23
Damian absorbed the clang of wine glasses and the glitter of clothing as he stood unnoticed in one of the smaller balconies that overlooked the luncheon. He was getting vexed by the continuous rush of people in his childhood home and wished they would depart soon. In spite of his uncharitable thoughts he had an obligation to the lunch party and as much as he hated the thought of socializing he knew it would be impolite not to attend. Damian tried to keep a track of the various guests, cataloguing in his mind whom to avoid and who looked like they could engage him in a lively conversation. His eyes suddenly landed on the one Lady who seemed to have taken over half of his attention during the ball just by her presence and conversation.
She was moving as she spoke with her back towards him. The shifts in her movement allowed him to see hints of her face. He anticipated that if she moved to talk to her neighbour on her right she would reveal her nose; her eyelash; the ends of her lip and yet he was content to just see that small sliver of her face.
"Mooning over Lady Delilah again?" Beatrix whispered in his ear.
Damian made a sarcastic noise deep in his throat though his eyes never left the form leaning on the balcony below his.
"And no matter how many times I tell you to suspend your unhealthy obsession you do not listen."
"I will not let anyone tell me what to do," Damian growled, immediately annoyed that everyone was determined to check his behaviour as if were some insolent, mindless child.
"Is that why you follow her around like a hapless mongrel," Bea questioned him with a note of incredulity, "Just because of your pride; just because you want to defy sensible advice?"
"No, of course not; that's ludicrous," Damian snorted though his knuckles on the railings of the balcony were still white.
"Then why do you persist on haranguing her. Did you not see that ugly spat between the Town Ladies and our fair Lady Winsham? She left immediately after the cruel attack so you cannot say she isn't being affected negatively by your attentions," Beatrix argued, for once, with compassion.
"I was not there," Damian replied stiffly.
"Oh, of course you weren't, you moodily decided to walk off as soon as Agapito Rossi claimed the Lady's hand for a dance. That woman is a master planner or terribly naïve."
"She is neither, even you should know that. She has done absolutely nothing to gain my interest and has in fact repulsed me more often than not so your opinion is baseless," Damian replied moodily.
"Maybe she realized ignoring you was the way to your heart," Bea wondered.
"Let me be, Beatrix, go wait for your husband to come back from his business in the Capital. I grow weary of your nagging."
"You don't seem to grasp that this ball was meant for a very specific purpose. How many young women have you narrowed down as suitable potential wives?" Beatrix asked with her eyes flashing.
"I have not chosen anyone," Damian muttered, "You should know as you've asked this question before."
"I cannot believe that when you are clearly running after that woman. Lady Delilah was never introduced to you as a potential suitor but as a chaperon so it is obvious the mothers residing in your castle feel snubbed by your attentions. Either announce her as a candidate or leave her be," Beatrix tried to reason with the Prince but he stormed off with a scowl on his face.
"Why are all the women on this planet so convinced I am obsessing over Lady Delilah? That is so far away from the truth," Damian groused to himself and his furious strides halted when he noticed he had ended up on the balcony where the Lady in question was standing only a few meters away.
"Those evil, vengeful cows," Cecilia seethed, clutching her glove tightly as her cousin ended the tale of why she had left early the other night.
"Now, now, Cecilia, that's hardly how a Lady should behave," Delilah tutted, careful about keeping her voice low even though they were the only occupants of this small balcony.
"Exactly!" Cecilia exclaimed shrilly, "Ladies should not behave in this manner and yet those vile women dared to be so ugly towards you."
"Forget it, Cissy, nothing comes from anger."
"I am not like you, Del. I am neither patient nor sensible; Right now I can see Lady Penelope cackling away with the rest of her witches and all I want to do is to throw something on them," Cecilia made a motion towards the group of women standing in the balcony below them but Delilah caught her wrist firmly. Her cousin groaned and looked away like a moody child.
"I gather they were harassing you about the Prince again," Cecilia finally spoke looking defeated; "Even those women see what you do not."
"There is nothing to see," Delilah replied demurely "Besides you know my feelings on this matter. I would never even think about entrapping the Prince."
"Why not the Prince? He is rich, handsome even if slightly annoying. I can't see why you could think he wouldn't be the perfect husband," Cecilia asked with a twinkle in her eye.
"He is charming when he wants to be, surely, and is a handsome man but I hardly think he would be the perfect husband," Delilah answered thoughtfully with her face turned away from him, "He likes himself a little too much."
"And if I may boldly ask what kind of man would you consider perfect for yourself?" The Prince interrupted their conversation feeling highly offended. Cecilia bent her head down to hide the grin forming on her face. She had known fate wouldn't be so kind upon her cousin and lo and behold the Prince had heard her every word. The man stepped off the stairs and joined their small secluded niche.
Delilah arched an eyebrow at the intrusion, "For now, someone who doesn't listen in into private conversations would do."
"You have a distressingly low standards and I see that I fail to be in them. I'm woe begotten at your cruelty madam although still curious about who would suit your tastes more if it isn't the Crown Prince of this kingdom," Damian asked; his eyes were fixed on Delilah with great intensity.
"I once heard that curiosity killed a certain royal cat," Delilah retorted smoothly feeling at ease in his presence. There was something about the man’s way of conversing that urged her to reply back.
The Prince pulled at the buttons around his collar revealing smooth skin underneath, "As you can see I have neither a furry countenance nor a desire to snack on mice so I shall consider myself safe from any impending doom from a self proclaimed spinster who seems to still be waiting for the ideal man," The prince leaned forward, closing the gap between them, "So, be kind enough to tell your audience what could you possibly be waiting for."
Delilah averted her eyes from the now gaping hole between his buttons revealing far too much skin in her opinion. He was being impertinent because he had felt insulted; that facet of his personality she now understood quite well.
"What makes you think I'm waiting at all," She proclaimed simply busying herself with pulling at her sleeves.
"You are an odd woman," The prince smirked. He nodded in her direction and then in Cecilia's whom Delilah had completely forgotten and moved to depart.
"Good evening, Prince. Before you leave I'd like to remind you that coming out of this balcony with your buttons undone won't leave much of an impression of our respectability to the rest of the party."
Damian's smirk widened, wolfishly and he promptly opened a few more buttons. He heard Cecilia suppress a giggle but his attention was firmly upon her cousin.
"Worried about your reputation, tsk tsk, I didn't think you were a woman who cared to be locked in society's norms, root lover."
Delilah shook a head with a cynical smile of her own, "My reputation is already not quite up to the mark, Your Highness; I'd like Cecilia to keep hers preserved."
The Prince frowned as she turned away towards the balcony. He wanted to ask questions about the mysterious reply but Delilah looked stubborn and Cecilia seemed baffled herself. Damian nodded at Cecilia again and walked down the stairs but not before he closed his shirt in a practiced move.
Her last words hinted at her own ruin but he couldn't figure out how. She wasn't a fallen woman by any means; quite the opposite, actually. He couldn't even conceive of any scandal that could besmirch her being so what could it be that was the problem?
He stepped down to the main balcony where the rest of the guests were ambling about. From the corner of his eye he noticed the two women stepping down as well. Damian tried to ignore her presence but he just couldn't. He talked to a knight about a daring, bold quest; a few maidens fluttered their eyes at him and he greeted a number of statesmen and yet his could sense her every movement. It was so strange to be so aware of someone that you could feel their presence amongst hundreds of people.
Damian was helping himself to a portion of the egg salad when he felt her approaching the table. She picked up a plate and placed a few quail eggs and cold meat. He couldn't help but follow her movements with bated breath as she walked even closer.
"I need to talk to you, Your Highness," Delilah whispered and Damian was taken aback by her initiative. He never imaged her being the first one to talk.
"Yes, you may speak," Damian offered still staring at her.
"I have been doing some research in the Royal library and today I found another recipe that could help your father find more stability," Delilah bit her lip nervously, "While it is no cure it will dampen some of the symptoms."
She handed him a piece of parchment which had a list of ingredients for the medicine.
"I shall get my men to search for these at once," Damian nodded mindful of the eyes on him.
______________________________________
Delilah placed her book back in the shelf, bookmark firmly in place when someone knocked the door. Cecilia, who was lounging on the bay window seat looking quite sleepy, gasped awake. She opened the door cautiously after the person outside the door introduced himself as their corridor's doorman. She knew his voice well since he had accompanied them back many times so she opened the door without fear.
"For you, My Lady," The doorman bowed and presented a card on a silver lined tray. Delilah picked it up curiously.
"Meet me in the Library," Delilah read out. She was confused momentarily but remembered this particular handwriting and connected the dots. She flipped the card and on top there was an Urgent slashed into the paper.
"Cecilia, I just remembered a book I need to pick up from the library."
"At this time?" Cecilia jolted out of her light doze, "And what does the card say?"
"It is from the librarian. I told him I wanted a particular book that was not available in the library. He was kind enough to order it for me."
"Could it not wait? It is nearly time for bed," Cecilia was baffled. Delilah shrugged helplessly.
"Well, don't go alone. I'll join you," Cecilia picked up her pelisse but was stopped by her cousin.
"No," Delilah fidgeted with sleeve, "I shall manage on my own. You needn't bother."
"Indeed my Lady, I was instructed to escort you to the Library," The doorman answered helpfully.
"Alright, try to come back as soon as you can although I know you enough to know that will never happen. You'll be too busy going mad over a mouldy old book."
"Err, yes," Delilah scratched her nose feeling terrible for lying but saying anything else would provoke a barrage of questions Delilah didn't think she could answer without letting loose a secret that was not hers to tell. The doorman bowed towards her patiently and Delilah decided it would be best if she made a quick escape. The servant led her through many corridors until they reached the library. The man opened the door with another low bow.
"Oh, good, you're here. I sent my men to work and they've collected all the herbs you asked me to gather," Prince Damian ushered her in and led her towards a table full of herbs laid out.
"I see your men are efficient," Delilah replied sounding impressed.
"Efficient, yes but I remain doubtful of their talent for recognizing herbs. Could you verify them for me so I can start with the treatment," Damian looked up at the attendant, "Why are standing there like a buffoon?"
