Vanquished

Delilah’s maidgenerally didn’t join them on their short trips into town, as Delilah had always been able to take care of most of her needs with the simple items she’d packed. But since she was attending a ball that required a bit more formal preparation, her father had decided that it would be best if she made use of Francesca’s.

Thus, they entered Viscount Mulberry’s townhouse with a bevy of servants carrying several boxes behind them. From undergarments to jewelry and even some toilette water, Delilah’s father had spared no expense in making sure his promise was fulfilled.

Francesca gave a squeal of delight at the top of the stairs and came rushing down them amid her mother’s admonishment that she try to apply a bit more decorum, while Francesca’s father greeted the baron with a friendly acknowledgement.

Her friend hugged Delilah warmly. “I’m so happy that you are able to attend this evening! I daresay Papa could have knocked me over with a feather when he said you would be here!”

“Thank you for allowing us to invade your household and take over your servants for an evening,” Baron Kingsworth was saying.

The viscount rolled his eyes. “How many months have I been asking you to remain in London a while longer, Jasper? You might even find that it isn’t as terrible as you recall.”

Her father laughed. “Oh, I have no doubt it is, but I will do my best to pretend, for Delilah’s sake.”

She offered him a beaming smile and then Francesca pulled her toward the stairs. In her room, she nearly ripped the lid off the box containing Delilah’s dress. “I cannot wait to see what—” She stopped midsentence, her breath coming out in a rush. “Oh, Del!” She lifted the powder blue satin out and held it out in front of her. While Delilah thought the color looked enchanting next to her friend’s pale skin tone, Francesca was the one who said, “This is going to look famously on you!” She offered her a coy expression. “I daresay if your Irish gentleman were in attendance tonight it would be impossible for him to take his eyes off you.”

“Oh, hush!” Delilah admonished. “I thank the stars above that he won’t be.”

Francesca frowned curiously. “Whyever would you say that? Don’t you know who he is?”

“A groom?” Delilah snorted with a roll of her eyes. “Or an annoying rake?”

“Ah.” Abruptly Francesca clamped her mouth shut, and Delilah thought that was quite odd. It wasn’t like her friend to offer such short replies.

She narrowed her eyes. “Is there something I should know about Mr. Flannigan?”

“He told you his name was Mr. Flannigan?” Francesca did her best to hold back a giggle and failed. “Oh, my.”

“You better start talking, Frannie.” Delilah used the nickname she knew the other girl detested. Francesca had always claimed that when her married elder sister said it she was trying to act superior.

As suspected, Francesca groaned. “Please, anything but that. As far as Mr. Flannigan goes, just ignore me. I just like teasing you, especially after what I stumbled upon this morning.” She slid a sly glance at her and Delilah’s face went up in flames.

“We agreed that you saw nothing untoward.”

“I agreed not to say anything to your father and deny that it ever happened if someone were to approach me,” she corrected. “But I know what I saw, Del.”

Delilah decided there was no use in denying it, for the truth had been abundantly clear. “Fine. I will concede defeat on this battle, but I can assure you there is nothing between me and Mr. Flannigan.”

Francesca shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose time will tell.”

* * *

“You knewhe was going to be here, didn’t you?” Delilah fumed shortly after they had entered the ballroom hosted by the Duchess of Waterford. “That’s why you were being so flippant earlier!”

“I might have heard a rumor…” Francesca trailed off as Delilah dared to risk another glance across the room where a particularly handsome Irishman was conversing with a group of gentlemen.

“I may never forgive you for this,” Delilah snapped, although the heat behind her words was eased by the arrival of an appealing young man with brown hair who bowed over her hand. She recognized him as the Duke of Waterford’s youngest son, Adam, who generally attended the auction at Tattersall’s with his father.

“Miss Rollins. It’s a delight to see you here this evening.” He bowed respectfully to Francesca, and if Delilah wasn’t mistaken, a gleam of longing appeared in his deep, brown eyes. “And you, of course, Miss Ames.”

Delilah saw the same interest mirrored in Francesca’s eyes and wondered if this was the gentleman that was believed would soon offer her friend a proposal. If so, she couldn’t imagine a more suited pair, for it was obvious they both adored one another.

So, it was with some surprise when the gentleman turned to her and asked, “May I have the honor of the next set, Miss Rollins?”

She looked at Francesca and saw a touch of melancholy in her blue eyes, and Delilah knew that she couldn’t intrude. “I daresay I’m a bit parched. I think I will get some refreshment, but Miss Ames would be delighted to take my place for this dance.” She all but shoved Francesca toward the man and she noticed her blue eyes instantly light up.

“Of course,” he returned almost stiffly as he offered Francesca his arm. As they walked off together toward the floor, Delilah frowned, wondering why he was suddenly so cold when it was obvious just moments before that he held a tendre for her.

“I told ye love was dangerous.”

The dry, masculine voice came from her right and Delilah steeled herself to meet that translucent, green gaze. But even then, she wasn’t prepared for the shock that zinged through her body when she took note of how handsome Mr. Flannigan was that evening. He wore black and white formal attire, and his ebony hair was slicked back, although it was apparent the thick locks wanted to rebel as they kept trying to fall forward over his brow.

Rather than waiting for her to reply, he turned toward the dancefloor where a quadrille was taking place. “Anyone with half a brain can see those two are infatuated with each other, and yet, he is expected to propose to another woman, while yer friend is expected to accept the hand of an aging earl.”

Her mouth fell agape. “How could you possibly know—”