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Chapter Thirteen
“Are you sure you want to stay for the festival tonight, even after what happened yesterday afternoon at Newmarket? You don’t want to just go home?”
Delilah had returned to her room at the hotel intent on packing up her things and returning to their estate. She had quite had enough of city life to suit her for the rest of her days. In truth, she was rather missing the quiet and solitude of the country. She just wanted to go to the stables and enjoy the familiar scent of their horses. She wanted to rub Hercules’ velvety nose and then perhaps sleep for an entire day. She was weary to the bone and couldn’t imagine why her father wasn’t as eager to leave as she was.
The day before at the inn, when she had gone to her rooms to bathe the dust from her body, her father had been prepared to retreat as well, but by the morning, it had been a different story.
“This will be the last request I make of you,” the baron said gently. “After tonight, which should be quite a grand exhibition, I promise we shall leave at first light tomorrow.”
Delilah sighed. “Very well.” Then again, she admitted that she wanted to check in on Francesca to see how she was faring.
The viscount and his family had left immediately after Francesca’s collapse, and her father had said they would return to town on horseback. It had been a long ride back, and not only was her backside sore from the journey, she was discomfited from her heartache over Conor. She just wanted to be free of any more festivities. But considering her father didn’t make that many requests of her, she decided that she wouldn’t make a fuss, but rather engage his wishes for a few more hours.
Attired in another new gown, a red, empire waist with a lace bodice overlay, Delilah pulled her hair back into a simple knot at the back of her head and placed a straw bonnet over the top. She rode with her father in their curricle to the Mulberry residence, and Delilah was led upstairs to where Francesca was seated at her dressing table. She was still in her nightdress and robe, but at least she was up, which Delilah thought was a good sign.
She walked inside and Francesca’s face lit up, her blue eyes welcoming and full of warmth. “Del.” She stood up and they embraced. “I’m told that other than a few bumps and bruises, Adam will quite recover.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Delilah said in all sincerity. The horror of that moment was still imprinted on her brain, and while she didn’t dare tell Francesca or speak her thoughts aloud, she had been thankful that it wasn’t Conor who had laid there. She wasn’t sure she could leave him and return home if it had been, and yet, there was no way she could have stayed and preserved her reputation. What was left of it anyway. While society might not know everything she had done with Conor in secret, she was fully aware of her actions and intended to tell her father the truth when they were home. She didn’t like hiding things from him, and her conscience wouldn’t let her rest until she did so.
When she told Francesca this, her friend frowned in concern. “Are you sure, Del? He may see you wed to an old vicar for the sake of preserving your modesty.”
She shrugged. “Then I suppose it’s what I deserve for deceiving him.” She paused and glanced down at her lap. “And for deceiving myself into believing that Conor could actually love me.”
“He’s a stupid, foolish man,” Francesca said hotly. “If he can’t see what a treasure you are.”
“I don’t know.” She sighed heavily. “Perhaps I’m the fool for thinking that he could change.”
“We’re hopeless,” Francesca said morosely.
Delilah smiled and adopted an Irish accent. “Aye. That we are.”
Francesca laughed lightly, but a sudden knock at the door interrupted their conversation. It was the viscount.
Delilah stood. “I’ll take my leave—”
“No.” Francesca’s father waved her back down. “You should stay and hear what I have to say too. After all, you’re the reason for it.”
Delilah swallowed nervously as she looked at Francesca. Now that some of her temper had abated, she worried that she’d just made things worse on her friend. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.
“I’d like to ask Francesca to forgive me for thinking of my own desires, rather than paying attention to what she really wanted.” Delilah could see Francesca was nearly holding her breath beside her. “I thought if she had a title that would make her properly settled, but I realized, after the race and her obvious concern for Waterford’s younger son, that I have been intentionally blind to your heart’s wishes. But now that my eyes are fully open, I will gladly give my blessing on Adam’s suit if he chooses to court you.”
Francesca made a choked sound of emotion and got up to throw her arms around her father. “Oh, Papa. Thank you. And yes, I do love Adam, so very much.”
Delilah noticed that the viscount’s eyes were suspiciously moist, but perhaps it was merely her own vision that was blurred. “He had better be worthy of you or he will have to answer to me.”
Francesca laughed and Delilah silently let herself out of the room, allowing father and daughter to enjoy this familial moment alone.
* * *
