The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (22 page)

Delilah lifted her head. “He is a decent sort, really, for an American.”

“Will wonders never cease?”

“And he is proving to be an excellent friend.”

“That’s something.”

“I suppose.”

“One more thing—” Beryl paused. “You said you and Mr. Russell—”

“Sam.” She sighed. “His friends call him Sam.”

“Didn’t you have a dog named Sam?”

“I did.” She stared at her sister. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“No one ever gives me credit for being thoughtful.” Beryl sniffed. “As I was saying,
you and Sam agreed that it would never happen again. So the question is—is that what
you want?”

“Absolutely.” Delilah paused. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Just idle curiosity. There does seem to be something between you.”

“There isn’t, not really,” she said firmly. “Admittedly, I have not been able to get
him out of my mind since New York but . . .”

“But?”

“I find him frightening.”

Beryl frowned. “Because you can’t get him out of your head?”

“Partially. And he makes me feel . . . things.” She absently picked at a bit of lint
on her dress. “You see, I fell in love with Phillip and he, well, it sounds so trite
and rather pathetic really.”

“Go on.”

“He didn’t share my feelings. And he broke my heart.” She raised her chin. “I will
not allow that to happen again.”

“I see.” A sage note sounded in Beryl’s voice.

“What do you see?”

“Well, from what you have said, and from what I overheard, your Mr. Russell thinks
the main reason for marriage should be love. And you have a more practical view of
the matter.”

“Indeed I do.” She drew a deep breath. “It simply seems to me that if two people who
are completely perfect for each other cannot find love then love between two people
who have nothing in common is out of the question. And one if not both hearts will
surely be broken.”

“My, that is practical of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Although, one of the difficulties with love is that it tends not to be the least
bit practical.” Beryl studied her closely. “Are you in love with him?”

“No, of course not. That would be absurd and foolish and an enormous mistake.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Beryl murmured.

“Exactly.” Delilah shook her head. “Good Lord, Beryl I have never met any man who
was so completely wrong for me. Love does not conquer all, you know.”

“I suppose not.” Beryl considered her sister for a moment. “I may not be one to talk
given that neither of my marriages were for love. When I married my first husband,
I married for the reasons we were all expected to marry. But Charles was a charming
man and I did love him even if I was not in love with him. Do you understand the difference?”

Delilah nodded.

“I married Lionel for similar reasons. Title, money, ambition. He will be prime minister
one day, you know.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” Over and over and over again. Beryl’s ambition for her
husband matched his own.

“We were both living our own lives really, having any number of well, adventures,
and then the oddest thing happened.” A smile that might well be called sweet on anyone
else curved Beryl’s lips. “One minute were we amicable companions and the next . .
.” Her gaze met Delilah’s. “We realized we couldn’t live without each other. We further
discovered we preferred adventure with each other rather than with other people. It
was shocking and utterly wonderful. Love caught us entirely unawares.” She shrugged,
as if somewhat embarrassed by the revelation.

“But you and Lionel are not from completely different worlds,” Delilah pointed out.
“Why, if any two people were expected to find love one would anticipate it would be
the two of you.”

“Perhaps.” Beryl chose her words with care. “Still, one of the most marvelous things
about love is that it is completely unexpected.”

“Nonetheless, I am neither in love with Sam, nor do I intend to allow that to happen.”

“If you aren’t already?”

“I’m most definitely not.” Delilah ignored a stab of doubt and set her chin. “My plan
is to marry again for practical reasons. Precisely as you did.”

“I’m not sure I would advise following in my footsteps, although my life has turned
out to be better than I could have imagined. We all have to tread our own paths, Delilah.”

“Exactly as I am doing.”

“Very well then, you certainly don’t need advice from me.” She reached out and patted
her sister’s hand. “However, I do so love giving advice and I am very good at it,
so don’t hesitate to come to me again. I plan on being at Millworth within the week.
Perhaps sooner now that I can see how very much I am needed.” She cast her sister
a smug smile. “You can’t get this kind of advice from Camille, you know.”

“And you won’t tell her about this?”

“Absolutely not.” Beryl huffed with indignation. “I gave you my word after all not
to repeat any of this to anyone. Although admittedly, if Camille were to say to me
directly, ‘Did you know that Delilah is in love with Mr. Russell?’ why I would hate
to lie to her.”

“I never said that,” Delilah said quickly, then realized her mistake. “I mean I’m
not in love with him.”

“Of course not. That would be foolish.”

“It would indeed.”

Beryl nodded. “And absurd.”

“Completely.”

“Not to mention an enormous mistake.”

“Without question.”

“Still, you have made other mistakes,” Beryl said thoughtfully.

“Who hasn’t?”

“Falling in love with him isn’t your worst.”

“No, of course not. It’s . . .”

Beryl arched a knowing brow.

“That was a . . .” Delilah searched for the right word.

“Let’s just call it something you did not intend to admit, shall we? Not to me and
certainly not to yourself.” Beryl studied her sister for a long moment. “There is
one thing you should keep in mind, however.”

Delilah sighed. “And what is that?”

“The very best adventures, my dear sister.” Beryl smiled. “Are those that never end.”

“Good day, Lady Hargate, Mr. Russell.” William greeted Delilah and Sam at Millworth’s
front door. The young footman had a definite harried air about him. “Welcome home.”

“Good day, William.” Sam nodded a greeting. It wasn’t the most he’d said all day but
it was close.

His visit to the investigator’s had been uneventful but, aside from telling her that,
he’d had very little to say on the trip back from London. She’d made no effort to
converse with him either; there was entirely too much on her mind. Her conversation
with Beryl kept repeating itself in her head. All she’d said and all she’d almost
said and what any of it meant. If indeed it meant anything at all. And she was more
confused than ever.

Not that she had time to dwell on that. First, she had to come up with a plausible
explanation as to why she and Sam had stayed the night in London.

“Thank you, William.” Delilah handed him her mantle and glanced around the grand foyer.
The house struck her as oddly quiet. “Where is Clement?”

William chose his words with care. “I’m afraid there has been a bit of a mishap, my
lady.”

Her breath caught. “Has something happened to Clement?”

“Something has happened to nearly everyone.” William winced. “Except for myself of
course, and three of the maids and Mr. Moore seems fine but then he isn’t staying
at the manor and he did eat in the village yesterday. The grooms and gardeners are
unaffected as well but they rarely take their meals at the house—”

“When you say mishap, what exactly do you mean?” Sam said cautiously.

“It was something they ate last night, sir,” William said. “All of them. We’re not
entirely sure what it was but it seems to have affected everyone including most of
the house staff. It was a bad night, sir.” He grimaced. “A very bad night for all
of them. As I said, only three of the housemaids and myself were unaffected, or we
didn’t eat whatever caused the problem, we’re not sure, but then my mother always
said I had a constitution made of iron and it does appear—”

“What about my sister? And Lady Theodosia and Mr. Elliott?” Delilah stared at the
footman. “Are they all right?”

“They will be.” William nodded. “The doctor came from the village last night. He said
the worst was over and once everything was out of their systems, they should all be
fine. And I believe everything is.” He grimaced. “While they all seem much better
today, he said they’d probably sleep through today and most of tomorrow—getting their
strength back and all—but they should be able to be up and about by the day after.
He left a note with instructions and he will be round later today.

“When last we checked, everyone was asleep.” He lowered his voice. “It has been an
exceptionally long night, Lady Hargate. Especially with only myself, Jenny, Mildred,
and Margaret to attend to everyone. But we have made it through.” He squared his shoulders.
“Clement issued some instructions from his bed—”

“I don’t recall Clement ever taking to his bed before,” Delilah murmured. “He must
have felt dreadful.”

“You have no idea, my lady.” William shuddered. “He directed me to get some girls
in from the village to assist us and they were here all morning but unfortunately
they could not stay. Although they might be able to come back tomorrow should we need
them.”

“I suspect we will need them, given that everyone else is abed.” She paused. “I assume
Mrs. Dooley was stricken as well.”

William nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“So there is no one to cook?”

Sam leaned close and spoke into her ear. “You’ve never been in this kitchen either,
have you?”

“Of course I have.” She huffed. “Not since I was a child but I have been there.”

“Mrs. Dooley had us dispose of anything left from last night’s meals. Deliveries are
not expected until tomorrow. However, there are cold meats and breads in the pantry
and larder. We have eaten from those stores with no ill effects,” William added.

“That’s something anyway.” Sam looked at her. “I assume you’re hungry.”

“We’ve scarcely eaten anything at all today, in case you’ve forgotten,” she said in
as cool a manner as she could muster. Of course she was hungry but he needn’t say
it as if there were something wrong with being hungry. Although she could be reading
more into his comment than was really there. She did tend to do that with him. She
drew a deep breath. “I should look in on them, my sister and Lady Theodosia and Mr.
Elliott, that is.”

“Jenny and Mildred have been attending to the ladies, I have been seeing to Mr. Elliott’s
needs,” William said. “And we have all been caring for the rest of the staff.”

“No wonder you look so tired.” Delilah cast the footman a sympathetic smile.

“It appears that you’ve done an excellent job of managing this crisis, William,” Sam
said.

“I was recently promoted to underbutler,” the young man said with pride. “I hope to
be a butler some day, sir.”

“I’m sure you’ll be more than up to the job.” Sam smiled. “Especially given how well
you’re surviving this trial by fire.”

“It has been challenging, sir.”

“I shall also look in on Clement and Mrs. Dooley and Mrs. Carter of course.” She glanced
at Sam. “The housekeeper.”

He nodded then turned to the footman.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Hargate,” William began. “But Mr. Clement, well, he wouldn’t,
that is . . .”

“He would be embarrassed, wouldn’t he?” She should have realized it herself.

“Yes, my lady.” The footman nodded with relief.

“Then we shall leave care of the staff in your capable hands, at least for today.
Mr. Russell and I will see to the needs of the others.”

He nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

“William, if you will direct me to the kitchen, I’ll see what I can find for Lady
Hargate and myself to eat.”

“Oh no, sir. I couldn’t possibly permit that.” William paled. “I shall see to it myself.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Sam said. “You’re obviously exhausted and Lady Hargate and I are
more than capable of fending for ourselves.” He glanced at her. “Aren’t we?”

“Absolutely.” Although when had she ever fended for herself? She forced a note of
resolve to her voice. “It is a crisis after all and we should all do our part.”

“I knew you’d agree.” A distinct challenge shone in Sam’s eyes. It was most annoying.

She squared her shoulders. “Then I shall check on the others and join you shortly.”

Sam nodded at the footman. “Would you give us a minute, William?”

“Of course, sir,” William said. “I shall wait for you in the dining room.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiled and waited until William took his leave. “How many servants
are there at Millworth? On the house staff, that is.”

“I have no idea. I don’t really live here, you know.” She thought for a moment then
counted the numbers off on her fingers. “There’s Clement, Mrs. Dooley and her assistant,
Mrs. Carter and the under-housekeeper, a kitchen maid, five housemaids I think, three
footmen not including William, my personal maid as well as Teddy’s and Camille’s,
Grayson’s valet . . . That’s all I can think of but I may have missed someone.”

“So, by my count that means there are at least twenty people in the house who have
been stricken.” He pinned her with a firm look. “And only six of us to see to their
needs.”

“That does seem insurmountable.”
Insurmountable?
Ha! Why, she’d never had to take care of anyone who was ill before in her entire
life. The very idea was as foreign to her as, well, the making of coffee. Even so,
she absolutely refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how completely useless
she was at this sort of thing. “And yet, there is no choice.” She started for the
stairs. “I shall check on Camille, Teddy, and Grayson while you find something for
us to eat.”

“You know, there is a good side to this.”

“Good Lord, are you always so optimistic?” She turned and glared at him. “It’s incredibly
annoying.”

“Good,” he snapped. “I’m not being optimistic, I’m being realistic.”

“Well then please, do go on.”

“If everyone was stricken last night, then they probably have no idea that we were
not here. Which means there will be no questions about why we didn’t return until
today. And no speculation as to what we might have done.”

“We didn’t
do
anything!” She huffed. “But you’re right.” She nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.
There’s really no one to say when we did or did not arrive.”

“It’s not as if we planned this.” He shrugged. “But it does work to our advantage.”

“I do appreciate you pointing it out. Thank you.” She nodded and started up the stairs.

“Delilah?”

She paused in midstep and looked at him. “What is it now?”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely not.” She lifted her chin and continued up the stairway. “But, I daresay,
we didn’t get to be the greatest empire the world has ever seen by knowing what we
were doing every minute. Goodness, Sam, where would be the adventure in that?”

She didn’t have to look back to know that infectious grin of his was back on his handsome
face. She bit back a grin of her own. No matter what other feelings she might have
about the man she did indeed like him. And he did make her laugh. There was something
to be said for that.

Delilah reached Camille’s door and paused to gather her courage. She’d never been
around people who were ill. Her family had always been remarkably healthy. Indeed,
she couldn’t remember the last time she had been indisposed. The whole idea of illness
struck her as unpleasant and rather messy. Still, there was nothing to be done about
it but bravely carry on. She drew a deep breath and opened the door.

William was right. Camille was sleeping and quite soundly judging from the faint snorting
sounds coming from her bed. Delilah quietly moved to her sister’s bedside then rested
her hand gently on her forehead. She was a bit clammy but not hot. It seemed like
a good sign.

Teddy felt much the same but her eyes fluttered open at Delilah’s touch.

“Where have you been?” she croaked.

“London, of course.”

Teddy waved in the direction of the pitcher on the table beside her bed. “Thirsty.”

Delilah poured her a glass then helped her sit up. Teddy took a few sips then slid
back down. “All night?”

“All night what?”

“You were in London all night?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Delilah replaced the glass on the nightstand. “What would I be
doing in London all night? You were probably dreaming.” When she looked again, her
friend was fortunately already back to sleep.

Checking on Grayson proved a bit more awkward. The man was obviously a restless sleeper.
One foot was flung over the side of the bed, his covers were bunched around his waist
exposing his bare chest. Oh my, did the man sleep in anything at all? Not that it
wasn’t an attractive sight although she much preferred Sam’s naked chest. Why, she
had no desire at all to run her hand over Grayson’s naked chest. If it had been Sam
lying here—

Dear Lord! The thought jerked her upright. Sam wasn’t the only one with only one thing
on his mind. She had other matters to attend to at the moment and the thought of Sam
naked and hot and . . . Well, this simply wasn’t the time. Besides, they’d agreed
it would not happen again.

Delilah carefully straightened Grayson’s covers, felt his forehead, and decided it
would be wise for Sam to be the one to check on his friend from now on. She and the
three unaffected maids would see to Camille and Teddy and the female staff. It was
decidedly improper otherwise. She heaved a heartfelt sigh. Why she continued to concern
herself with propriety at all made no sense. She was beginning to suspect she had
a heretofore unknown penchant for impropriety that had somehow been released by a
voyage to America and, of course, the American who had shared her thoroughly improper
adventure.

By the time Delilah joined Sam in the kitchen, she had a fair measure of confidence.
Why, she could pat foreheads and dispense sips of water with the best of them. She
would certainly never become a nurse of course. Indeed, she sent a silent prayer of
thanks heavenward that she had not been here last night. She didn’t think she could
have handled last night.

She pulled a stool up to the large kitchen worktable and sat down. The kitchen was
smaller than she remembered but warm and cozy. And oddly comforting.

“Coffee.” Sam set a cup before her.

“Thank you.” She took a sip. Her brow rose. “With cream and sugar?”

“That’s how you take it,” he said coolly. “William says everyone is asleep and I told
him he and Jenny, Mildred, and Margaret should take this opportunity to get some rest.”

She nodded. “I would hate to lose them to exhaustion.”

“How would we bear up?” He picked up two plates from a side counter and sat them down
on the table. “And I made sandwiches.”

She stared at the enormous slices of bread blanketing equally large pieces of cold
roast beef. He plunked a mustard pot on the table, pulled up another stool, sat down,
and slathered mustard on his sandwich. Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen sandwiches
quite this huge. She was more used to the delicate little things her cook made for
tea with watercress and cucumbers. This was obviously a man’s sandwich. And an American
man’s at that.

Sam picked up his sandwich, started to take a bite, then hesitated and stared at her.
“Is it all right?”

“Well, yes, it looks wonderful. I’m simply not sure where to start.” She stared at
the massive offering. “It’s so . . . big.”

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I am but . . .” Her stomach chose that moment to growl in a most embarrassing manner.

“But?”

“But . . . nothing.” She shook her head, picked up the top piece of bread, and spread
it with mustard. “It looks wonderful. Thank you.” She took a bite and wondered that
she didn’t moan out loud. “Oh my, that is delicious.”