The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 3) Read online

  Rupert’s brows hitched up farther in surprise.

  “Not to say that she isn’t...an innocent, that is,” Tolston said quickly. “She is a proper young lady, of that there is no doubt.”

  Rupert laughed as well as he realized what his old friend was trying to say in his roundabout way. “But she is not sweet.”

  Tolston snickered. “Not as such, no.”

  Rupert arched a brow. “A bit of a cold fish?”

  “I wouldn’t say that…”

  “A nag, then,” he guessed. Honestly, now he was just having fun putting his old, slightly stodgy friend on the spot.

  “Oh quit it,” Tolston said with a huff. “I shall not speak ill of my wife’s schoolmate. Despite Delilah’s…haughty demeanor she has proven to be a loyal friend to Addie.”

  “Haughty demeanor.” Rupert leapt on the phrase. That gave him a clear impression, indeed. Knowing what he knew of her father, Rupert could easily believe that the girl would be spoiled and arrogant.

  And if she bore his resemblance in any way, she’d be remarkably plain, to boot. Which made him wonder… “Just what is Everley getting out of this match?”

  The last of Tolston’s humor faded fast. “That is exactly what I wish to know.”

  Rupert studied his friend. His normally stoic features were creased in concern, his posture tensed as though ready to spring into action.

  Tolston was normally so calm, so unreadable and seeing him agitated was alarming. Tolston’s fears were understandable if he knew the girl in question. But still…

  Rupert knew from experience how dangerous it could be to be emotionally involved during an investigation. Emotions only clouded the issue, it made it impossible to act with reason and logic.

  Which was why it was for the best that he’d arrived when he had. He’d learned how to keep an emotional distance while working an investigation like this one, even if there was a damsel in distress.

  Especially if there was a damsel in distress.

  “Has anyone tried talking to the girl herself,” he said.

  “Delilah? No.” Tolston’s brows drew down. “Addie and her friends have been trying ever since they received their invitations to the engagement ball.”

  “She hasn’t received them?”

  Tolston gave his head a quick shake. “Either she’s avoiding them, or…”

  Rupert made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “Or she’s being kept away.”

  “Precisely. We don’t know which, but either way, it’s been impossible to get to her. To warn her or help her or…” Tolston ran a hand through his hair in impatience. “Addie is beside herself with worry, and I…” Tolston flashed a rueful, nearly desperate smile. “I’m afraid that I cannot abide that. I cannot bear to see Addie upset.”

  Rupert was momentarily stunned into silence. He’d never known his old friend to care about anyone or anything to this degree. But then again, he’d never seen his friend in love before, either.

  Poor sap.

  “When is the engagement ball?” Rupert asked.

  “Two days from now.”

  Rupert frowned. That didn’t give him much time to wrap his head around the current investigation. “And the wedding?”

  “Three weeks hence.”

  Rupert cursed under his breath. “Then we must act quickly.”

  “Exactly. That is why I asked you to come. If there’s anyone who knows the extent of the danger, it is you. And you know how Everley thinks, how he acts.”

  Rupert grunted his agreement. For better or for worse. He’d spent months trying to prove that Everley had murdered his younger cousin, Lyle. The heir to the title that Everley now bore, Lyle was Everley’s rival…and Rupert’s closest friend.

  As good as a brother, really.

  “Do you think you could help?” Tolston asked.

  Rupert met his friend’s gaze evenly. His heart began to pound with determination. “I will do everything in my power to bring Everley to his knees before he has a chance to wed your fiancée’s friend.”

  Tolston’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’ll do anything I can to assist you. Just tell me what you’ll need.”

  Rupert rested back in his seat as he crossed his arms and stared into the distance, his mind racing to come up with a plan. “First and foremost…” He turned to his friend. “I’ll need admittance to the engagement ball.”

  Tolston nodded. “Consider it done.”

  3

  The room seemed to be spinning as Delilah made her way through the crowd.

  “You look so beautiful, darling.” An older woman who smelled of licorice and talcum powder kissed the air beside both her cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Her hair felt too heavy, her face strained from smiling. The party had only just begun, and she already felt exhaustion creeping in.

  The gown was cinched too tight, and her breath came in short bursts as she made her way slowly through the crush.

  Where was she heading?

  To her betrothed, she presumed. She had yet to speak to him alone. It had been weeks since she’d discovered she was engaged to Lord Evil—no, Lord Everley.

  Blasted Louisa with her silly nicknames.

  It had been weeks and she’d yet to see her fiancé.

  Was that normal?

  Ought not an engagement begin with a courtship?

  Apparently not, as far as her betrothed was concerned. He’d come to the house to discuss the details of her dowry but left before she was able to see him.

  Pressing business, her father’s solicitor had explained when he’d come into the drawing room to make Everley’s excuses.

  Had he known that she’d been waiting for him?

  Had he cared?

  She shoved the questions aside. Likely not, and that did not matter. This was no love match, and she’d never expected it to be. Other girls might have spent their childhoods dreaming of fairy tales and romance, but not she.

  She certainly would not begin now.

  The room seemed to swim around her and a trickle of sweat made its way down her neck.

  It was stiflingly hot in here; she couldn’t breathe properly.

  And the people.

  She’d never minded crowds before, but today…tonight…

  She itched to tug off her clinging gloves. She had an overwhelming urge to take off her slippers, let her hair down, and…run.

  Just run.

  She clasped her hands together and focused on her breathing. It was just emotions talking. Nerves, most likely. After all, it wasn’t every day one attended one’s own engagement party.

  She looked around her, a small smile plastered in place as it had been for the past two hours. Some faces she recognized, but not many.

  Everley was popular, it seemed.

  Her mind flashed back to earlier in the summer when Louisa had overheard him talking.

  Perhaps he wasn’t popular. Maybe he was just feared. Maybe everyone here owed him something. Perhaps, like Louisa’s father, these partygoers were at his mercy now that they’d handed him their fate.

  Just like her father had handed him hers.

  Her future rested in his hands now.

  She sucked in a deep breath of warm, scented air as she tried to steady herself. Her chin tilted up higher, her shoulders straightened.

  A secret she’d learned a long time ago…the lower you feel, the higher you hold yourself. It worked like a charm. Pride and confidence did more to earn respect—and yes, sometimes fear—than all the smiles and simpering in the world.

  So now she called upon that lesson as she headed toward the French doors leading outside.

  Peering gazes followed her as she walked. Of course they were interested. She was the belle of the ball…for today, at least. This was her party and she ought to enjoy it. After all, she’d never had a proper coming out. She’d never had the sort of season other debutantes enjoyed, with charming men and endless dancing…

  She’d be going f
rom the schoolroom to her marriage bed so quickly her head was still spinning.

  She stood still and shut her eyes. Marriage bed. She should not have gone there, not even in her mind.

  One thing at a time. That was how she would adjust to her new life.

  For now, she merely had to find air. Space. A brief respite from the crush of the crowd.

  She’d also prefer to do so without running into her friends from Miss Grayson’s. She was still annoyed that her stepmother and Everley had planned the guest list without her.

  But then again, she had little to do with this engagement or the wedding, so why start participating now?

  Her stepmother was here somewhere, but Delilah was doing her best to avoid her as well. It was surprisingly easy to avoid running into Prudence, Addie, and Louisa when there were so many people trying to get close to her.

  She’d pretended not to notice as they took turns frantically waving her down.

  She knew what they wanted. They wanted to save her.

  Silly girls.

  As if she needed saving.

  She sniffed at the thought. Hardly.

  And besides, Everley certainly wasn’t all that bad. He might have had his faults but it wasn’t as though he’d been abusing her these past weeks. Just ignoring her. But that was hardly a crime, now was it?

  Besides, every time she’d spotted him this evening, he’d worn a congenial smile. He hadn’t spoken to her, but he’d smiled. She reached the edge of a crowd with a sigh. A smile had to count for something.

  The doors were within reach when she spotted familiar red hair.

  Drat.

  Louisa was heading toward the doors as well, her betrothed hovering beside her as she laughed at something he’d said.

  If Louisa managed to get her alone outside, there would be no shaking her. The girl was tenacious—and melodramatic, to boot. Delilah’s insides fluttered wildly in panic at the sight of her.

  So silly. No one ought to fear Louisa, for heaven’s sake. The girl was wild, unpredictable, dramatic, and loud, but she wasn’t—

  Delilah turned toward the nearest hallway as her mind worked to finish that sentence.

  Never mind. Perhaps one ought to fear Louisa for every reason she’d just listed.

  After all, if there was one person to be counted on to cause a scene—intentionally or not—it was Louisa.

  And all Delilah wanted right now was to get through this engagement and her wedding with her pride intact and her head held high.

  The hallway Delilah found herself in was dark. Private quarters, no doubt. She paused for a moment, eyeing the shadows before her. She ought to turn back. She ought to rejoin the party.

  And yet…

  The shadows seemed to call to her. A quiet, dark, safe mirage. Surely it couldn’t hurt to escape…just for a moment.

  She took a step forward, fear making her pause as a voice spoke behind her. But it was a stranger addressing another stranger. And still, her heart picked up its pace. She shouldn’t be entering Everley’s private quarters—

  But then again, why shouldn’t she? This would be her home, too, would it not?

  Sooner rather than later.

  The thought had her moving into action before she could think it through. Her breathing was coming in gasps now. If only she could slip away long enough to untie her stays. She needed to breathe. She needed—

  Thwack!

  She’d been rushing so quickly down the darkened hallway she ran headlong into a stranger. A gentleman whose features she couldn’t make out and who seemed to be a hunchback or a monster or—

  “Ee—” Her strangled screech was cut short by a hand over her mouth. Large, warm, and calloused, it clapped over her mouth so hard her eyes bugged out. And then the form grew.

  The shadowy figure grew, and grew, unfolding into a man.

  A large man.

  A giant.

  She realized now that he hadn’t been a hunchback. He’d been bending over the doorknob of the doorway to her left. She could just make out pins sticking out of the lock before the stranger used his free hand to open the door with a snick.

  She wanted to scream.

  Fear had her immobile.

  And then she was moving, but not of her own free will. With a rough grip, the burglar grabbed her by the arms and shoved her into the room.

  She was drowning in the darkness. Her earlier feeling of breathlessness growing a millionfold as fear gripped her chest and made her heart pound against her ribcage.

  His hand dropped but his low voice was dangerously close to her ear. “Do not scream.”

  A scream died in her throat.

  Not because he told her not to scream. She was just too scared to work her throat properly, that was all.

  It wasn’t until he took a step back away from her that she remembered how to breathe. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was quiet but cold as ice and she was pleased to hear it did not shake.

  The man muttered something she could not hear.

  “I will give you to the count of three to leave this room, and if you do not, I shall call for help.”

  The man was moving away from her.

  Excellent. She felt a surge of satisfaction just as a match was struck and the dark room gave way to the glow of candlelight.

  The gentleman held the candle in one hand as he approached her slowly.

  She shuffled back a step. He wasn’t running away.

  Why was he not running?

  Hadn’t he understood?

  “If my fiancé finds you here—”

  “You’ll be ruined,” he finished.

  She gasped in shock. “How dare you—”

  “A young lady alone in a room with a stranger?” His low voice held a note of amusement that had her hands clenching at her sides. He sounded so casual, talking about her potential ruin as though they were discussing the weather.

  And as though this was her fault, no less.

  “I merely went off in search of a respite,” she said. Some of her normal composure was returning rapidly in the face of this stranger’s audacity. “You were the one sneaking around in the darkened hallways of…of my fiancé’s home.”

  The word felt awkward on her tongue, like she’d taken too big of a spoonful of porridge.

  His expression was impossible to read in the dim lighting, but she was nearly certain she’d felt him still at that word.

  Her chin went up. The power had once again shifted back to her, and they both knew it.

  “Fiancé,” he murmured. “So then you are…”

  “Miss Delilah Clemmons,” she finished primly.

  “Ah.”

  She blinked, her eyes narrowing as though that might help her see past the candle’s glow to the shadowy figure behind it. His ‘ah’ said nothing…and everything. It was entirely too knowing for her liking. What does that mean? She itched to ask. But admitting to her curiosity would be handing over what little control she had, and that was unthinkable.

  Her hands clasped neatly before her, she took a step toward the door. “Yes, well, now that we understand one another,” she started, pointedly ignoring the sound of her pounding heart.

  “Do not leave just yet, Miss Clemmons.” His voice was low, soft…dangerous.

  She should have been afraid. Distantly she was aware of this. And perhaps she was—just a bit—but more than that she was…

  Well, she could not say what emotion had her pulse pounding and her breath finally coming in large gulps as though she’d finally found the oxygen in this house.

  Perhaps she was…exhilarated.

  She pursed her lips. Well, that would not do. She should definitely not be excited by this. “Is that an order?” she said. With a sniff she turned toward the door and reached for the handle. “I do not know who you think you are, sir, but—”

  He moved so quickly she found herself blinking in surprise as the door clicked shut just as she’d opened it.

  And now he
was next to her. So close she could smell his scent—a mix of leather and cologne, and perhaps some sort of spirit. She could see his attire, too. Barely, but enough to make out the fine clothing of a gentleman. Despite the hulking width of his shoulders and his towering frame, he was a gentleman.

  A guest.

  A guest in her fiancé’s home. Soon to be her home.

  She swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth. One day soon she’d come to grips with her new reality. “If I scream, it will be your word against mine,” she said, once again delighted by how even her voice was.

  No one would guess that her heart was fluttering in her chest like a butterfly.

  Again—not out of fear. Which made some distant part of her brain wonder about her sanity. Being locked in a room with a giant stranger with a low growl for a voice…

  She really ought to be afraid.

  Funny, how knowing that did nothing to help this growing sense of…excitement.

  Yes, there was no denying it now. She had the same surge of energy she used to get as a child before racing her mare across the meadows on the far edge of their country estate.

  “Do not scream,” he said softly.

  She peered up at the man, wishing she could see his eyes, but only catching glimpses of a nose, a jawline, a twist of his lips as his face flickered in and out of shadows. “I do wish you’d stop telling me what to do, Mister…” She trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the silence.

  He did not.

  His voice had that irritating note of amusement again when he next spoke. “And I wish you’d stop behaving like a bloody princess and listen to what I have to say.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp at his language. “I will not—”

  “Just listen,” he said, and this time it was his exasperation that got through to her.

  After all, murderers and thieves weren’t exasperated, now were they? He could have gone into a rage, but all she’d gotten was a huff of irritation because she wasn’t fainting with fear.

  And she never would, she decided as she crossed her arms and stared him down.

  At least, she hoped she was staring him down. She aimed her gaze in the general direction of his eyes, anyway.