Delilah smoothed the brush over Jester’s coat, running the fingertips of her free hand along after to relish the satiny feel of the slicked hairs. Grooming the pony was a welcome respite from the conflicting thoughts swirling around in her mind since reading with the earl the day before. “Your winter fuzz is starting to come in, Jester. It will not be long before we shall frolic in the snow, I think.” The pony sighed as if mourning the passing of summer. She smiled and ran the brush down his neck. “Do not be so sad. You love Candlemas and the hunt for the perfect Yule log.” This time her sigh was the one of mourning. “It will not be the same without Papa.”
“Your father would want you to be safe and wed by the time the winter storms fly, Miss Daysland.”
Delilah grimaced and continued brushing. “What are you doing here, March?”
“Is that the way to greet a fawning suitor?”
This time she swung around at the baron’s preposterous claim, brush in one hand and the other on her hip. “My what? Whatever gave you the idea I would welcome the likes of you as a suitor?”
“Lord Frost did accept my request just this morning in fact.”
The smugness in his reply made her want to smack him. “Oh, he did, did he? Well, we shall see about that. No man will tell me whose favor to endure.” Dropping the brush she made to stomp off to her father’s study.
The baron stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Have you considered the idea his lordship might be behind the attacks on you of late?”
She froze, the idea making her blood run cold. The thought had crossed her mind but never taken root. “How do you know of them and what makes you think the earl is to blame?”
“He told me. Does it not seem strange you were in no danger until he showed up here?”
A chill crept up her spine at the sinister edge to his tone. He was right. Her life was simple and uneventful before the earl arrived. She touched her lips remembering his kiss. Danger arrived on the eve of the earl’s appearance. So did desire …
“Accept my suit, Delilah, and I shall keep you safe.”
Scowling at the baron’s forward use of her given name, she drew herself up tall and returned to brushing her guide. “I have no intention of ever marrying.”
“Yet marrying you off is the earl’s sole goal. Perhaps I may suggest a compromise?”
Her hand on the brush stilled. Curiosity overcame her resolve to spurn his pleas. “What kind of compromise?”
“You accept my suit, publicly, and in exchange I will permit you to live out the rest of your days here with no strings attached.”
Though appealing, the idea did not sit right with her. She turned to him, the brush forgotten in her hand. “What do you have to gain by such a deception?”
“It is simple. You will give me control of all your assets, in return I will allow everyone to think we are married, give you a monthly allowance, and you can return here after Lord Frost has gone. No one would be the wiser. You would be free of ever having to entertain a suitor again.”
She mulled the idea over in her mind. What did she have to lose except a large amount of wealth she would never spend or need for her simple lifestyle? The stronger question was whether she trusted the baron to keep his end of the deal. “What if you should want to marry another one day? After all, you shall need an heir eventually.”
“A petition for divorce is an option, though still very taboo. If we fail to ah, consummate the marriage, there will be little contest to annulling it.”
The idea of lying with the baron made her stomach turn. Most likely he was as repulsed by her as she was by him. But would the earl fall for the ruse?
The baron cleared his throat. “Well?”
“All right. The marriage will be in name only. I shall return to live here as soon as the earl has gone to London.” It would be easy to fool the earl and a simple solution to her problems. Unease settled in her stomach. Wouldn’t it?
The baron took her hand and kissed the back of it. “It is settled then. I shall tell the earl you have consented to be my wife and urge him to apply for special license so we might be wed as soon as the banns are read.”
Prying her fingers from his grip, she shook her head. “First you must draw up the agreement and specify the amount of allowance you will settle on me.”
He was quiet for a moment. “All the better, I shall tell the earl I want your dowry to remain in your hands. It alone is more than enough to keep you for the rest of your days.”
The little voice in her head warned her to stop and consider the arrangement with due care and attention but she silenced the cries. “All right. See it is so.”
• • •
“There you are.”
Delilah turned her head in the direction of the earl’s advance. “I was taking in the last of the summer sunshine.”
His footsteps ceased and the air cooled as his form blocked the sunlight from her upturned face. “I just spoke with Baron March. Is it true?”
She kept her voice calm and unconcerned. “Is what true?”
Exasperation clipped his speech. “Have you accepted his suit then?”
“Will it prevent you from throwing another insipid dinner party?”
“Most assuredly.”
“Then yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” Try as she might she couldn’t force a sincere smile to her lips.
“I see.”
Puzzled, she analyzed the strain in his voice. He did not seem very pleased. Is this not what he wanted? After all, he was assigned to see her wed.
Before she could draw any conclusions he continued. “The baron has asked a special license be procured, so you may wed in two weeks’ time. Is this what you want?”
Her stomach twisted into knots, yet she forced her lips to form the words she must. “Yes. It is.”
A minute passed until a bird’s lone call broke the awkward silence. Did she miss his exit? She listened close. No, though very faint she could detect shallow breathing and the familiar minty scent of him. Why didn’t he say something? “My lord?”
He cleared his throat. “Very well. I shall see to the details right away.” The sharpness in his quiet statement gave her pause. He was not happy with her choice. This time his steps were heavy as they receded toward the house. Should she call him back and inquire why he was not pleased? She shook her head. What did she care? Soon she would be rid of him and her life would be as it was before. It was what she wanted since he barged into her music room she told herself.
It occurred to her that she failed to ask if he found the reason for the missing supplies and livestock yet. How was she to solve the mystery on her own? Perhaps the baron might assist her. On the other hand, if the baron took the bulk of her fortune, would it not be his problem to deal with? Why did things seem so complicated and … grim?
“Miss Daysland?”
Delilah sighed, her hands poised over the keys on the pianoforte. “I am practicing, Teresa.”
“I am sorry to interrupt, miss, but Lord Frost sent me to summon you to the study.”
Delilah thumped her fingers down in a discorded position on the keys, the horrible notes fitting her sour mood. “Whatever for?”
“No idea, miss.”
It was time to lay down the rules of her house as they were to the earl. The constant interruption of her routine was getting on her nerves. Had she not done as he wanted and accepted a suit? What could he want with her now? She rubbed her temples and stood.
I should be happy to have found a way to remain at Westpoint, so why am I so cross? I got what I wanted. The earl will soon be gone from my door and I will be left in peace. Alone. Perhaps alone was not exactly what I wanted …
“Miss, shall I tell him you are indisposed?”
“No, Teresa, there is no need.” Delilah marched from the room, her back ramrod straight, running her fingers along the wall to guide her way. As she neared the study the baron’s voice carried from within. She paused a few steps from the door.
“Six weeks, Frost? That seems a rather long courtship for two people who have known each other since childhood. I was thinking more along the lines of a few days at most.”
“Dare you question the king’s law? It will be two weeks at least before the banns are read anyway.”
The baron grunted. “Fine, I shall wait two weeks to have the marriage performed.”
“What is your hurry, March?”
“The woman has accepted my suit and it seems a waste of time to play at courtship,” the baron whined.
“Courtship is not play.”
“I … you know what I mean. It smacks of a way for you to avoid the inevitable, Frost. You are not harboring feelings for Miss Daysland, are you?”
“No, do not be absurd.”
Delilah clenched her fists. The earl’s answer was far too quick, as if he couldn’t be smitten with one of her ilk.
“I would just like you to show some affection for the girl, March. Make her feel as if you hold her in your esteem at the very least. You do care for her?”
“Of course I do. Would I offer marriage if I did not think highly of her? Why, she is my dearest childhood friend.”
Dearest childhood friend? The total amount of times we have even conversed with each other I can count on the fingers of one hand.
Clearing her throat, she stepped into the room. Two chairs scraped across the floor. She couldn’t help but note the irony of them rising every time she entered a room. What was the point when she couldn’t see the gesture anyway? “My lord, I am fast getting tired of having my practice interrupted by your whims. Unless there is something urgent requiring my attention I prefer to be left undisturbed.”
“Rest assured I deem your courtship something requiring urgent attention, Miss Daysland. Is that not right, March?”
“Well, yes, it is, I suppose.”
Delilah crossed her arms and scowled in the direction of the baron. “You do not sound at all convinced of this. Regardless, I see no point in it.”
“Well, I … ”
The earl interrupted. “Makes no matter, the king wishes a suitable courtship take place. I will give you two weeks to do so and appease his majesty, not a day less.”
It was all she could do to keep from groaning out loud. It was bad enough to marry the man but to suffer his companionship for two weeks beforehand? It did not sound as if the earl was willing to budge on the matter though, so she forced a smile to her lips. “Very well. How shall we go about it?”
The tension in the room was as thick as pea soup. A chair creaked and then the earl spoke up. “It is a lovely day outside; might I suggest you two get to know each other better during a short horseback ride? I can call upon the groom to have a mount ready for you in the time it takes you to change into riding attire.”
Despite her reluctance she nodded. “All right, I shall change and be back down shortly.”
• • •
Delilah frowned when the baron placed her hands on a saddle at eye level. “This is not Jester.”
“My spirited gelding cannot keep pace with one as slow as your guide beast. I thought you would not mind riding the mare here. I was assured by the groom she is a very tame and gentle creature.” Without waiting for her to accept, the baron cupped her foot in his hands and hoisted her aboard into a sidesaddle.
Once atop the animal Delilah arranged her riding skirt as best as she could. The groomsman passed her the reins as the baron settled in his own saddle beside her with a creak of well-used leather. His mount pranced, its feet drumming a nervous bugle call on the courtyard cobblestones. The baron’s horse sidestepped into the mare, who threw up her head and shifted aside. Delilah grasped a handful of mane, afraid she might fall from the animal if it bolted. Much to her relief however, the animal moved ahead at a sedate walk.
“Are you comfortable, Miss Daysland?”
Tight-lipped she nodded. She was very uncomfortable on the unknown animal, with him, but she was not about to let him know, to show any weakness.
They rode in silence for a while until they crossed from the clip clop of the drive to the softer swish of the grassy fields. The scent of ripe apples, grass, and walnut trees wafted on the air. She inhaled a deep breath, appreciating what her senses relayed of the ride.
“Beautiful day, is it not, Miss Daysland?”
“I suppose.” She turned her head to listen for the groomsman. From the faint sound of his mount’s tread she gauged him to be many yards behind. “At least the earl did not see fit to accompany us.”
“Yes, quite. Though I fear his insistence on a long courtship is going to grow quite wearisome.”
As much as she desired to be wooed and courted by a man, she couldn’t agree more with Baron March. It was better to just get the whole sham over with. “As long as he does not insist on an engagement ball. I loathe crowds.” She sighed. “The whole idea of marriage is tiresome. I would give anything to avoid it.”
“You cannot back out now, my dear. I would not like to be cuckolded and made to look a fool.”
Something about his tone did not sit well with Delilah, yet she couldn’t put a finger on it. Perhaps she was imagining something sinister to his reply. Maybe the idea of someone trying to harm her was getting to her, feeding her paranoia.
The horses turned a corner.
Whack!
Before Delilah could wonder at the sound her mount bolted. Taken off guard, Delilah clutched the mare’s mane in effort to keep her balance and lost her stirrups, thanks to her unfamiliarity with a sidesaddle. With a shriek she clung to the horse’s neck to keep from falling. The reins were jerked from her hands. The mare stumbled and Delilah lost her precarious grip. She cringed in the brief moment she was suspended in nothingness, awaiting her body’s collision with the ground. Instead she was yanked backward by an unseen grip. Without standing on ceremony someone slung her across a horse’s sweaty shoulders.
“Are you all right, Miss Daysland?” the baron inquired. His voice calm despite her close call.
The horse came to a halt. The pounding of blood in her ears eased. Taking a shaky breath, she slid to the ground, her rubbery legs making it necessary to lean against the animal. “I think so. What happened?”
Hooves thundered toward them and gravel sprayed against her skirts. “I caught your mare, Miss Daysland. Appears someone hit her with a hunting arrow,” the groom panted. “I saw the fiend riding off at a gallop but could not close the gap to purse him on my slower mount.”