“Wait another moment,” Jane said. “How do you even know that it worked? It all may be just a lot of nonsense with no need for an antidote.”
Delilah had never wished she’d wasted money before in her life. But now she did. She not only hoped for it, she prayed for it. “I do hope it’s just a bunch of nonsense, but it’s not a chance I’m willing to take. If Thomas sees me and falls madly in love with me, I… couldn’t stand it.”
Jane glanced back and forth between Delilah and Danielle. “You’re telling me that you intend to run off to London and presumably pay even more money for an antidote to a thing that may well have never worked in the first place on the chance it’s not a scheme?”
Delilah pressed her fingertips to her pounding temples. “I know quite well the entire thing may be ludicrous, but this is one situation in which I’d much rather be safe than sorry.”
“I say you at least wait and see if Thomas loves you,” Jane replied. “If he does, then you can go ahead and look for the antidote.”
The mere thought of waiting made Delilah’s heart pound. The notion of Thomas declaring his love for her, his false love, made her skin clammy. She glanced at Danielle.
“It’s up to you, Delilah,” Danielle said.
“What do you think, Lucy?” Delilah fixed her frightened gaze on her dear friend.
Lucy took another sip of tea as she contemplated the matter. “Iwantto believe there is a magic love potion that works, dear, I truly do. But even I must admit that it may be more prudent to wait and see if Thomas seems to be any more partial to you today than he was yesterday.”
Delilah swallowed the lump in her throat. “Cass?”
“Oh, dear,” Cass said softly. “I understand how tempting it must have been to believe in a potion, but I agree with Lucy and Jane. I wouldn’t run off in search of an antidote without speaking to Thomas first.”
Delilah nodded. The ache in her chest was real and painful. The thought of having Thomas tell her he loved her and not mean it, was excruciating, but she supposed it would be ridiculous of her to run off to London before ensuring the stuff had worked in the first place. “Very well,” she murmured. “I’ll find Thomas as soon as he returns.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Delilah’s slipper tapped against the marble floor in Lucy’s green drawing room at an alarming speed. She’d gone upstairs after breakfast and forced herself to sit still while Amandine fixed her hair in a chignon with a few dark tendrils floating around her face. Then she dressed in a lavender gown with a tight waist and embroidered violets on the hem, and dabbed her lily-scented perfume—not the enchanted kind—behind both ears. A pearl necklace and matching earbobs completed the ensemble. Amandine hadn’t bothered putting rouge on Delilah’s cheeks today. She didn’t need it. She was already bright red with worry.
Delilah had arranged with Lucy to have one of the footmen deliver a note to Thomas’s bedchamber asking him to meet her in the green salon before luncheon. It felt as if an eternity had passed before a slight knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” she managed to call through her suddenlydry throat. She should have accepted Lucy’s offer of tea, but given her nerves, Delilah had been convinced she would spill the stuff all over herself.
Thomas stepped through the door, looking as handsome as ever. His dark hair was slicked back. His blue eyes were sparkling. He wore buff-colored, skin-hugging trousers, a blue coat, a white shirt with a crisp white cravat, and perfectly shined black boots.
The moment their eyes met, she knew something was different. She knew it the way she’d known something awful had happened to her father the day he’d died. Without even being told, she’d felt in her gut that something had changed her life forever.
The look on Thomas’s face was earnest and… different. His long strides ate up the space between the door and her spot on the settee. He kneeled down in front of her, took her hands, and stared up into her face as if he’d never seen it before.
“Delilah,” he breathed. “You wanted to see me.”
She’d spent the better part of the morning practicing what she would say to him. He knew she’d purchased the elixir. She’d shown it to him, for God’s sake. But now that the moment was here to tell him what she’d done, the words were too mad to make it past her lips.
Very well. She didn’t have to admit to him that she’d sprinkled the potion on his eyes. All she had to do was ask him how he felt about her. Then she’d know. Perhaps he’d guess that she’d used it on him. How else would he explain going from being her friend to being madly in love with her overnight? If he evenwasmadly in love with her.Mon Dieu. This entire charade was ridiculous. For the hundredth time, she wished she’d never purchased the blasted elixir.
She searched Thomas’s handsome face. The memoryof their kiss during the play the night before swept through her mind. She memorized the lines on either side of his eyes, the small scar above his eyebrow. For a long, mad moment she wished he was actually in love with her.
“I must ask you something,” she whispered.
“Anything.” He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs.
She sucked in her breath. “How do you… feel about me?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled and his gaze swept her face. He was going to say something sarcastic and wonderful and Thomas-like and all would be well. She nearly sagged against him in relief.
“Delilah,” he murmured. “The truth is… I love you.”
Time stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. It was as if the room and all its contents froze. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head emphatically. “You don’t.”
He nodded. His gaze didn’t falter. “Yes, I do.”
