33
Delilah watched the misty pattern on the square window pane slowly grow as rain continued to fall with no signs of abating. Through the glass the hues of greens and blues enticingly beckoned for her to leave the room but being next to her cousin was far more important and besides she couldn't have moved from her seated position even if her life depended on it. Her nerves wouldn't let her. Delilah's grey eyes followed Cecilia and her friends talk animatedly amongst themselves, gasping and laughing at appropriate intervals. Cecilia was uncharacteristically the most subdued out of the group but that was to be expected. She was still shaken from her encounter and Delilah easily spied her trembling hand.
"You beat up a grown man with a stick. How much more remarkable can you get," Mary said, her voice dripping with obvious awe as she played with the large engagement ring on her finger.
"It was nothing. I wasn't even thinking, only reacting," Cecilia spoke with her eyes firmly fixed on her silent cousin, "I have been lucky today."
"Lucky or not you had better rest. Those bruises are not going to go away on their own," Isabella smiled, eyes crinkled, "And I will inform Lady Demetria that you shan't be attending her soiree tomorrow. She will understand, of course."
"No, she will not miss any event after today," Delilah spoke up, abruptly, breaking out of her reverie.
"Why ever not?" Prudence blurted before Cecilia could say anything.
"We were with her and we saw her come out of the woods safely but the others in the palace have not. You girls may not know what common gossip can do to a person's reputation but I do. They will slander her to bits if she does not make an appearance, assuming the worst," Delilah said firmly though she could not look up. The fear that they would read her whole story through her face and eyes was overwhelming her.
"I would have gone to the rest of the events even if my name was not at stake but you are right. My kidnapping is so fantastical an event in real life; I wonder what more they could add to spice it up," Cecilia smirked, as if daring the imaginary gossipmongers to make up something more interesting.
"Of course, but you still need to rest, at least today," Isabella nodded and ushered the rest of the girls out of the door after long hugs. Cecilia picked up a leftover drink from the silver tray while Delilah was still lost in her thoughts with her fists clenched in her lap.
"Is there something bothering you?" Cecilia asked conversationally after a few moments of silence.
"I should be asking you this question," Delilah replied with a fleeting smile.
"You needn't since I am well as I can be. I am more concerned about you. I know you would have been worried."
"I was but," Delilah suddenly paused remembering who she was about to mention, "I- I trusted the guards to do a good job."
"I expect you created a scene and the Prince had to physically manhandle you into submission," Cecilia laughed but Delilah's face only turned even more sour, "I can't say I dislike the man but I harbour no secret love for him either. When I saw him calling out for me- I can say I have never been more relieved in my life."
"Understandable. He was the first person you saw after your ordeal."
"No, any other guard or noble could not have comforted me the way he did. He held me and told me that he would protect me almost like Edward would have in his place," Cecilia smiled softly though it vanished with the appearance of anguish in her cousin's eyes, "What is wrong? Did something happen?"
"No," Delilah bit her lip and looked away, "I-I'm sorry, my composure has been torn to bits."
"Please," Cecilia pleaded, "Tell me what ails you. I can see it in your eyes that something bothers you that has nothing to do with my predicament."
"You are wounded; you have bruises up your arms. Why do you think my grievances are worthy of any comment."
"You are upset about the Prince," Cecilia stated astutely, "What did he say to you?"
"Nothing," And that was the truth, he had said nothing except kiss her.
"He was the last person to see you off. I saw you talking to him in a distance," Cecilia paused because her comment caused her cousin even more discomfort, "What has he done?"
"Rest Cecilia," Delilah forced a very large smile, "You are seeing conspiracy everywhere. The Prince was just as annoying as he always is, that's all."
Delilah knew her cousin was looking at her back with a forlorn expression but there was nothing in the whole story that could be shared. It was too personal; too private; too painful. She had started to believe him; really started to believe what she was seeing was the real man beneath the pomp and the swagger. He was still overly bold, arrogant and ridiculously egoistical but he was also a kind and earnest man who loved his family and his Kingdom. His head wasn't in the air as she had previously though, oh well, maybe it was a bit in the air but she was starting to find that quality endearing. But now her perception of him had crumbled like soft dough and landed on her feet in pathetic disarray.
Delilah walked into the bathing area with a comfortable cotton gown to replace her ruined rag of a dress and closed the door softly. Her hands rose to undo the lacings but they landed on damp, green tweed instead that most definitely was not from her own wardrobe. She instantly lost her poise like a house of cards going down. Her knees wobbled and she tried to find stability but ended up sliding down the tiled wall and landing on the cold floor in a heap. The only sound that could be heard was the trickle of the rain water outside through the small window in the room and Delilah's muffled sobs. She had tried so hard to feel nothing throughout the month long trip but even she knew her efforts were doomed to fail. She felt raw, trembling, aching pain run through her body making her tremble as if she had a fever. She struggled to subdue herself but the tears fought their way down her pale cheeks.
"Liar, Liar, Liar," She sobbed softly through clenched lips. She had desperately wanted the Ball to go smoothly especially any interactions with the Prince and things had gone better than expected. Other than his blatant efforts to befriend her he hadn't brought up the past, hadn't tried to question her or disgrace her publically. But now it was as clear as day that he wanted to humiliate her. Did he think she was such a fool to believe his overtures were real? What other purpose could he have to...kiss her?
He had told her he admired her, respected her and in spite of herself she had been pleased. But it was obvious every word that had come out of his mouth was a lie.
Maybe first impressions were true after all.
_______________________
It seemed destiny was a cruel, cruel mistress. After all it was she who decided to allocate the Winsham cousins rooms without a balcony. If that hadn't been the case then Damian was convinced Lady Delilah would have utilized it to the fullest, admiring the views and letting herself inadvertently be admired.
Damian hadn't seen her for the last three days which was why he was standing miserably under what he knew was her room, feeling like a wretched fool, hoping to see one glimpse of her.
He had expected reticence from the wounded Winsham girl after her attack from the still free criminal but the opposite had happened. The girl had made her appearance the very next day adorning a smile on her face with her cousin and friends on her side. At least that was what he had heard because it had been a ladies only event and even Damian could not have procured an invitation even if he had tried so his report was only second hand. The young Lady had continued to make appearances for the next few days culling the twisted and tangled grape vine that was determined to find a blemish on her name.
What was odd was that after the first brunch Delilah seemed to have disappeared from the social circuit. She had never been very popular compared to her cousin so no one commented on her disappearance. Damian had of course thoroughly cross examined the girls whom she considered friends but they never had anything concrete to say and as the days passed by he could honestly say to himself that he was scared. He had come to accept his own strong feelings, now that he knew what they were but could she also take the next step?
After a full hour of staring at her window he knew he had to remove himself from the area; He had already gotten a fair few odd looks from the occupants of other rooms and seeing an elderly gentleman in only his breeches looking out of his window was enough to spur the Prince away from the lower balcony area and into the gardens.
Damian meandered haphazardly through the grounds, feeling miserable and unwanted. He desperately needed to talk to her and communicate the frustration, confusion and fear he was feeling. The fear that had only begun to germinate during the conversation with Bea and now it was full blown thorny plant twisting his insides. If it had been any other woman he would have known her mind inside out. Women from the capital were not as elusive or mysterious as they pretended to be with their feathers and clever talk. Their aims in life were simple and their interaction with him was focused on one goal but Lady Delilah was a new breed he had never encountered before. Did she even want to have anything to do with him much less marry him?
Damian sat down on damp grass under a cider tree fortunately missing a small puddle on his right. He looked down in the clean puddle and observed his own features. The last time he had examined his features with this ferocity was when he couldn't have sprouted a chin hair even with all his will power. Damian was silently cursing himself over his less than exotic looks compared to Rossi brother when he heard a soft footstep nearby.
"Yer Highness, I did not mean teh disturb yeh?" A dark skinned gardener looked at him wide eyed. He was carrying a pail on one shoulder and a rake on the other obviously ready to work even in the rain.
"No apology necessary. I am the one who ventured into your domain, Gardener," Damian smiled tightly.
"But these are yer gardens, heck, this land is yers, I am but yer humble servant," The gardener bowed and his voice reminded Damian of something. Right away Damian connected the man to Lady Delilah. His mind swirled trying to remember everything he had retained about the man and his interaction with her. He finally squashed his pride and asked the question on the tip of his tongue.
"Then, humble servant would you tell me if by any chance you have seen Lady Delilah?"
"It rains miserably yer highness. She is smart enough to avoid it," The gardener replied with even more surprise.
"Whereas I am a bumbling fool," Damian muttered to himself wistfully.
"Pardon, yer highness."
"How well do you know Lady Delilah? Do you see her often? What is she like?" Damian barreled the questions like he would parry his sword.
"Yer highness. Lady Delilah is a gem of girl. A mighty upstandin' character not seen in the young uns today."
"Of course I know that. Gardener," Damian rolled his eyes
"Jeeves, yer highness."
"That rootlover is besotted with plants. If I didn't know better she would live out here with all her special vegetation. You obviously know her well enough to know her likes and dislikes. Has she ever confided in you about me?" Damian again swallowed his swollen ego and asked with his eyes averted.
"Tats a mighty personal question and I dint think she would like me breakin' her confidences like this," The Gardener Jeeves looked at his feet sorrowfully.
"Fine, fine, but I'm not that bad. I'm almost tame compared to the lads one can encounter in the capital. Is it the way I look? Maybe she prefers better looking men."
"Yer highness, my conversation with Lady Delilah had nothin' to do with men of this world but teh plants in the soil," Jeeves pleaded, desperate to get away from the awkward conversation.
"And you've done a fine job;" Damian conceded grudgingly, "Her knowledge about plants is remarkable."
The Gardener blinked.
"Pardon my frankness, your highness, but Lady Delilah is a special young lady, I would wish the best fer her. The richest, handsomest, most respectable gentleman fer her but she deserves even more. Good looks ain't enough."
"I am more than just looks you know," Damian grumbled fisting a clump of soggy grass from the ground ignoring the look he was being sent.
"I would want her to marry the man who could respect her and whom she could respect. Can yeh give her that?"
Damian had no reply to that.
_________________________________
Delilah could have been carved from stone from the completely motionless way she was sitting on the ground near the ornate fireplace. The fire flickered low but even the dwindling flames managed to cast the eerie orange hue over the silent girl.
"You were missed again. Lady Scarlett was asking about you," Cecilia pursed her lips in annoyance. Her arrival had been completely unnoticed by her cousin and deafening silence felt like a roar in her ears.
"I did not know I was that popular," Delilah mumbled into her dress lifelessly.
"And he asked about you again. I daresay I don't need to remind you of his name," Cecilia pulled off her gloves and threw them on one armchair.
"It would be best, if you did not," Delilah watched her cousin, with hooded eyes, settle her emerald green, velvet dress on the floor.
"I do wonder if I should do the right thing and let him inside our rooms. You two need to talk," Cecilia crouched down on Delilah's level hoping to talk some sense into her cousin.
"I have nothing to say to him."
"Which is ironic, he seems to be bursting to verbally explode in front of you," Cecilia spoke out before lowering her tone patiently, "I wouldn't be so persistent if I didn't think this was real."
