Chapter Five
Sam bit back a smile and continued paging through the novel. He didn’t need to look to recognize that voice. “Perhaps I should be what?”
“Worried.”
“What on earth do I have to be worried about?” He cast a casual glance toward the door.
Delilah stepped into the library looking as if she were ready to do battle. Or more likely, put him in his place. Either way, it would be fun.
“All sorts of things I would suspect.” She shut the door behind her and moved closer to him. “But at the moment—me.”
“You?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “As much as that look might strike fear into the heart of any man, I’m not the least bit worried, Delilah.” He snapped the book closed. “Or should I say Mrs. Hargate?”
She had the good grace to blush. “That was a mistaken assumption on your part.”
“That’s not how I remember it. I remember you distinctly said you were Mrs. Hargate.”
“I might, possibly, have given you the impression . . .”
“There’s no possibly about it.” He replaced the book on the shelf. “If I recall correctly, and I have an excellent memory, you led me to believe you were someone, or something, other than who and what you are.”
“No more so than you led me to believe you were someone or something other than who you are.”
Apparently, Delilah subscribed to the classic philosophy that the best defense was a good offense. Again, he stifled a smile. The woman might well be just as interesting when she was annoyed as when she was flirtatious. Although she had been delightful.
“That was indeed a mistake and might I add it was a mistake on your part.” He shook his head. “I never said I was anyone other than who I am. I’m certainly not to blame for your incorrect assumption.”
“It seems I made any number of mistakes when I was in New York.” She paused. “I would prefer to forget them.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, of course, all of them.”
“Then we may have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Whereas you may have made a mistake when last we met, I don’t consider anything that passed between us a mistake.”
“Come now, Mr. Russell—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “Although admittedly, the moment I realized you thought I was an employee of Mr. Moore’s and not the other way around, I should have corrected you.”
“Yes,” she said in a haughty manner. “You most certainly should have.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“I don’t know. It might have, given your friendship with Grayson.” She thought for a moment then sighed. “But probably not.”
“Another mistake then?”
“A momentary error in judgment,” she said firmly.
“A mistake,” he said just as firmly.
“Yes, yes.” She waved off his comment. “In hindsight, yes. But my intentions were noble.”
“Pretending to be someone you’re not is noble? Explain that logic to me.”
“It really needs no explanation.” She stared at him as if he were entirely too stupid to understand. “As I had incorrectly assumed that you were an employee of an associate of Grayson’s, I thought you might be, well, intimidated—”
He laughed.
She glared. “What do you find so amusing?”
“That you thought I would be intimidated.” He chuckled. “By what? By Lady Hargate rather than Mrs. Hargate?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re a snob, aren’t you, Lady Hargate?”
“I most certainly . . .” Her lips curved upward in a superior smile. “I simply know my place in the world. Do you?”
“I always have,” he said in a mild manner he suspected might drive her mad. Her smile wavered a bit. He was right. “I don’t need a title to prove it. We don’t have titles in America.”
She sniffed. “Pity.”
He laughed again.
“This is not why I’m here,” she said through clenched teeth then drew a deep breath. “I simply thought it would be more, oh, democratic to introduce myself as Mrs. Hargate rather than Lady Hargate as you were so very . . .” She squared her shoulders as if the admission was difficult for her. “Well, friendly and I will admit I was enjoying our encounter.”
“I see.” He circled around her, retrieved his glass from the table where he had left it, and moved to the desk. “Would you care for something?”
“I never drink hard spirits.” She shrugged off the offer and stepped closer. “And then the second time we met, well, it was embarrassing to admit that I had not been entirely honest.”
He filled his glass then filled a second. “Not entirely, no.”
“I don’t know what came over me really,” she said more to herself than to him. “There are standards to be maintained and I have never veered from them. A certain model of behavior is expected and I do adhere to it. As should we all. I can’t imagine what might happen if people didn’t. If everyone went their own merry way without a thought as to honesty and principles and moral behavior.”
“Anarchy I suspect.” He handed her the glass and she sipped absently.
“The very thought is appalling.” She sighed. “I do pride myself on my honesty, you know. Why, I never dissemble or prevaricate. And I’ve never been one to deal in falsehoods, no matter how minor, even when it might have made things a great deal easier.”
“Then you are indeed meeting Gray near the maze even as we speak?” He cast her an innocent smile.
She stared at him for a moment. “Obviously not. But that was for a greater good and as such can be overlooked.”
“I suspect there are any number of deceptions that are well meaning at the start.” He studied her over the rim of his glass. “And what greater good is that?”
“Speaking to you privately of course.” She raised her chin. “I wish to apologize to you.”
“For which part?”
“What do you mean—which part?”
“For deceiving me in New York about who you really were or having your way with me and then throwing me out into the cold.”
She gasped. “Mr. Russell!”
“Sam.”
“Mr. Russell.” She glared, anger sparking in her eyes. He noted how very similar it was to passion of another kind. “Please be so good as to watch what you say.” Delilah shot a quick glance at the door, then stepped closer and lowered her voice. “The last thing I want is to be overheard. Goodness.” She tossed back at least half of her drink. “I would think after this afternoon you would understand that.”
“It was hard to miss.”
“And that is what I wish to apologize for. My manner this afternoon was unacceptable. I was very nearly rude and I am never rude.” She sighed in surrender. “My purpose in not being entirely forthright about my name really was well intentioned. But you do have my apologies for misleading you. As for the rest of it . . .” Her gaze hardened. “I did not have my way with you or at least no more so than you had your way with me.”
He nodded slowly. “I can agree with that.”
“Furthermore, I did not throw you out into the cold as, if I recall, we were in your room.”
He shrugged. “A minor point.”
“And . . .” She drew herself up in a haughty manner. “It was June and not the least bit cold.”
He chuckled. “You have me there.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
Her jaw tightened. “Do you accept my apology or not?”
“For your less than gracious behavior this afternoon?” He nodded. “It was understandable, really, given my unexpected appearance. It does tend to be uncomfortable when one’s adventure appears without warning on one’s doorstep. So yes, I do accept your apology. As for the rest of it . . .” He sipped his drink. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“There’s nothing to decide.”
“It also seems to me that, as neither of us were completely honest when we first met, one deception cancels the other.”
She studied him suspiciously then nodded. “That’s fair enough, I suppose.”
He laughed. “I never realized an apology was subject to negotiation.”
“Neither did I.” She paused. “Why are you here anyway?”
“I’m here for the wedding, of course. And I have business to attend to. And I met a charming woman in New York, who looked vaguely like you—”
She scoffed.
“That I did want to see again.”
Her brow rose. “In spite of the fact that she did not want to see you again?”
“Or possibly because she was so vehement about not seeing me again.” He grinned. “Her protestations didn’t ring quite true to me. I think thou dost protest too much, you know.”
She stared in disbelief. “Are you trying to quote Shakespeare?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Well, you’re not doing it right. The quote is . . .” Her brows drew together and she thought for a moment. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, I can’t remember it now. Any other time it would spring to mind immediately.”
He took another sip of his drink and tried not to laugh.
“It’s simply not correct, that’s all. And I did not protest too much. I daresay, I did not protest enough.”
“You didn’t want to be rude.”
“I am never rude.”
“Of course not.”
“Admittedly, it is hard to be polite when you are trying to tell someone you never want to see them again.”
“Without actually coming out and saying I never want to see you again.”
“Yet another mistake on my part, although I thought I was quite clear. I should have simply said it.” Her eyes narrowed. “I never wanted to see you again.”
“Yes, that’s probably what you should have said but what you did say was—oh, how did you put it?” He thought for a moment. “Ah yes, you said it would be best if we never saw each other again.”
“It’s the same thing.” She fairly spit the words.
“No, it’s not.” He swirled the whisky in his glass. “What you said implied a mutual benefit on both sides. I saw absolutely no benefit to never seeing you again. I didn’t think it would be the least bit best.”
She glared.
“Although I can certainly see why it might be of benefit to you.”
“Can you?” Suspicion colored her words.
“I understand you’re looking for a new husband. It wouldn’t do for any potential candidate to know you were the sort of woman to indulge in scandalous affairs at the drop of a hat.”
She gasped in horror. “I am not!”
“Although I suppose it’s not scandalous if no one knows about it,” he said thoughtfully. “The scandal lies more in the telling and retelling and gossip and—”
“I have not told anyone!”
“Neither have I.” He smiled.
She studied him closely. “Do you intend to?”
“Now that is rude, Delilah.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “Even in our short acquaintance, have I done anything to make you think that I am the kind of man who brags about something like this?”
A blush washed up her face. “No, you haven’t.”
“That I am not an honorable sort?”
“No, you were quite—”
“Gentlemen are not confined to England, you know.”
“Of course, I didn’t—”
“I might well be insulted.”
“Well I didn’t—”
“No, on second thought, I am insulted.” He pinned her with the sort of hard look he usually reserved for business. “And offended.”
She sighed. “Then apparently I owe you yet another apology.”
“They are mounting up.” He set his glass on a table, his tone as casual as his manner. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“Nothing.” Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I have apologized, more than once. What more would you have me do?”
“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “Perhaps if you sounded more sincere.”
“Good Lord, you are an annoying beast.” She downed the rest of her drink and set her glass down beside his with a thunk. “Very well then.” She counted the points off on her fingers. “One, you have my heartfelt and sincere apologies for my rudeness this afternoon. Two, I apologize for not being completely honest with you in New York. And three, I am deeply sorry if I cast any aspersions as to the honorable nature of your character. There.” She cast him an overly polite smile. “I do hope that was sincere enough for you.”
“It wasn’t bad.” He shrugged. “It could use some practice. You’re not used to apologizing, are you?”
“I rarely do anything that requires an apology.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He turned away from her and wandered around the perimeter of the room, stopping to study a large portrait of a woman and three young girls. He didn’t need to look at Delilah to know she was debating whether to ignore his comment or take up the gauntlet. He’d bet on the latter.
A long moment drifted by in silence. Was he wrong?
“I’ll have you know, I am usually quite pleasant.”
It was all he could do to keep from laughing. Of course he wasn’t wrong, he was rarely wrong.
“And amusing,” she continued. “I’m excellent at conversing on any number of topics. People find me quite clever. And I’m polite, unfailingly polite. And I am never—”
“Rude,” he said absently, bending closer to the painting to read the artist’s signature. “You said that.”
“Obviously, it bears repeating.”
“You probably can’t say that you’re never rude often enough.”
“Apparently!”
“One should always be clear about that sort of thing.” He glanced at her. “As one should always be clear about never seeing someone again.”
“I thought I was clear.”
“And yet, here I am.” He smiled. “And here I intend to stay.”
“No doubt.” She considered him for a moment. “It might be frightfully dull for you here, though.”
He chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.”
“And it does seem a shame, since you have never really seen anything outside of London, for you to be trapped here,” she said, a sly note in her voice. “When you could be enjoying a bit of travel. Brighton is lovely this time of year.”
“Brighton?”
“Oh, my yes.” She bubbled with enthusiasm. “The crowds are gone now and it’s quite a charming place.”
“Nonetheless, I have no desire to travel to Brighton or anywhere else at the moment.” He glanced around the library. “No, I am looking forward to enjoying the peace and quiet of the country here at Millworth.”
“Yes, well, I suspected as much.” She thought for a moment. “It might be awkward, you know. For the two of us to be in such close proximity.”
“Because you never wanted to see me again?”
“There is that . . .”
“But then you told the others we have never met and I am not so lacking in chivalry that I would point out a lady’s deceit.”
“Thank you. That is most appreciated.” The reluctant note in her voice belied her words. “I would appreciate as well if we did try to avoid one another. It would be easier to keep up the pretense of having just met.”
“You needn’t worry about that. I agree that avoiding one another is an excellent idea.” He paused. “It won’t be easy though as there are only five of us here at the moment and I imagine there will be any number of unavoidable instances when we are thrown together.”
“Probably.”
“However, allow me to relieve your mind on another matter, Lady Hargate.”
“What matter?”
“Now that I have seen you again, I believe I have changed my mind.”
“Changed your mind about what?” Caution edged her voice.
“About seeing you again.” He shook his head. “Now, I think you’re right. We should have gone our separate ways.”
She stared at him. “I am usually right.”
“So you have nothing to fear on that score.” He strolled to the table where he had left his glass, picked it up, and drained the last of his whisky. “I have no interest in a woman who is looking for nothing more in a new husband than wealth and title.”
She gasped. “I am looking for a great deal more!”
He cast her a skeptical look. “Love then?”
“Love is neither practical nor necessary. Love simply muddies the water and creates problems where none should exist. Regardless, what I want is none of your concern.” Her blue eyes flashed. “But you have just made my point as to why I don’t want anyone—anyone at all—to know we have met. It was only this afternoon that I mentioned my plans and already Camille has told Grayson. Who has obviously confided in you. You know about my financial difficulties as well, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Of course you do. There are no secrets to be kept in this house.” She swiveled on her heel and paced the room. “Why, the very fact that I haven’t mentioned you would be enough to have Camille and Teddy and probably Grayson as well wondering why I have kept that fact to myself. And why you went along with me.” She paused and stared at him. “They would jump to all sorts of conclusions, you know.”
“Some of them perilously close to the mark, I would imagine.”
“Camille especially has quite a fertile imagination.” She resumed pacing. “But whatever conclusion she might reach will pale in compassion to what Beryl will concoct. And once Beryl knows, or thinks she knows . . .” She shuddered.
“You don’t get along with your sisters, do you?”
“Well, I haven’t in the past but—” She threw her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And you already know that, don’t you?”
He winced. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
“As I said, there are no secrets here.” She shook her head in disgust.
“Except ours,” he said slowly. “You may count on me to keep it.”
“It would not be good for either of us.” A warning rang in her voice. “If the truth came out, that is.”
He chuckled. “Probably not.”
“Very well then.” She drew a deep breath. “We are agreed?”
“We are.” He stepped close to her and held out his hand. “When I reach a verbal agreement, in matters of business, it’s customary to shake a man’s hand.”
“I’m not a man.”
“Then your word is less honorable than a man’s?”
“What utter rubbish.” She huffed. “Do you say things intended to annoy me or is it just part of your nature?”
He grinned. “Both.”
She took his hand and met his gaze directly. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a most infuriating, annoying, bothersome creature?”
“Not to my knowledge and certainly not to my face.” He gazed down into her blue eyes, nearly the same color as Camille’s. With the fair coloring of the older sister, blue was not a surprise. But with Delilah’s deep, rich brown hair, the color of her eyes was unexpected and remarkable. He had noted their color when they had first met and now, gazing into the endless blue, he remembered as well how they had sparkled with the excitement of flirtation and glazed with the throes of passion. “Most people would hesitate making that sort of comment because it might be considered, oh, I don’t know, rude?”
The corners of her mouth quirked as if she was trying to keep from smiling. “You do this to annoy me, don’t you?”
“Shall I be honest?”
She shrugged. “We might as well try honesty.”
“I do.” He grinned. “I like annoying you.”
“You do it very well.”
She tried to draw her hand from his but he held fast and pulled her a little closer.
“It’s your fault, you know.” Close enough to bend down and kiss her should he be so inclined.
“What is?” She stared up at him but made no attempt to move. He suspected, in spite of herself, she would kiss him back.
“That I like annoying you.”
“Oh?” There was a breathless quality to her voice. Intriguing and nearly irresistible.
“I like the way your eyes spark when you’re angry. And the way you say one thing and do something else entirely different. And I especially like the way you blush.”
“Nonsense. I don’t blush,” she said even as a flush colored her cheeks.
“And you thought I would be bored here at Millworth?” He chuckled. “On the contrary, I expect to enjoy myself thoroughly.”
She stared at him for another moment and something flashed in her eyes so quickly she probably didn’t realize it herself. Something exciting and promising and intriguing.
She jerked her hand from his. “We meet in the main parlor before going into dinner. I’ll go now and you should join us in a few minutes.”
“Because we wouldn’t want to be seen arriving together.”
“Which would certainly arouse suspicion.” She turned toward the door.
“You do realize you’ll have to apologize again.”
“What?” Delilah turned back and glared at him. “Why on earth would I apologize yet again? I believe I have apologized quite enough.”
“You can do what you want, of course.” He shrugged. “But it seems to me that unless you apologize in front of the others, they will continue to wonder why you haven’t.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She shook her head. “It can’t be helped I suppose.” Her gaze narrowed. “As long as you understand that apology won’t be the least bit sincere as I have already sincerely apologized.”
“You do want to make it look genuine and sound sincere.”
“Oh, it will look sincere to the others.” She favored him with a smug smile. “But it won’t be.” She nodded and swept from the room.
Sam grinned. This was going to be fun. She was going to be fun.
His smile faded. But fun was all it would be. She obviously had no interest in more. In picking up where they had left off. As much as that might have been a possibility in the back of his mind when he had arrived, now he had to agree with her. He had no interest in a woman whose sole purpose in life was to marry well.
He adjusted the simple gold buttons on his cuffs and considered the matter. While certainly some spark still lingered between them, on her side it was obviously nothing more than fear that his presence might ruin her plans. And anger that he’d had the nerve to show up at all. She could deny it all she wished, but it was apparent to him that whatever drew them together initially remained. Not that it mattered. Best to nip this in the bud now. Regardless of the attraction between them, he absolutely refused to give his heart to a woman who only wanted him for his money and his position. He’d been down that path before. He would not step foot upon it again. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from the arm of his evening coat and started toward the parlor.
And ignored the annoying thought that just possibly that step had already been taken.