Page 8 of Vanquished


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“It doesn’t take much to see what others don’t.” He turned to her with a broad grin. “And I might have just been talking to the gentleman’s older brother who was rather forthcoming with telling us all about the wealthy heiress his brother is expected to marry.”

“But his father is a duke,” Delilah noted with some exasperation. She wouldn’t have believed anything the Irishman said if it wasn’t for the fact she had recognized the duke’s eldest son in their intimate circle earlier.

“That doesn’t account for the fact he’s in need of funds to repair a crumbling estate.”

Delilah was saddened to hear this news. “How awful for Francesca.”

“Aye, and him too,” Conor agreed.

As she watched them come together on the dance floor, her heart ached. “I wonder if there is something we could do…” She wondered aloud.

“My advice is not to get involved,” he said firmly. “These things seldom end well and if they got the notion to head for Gretna Green, something tells me they might not get very far and then where would that put your friend?”

Delilah already knew the answer to that, unfortunately. A ruined reputation and few prospects. She sighed heavily. “It isn’t fair.”

“Life generally isn’t. Which is why ye have to seize every moment.”

Delilah looked at him again, but unlike this afternoon, she could actually understand where he was coming from now. “You are an enigma, Mr. Flannigan, but I think I’m starting to see what compels you.” She wasn’t sure if she should be so bold with her next statement, but since she had the feeling he wasn’t easily offended, she said, “Besides, I doubt you have a lady expecting you to return and declare your affections back in Ireland.”

He lifted a brow, but his lips twitched with mirth. “Aye, ye would be correct on that assumption, lass. I never get involved with one lady for long, but I haven’t heard any complaints about it as yet.” He winked.

And… there was the Conor she had initially met. The devil-may-care, reckless ne’er-do-well who only cared about himself. For a moment, she thought there might have been something a bit deeper to his character, that the outward façade he showed to everyone was just that, but now she had to wonder again.

“But that was before you met me,” she pointed out saucily. If he was going to revert to his charming demeanor, then at least she could meet him as an equal partner. She might not have had any feminine influence in her life in recent years, but she had observed plenty conversations among men that she likely shouldn’t have. Some of them had tainted her ears, but it made her able to converse with Mr. Flannigan on the same level.

He chuckled. “Ye’re full of surprises, Miss Rollins.” He held out his hand. “Perhaps ye can teach me a thing or two with a dance.” He lifted a challenging brow. “Don’t tell me ye’re such a prude that ye won’t humor this poor horse groom with a dance?”

Delilah set her jaw at his accusation, but for the first time wondering how he had managed to procure an invitation. After all, it wasn’t commonplace that servants were allowed to attend a society function of any sort. Not only that, but she had been so wrapped up in his presence that she hadn’t even realized that the music had stopped and that the musicians were tuning their instruments for a waltz, of all things. It was most certainly not a good idea to be in such close proximity to him, and especially in public where she could further forget herself and her actions.

Thinking of the rift between Francesca and the duke’s son, she said, “I’m afraid I must decline—”

“Nonsense.” He grabbed her arm and boldly threaded it through his and was walking forward before she had recovered enough to debate his actions.

As they got into position, she recovered enough to gape at him. “Sir! You are entirely too bold and presumptuous.”

“And here I thought ye already knew that about me.”

As the music began, he put his arm around her waist and held her hand with his other. She expected him to pull her closer, as he’d done after the race that morning, but he kept a respectable distance between them. “Ye’ll let me know if I make an unforgiveable error, won’t ye?”

She glared at him, causing him to laugh richly and then they started to sway. It would be so easy to lose herself in this moment in time, to imagine that this man was her intended suitor, but as he’d said, love was dangerous, and to fall for Mr. Flannigan would be foolish in the extreme, leaving her with a broken heart at the end of the affair.

So instead, she pasted on a false smile, one that she had been bred to show outwardly. It claimed that she was having fun, but she would have assumed the same demeanor with a breathtaking Irishman or an aged duke who was searching for a brood mare.

“Hmm.”

It was his deep murmur that caused her outward expression to falter slightly. “What?”

He was regarding her intently, as if seeing something she hadn’t intended to reveal. “Are ye always like this?”

Now she was just confused. “Like what?”

“This… reserved,” he said.

She had to laugh. “If you mean acting like a lady, then yes. It was how I was brought up to be.”

He gave a mock wince. “It’s no wonder.”

“No wonder about what?”

His gaze was positively sinful as his focus dropped to her mouth. “That ye came looking for me.”

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