“Were you picking the least desirable candidate possible?” She turned to Stone, narrowing her eyes.
He looked everywhere but at her. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I could demand a season.” She crossed her arms.
His face visibly paled. “You don’t even like…” His words trailed off.
“I could learn to love it.” She fixed him with a pointed stare.
“Understood.” Stone cleared his throat. “But what is the need? Manchester is a most acceptable choice—”
“Enough.” She waved her hand at her brother as she huffed. In her heart, she was feeling the shift. She would marry Roderick, but Stone didn’t know that yet and the problem of emotional attachment still plagued her.
“Should I introduce Sunderland then?”
“May as well,” she grumbled as she gave him a final glare.
“We’ll meet him in the entry, come with me.” Stone exited and she followed.
It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Lord Sunderland did indeed always look as though he had smelled something awful. His hooked nose curled up distastefully so that she had a clear view of every nose hair that protruded from his overlarge nostrils.
Admittedly, he was neither fat nor old but he was no less unattractive. Unlike Roderick, he had clearly never swung a sword and his thin body looked soft in his clothes, a contradiction that was most puzzling.
As he was introduced, he dramatically twirled back his blood cape, which was mostly out of fashion, even Delia knew that, so that it sailed behind with a giant flourish. He bowed to her. “My lady.” And his nasally voice grated every sense she had.
She cur
tseyed. “My lord,” she murmured, but he was barely looking at her. His eyes were taking in every detail of the castle’s main room.
“What a majestic home you have.” His eyes continued to dance from place to place. “A few splashes of color would do wonders.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, though it hadn’t really been a compliment.
He didn’t look at her or respond. Instead he turned to Stone. “My Lord.” He bowed. “I would request a moment of your time to discuss the details of the dowry.”
Stone’s head reared back, his teeth baring slightly. “There will be time enough for that. Why don’t we allow you time to…freshen up after your long journey?”
“Most right.” He gave another elaborate bow and then the butler moved to show him to his room.
Stone stood completely still until the party had exited the main room, then he turned to her. “I don’t know what punishment you want to bestow upon yourself but I’ll not assign a penny of your dowry to that man.”
Her lips parted in argument but then she closed it again. Truth be told, he made her skin crawl. If she were honest, she had pictured a kind grandfather and her imaginings had never wandered behind the chamber door. To think of that man taking his husbandly rights made her queasy. But she didn’t want to give Stone the satisfaction of admitting it. Not yet, anyhow, so instead she turned and left for her room.
She would not get that rest now. Instead, she would be changing her attire, yet again, to greet her gentlemen callers.
* * *
Glazed eyes stared out the window. Delia had long given up attempting to listen. Lord Sunderland had been droning on for over an hour. She thought they were now talking about his wardrobe but she couldn’t be entirely certain. They had first talked about how he had redecorated his town house. It had included gold plating of several items done in French stylings.
His nasal voice continued on, “I have found with my dark hair that red is the color that suits me best. The dye must be imported from China, but truly, it is worth it. Don’t you think?”
“Mmmm,” she responded. She glanced over at Eliza as she chaperoned. The other woman’s face held the same blank stare. Delia had quickly realized that her participation was not required for this conversation so she sat and pictured Roderick swinging his sword yesterday.
“Pardon the interruption,” Stone’s voice called from the door. “But Lady Delia has another appointment.”
“Another appointment?” Lord Sunderland nasally voice responded incredulously. “I was not aware that—”
“You’ve now been made aware,” Stone cut him off. “The Duke of Manchester.”