Then came the realization that the room had fallen quiet, too quiet, and Thomas forced himself to release her and step back. He folded his hands behind his back—they were shaking—and searched her face for its reaction. Only, Delilah’s eyes were still closed, and the dreamlike expression on her features made him want to laugh with joy and grab her in his embrace once again, onlookers be damned.
Lucy had returned. She cleared her throat, and the spell was shattered. Delilah’s eyes flew open. “Delilah, dear,” the duchess murmured, averting her gaze.
“What is it, Lucy?” Delilah’s voice was dreamlike too. Good.
“Ahem, the Duke of Branville has just arrived,” Lucy continued.
To Thomas’s dismay, Delilah jolted to life, turned, and hurried toward the door, sparing him not a single backward glance. Then she must have thought better of it and paused. She walked carefully back to the spot she’d recently left. “I’m going to count ten,” she announced.
“Probably best, dear,” Lucy replied.
“Why?” Thomas asked, chagrined by the speed at which she’d run away from him at the mention of Branville’s name.
“Because I just remembered that galloping about like a pony is hardly the way to endear oneself to a duke.”Delilah pressed her palm against her belly and took three deep breaths. She always took three deep breaths when she wanted to calm herself.
Thomas scowled. Obviously, the need for oxygen had nothing to do with his kiss, as he would have liked. This was all about Branville.
“I’ll escort you over to him,” Lucy said.
“Don’t wait too long,” Thomas added. “Mustn’t keep thedukewaiting.”
Delilah nodded to Lucy. “I’m ready.”
Thomas casually followed the two women as they made their way out into the corridor in front of the library, where the Duke of Branville was holding court. Thomas’s heart was still pounding in his chest, his throat, and other traitorous parts as well. When Lucy had first suggested it, Thomas had been concerned that kissing Delilah so soon (even under such pretenses) might be a mistake. Surely she would recognize the pent-up longing in his kiss. But in the end, he’d been hard pressed to resist the temptation. The kiss he’d given her was far more than what Jane Upton’s script had called for, but once he’d started, he could barely control himself.
He was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it. Last night when Delilah had mentioned Lady Rebecca had asked about him, he’d intended to do nothing more than gloat a little. He’d obviously made his point that he was eligible, and he’d been pleased with his quick success.
Then Lucy had gone and given him thebestidea when she’d told him the tricks of the matchmaking trade. The most important one: employing a bit of competition. He’d used Delilah’s own trick against her. He’d taken off in search of Lady Rebecca, and Delilah had followed him and introduced the two of them. Lady Rebecca was agorgeous young woman who had obviously been interested in him. He had no intention of falsely encouraging her, but flirting never hurt anyone. Hell, before Monroe had married his sister, the earl had practically been a professional flirt. Besides, wasn’t that what young, healthy eligible people were supposed to do attonballs? Thomas had proceeded to do just that.
The corridor outside Lucy’s library was filled with the majority of the company. After watching Thomas and Delilah’s kiss, they had exited the room en masse to greet Branville. They were all good-naturedly welcoming him to the group.
“Ah, Your Grace,” Branville said as soon as he caught sight of Lucy. “You didn’t tell me, when is the performance to be?”
“The twenty-first of July, Your Grace,” Lucy replied. “Lady Delilah’s birthday.” Lucy pushed Delilah slightly ahead of her.
“Mon anniversaire,” Delilah repeated in a high, anxious tone.
Thomas hid an involuntary smile behind his hand. Delilah always blurted things in French when she was nervous. Not to mention her skin was turning an unfortunate shade of red, with blotches, another unlucky side effect of her nerves. Thomas shook his head. Despite his growing resentment of her interest in Branville, he wished he could somehow take the embarrassment away from her. She had nothing to be embarrassed about, of course, but he’d gladly feel the emotion in her stead if he could.
Branville smiled at Delilah, and a damned dimple—of all bloody things—appeared in the man’s cheek. Thomas cursed under his breath. In addition to blond hair, he also had to compete with a dimple.
“Ah, Lady Delilah,” Branville said, bowing to her,“good to see you again. You’re performing a play for charity on your birthday?”
“My birthday is on a midsummer’s night,” Delilah replied. “What better way to celebrate?”
Branville inclined his head toward her. “A lovely sentiment, my lady.”
Delilah blushed on top of her red splotches, and Thomas couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Who went around bowing and saying things like,A lovely sentiment, my lady? Though from Delilah’s reaction, apparently ladies liked that sort of talk.
Lucy sidled up to Branville and wrapped her arm through his. “Come into the library with us, Your Grace. You can see for yourself all the trouble we’ve gone to in order to create the lifelike scenes.”
“Lead the way,” Branville replied, nodding.
Delilah fell into step on the other side of Branville, and they all marched back into the library. The large room had nearly emptied, save for Jane, who was directing a scene with Derek and Cade; Lavinia, who was staring at herself in a looking glass; Danielle Cavendish, who continued to sew; and Cass, who remained quietly painting in the corner.
“Come this way, Your Grace. We’ll show you the fairy wings.” Lucy led Branville to the desk on the far left side of the room where the costumes were piled.
Thomas stuck his hands in his pockets and reluctantly followed their little entourage. Had Branville actually agreed to be in the play yet? Or was Lucy still trying to convince him? Nauseating.
