“Very well. If you wish it,” the baroness said.
“I do.” Delilah followed her stepmother to the waiting carriage and they made their way together to Everley’s townhouse in Mayfair.
The air smelled of rotting flowers as the unseasonable heat crept over the city, and Delilah did her best not to take it as a sign that the world seemed to have been burning with the flames of hell from the moment she’d agreed to marry the devil.
Lord Everley.
She pressed her lips together in annoyance at her own imagination. She was here to prove that Louisa, Addie, and most definitely that stranger had gotten it all wrong. Surely her fiancé wasn’t so bad as he was made out to be.
Right?
The nagging worry would be allayed as well once she’d cleared her mind of their dramatic notions.
Everley greeted them warmly and some of her apprehensions faded even further at the attention he paid to her and her stepmother. His manners were impeccable.
Smugglers surely did not have impeccable manners. Murderers, perhaps, but not common criminals.
She smiled beatifically over tea, she answered his enquiries as to her health and her experience at the engagement ball with pleasure. See? This was a man she ought to be proud to marry. This was the man her father had chosen for her—from his sickbed, of course, but she was certain he’d done his due diligence.
He would hardly hand her over to a murderer.
She sipped her tea and worked herself into a righteous anger over the matter. Her husband-to-be was being unfairly persecuted and it was up to her to make this right.
She imagined the look on that brute Mr. Calloway’s face when she slapped him across the face with her evidence. Or her lack of evidence.
Either way, she would show him who needed saving. And it wasn’t her.
Delilah Clemmons needed no help from anyone. Even less so once she was secure in a marriage to a man as wealthy as a king. Then she’d have power. She’d like to see Mr. Calloway try to talk to tell her as if she were a helpless princess then.
“Delilah?” Her stepmother eyed her oddly and Delilah realized she hadn’t been paying attention.
“Yes? What? Er…Pardon me.” She set her teacup down.
Her stepmother’s smile was placid. Cool. Her father had married the epitome of grace and beauty in the hopes that she would be a good role model for Delilah. Growing up she’d often wished her father had focused more on finding her a mother figure rather than a role model, but perhaps the two were one in the same in some cases.
Not in theirs.
Though at this precise moment, her stepmother was doing an excellent job of feigning motherly concern. “Would you like to rest a bit, dear?” She glanced over at Lord Everley who wore matching look of beneficence. “Lord Everley and I can certainly handle matters from here.”
Delilah wanted to protest. This was her wedding, her honeymoon…her future they were discussing. If anyone should take part in these conversations it was she.
And since when had these two become such close friends?
But all that was beside the point because this served her purposes quite nicely. Her stepmother had neatly handed her the excuse she needed. “Do you know, this weather does have me feeling a bit piqued,” she said with a flutter of her lashes. “If you both wouldn’t mind…”
“Of course not!” Everley was beckoning to a servant to attend to her. “We must keep you in good health for the big day, mustn’t we?”
She returned his smile evenly, trying not to note the excessively paternal note in his voice. It was nice that he was looking after her welfare.
It was hardly necessary, of course, but perhaps he was used to dealing with women of less solid constitutions.
“Henderson will take you to the sun room. You shall be quite comfortable there,” he said. Turning to the servant, he added, “Be sure to send her tea.”
Delilah bit her lip to keep from telling them both that she didn’t wish to drink tea. The last thing she wanted was for servants to come and check on her and find her gone.
Something about the look in Everley’s eyes stopped her from protesting. It was good manners to accept, anyhow. But the moment she and Henderson were out of view and earshot, she turned to the older man. “I do not require any more tea at the moment. But I will let you know when I do.”
“Very good, miss.”
And so she found herself in the sun room, which was indeed quite comfortable, and more importantly she found herself alone. Blissfully alone. She took a moment to enjoy the silence, the lack of pretense—and then she made her move.
She crept quickly and quietly through the hallways. She’d done her fair share of exploring the main areas of the first floor on the night of the ball and tonight she navigated them smoothly. She had a lie prepared in the event that she ran into someone, but the lie was unnecessary. Aside from some voices coming from the top of a staircase as she passed, the home was utterly silent.
Perhaps too silent. The ticking of the clock when she reached Everley’s office was ominous in the otherwise silent room. The door had been closed but not locked, like it had been the other night.
She’d used extra hair pins in the event that she might need them, but again…her preparations proved unnecessary. The door swung open quietly and she found herself back in the room that had been haunting her dreams and her memories for the last two days.
In the cold light of day, the room looked far more inviting, and without Mr. Calloway…
Well, without him the room felt bigger, at least…and far less exciting.
Not that he was exciting. Odds were he was just a lowly bow street runner hired to investigate Everley. Maybe he’d even been hired by
