“If you truly object, I suppose I can speak with Bertie...” The tone of his voice implied he’d rather have a tooth pulled than withdraw his commitment.
“Do it,” she snapped. “I have a history with Finn Delaney, and I refuse to work with him.”
Wesley frowned. “How do you know him?”
Heat prickled across her skin. How could she explain the countless adolescent dreams, or the soaring but irrational joy that was felt when two lonely people found each other? Wesley cocked his head, watching her closely, but her tongue froze. She couldn’t bring herself to form the words.
“Was he the boy from the orphanage?”
She nodded, grateful that he remembered the time Delia confided in him about the boy who had broken her heart.
“I see,” Wesley said quietly.
“He stole my life savings,” she managed to add. “He isn’t trustworthy.”
“We don’t need him to be trustworthy—we need hisstory. He can help us raise funds. And he won’t have access to any monies raised.”
Delia sighed in frustration. “He’s a poor choice to be a spokesman for the CRB. You need to tell Bertie to keep away from him.”
“Really? Why?”
“Let’s start with the fact that he is a warmonger,” she said. “The man couldn’t even wait for the United States to enter the war before he volunteered to fly for France, all so he could drop bombs on people.”
“Delia...” The condescension in the way he drawled her name was maddening.
“Don’t ‘Delia’ me. You’re sending me on this assignment because I found out about Constance Beekman. I care for you and gave everything to your firm. You took advantage of that, and now you’re sending me away because you’re too cowardly to face me. Admit it.”
He turned away to pace in the garden, only it was crowded by towering rhododendrons overhanging into the space. “I think a little distance between us might be for the best.”
“Why didn’t you have the guts to tell me that earlier?” she demanded. “How long have you been toying with me while squiring Constance Beekman all over the city?”
“Delia, I was always honest with you. I am nineteen years older than you and—”
“That hardly mattered when you kissed me beside the globe. Or the thousand times we both stayed late to work on cases and shared meals in your office.”
“You were paid for those hours.”
“That’s beside the point, Wesley.”
Finn lay flat on the stone bench behind the wall of overgrown shrubbery, covering his eyes and listening to Delia pour her heart out to a man who didn’t deserve her.
Had there ever been a worse form of torture than this? He’d been cooling his heels in the garden until Bertie finished with hisbusiness meeting. Then he was supposed to join the other men on the board of the CRB for dinner.
He’d been casually smoking a cigar while lounging on the bench when they entered the garden. At first he hadn’t recognized Delia’s voice. Now he did, and waves of grief descended each time she spoke. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until dark pinpricks floated in his vision. He forced himself to drag in a lungful of air and unclench his fists. And not break anything. As much as he wanted to tear his hair out and howl at the moon, he’d survive this.
He’d lost Delia long ago but had always harbored a sliver of hope that somewhere deep inside, she remembered their years together with fondness. That sliver of hope flickered out and died while listening to her enumerate his crimes as he lay trapped on this awful stone bench.
Delia must never learn he’d overheard her conversation. She was a proud woman and would hate it if she knew he’d heard everything. The cigar smoke could give him away. He was about to rub out the glowing tip on the damp brick, but the man’s voice made him freeze because it sounded like he was getting closer.
“Delia, I had no idea this was even an issue,” the man on the other side of the shrubbery said. “Bertie needs help getting his ace flyer spiffed up to face the crowds, and you will be perfect for it.”
“Forget it. I told you that I know Finn Delaney, and I wouldn’t trust him to make me a ham sandwich. He is reckless, impulsive, and a thief.”
Every word was like a sledgehammer. Finn stared at the sky, unable to believe this was actually happening.
Then another voice joined the fray. “Wesley? Delia?”
It was Bertie. The fiery argument between Delia and her companion stopped abruptly, as if doused by a bucket of cold water.
