Delilah didn’t particularly like that idea either, but that was hardly the point at the moment, and she couldn’t explain her feelings to Lucy, who was working so diligently at putting her in Branville’s path. “After my disastrous turn with him yesterday, I’m not certain he wants more time with me.”
Lucy pointed a spoon in Delilah’s direction. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
“No, of course not. I merely thought perhaps we could give it time so he forgets some of the more poignant points of what happened. Such as the part where his shirt was ripped half off.”
The smile returned to Lucy’s face. “You want to be memorable to a man.”
Delilah winced. “Not that memorable.”
“Memorable is always better than forgettable,” Lucy replied, picking up her teacup again.
Delilah took a sip from her own cup. “I’m not certain how you intend to use Thomas to distract Lady Emmaline when he has shown absolutely no interest in doing so.”
“Yes, I know,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “It’s quite frustrating. He told me he doesn’t want to lead her on.”
“How does he know he wouldn’t like her if he hasn’t given her a chance?” Delilah asked, even as the very thought made her feel sick in the middle.
“Precisely what I told him. And you know, I do think it worked, dear.”
“What?” Delilah coughed when she realized how panicked she sounded. She tried again, forcing herself to remain calm. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it seems we have yet another goal this Season.”
“What goal?”
“Last night after rehearsal, Thomas officially asked me to find him a match.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Hillards’ ball two nights latershouldhave been the perfect place for Delilah and Lucy to put some of their plans in motion. All the players were there. Thomas, Emmaline, Lavinia, Lord Stanley, Rebecca, Berwick, and Branville. But the moment Thomas escorted his sister to where they stood near the refreshment table, Delilah knew something was amiss. Thomas looked as handsome as usual, with buff-colored breeches, a black coat, and white waistcoat and cravat. Delilah had chosen to wear a gown of light green for a change. Her mother had insisted on the fabric, but she thought she looked like a leaf.
“Lavinia, has something to say to you both,” Thomas announced.
Lucy, who was wearing a gorgeous red silk gown, raised her brows. “Yes?”
Lavinia, dressed in a lovely lavender gown with diamonds at her ears and throat, pursed her lips. “I’ve settled upon a certain gentleman.”
Lucy’s eyes lighted. “Wonderful. We were hoping you’d fancy Lord Stanley. He’s an excellent choice, and—”
“Not Lord Stanley,” Lavinia declared, narrowing her eyes. She snapped open her fan and fluttered it in front of her face.
Delilah sucked in her breath. Oh, no. This did not bode well. “Who then?” she asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“I fancy Lord Berwick.” Lavinia snapped her fan shut and smoothed her long sleeves one after the other.
Delilah and Lucy exchanged worried glances.
“But don’t you think Lord Stanley is more your… sort, dear?” Lucy attempted. Delilah knew she’d wanted to sayage, but had obviously thought better of it.
“Lord Stanley is dull,” Lavinia replied. “He spent the better part of an hour talking to me about drainage. Drainage! Can you imagine? Besides, he’s merely a viscount. I daresay an earl is more my sort.”
“It’s true. Lord Berwick is an earl,” Delilah said inanely, but she was already thinking about how difficult it would be to interest Lord Berwick in Lavinia, not to mention the fact that Delilah had already decided Lord Berwick would be the perfect man to distract Rebecca from Thomas.
“I know that,” Lavinia replied with a tight smile. “I’d like to dance with him this evening. See to it, please.”
She floated off into the crowd then, leaving Delilah, Lucy, and Thomas alone.
“I tried to tell her she cannot order you both about as if you are her servants,” Thomas said sheepishly, pressing his palm to his forehead.
