Chapter Nineteen
“Mother!” Delilah jumped to her feet and greeted her mother.
The small parlor could barely contain the flurry of embraces and choruses of greetings.
“Travel must agree with you. You look wonderful!”
“Is Father with you? You haven’t misplaced him again, have you?”
“What did you like best?”
“We have missed you!”
Lord and Lady Briston had been traveling since early spring and aside from an occasional letter—Mother had always been dreadful at keeping up with correspondence—Delilah wasn’t certain at any given moment exactly where her wandering parents were on the map. Still, they were wandering together and there was much to be said for that.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to be home.” Mother settled in the chair Beryl had vacated for her. “Although I do find travel most stimulating. And let me say, there is nothing to bring a couple closer together than having to negotiate the deserts of Egypt sharing a camel or being forced to huddle together for warmth awaiting repairs on a sled somewhere in the Swiss Alps.” She nodded at the cups on the table and Delilah obediently filled one for her.
Somewhere in the midst of greeting their returning parent, a nearly unnoticed footman had slipped in and added cups and another plate of sandwiches to the tray. It was good to have the servants back. Delilah vowed when she could rehire her staff, it would be at higher wages. There was nothing like being without servants to make one appreciate their worth.
“I had no idea extensive travel could be so enlightening,” Mother continued. “Why, I feel much more intelligent now than when I left. But I must admit, there were times when I did long to understand what people were trying to say to me.” She sighed. “It does seem rather odd that not everyone in the world speaks English. You would think, given the vast expanse of the empire, everyone would have mastered English by now. Still . . .” She beamed at the younger women. “All part and parcel of the adventure I would say.”
Delilah smiled weakly.
“Oh, Camille dear.” Mother turned to Camille. “We ran into Victor in London yesterday and it was quite awkward when the subject of your wedding came up. I gather you did not invite him?”
Camille’s brows drew together in confusion. “Victor who?”
“Surely you don’t mean Cousin Victor?” Beryl stared.
“Cousin Victor?” Teddy said in an aside to Delilah.
“Lord Charborough,” Delilah said quietly. “He’s a relation on my mother’s side but so distant no one has any idea how we’re related.”
Camille frowned. “I can’t even recall the last time I saw him.”
“Neither could I. I feel quite badly about that.” Mother shook her head. “I assured him his invitation must have gone astray. So . . .” She paused. “We brought him with us.”
“You didn’t.” Camille stared although she shouldn’t have been surprised. Mother had long had a tendency to collect strays, usually minor European royalty who had lost home or country. That she had now brought home a distant relative was veering perilously close to something a normal person might do.
“I most certainly did,” Mother said in a no-nonsense tone. “It is my house, after all.”
“Yes, of course.” Camille heaved a resigned sigh. “Very well.”
“The poor dear no longer has two shillings to rub together, thanks to his wastrel of a father and the fact that he pours whatever funds he manages to acquire into that estate of his. It’s not easy supporting a crumbling castle, you know. Although I don’t believe his financial difficulty is common knowledge.”
“It’s not a well-kept secret,” Beryl said wryly.
“The best thing for the poor boy would be to find a wife with excellent connections and a sizable dowry. I thought, as there will be any number of suitable matches here for the wedding, this might be a good opportunity for him,” Mother said. “Besides, one can always use another unattached gentleman about. Especially one as dashing as Victor. My goodness, he did turn out to be a handsome devil.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Beryl said thoughtfully and glanced at Delilah. “One might say he is very nearly perfect.”
“Perhaps,” Delilah said slowly. “But you just said everyone knows he has no money.”
Teddy shook her head. “Sam wouldn’t know that.” “Who is Sam?” Mother asked, eyes wide with confusion.
“An American friend of Grayson’s, Mother,” Camille said. “Grayson probably isn’t aware of Victor’s financial state either given that he’s been out of the country for so many years.”
“Still, it’s one thing to throw oneself at a man who has a fortune and quite another to overtly pursue one who needs money.” Teddy shook her head. “You wouldn’t want to lead the poor man on and disappoint him.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t considered that.” Delilah sighed. “That would be wrong.”
“You could certainly ask him to go along with you.” Camille shrugged. “As a favor, one distant cousin to another.”
“Or you could pay him,” Beryl said. “I daresay, given his financial straits he would be more than willing to play the role of perfect prospect.”
“He would never take money for doing a favor for a relative, no matter how distant. He still has pride, after all. And I’m confident he will help without any compensation at all.” Mother thought for a moment. “But you might offer him a loan, which would certainly encourage his cooperation. One never knows when it might come in handy to have a handsome gentleman indebted to you,” she said to Teddy.
Teddy nodded, her eyes wide. But then Teddy had always found Lady Briston’s views on life a little shocking and most amusing.
“That’s that then.” Delilah shook her head. “I have nothing to offer him at the moment. My funds are still unavailable and I doubt that problem will be completely resolved in the next few days.”
“I can and I will.” Beryl smiled at her younger sister. “And I’d be happy to do so.”
“As would I,” Camille added.
“Would you?” Beryl’s brow rose. “And how would you explain that to Sam’s dear friend, your future husband, should he find out?”
“We shall simply have to make certain he doesn’t find out,” Camille said. “I know I can keep a secret.”
“As can I. But before I can keep a secret, someone is going to have to reveal said secret to me.” Mother’s gaze slid from one sister to the next. “I have absolutely no idea what we are talking about, although an educated guess would indicate this has to do with the previously mentioned plan.”
“Exactly.” Beryl beamed. “And a brilliant plan at that.”
“So you said. Very well then.” Mother took a sip of tea then looked at her daughters expectantly. “Explain it to me.”
“I will,” Delilah said quickly. Far better for her to provide a somewhat abbreviated version of events thus far than for one of her sisters to attempt it. God knows what they might say inadvertently. Besides, there was no need for her mother to know every detail. “It all has to do with Mr. Russell, Samuel. . . .”
Delilah briefly explained nearly everything. That she and Sam did not suit, how a match between them would be disastrous and really, it was best for all concerned if they showed Sam how very wrong Delilah was for him. She did not feel it necessary to mention their shared adventures but, as Beryl had pointed out earlier, since it did seem to be at the crux of everything, Delilah did confess her feelings for Phillip and what a dreadful mistake that had been.
“My, my, you have been busy.” Mother considered her youngest daughter for a long moment. “My poor dear girl. There is nothing worse in this world than loving someone who does not love you back.”
“Yes, well . . .” Delilah shrugged. “That’s in the past.”
“Oh, come now, dear,” Mother said. “It may be over but it certainly isn’t in the past. Why, the risk of having your heart broken again is precisely why you don’t want to entrust it to this American.”
“And because we are wrong for each other,” Delilah said. “It cannot end well.”
“It can but the chances are exceptionally slim. Oh certainly, on occasion, one hears of a successful match in which the parties involved are obviously wrong for one another—a duke marrying a parlor maid and that sort of thing.” Mother shrugged as if the very idea was too absurd to consider. “But usually such matches are doomed to failure. No.” She nodded. “I think you’re quite wise to put an end to this. Besides, making such an arrangement work would require a great deal of effort not to mention staggering compromise and that’s really not a concept you embrace.”
Delilah stared at her mother. “Are you saying I’m stubborn?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Mother smiled. “I’ve never been anything less than honest with you or your sisters—”
“Except for that little matter about saying Father was dead when he wasn’t,” Beryl said under her breath.
Mother continued without pause. “And I don’t intend to start now. So yes dear, you are stubborn. Beyond that, you have always been far too concerned with propriety and what you should do or who you should be for that matter. You have spent your entire life thus far doing exactly what you were expected to do and never treading from the path of proper behavior.”
Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “Goodness, Mother, I’m not certain if that was a compliment or a criticism.”
“You are my youngest girl, my dear darling daughter.” Mother smiled. “You’ve never given me a moment of trouble or so much as a single sleepless night. You have never created scandal or been the subject of gossip.” She cast a pointed glance at Camille and Beryl then returned her attention to Delilah. “You are kind and generous, you have a good heart, you’re clever and amusing and you’re exceptionally lovely as well. Indeed, you look very much like I did at your age.”
Someone snorted. Mother ignored it. “You made the very best of an awkward situation with Phillip. I long suspected something was awry but I do so hate to interfere so I kept my doubts to myself. I assumed you would tell me if you needed me.”
Delilah nodded although she’d never considered confiding in her mother. It was hard to admit to anyone, let alone your mother, that your marriage was not what you wished it to be.
“I have always been proud of you and I always will be.”
Delilah’s throat tightened and she stared at her mother.
“You need to do what you think is right for you. Nothing and no one else really matters.” Mother reached over and took her hand. “You have my complete and total support in however you want to handle this American. Although . . .” Amusement twinkled in her eyes. “If you wished to shoot the man, I do think that would be best left to your father.”
“I don’t.” Delilah choked back a sob. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Now that we have that settled I do have a another question.” Mother’s gaze narrowed. “What on earth did you mean when you said your funds were unavailable?”
Never in his life had Sam been at a loss over how to solve a dilemma. He stood outside the carriage house and stared unseeing off into the distance. Certainly, whatever problem he’d been faced with might be difficult, it might even appear impossible and yes, on occasion his solutions had been complete and utter failures but that was different. That was business. This was personal.
“Very well then,” Gray said behind him. “I surrender.”
“What do you mean, you surrender?” Sam turned toward his friend.
It was already late afternoon, a full day past the motorwagon’s accident. He and Gray had practically taken up residence with Jim at the carriage house, only returning to the manor last night to sleep. They returned shortly after dawn this morning. All things considered, staying away from the manor was a wise move. It was all he could do to keep from knocking down Delilah’s door and making her see how wrong she was. Making her admit that she did care for him and that, in spite of their differences, they were meant to be together. Sam needed distance between himself and that temptation but it wasn’t easy. He could well understand where Sampson went wrong.
“I mean . . .” Gray handed him a cigar. “I give up.”
Sam shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He aimed the cigar at his friend. “And where did you get these?”
“I had William bring them down with our last meal. I have one for Jim too.” He struck a match and lit his cigar.
“Good.” Sam lit his cigar. “He deserves it.”
“The man is brilliant. You are lucky to have him.”
“I know.” Sam paused. “If we can get this motorwagon business running, I was thinking of offering him a new position.”
Gray puffed on his cigar. “You want him to run the new company? I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
“I don’t think he’d like running the whole thing. It’s not where his strength is. He’s not much for sitting at a desk.” Sam paused. “I’d like to put him in charge of development, that sort of thing. A position equal in importance to the head of the company. That’s where the future lies. Benz’s motorwagon is a first step, but this new engine of his is really the beginning and opens a world of possibilities. Jim’s just the man to take that further.”
“I agree.” Gray nodded. “But the motorwagon isn’t what I was referring to when I said I surrender.”
“Then I have no idea what you mean.”
“I mean, I have known you long enough to know when something is weighing on your mind.”
“Any number of things are weighing on my mind. There’s a lot of repair needed here.”
“Yes, and I thought that was it initially but it’s not. You’ve been distant and preoccupied since the accident. Usually I can tell what you’re thinking, but I admit you have me stymied so I give up.” Gray studied him closely. “Now, I’m asking. What is wrong with you?”
Sam considered the question, not that he needed to. What was wrong with him could be summed up in one word: Delilah. “It appears I may have fallen in love.”
Gray stared. “With whom?”
Sam cast him a wry look.
“There’s no one . . .” Gray’s eyes widened with surprise. “Delilah?”
“I’m afraid so.” Sam nodded. “And I’m fairly certain she’s in love with me as well.”
“She doesn’t even like you.”
Sam shrugged.
“What are you not telling me?”
“For one thing, we did meet in New York.”
“I knew it!” Gray paused. “And? Obviously there’s more.”
“And I haven’t been able to get her out of my thoughts since then.” Sam shook his head. “She’s haunted me, Gray. Whether I’m awake or asleep, she’s lingered, in my mind, in my dreams. I would have followed her back here long ago if she hadn’t been so adamant about never seeing me again.” He chuckled in a mirthless manner. “Almost rude about it, really.”
“This explains so much,” Gray murmured.
“I have never met a woman in my life who was more opposed to, well, love, than she is. I always thought love is ultimately what all women wanted, especially when it came to marriage.”
“I thought Lenore would have awakened you to that fallacy.”
“One would think. But it’s not the same.” He shook his head. “In ways too numerous to mention, Delilah is nothing like Lenore. Except that love is not on her list of requirements for marriage.”
“You’ve asked her to marry you?” Shock rang in Gray’s voice.
“I am not so stupid as to ask a question I already know the answer to, when the answer is one I don’t want to hear.”
“This is extremely confusing.”
“Believe me, I am well aware of that.”
“Let me see if I have this right.” Gray puffed his cigar thoughtfully. “You love her. You think she loves you. But you won’t ask her to marry you for fear she’ll say no because she doesn’t want to marry for love?”
“That’s pretty much it.” Sam stared at the glowing tip of his cigar. “If I live to be a thousand years, I will never understand the English. Or women for that matter.”
“We can be a confusing lot but no man of any nationality understands women.”
“Except the French and maybe the Italians.”
“No, they just think they do.”
“Delilah has this . . . this perfect match she’s determined to marry.”
“Ah yes.” Gray nodded in a knowing manner. “A gentleman with a lofty title and an even greater bank account.”
“Exactly.”
“You have more money than she could spend in a lifetime.”
“Yes, but it’s new money. I’m nouveau riche, you know. Apparently, there is a stigma to that although I’m pretty sure it spends the same way. Plus, I’m American. An unforgivable sin in her eyes.”
“Good God no.” Gray heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “That will never do.”
“And regardless of the position my family—mostly my mother—has clawed out in society we don’t have titles in America.” Sam puffed on his cigar. “There’s more, of course. Basic differences between us. Delilah values tradition whereas I am aimed toward the future. As she has pointed out to me on more than one occasion, we have nothing in common.”
“Except love.”
“Which is not what Delilah wants. She thinks our differences are insurmountable. I don’t.” He paused. “She is protecting herself from heartbreak. I can understand that. It’s a most sensible position, really. Still . . .” He glanced at his friend. “What am I supposed to do, Gray?”
“I might not be the best person to give advice in this situation. It took me eleven years to accept that Camille was the only woman in the world for me.”
“I’d prefer not to wait eleven years.”
“Well, you do have a few choices.” Gray drew on his cigar thoughtfully. “You could fight for her. Try to convince her she’s wrong. Come up with a way to make her see that love is worth the risk of heartbreak. Although I should warn you.” He grimaced. “I have known her all her life and she’s fairly stubborn.”
“Is she?” Sam’s brow rose. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Or you could bow to her wishes, I suppose.” He paused. “You should probably consider that she might actually be right. The differences between you may be too great to overcome. Ultimately, you could both be miserable for the rest of your lives.”
“Do you think she’s right?”
“No, I don’t.” Gray puffed on his cigar. “I have been in love with Camille for much of my life. Even when I intended never to see her again, when she had married someone else, she was always with me. Somewhere, in the back of my mind or maybe in my heart, I don’t know, but she was always there. I could no more forget about her than I could stop breathing. But it wasn’t until I returned to England and saw her again that I realized, in spite of my best efforts, she was the love of my life.” He aimed his cigar at Sam. “And life wasn’t worth living without her.”
“What are you saying?”
“I suppose I’m saying even if I knew marrying Camille would end in certain heartbreak, I would rather have a moment of happiness with her than a lifetime without her,” he said slowly. “I’m saying the joys of love are worth the risks.”
“Well, now that we have you convinced, how do I convince your future sister-in-law?”
“I have no idea. I wish I had some sage, sound, definitive advice for you but I don’t.” He shook his head. “Delilah is nothing like Camille. Of all three sisters, Delilah is the most practical and sensible. She is the one who has always done precisely what was expected of her in all matters. Up to and including the type of man she married.” Gray thought for a moment. “I don’t know that you can change that.”
“I can try,” Sam said grimly.
“It seems to me you are a risk she is not willing to take.” He paused. “But then she’s never taken risks before. She’s never strayed from the path laid out for her. Never veered from the boundaries of proper and expected behavior. Delilah is not an adventurous sort.”
“Probably not.” Although for a few days in New York, she was.
“Answer me this,” Gray said slowly. “If she was, oh, say, an investment, what would be your next step?”
“That’s a ridiculous analogy.”
“No, it’s not. Just think about it for a moment.” Gray’s brow furrowed in thought. “If she were a company you wished to purchase, what would you do?”
“I don’t know.” He glared at his friend. “Evaluate its strengths and weaknesses, I suppose. Try to determine where it’s vulnerable. Whether the plans for future operation and expansion are viable. Appraise its debts, assets, that sort of thing.”
“So what are Delilah’s strengths?”
“This is absurd.” Sam sighed. “I don’t know. She’s intelligent. She’s beautiful.” He thought for a moment. “She’s stronger than she thinks. I can’t explain exactly how I know that but I do. It’s an observation more than anything. She plays chess nearly as well as she plays tennis. She’s passionate about her convictions. She’s amusing. I enjoy her company. I enjoy just being with her.”
“And her weaknesses?”
“She’s intelligent. But she doesn’t realize the value of that. She’s stubborn, of course, but you know that. She absolutely refuses to see that she could possibly be wrong.”
“Perhaps you have much in common after all.” Gray puffed his cigar and stared into the distance. “So, does that make anything clearer? Do you see what you have to do now?”
“Not at all.” Sam blew a perfect smoke ring. “Haven’t a clue.”
“Damn. Sorry, old man, that was the best I could do.” Gray blew a ring to match his friend’s. “Well, you have time to figure something out. Without access to her money she has nowhere else to go. She’s essentially trapped here.”
“That problem has been resolved, although I suspect it will be some time before everything is set to rights. Even if everything moves faster than expected, she’ll be here at least through the wedding. So that gives me . . . what?” He glanced the other man. “Twelve days until the wedding?”
Gray nodded. “Plenty of time. You’ve accomplished more with less.”
“You know, I think I could compete if this question of marriage involved a real suitor. If there was actually another man she had set her sights on.”
“I’d wager on you in a heartbeat.”
“But competing with an ideal, with a concept, regardless of how flawed it might be . . .” He shook his head. “There’s nothing solid to fight.”
“Hard to confront something that’s little more than an idea.”
“Exactly.”
Both men fell silent. Beside him, Gray was lost in his own thoughts, his own problems.
Sam still had no idea how to reach Delilah, how to convince her love was worth the risk of heartbreak. He was willing to chance it and he had been hurt in the past. But then Delilah had never really taken risks until she’d allowed herself to fall in love with her husband. Gray was right from the beginning. Lord Hargate had been an idiot. Now, it was up to Sam to make her believe in love and magic and forever.
How was still the question.
When it came right down to it, maybe Delilah’s only true weakness was that, even if she refused to admit it, she was in love with him.
Or maybe that was his.