be like if he could hold her like that at any time. Not because she feared for her safety, not for any particular reason at all. But just because she was his to hold. To protect and to cherish.
The air rushed from his lungs as a wave of emotion hit him like a tidal wave.
Never before had he even contemplated marriage, and now it was all he could imagine.
More alarmingly, it was all he wanted.
But not just any marriage…
Her wild gaze finally met his and his heart stalled in his chest as something seemed to pass between them, a physical but invisible connection that had his heart stuttering back into action with a painful thud against his ribcage.
He wanted to marry her.
To his surprise, she took a step toward him, her hands reaching out until they were pressed to his chest. “What am I going to do, Mr. Calloway? My life is over.”
He wasn’t sure what affected him more. The pitiable words or the feel of her touch as her fingers pressed into him, clutching the fabric of his jacket like a lifeline.
She needed him. Maybe not forever, maybe not even after tomorrow, but for now, she needed him to be strong for her.
And with that thought, his wounded pride was forgotten, and his selfish wishes pushed to the side.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer. “We will figure this out,” he said softly. His voice was firm. It was a promise. A vow. And one he meant to keep. “I will never let Everley harm you.”
“But he’s to be my husband,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “My father promised me to him. And you said it yourself. It is my suspicions against a gentleman’s word. No one will believe me.”
He watched her throat work as she swallowed. “My own
father might not believe me.” She shut her eyes as she clearly struggled for control. “He might not care.”
He had no idea what to say to that but his heart broke at the pain that flickered across those beautiful, delicate features. He doubted anyone had ever seen this strong, proud woman so vulnerable, and the thought that she was opening up to him, of all people, was humbling, even as he told himself that it was only because he was here.
He was her only option.
Her eyes fluttered open and once more he forgot all about reason and all about pride. “What if he comes after me again? What if my father insists on the wedding?” Her voice was growing hysterical again and tears now welled in her eyes.
Everything in him ached with the need to help her. To calm her. To…distract her, at the very least.
“What if no one believes me? What if—”
He kissed her.
They both froze as his lips crushed hers. What was he doing? He didn’t know. And at this particular moment, he didn’t care. The scent of her, the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her soft lips…
All combined, it washed away every intelligent thought in a heartbeat.
Her lips parted slightly on a gasp and he moved against her, tasting her sweetness, teasing her until she kissed him back. Lightly at first. Tentatively. Her hands still pressed to his chest, she came to life in his arms, slowly and exquisitely.
He forced himself to move slowly, keeping his hands on her back as he explored the softness of her lips, as he reveled in the sweet intimacy of her breath mingling with his.
Her fingers curled into his flesh as she leaned forward, deepening the kiss as their lips clung together, no longer teasing but tasting. Exploring.
The summer heat had nothing on the flow of lava in his veins that made him feel possessed with the need to hold her closer, to kiss her deeper, to clutch her to his heart and never let go.
The sound of a servant in the hallway, heading toward the stairs to ready a room for his guest broke through his haze and had him pulling back reluctantly.
The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 3) Page 7
