I let out an exasperated sigh. Well, this certainly complicated matters. “Did he know?”
“No. That was another thing I meant to tell him. It’s only been a little over a week since I missed my courses.” I sighed again, as any other response I could manage at the moment would not be helpful. Delia suddenly looked fearful. “You won’t tell Mother, will you?”
I let out a harsh laugh. “If you really are pregnant, I’m afraid she will catch on eventually.”
“I know. But maybe by then I will have found a solution.”
“Delia, the only solution would have been to marry assoon as possible,” I snapped. And now that option was gone. Charles already being married was far less of an obstacle than death.
My sister’s eyes filled with tears, and I felt horribly guilty. “I’ve been such a fool,” she said as she buried her head in her hands.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly,” I said as I rubbed her back. “We will figure something out. I promise.”
Delia wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she said through her tears.
I was glad she had such faith in me, but I couldn’t ignore the pit in my stomach.
For it was now more imperative than ever that I determine who the murderer was. And there wasn’t a moment to waste.
I sat with Delia a while longer, and when she admitted she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, I rang the bell to request tea and soup.
“You must keep up your strength,” I said while we waited. “Especially now.”
She gave me a faint smile. “Thank you. It’s nice to be doted on. You’re very good at it.”
I paused in the act of fluffing her pillow. “Am I?”
Delia rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and it was nice to see some of her old spark return. “You know you are.”
Like most women of her class, our mother had been distant, both emotionally and physically. Nanny had provided the affection we craved as children, but it hadn’t entirely made up for being kept at arm’s length from one’s own parents. Raising my children away from London society had emboldened me to treat them with the loving care I longed to have from my own mother.
“It’s nice to see you with Tommy as well,” she added with a thoughtful look. “To know that there is another way to be a parent.”
“There are many, many ways to be a parent,” I said. “But thank you. I try my best and have failed more often than I would like to admit.”
Delia smiled at that. “I appreciate your honesty.”
I laughed. “Glad to hear it. Because you will be hearing quite a bit more from me.”
A maid arrived then with the tray of food, and I helped Delia settle back against the pillows.
“Now then,” I began once we were alone again, “I have no intention of leaving until you finish your soup.”
“Very well,” Delia said as she dutifully picked up her spoon. But after a few sips, she turned pensive. “Do you think the police will find the killer?”
“I think Detective Inspector Dorian seems very capable.”
“He’s the brother of Mr. Dorian, isn’t he?” I was surprised that she had picked up on that little detail while in the midst of a great personal tragedy. “They look alike,” she explained, noting my surprise. “Especially when they’re frowning at you.”
A surprised laugh erupted from me, and Delia smiled in return. “You never did mention what happened between you on Corfu,” she said after another few sips.
I narrowed my eyes, not at all fooled by her casual tone. “I told you I was his typist.”
“I think it must have been a good deal more than that.”
I bristled at the suggestion in her voice. “What on earth does that mean?”
She set down the spoon and tilted her head. “Did you really not notice the way he looked at you?”
