The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (18 page)

Delilah resisted the urge to grin. If there was one thing she knew about Julian, he
did not tolerate a poorly run household. Of course, neither had Phillip.

She circled the center gallery to the library door. It was already open a crack. Poor
Mr. Bender. The turmoil below-stairs was obviously taking its toll on him. The well-trained
butler would never leave a door partially opened when privacy was called for.

“. . . and most impressive,” Julian’s voice drifted from the doorway. She raised her
hand to knock. “Now then, before Delilah returns, I was wondering if I might have
a word with you.”

She paused.

“Of course,” Sam said.

This was eavesdropping and not the sort of thing she did. Although admittedly, she
didn’t seem to have any particular qualms about it. And they were talking about her.

What on earth did Julian wish to say to Sam without her?

And why?

“It has recently come to my attention that there is a new claim to Lord Hargate’s
estate,” Tate said.

“I was under the impression that was a well-kept secret,” Sam said cautiously.

“It is for the most part. I only learned of this a few days ago and only because I
have made it my business to keep a close eye on Delilah’s welfare. At least, her financial
well-being. I owe her that much,” Tate said, a faint hint of regret in his voice.
“I knew all of Lord Hargate’s secrets. Phillip and I were very close. Indeed, I was
the executor of his estate after his death.”

“Go on.”

“Phillip could not have an undisclosed heir.” He shrugged in an offhand manner that
belied his words. “He was unable to have children.”

“Oh?”

“A childhood illness rendered him incapable of siring children.”

Sam drew his brows together. “Does Lady Hargate know this?”

“No.” Tate shook his head. “Phillip didn’t want her to know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t.” Tate blew a long resigned breath. “Appearances, Mr. Russell,
are everything in this world. Phillip needed a wife and he chose Delilah for the usual
reasons. She was a young woman of good family, well educated, unblemished by scandal,
and quite attractive as you may have noticed.”

“She’s lovely.”

“Indeed she is. She was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect wife for him. And
he had hoped, that possibly, with the right wife, the doctors might have been wrong.”

“But they weren’t?”

“No. Perhaps if he had been more, I don’t know . . . enthusiastic is as good a word
as any I suppose.” Tate considered Sam carefully. “You see, there was another difficulty
as well.”

Sam raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Phillip was not . . .” Tate looked off into the distance as if gathering his strength
then drew a deep breath. His gaze met Sam’s. “Phillip did not, well, he did not especially
like women. They were not his . . . preference, shall we say. He understood his duty
to his family and his title but . . . This is awkward, Mr. Russell. Please tell me
I do not need to be more explicit.”

Sam stared at the older man. “Probably not.”

“This is not the sort of thing one speaks of, certainly not openly.”

“And Delilah knows nothing of this? Of her husband’s . . .” Sam hesitated. “Preferences?”

“Absolutely not,” Tate said. “Nor did he intend for her ever to know. Although, if
he hadn’t died, as the years went on, she might well have surmised the truth. They
were only married for five years. Still, one tends not to see what one is not looking
for.”

“But she is an intelligent woman.”

“That she is.” Tate chuckled. “It came as something of a surprise to Phillip. He did
not expect intelligence, nor do I think he particularly wanted it.”

“I’m sure that made life more difficult for him.”

“You have no idea.” Tate scoffed. “But even if she had suspected, I doubt that she
would have said anything. It’s usually easier to keep up a pretense than to face the
truth.”

“I suppose.” Sam considered the other man for a long moment. “It wasn’t fair, though,
was it? To Lady Hargate I mean.”

“It wasn’t especially fair to anyone. Not to Phillip or to me and certainly not to
his wife. But I’m sure you know as well as I that life is rarely fair.”

“Even so—”

“You must understand, Mr. Russell.” Tate leaned forward in his chair. “Phillip had
reached the age of thirty-eight when he decided it would be prudent to marry. The
world is a dangerous place for an unmarried man of a certain age who has never been
married or does not have a scandalous reputation for having indiscriminate affairs
with any number of amenable women.

“Delilah’s mother was looking for a suitable match. Phillip was eminently suitable.
He had the fortune, he had the title, and he was a handsome devil. He was twenty years
older than she, which was not at all considered too old. After all, her sisters had
both married men considerably older. And Delilah and Phillip got on well together.
In fact, Phillip was quite taken with her. In every way, it did appear to be an excellent
match.” His voice hardened. “But make no mistake about it, this was as much a business
arrangement as anything else. Most marriages are, you know. Phillip was fond of her,
of course, but . . .” He shook his head. “For the most part, theirs was a marriage
like many others. He provided Delilah with wealth and a prominent position in the
world. She gave him an excellent wife.”

“But you’re certain she didn’t know the truth about her husband?” Sam hesitated. These
were uncharted waters for him. “About his . . . preferences?”

“How did I come up with that term?” Tate cast Sam a wry smile. “It will do as good
as any, and better than most I suppose. No, as I have already said, I am sure she
never knew. If she had, she wouldn’t have . . .”

“Wouldn’t have what?”

“I’ve never told anyone any of this.” He grimaced. “I have probably said entirely
too much already.”

Sam studied the other man closely. “Why have you told me anything at all?”

“As I said, I only heard of Delilah’s difficulties a few days ago. Since then I have
been debating how best to reveal this information without going directly to Delilah.
I would prefer not to be involved.” He shook his head. “I have no desire to unduly
upset her. Coming from me, this information would only bring up more questions. The
situation is no doubt trying enough as it is. To find out Phillip lied to her about
his ability to have children—admittedly it was by omission but a lie nonetheless—would
not help anyone now. There’s no need for her to know that or any of the rest.”

“Why not go to one of her sisters?”

“I don’t know either of her sisters past a nodding acquaintance. It’s my understanding
that Lady Lydingham is residing in the country at the moment. As for her other sister
. . .” A pained expression crossed his face. “Have you met Lady Dunwell?”

“Not yet.”

“I only know her by reputation, not as sterling as one might hope,” he said in a wry
manner. “Phillip had an innate distrust of her but then admittedly Delilah rarely
saw her sisters. Besides Lord Dunwell is actively engaged in politics.” He shuddered
as if the very word was distasteful.

“You could have sent the information anonymously to her solicitors.”

“I considered that and might well have taken that step eventually. But anonymous information
is often discredited unless delivered by a creditable messenger.”

“Me?”

Tate nodded.

“I still don’t see—”

“One seizes opportunity when it presents itself, Mr. Russell. You are an opportunity
that I do not intend to squander. As a man of business I am certain you understand
that.”

“Yes, of course but—”

“Delilah brought you here, which indicates she thinks very highly of you. She would
not have done so otherwise.”

“Perhaps.” Sam nodded slowly. He hadn’t quite thought of it that way but it was a
nice idea.

“That said, I suspect you have earned her trust as well.” Tate pinned Sam with a hard
look. “And you now have mine.”

“So you’re asking me to lie to her?”

“Not at all. I am simply entrusting you with the means to ensure she receives everything
she should. Everything that is rightfully hers. It’s up to you to decide when or if
she receives this information. I would suggest, however, that you might wait until
this matter is resolved and in the past before you tell her everything.”

Sam stared at him for a long moment. The man was right. There was no need for Delilah
to know this. Any of it. At least, not at the moment. He ignored the thought that,
regardless of how Tate chose to phrase it, Sam would indeed be lying to her.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing especially difficult. Simply contact Delilah’s solicitor and give him this
information.” Tate stood and moved to the large desk. “This will only take a moment.”
He sat down, selected a piece of paper, and threw Sam a quick glance. “Do pour yourself
a brandy, Mr. Russell. My apologies for not offering earlier.”

“Thank you.” Sam spotted a decanter and a tray of glasses on the library table and
headed toward it. He poured a glass and took a much-appreciated sip. When Delilah
had offered to introduce him to her late husband’s friend and partner, he had hoped
for a bit of insight, perhaps some advice or suggestions. He certainly hadn’t expected
to have Delilah’s fate put in his hands.

“This is the name and address of Delilah’s solicitor as well as the name and address
of the doctor Phillip regularly consulted here in London. That too he kept secret
from her.”

“He had a lot of secrets,” Sam said under his breath.

“Don’t we all in one way or another, Mr. Russell.” Tate finished writing, slipped
the page into an envelope, then stood and joined Sam. “I shall send a note round to
the doctor in the morning, instructing him in my capacity as Lord Hargate’s executor,
to confide Phillip’s condition to Delilah’s solicitor upon request.”

He accepted the envelope from the older man and slipped it into his breast coat pocket.
“So I’m simply to instruct Lady Hargate’s solicitor to contact the doctor?”

“Discreetly of course.” Tate nodded. “But yes, that should do it.”

“How should I say I came by this information?”

“Come now, Mr. Russell, you’re an intelligent man. I daresay you can come up with
something plausible.” Tate poured a glass of brandy. “I know it seems silly to you,
my desire to keep my distance. As much as I feel obligated to assist Delilah, Phillip
would expect no less, I have my own life to be concerned with.”

“She is following his advice.” Sam sipped his brandy. “She is looking for a new husband.”

“Good.” Tate nodded. “I wish her nothing but happiness. I was married once, years
ago. Lovely woman. She died entirely too young.” He paused. “I owe it to Phillip and
to Delilah as well to help her. I’d marry her myself but she’d never have me.”

“Nor is she your preference?” Sam said slowly.

“I’m afraid Phillip was the great love of my life. I only hope he wasn’t the great
love of hers.” Tate sipped his brandy thoughtfully and said nothing for a few moments.
“Love was not expected to enter into their marriage, you see. Oh, Phillip felt a certain
measure of affection for her but he never anticipated that she would fall in love
with him. He feared he had broken her heart. He felt dreadful about it.”

Sam’s heart twisted for her. “But not dreadful enough?”

Tate’s gaze met his. “No.” He shrugged. “As I said before, life is not fair. And matters
of the heart are often the most unfair of all.”

And didn’t Sam know that from experience? “True enough.”

“I don’t know why I have told you all this. Although I suppose if I am asking you
to help her, you deserve to know everything.” He blew a long breath. “Now that that
is settled, let us go back to consideration of your motorwagon. It seems to me the
best way to reach our upper ten-thousand . . .”

Tate continued with a few further suggestions but Sam was hard-pressed to put these
new revelations about Delilah out of his mind. Not simply the information about her
husband, interesting though it was, but Tate’s revelations put Delilah’s comments
about love with regard to marriage in an entirely new light. It made perfect sense
that she was not interested in love when love had failed her before.

A knock sounded at the door and the butler entered at once. “I beg your pardon, sir,
but I thought perhaps Lady Hargate might like some refreshment.”

“Lady Hargate hasn’t returned yet,” Tate said with a quizzical frown.

“My apologies, sir, but she returned some time ago.” The butler paused. “She said
she was joining you.”

Tate and Sam exchanged glances.

“I see,” Tate said slowly. “That will be all, Bender.”

“Yes, sir.” The butler nodded and took his leave.

Tate waited until the door closed behind the servant. “Do you think she heard us?”

“If she hadn’t, she would have come in.” Sam downed the rest of his brandy and set
the glass on the table.

“Good Lord, I didn’t want her to know any of this.” Tate rubbed a weary hand over
his forehead. “Now what?”

“Now, I have to find her.” Urgency sharpened his tone. Sam considered the other man.
“You know her better than I; where do you think she would go?”

“I have no idea.” His gaze met Sam’s. “Do you think she heard all of it?”

“I suspect she heard enough,” Sam said. Tate was right. Delilah would be devastated.
How could she not be?

“We can only hope she didn’t hear everything I suppose.”

“If she didn’t, she’s either going to guess the rest or she’ll be back to demand answers.
The problem, Mr. Tate, with secrets of this magnitude, is that their revelation is
often worse than the secret itself.” He shook his head slowly. “The betrayal is in
the not knowing.”

Tate heaved a heartfelt sigh. “You’re right of course.”

“A more pressing question at the moment isn’t so much what she heard.” Sam’s tone
hardened. “The question is, where is she now?”