The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (21 page)

“And not rampant curiosity?” Delilah would wager all of Phillip’s fortune on the latter.

“Oh, don’t underestimate me, little sister. I could have pursued it further but I
assumed if something dreadful had happened someone, probably Camille, possibly Mother,
would have informed me. As you did not find it necessary to inform me yourself, I
further assumed it was a private matter that you wished to keep private. I respect
that, more or less. However . . .” Beryl’s gaze pinned her sister’s. “Your failure
to take me into your confidence is not at all in the spirit of our efforts to become
closer.”

“Probably not,” Delilah muttered.

“So you can see why, when in passing today, I noted a figure at one of the windows,
I was compelled to investigate.” She glanced at Sam. “At some risk to myself, I might
add.”

Sam nodded. “Very courageous of you.”

“I thought so.” She turned back to her sister. “Imagine my surprise when I approached
the door and heard raised voices. One of which obviously belonged to you.”

“It was a simple misunderstanding,” Delilah said with a shrug.

Sam coughed.

“And I was worried that you were being attacked by an intruder.” Beryl’s speculative
gaze shifted from her sister to Sam and back. “In spite of your less than presentable
appearance I assume in that I was wrong.”

Without thinking Delilah tried to smooth her hair back into place. “Yes, of course,
nothing of the sort.”

Beryl’s gaze slid to Sam. “Pity.”

Sam’s expression remained noncommittal but there was a definite twinkle in his eye.
Why the blasted man found Beryl amusing! How very . . .
male
of him!

“Now.” Beryl adopted a pleasant, sisterly sort of smile. “Perhaps this would be a
good time to confess all. Or . . .” Again her gaze settled on Sam. “I can leave and
draw my own conclusions.”

“Fine.” It would be the height of stupidity to allow Beryl to draw her own conclusions.
Delilah sighed. “I closed the house because of a financial problem. An unexpected
difficulty.”

“Obviously, the two of you have much to discuss and I have an errand.” Sam picked
up his hat and stepped to the door, glancing back at Delilah. “I’ll return as quickly
as possible and we can take the next train.”

Delilah paused. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and Mr. Russell, on your way, would you be so kind as to inform my driver that
there is no need for alarm. He was prepared to come to my rescue if I found it necessary
to scream for assistance.” Beryl lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “Although
the dear man is getting on in age and I daresay by the time he managed to so much
as get out of the carriage, I would have been dead at the hands of some miscreant.”

“I shall assure him that you are quite all right.” That blasted twinkle was back in
his eye. “Delighted to meet you, Lady Dunwell. No doubt we will be seeing each other
again soon.”

“You may count on that, Mr. Russell.” Beryl smiled. “And I am quite looking forward
to it.”

Sam bit back a grin, nodded, and took his leave.

The moment the door closed behind him Delilah glared at her sister. “He meant at the
wedding.”

“Oh, I know what he meant.”

“You were flirting with him.”

“Why, yes, I suppose I was.”

“I thought you didn’t do that sort of thing anymore. I thought you were in love with
your husband. I thought you and he had given up your . . . your
dalliances
and were now completely faithful to one another.”

“Dear Lord.” Beryl’s brow furrowed. “It’s sounds dreadfully dull when you say it that
way.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, you were flirting.”

“Goodness, Delilah, I’m reformed not dead. A few flirtatious words are nothing to
get in a snit about. It’s not as if I threw him on the floor and had my way with him.”
She met her sister’s gaze directly. “And you’re scarcely one to talk. I’ve certainly
seen you flirt. Why, if I recall correctly, you flirted quite a bit with Grayson this
past Christmas.”

Delilah ignored her. “I suppose you can’t help yourself.”

“Nor do I wish to.” Beryl considered the other woman. “Now that we have thoroughly
dissected my character or lack of it, do you care to tell me what is going on here?”

“Not especially.”
Not at all!
“Can I avoid it?”

“Why, certainly you can, dear, if you want us to go back to being the kind of sisters
who only see each other at weddings or funerals. Oh, Camille will be dreadfully upset
and annoyed with both of us.” She raised a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “And I
have to admit I rather enjoy having a sister who seems to be a bit more like me in
character than my identical twin.”

Delilah started to protest then thought better of it. She blew a resigned breath.
“What do you want to know?”

“All of it of course.”

“Very well. But I do need to fix my hair.”

“At the very least.”

Delilah turned and started up the stairs, her sister at her heels. “I suppose I should
start at the beginning.”

“The beginning is always an excellent place to start although, on occasion, the end
might be more interesting.”

“The end?”

“The argument I interrupted sounded most interesting. Nearly as interesting as your
somewhat disheveled appearance and the fact that your bodice is misbuttoned.”

Delilah reached her hand around to feel her buttons and winced. “That’s how they’re
wearing them in Paris.”

“Odd, I hadn’t heard that.”

“I don’t have a maid here,” Delilah added. “I had to do it myself.”

Behind her, Beryl heaved a long-suffering sigh. “My dear little sister, one must always
insist a gentleman assist in re-dressing. It’s a cardinal rule of indiscretion.”

“There was no indiscretion,” she said sharply. At least not last night. “Nothing happened.”

“Perhaps that’s why you were both in such a foul mood.” They reached the first floor
and Beryl glanced at the doorway into the parlor then drew up short and stared. “What
on earth happened here?”

“A minor accident.” Delilah waved off the question. “Nothing of significance.”

“An accident?” Beryl stepped into the parlor and scanned the room. “It doesn’t look
like an accident.” She crossed the room to the cabinet, bent down, and picked up a
large piece of porcelain. Her gaze shifted from the piece in her hand to the remaining
snuffboxes. “Indeed, I would suspect it was more in the manner of . . .” She met her
sister’s gaze. “Vengeance?”

Delilah shrugged.

“This financial difficulty of yours. If I had to guess, as apparently I do since you
are not being nearly as forthcoming as you should, I would surmise that it had something
to do with a late husband. A late husband who was perhaps fond of very expensive antique
snuffboxes. How accurate would that supposition be?”

“Fairly.”

Beryl’s brow rose.

“Very accurate then.” Delilah sighed.

She didn’t know why she resisted telling Beryl everything. Camille would surely tell
her after all. But when she had revealed her financial problem to Camille, she hadn’t
felt like quite as much of an idiot as she felt today. And, even though she and Beryl
still weren’t particularly close, she did hate for this sister to think poorly of
her. Regardless, it appeared she had no choice. She drew a deep breath.

“About six weeks ago a claim was made against Phillip’s estate by a man who claimed
to be his heir. My accounts were unavailable to me until a determination as to the
validity of the claim could be ascertained.” She shrugged. “That’s it, really.”

“I see.” Beryl gestured with the piece in her hand. “And this is because your late
husband had an heir you knew nothing about?”

“No, this is because I learned Phillip couldn’t have an heir because Phillip was unable
to have children at all.” There was no need to tell Beryl the rest of it.

“And you didn’t know?”

“I had no idea.”

“But this does solve the problem of the claim against the estate?”

“I hope so.”

“That’s something anyway.” Beryl placed the broken piece on the shelf. “I must say,
though, I admire your restraint.”

“My restraint?”

“Indeed.” Understanding glimmered in Beryl’s eyes. “I would have broken them all.”

Delilah smiled reluctantly. “I may not be finished.”

“That explains the mess but not the American.”

“He is much easier to explain.” She shrugged. “Mr. Russell accompanied me from Millworth.
He had business to attend to here and I needed to meet with my solicitor.”

“And?”

“And, that’s all there is to it.”

Beryl’s brow rose in a skeptical manner.

“Good Lord, Beryl, there’s really nothing more to it than that.” She heaved a frustrated
sigh. “I was upset over learning the truth about Phillip even though it does mean
my life will soon be back to normal. We stayed here longer than we should have and
missed the last train so we spent the night. In separate rooms,” she added.

“Excellent explanation, dear, as far as it goes.” Beryl settled on the sofa and smiled
pleasantly, as if they were about to take tea or something equally innocuous. “Yet
nothing you have said explains why he was accusing you of marrying for financial gain
and why you think he’s a foolish romantic who is bound to have his heart broken. Again
apparently.”

Delilah stared. “How much did you hear?”

“Quite a lot.” Beryl shook her head. “It seemed rude to interrupt as you were both
so passionate. And I do hate to be rude.”

“Then you know everything,” Delilah snapped.

“Oh, I don’t believe I do.” Beryl studied her sister closely. “There’s more between
you and the ever so dashing Mr. Russell than you are letting on.”

“Not really.” Delilah sat down beside her sister. “We simply clashed upon our initial
meeting, that’s all. Now we have agreed to be friends.”

“My dear, dear little sister.” Beryl shook her head in a mournful manner. “I don’t
believe a word of that. One does not discuss reasons for marriage at the top of one’s
lungs with a mere friend. And certainly not a male friend. There’s more to it than
you’re saying.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not. I am shockingly perceptive. And very persistent. I do not give up easily.”
She paused. “And while I do enjoy a juicy tidbit of gossip, when it comes to something
very important, popular opinion aside, I can keep a secret.”

“There isn’t . . .” Delilah studied her sister. “Can you really?”

“It has always seemed to me that the first step to a solid relationship be that with
a man or a woman or a sister, is trust.” She leaned toward Delilah and met her gaze
directly. “You’ve had no reason to trust me in the past but no reason not to trust
me either as we have never shared confidences before. As your sister, I’m asking you
to trust me now.” She smiled. “If one only has two sisters it does seem a pity to
squander one.” A gleam of amusement sparked in her blue eyes. “And the more interesting
one at that.”

Delilah stared at her for a long moment. Why not? “Oh, very well then.” Besides, she
was tired of having no one to talk to about Sam other than herself. “You do understand
I have told no one this.”

“Those are the very best kind of secrets.”

Delilah drew a deep breath. “I first met him in New York. We had a . . . an adventure
together, if you will.”

“You?” Surprise rang in Beryl’s voice.

“This is not going to go well if you’re going to be shocked by everything I say,”
Delilah said sharply.

“I daresay I won’t be shocked by everything now that the initial shock is over.” Beryl
shook her head. “I simply didn’t expect this sort of revelation from you.” Her brow
furrowed. “I am assuming when you say
adventure
you mean of the amorous kind?”

Delilah nodded. “I’d never been with anyone besides Phillip before so it was quite,
well, a revelation.”

“A revelation?”

“Are you shocked again?”

“Not yet but do go on.” Beryl cleared her throat. “A revelation, you say?”

Delilah continued, the words coming faster almost of their own accord. “Well, yes.
But that was certainly not the sort of thing I do. Of course, I expected never to
see him again. After all an adventure should be finite. And indeed, I told him I had
no desire to see him again. Surely you understand?”

“I suppose. But never when the adventure was a revelation.”

“Although admittedly, he didn’t appear to feel the same but he did agree. So you can
imagine my shock when he appeared at Millworth without warning for Camille’s wedding
with an absurd business proposal about horseless carriages and a very, well, smug
attitude. The man can be most annoying.”

“He does seem to have that potential,” Beryl said thoughtfully. “It’s the amused look
in his eye I think.”

“But he is awfully nice as well, which is also oddly annoying.” Delilah leaned closer
to her sister. “I was dreadful to him at Millworth, very nearly rude most of the time.
And I thought I should apologize and try to be nicer. So I went to his room and .
. .”

Beryl’s eyes widened. “Oh my.”

“Oh my is something of an understatement I’m afraid.” She sighed. “You and I have
much more in common than I had ever dreamed.”

“My apologies,” Beryl murmured.

“It’s not your fault.” Delilah waved off her sister’s comment. “It must run in the
blood. But we did agree, Sam and I, that it would not happen again. Which does seem
best, all in all.”

“And last night?”

“I said nothing happened. But . . .” She buried her face in her hands. “I wanted it
to.”

“And he didn’t?”

“Oh no, he did.” Her words were muffled by her hands but she wasn’t quite ready to
see the knowing look in her sister’s eyes. “But I had had a bit too much to drink
and he said he would not take advantage . . .”

“The beast,” Beryl murmured.

“He was a perfect gentleman.”

“One could say that was good and bad news, I suppose.”