25
“Insufferable,” Delilah grumbled to herself and Damian wondered if she even noticed her internal monologue was quite audible to the rest of the world, “Complete and utter-”
“Yes?” Damian asked before she could complete the sentence. He really did not want to know what she thought about him. The girl made the mistake of looking up and then immediately cast her eyes down. He could imagine her blush deliciously all over her face and neck.
“I was not speaking to you, your royal highness” She answered with her eyes lowered, “As a matter of face I am never speaking to you again. You are behaving-“
“From what I just heard, I thought you said you never wanted to speak to me again,” The Prince teased and instantly wished he hadn’t because Delilah crossed her arm and looked away pointedly.
They reached the end of their boat journey and the Prince scrabbled out with the precious cargo in one hand. He held his other hand out but she ignored it to place her feet ungracefully on the mud.
The walk back to the castle was dredged in a stony stony silence. They slowly trekked through the grass with Delilah looking everywhere but at the Prince. The man was wearing his clothes again but they were hardly hiding anything about his figure.
The Prince and the Lady snuck back into the castle carefully and to their surprise they encountered no one in the dimly lit corridors. When they finally reached the library their luck, it seemed, had run out. The doorman who had accompanied Delilah was waiting for them. The man’s expression told them everything they did not want to know about their appearance.
“Why are you back?” The Prince growled feeling impatient, “We are not yet finished.”
“Lady Cecilia sent me to enquire about you, Lady Winsham,” The servant explained in a rush.
“I really should be in bed instead of gallivanting on a mission in the middle of the night-”
“A very fruitful mission.” Damian reminded her and displayed their catch of the night.
“Well, yes,” She looked slightly repentant, “but one that could be done in the morning.”
“Yes, yes, paint me a villain if that makes you feel better,” The footman was looking at them exchange words with complete bemusement.
“It does make my heart feel lighter to blame you completely, your Royal Highness” Delilah’s voice was uncharacteristically acidic.
“Stop sulking,” The man rolled his eyes and then addressed his servant, “Here you go, clean this up.”
“Not with hot water,” Delilah added with a brittle smile as she watched the servant grimace from the horrid smell of the plant. .
“My men are not complete imbeciles.”
“I do wonder...” The Lady trailed off, meaning quite clear in what she was trying to imply but only moments later she shook her head and regained her sense of propriety, “I apologize. It’s the middle of the night. I am feeling ill tempered, dirty and tired which I might add is something you should have foreseen.”
”Wipe that smirk off your face,” The Prince abruptly barked at the footman who looked completely appalled at being caught.
“No, keep it. A smiling man is a healthier one.” Delilah said just to be contrary.
“Go go, sleep. I promise I shan’t make you follow me ever again.”
“Thank you. I will be much obliged,” Delilah curtseyed demurely. It was amazing how their whole conversation had occurred without her ever meeting his eyes.
“I should drop you off since I dragged you in this mess in the first place,” The Prince sighed.
“Yes, your logic is astounding. Look at you. And look at me. A half naked man dropping me off will be just what I ordered for my daily dose of social suicide. Isn’t it?” She asked with her eyes still averted, “I would not answer that if I were you.”
_______________________________________
"Wha, what is going on?" Delilah woke up abruptly with a niggling feeling that a glass of water had been hurled on her head. She patted her dark hair wearily and determined that water had indeed been thrown on her.
"Del, its nine! The sun would have risen ages ago if we could actually see the sun," Cecilia announced with an annoyingly loud voice. She tried to pull the covers away from her cousin but Delilah held on for dear life. After a few more minutes of struggling the older cousin let go.
Delilah looked to the left, outside and was startled to see rain splattering down the glass windows with a steady roar and clouds rumbled distantly. It had been a cloudless night so the change was alarming but Delilah appreciated the change in weather nevertheless.
"He was right about the rain," Delilah mumbled before she could stop herself.
"Eh, who?" Cecilia broke out of her train of thought.
"Just heard someone say it was going to rain today," Delilah casually tried to dismiss the matter.
"Hmm, the ability to predict the weather is a good one. Anyway the hiking expedition has been cancelled so we're going to have to stay indoors. I'll have to replace my wardrobe for today as well," Cecilia grumbled as she picking up another dress.
"Hiking? Why don't I know about this hiking trip?"
"Delilah, where are you these days? It's like your head is in the clouds all the time," Cecilia complained.
"I must have missed the announcement," Delilah whispered slowly.
"Really, I should have thought your ears would have perked up at the word hiking since you seem to like it so much," Cecilia rolled her eyes before handing her cousin a dress, "I need to ask you what dress I should wear. I've nearly run out new dresses!"
"Oh, don't be so inane. Repeating a gown won't kill you."
"Hah bloody hah, its social suicide. Not everyone is like you. Gah! What would you do without me?"
Delilah paused at the word social suicide and remembered the whole of last night. Of course she would completely lose her mind and insult the Crown Prince. She ignored the urge to groan miserably and continued the conversation.
"Wear the periwinkle lace and what do you mean what would I do without you? Are you plotting something?" Delilah asked what her instincts were telling her. Cecilia gave her a doe eyed look but her grin was hardly innocent.
"So, how was your excursion yesterday?" Cecilia asked instead.
"What excursion?" Delilah swallowed.
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice that filthy gown stuck in the corner of the cupboard?"
"It -I was- honestly, I went out for an early morning walk," Delilah tired to explain without having to mention her actual movements the night before. She also did not want to remember the frank manner in which she conversed with the Prince. Apparently keeping her awake, hours after her bed time, made her tongue looser than Cecilia’s.
"Must have been early because I don't remember you slinking off like you usually do," Cecilia shrugged, "The breakfast is waiting for you."
"You should have woken me up earlier. It's horrible to wake up so late," Delilah grumbled.
"I don't think I have ever seen you sleep in so I let you rest," The younger cousin replied, "It's almost like watching a hippo jump over the moon."
_______________________________
Beatrix sighed in dismay as the prince groaned and curled up in his bed. She tried to wake him up again but it was of no use because the man continued to huddle into his covers. To make it worse there was no sun this morning so she couldn't torture him with visions of bright light reflecting in all the glass that surrounded his room.
"You are an absolute disgrace," Beatrix sighed and slumped into an armchair "How any woman would want you is beyond me."
"I can safely say my ego is not hurt since the occupants of this castle defy your words," Damian found strength to retort. His voice was scratchy and it looked like he hadn't slept half the night.
"What have you been doing? Nothing strange I hope and I would be pleased if you haven't been taking advantage of all your adoring fans that fill this castle to the brim."
Damian pulled his head up with surprisingly awake and furious eyes, "I am not as immoral or cruel as you make me out to be, Bea."
"Sorry! But anyone in your place would be buying favours left, right, east, and west. So many willing, vulnerable and desperate women and so little time," Beatrix laughed cynically, "You would even have the blessings of their mothers."
"Classy," Damian rolled his eyes and jumped out of his bed. He picked up a discarded shirt and wore it before settling back on his bed, "Why are you here?"
"My husband is arriving today and I hear he brings important news for you. At least the urgent missive I got from him seems to signify this. His handwriting is atrocious."
"Must have been a problem when you exchanged love letters with him before you married?" Damian snorted crossing his own self defined invisible line; finally addressing the fact that one of his closest friends, whom he had expected to propose to, had married someone else.
"Jeffery was always too much of gentleman to send me private missives. Our correspondence was always indirect," Beatrix crossed her arms defensively.
"You married a man without ever socializing with him? I would bet my life on the fact you never even talked to him, privately, before your marriage; not even once. Did you hate me so much that you married a man without even looking at him properly," Damian accused.
"This was never about you so don't you dare," Beatrix scowled viciously, "I married my husband because he was kind to me and loved me for who I was. I have known for ages you could never love anyone more than yourself."
"That is not true!" Damian growled, "I can love. I have the capacity to love."
"You capacity for affection must have been hibernating a few years ago since I remember what you did the last time your mother had this ball."
"So, you expected me to marry a woman I didn't know. She was just a stranger to me, Bea," Damian pleaded suddenly feeling weak. This was the one topic that gnawed him on the inside whenever his mind wandered. He hadn't been acting when he had fallen on his knees to apologize to his mother for the first time, a month after the first Ball. He had seen his mother mourn the loss of a person he had never had the chance to know and he felt horrible for hurting everyone around him even if he still felt he was in the right.
"You didn't even try to meet her," His friend threw back.
"The rumours were enough to convince me otherwise, I'm afraid. Nobody described her as a great beauty or something special. Nobody spoke of her talents in dance or conversation. She sounded so drab on parchment," Damian tried to argue.
"And yet you are fixated with a girl who likes to read books about plants," Bea couldn't help but smile softly. It served him right to fall for the girl who sounded equally dull.
Damian's face suddenly turned red and his friend was instantly curious.
"What did you do now, Damian?"
"I asked her to call me by my name," Damian shrugged awkwardly, "It is natural I insist since she is to be my friend."
"And let me guess she hasn't been too keen on joining this infamous group."
"How did you know?" Damian was startled.
"She is so straight-laced that even your arrows look crooked in front of her. She probably was so horrified at your attempts at casual discourse that she didn't talk to you afterwards. Am I right?" Beatrix revealed her teeth in glee while Damian nodded dejectedly, "Then why do you pursue her, even as a friend?"
"I- I do not know," Damian shrugged again. He really couldn't verbalize why he wanted her to be part of his group of friends. She certainly had nothing in common with them. She was neither bold in her conversation or attitude and neither did she possess too many worldly talents. The one thing she did share with his friends was the lack of reverence for his station. She was always proper in addressing him but there was no desire in her to gain his respect or ask for favours or flaunt his company. But that shouldn't be enough to want to be friends. There had to be something more.
"Good heavens, what will become of this man?" Beatrix threw a pillow at his head.
______________
“This exhibition is exquisite,” Prudence murmured, voicing everyone’s thoughts. The girls had been invited to a public showing of a prominent painter. Along with the paintings there were artists who were invited to show live presentations of their techniques or sketchers making quick portraits.
“I so dearly want someone to paint a cameo of my likeness so I can take it home. Would you not like the same?” Cecilia asked her cousin.
“Me?” Delilah wondered, “What will I do with a cameo?”
The girls stopped at man gluing together a fresco of an old ruin. Delilah would have been interested if she hadn't felt like someone was watching her. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she felt a chilly breeze run a shiver through her body. She broke away from her friends with an excuse and meandered forward. It was then she spied something from the corner of her eye. There was someone half hidden behind a pillar.
“If you want to talk to me then you do not need to resort to subterfuge,“ She said gently as she walked closer. The Prince looked like he was pouting with his face turned away from her. She was hit with a wave of guilt.
“Don’t I? Last I remember you did not wish to be my friend,” He muttered looking hurt. He folded his arms and tried to look like he hadn't jumped behind the pillar as soon as he had happened upon her.
“I would be honoured if you could accompany me to a walk,” She bowed at him and he looked at her, confused.
“I promised that I would never lead you anywhere,” A hint of ego and pride laced his tone.
“Then you can follow my lead," She smiled and offered him her arm.
