Chapter 10
Afew days passed, and Della’s ankle was much improved, giving her the chance to take a stroll with Maggie around the park on such a beautiful morning. The sun was shining brightly; the birds chirped sweetly, and every manner of person was out and about.
“We are having a family picnic at the ruins the day after tomorrow and Mother would like for you to join us if you feel up for it,” Maggie said, looking out over the park.
“I would love to.”
“Just so you know, Miss Putnam will be attending as well—Royce insisted.”
“Wonderful,” Della said sarcastically. She had not spoken to Royce since the incident in the garden.
“Since you were not in the ballroom at the time, I assume you do not know what took place the other night at the Bellamy’s Ball?” Maggie looked at Della questioningly. “I was talking with Tilly when Royce and Miss Putnam walked out on the terrace. A short while later, when Lord Milton saw his daughter had come back alone, he sent her back out to retrieve the duke. I overheard him say those exact words.”
“Gossiping is beneath you, Maggie.”
“I do not gossip. Gossiping is for people who try to make themselves look important. I report the truth.”
Worried about what else might have taken place that she was unaware of, Della questioned Maggie further. “What happened after that?”
“After Miss Putnam returned, she whispered something to Lord Milton, and he turned so red I thought he might pop. When Miss Putnam looked as though she might cry, Lord Milton practically dragged her from the ballroom.”
Della shook her head. “Poor girl.”
“Poor girl? Poor Royce! It is obvious Lord Milton is scheming just so he can say he is the father of a duchess. And since Royce delayed his and Miss Putnam’s announcement, he probably thinks that a duke is slipping through his fingers.”
“Do you know why Royce delayed the announcement?” Della asked.
“I am afraid I do not, nor does anyone else.”
Della let out a quiet sigh of relief to know that the Ton was still not privy to the details or that she was involved. She needed advice, and who better to receive it from than your best friend?
Besides, if Maggie found out some other way, she would never forgive Della for withholding such information from her.
“What would you say if I told you I know the reason?”
Maggie pulled Della to a stop. “Then I would say you need to tell me this instant.”
“Even if it involves someone you know that is not Royce?”
“Well, now you must tell me.”
“You are sworn to secrecy, Maggie…you cannot tell anyone.”
“I swear on your favorite lemon tarts, I will not say a word!” Maggie held up her right hand.
“I am the reason,” Della mumbled.
“What?” Maggie asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
Della took a deep breath. “I said, I am the reason Royce postponed everything, or at least I am part of the reason.”
Maggie stood there, stunned by the news. “What do you mean, you are part of the reason? Royce still plans on marrying Miss Putnam, yes?”
“Shhhh, I do not want anyone to overhear.” Della explained what all had transpired, not leaving out a single detail, except for the fact that she and Royce had kissed. That was something that Maggie need not know. “And yes, he is still planning on marrying Miss Putnam.”
“But I do not understand what Royce could possibly help you with. He does not want to marry for love—you do.”
“I do, but lately, I have wondered if I am asking for too much. Perhaps I should marry someone I…like.” Della shrugged. “Maybe it would eventually grow into love.”
“You could, I suppose, but where would the excitement be in that? Please, I beg you. Do not make me have to bear witness to my best friend agreeing to a marriage that she does not want. I must already deal with the fact that my brother will be forever connected to the blustery viscount.”
They laughed, making their way toward the Duchess, where she spoke with Lady Ferndown, the Marchioness of Stilton.
“What do you suggest I do about Royce?” Della asked.
“Royce should not have agreed to begin with, but should have just stood firm and told your father no. But I also understand why he might have felt obligated to follow through. In a sense, it could have made him feel as though our father was still with us, still a part of our lives.” Maggie smiled sadly. “If it were me, I would confront Royce about it and be done. It would allow both of you to be free from the agreement between our fathers. Should be easy enough. It is not as if you are in love with him.”
Della laughed, as though it was an absurd notion.
“Will you be all right? Do you need me to say something to my brother for you? Maggie asked.
“No, I need to be the one to say something to him,” Della said, wondering if now was a good time to admit to Maggie the feelings she had secretly harbored for Royce; that the thought of marrying him did not sound absurd to her. “It is only that I am…” Della’s words were cut short when she heard someone call out their names.
“Miss Rowntree! Lady Derrington!”
“Lord Haddock.” Della smiled as she looked at the gentleman approaching them.
Lord Haddock’s appearance was marked by his dark, almost black eyes, his pale skin, and a mouth that was always turned up in distaste. Although he had always been polite to her, Della found herself unable to shake off the feeling of uneasiness that washed over her whenever he was near.
“I was reading my book under that tree when I spotted you and thought I would say hello.” He pointed toward a large tree where a book lay open, a light breeze ruffling its pages. “Lovely weather we are having.”
“Beautiful. I am envious that I did not think to bring a book as well.” Della smiled thoughtfully at him. “I am sorry for not claiming our dance at the Bellamy’s ball. I had to leave early because I had an unfortunate fall and sprained my ankle.”
“Yes…” Lord Haddock’s eyes seemed to narrow, making Della somewhat uncomfortable. “I saw His Grace carrying you to the carriage and offered my assistance, but he turned down my offer. I do hope your ankle is on the mend.”
“It is, thank you.” Della nodded, exchanging glances with Maggie, practically begging her to somehow bring this conversation to an end.
“Lord Haddock!” Della turned to see the Duchess approaching them. “How nice to see you.”
“Your Grace.” He grinned as he bowed over her hand. “You look lovely, as always.”
“Ever the flatterer,” the Duchess said. “I wonder, Lord Haddock, we are visiting the ruins the day after tomorrow and need another gentleman to even things out. Would you be interested in joining us? Miss Putnam and Lord Aynesworth will be coming along as well.”
“I would be delighted.”
“Wonderful!” the Duchess exclaimed, handing Lord Haddock her card. “Please arrive at this address at eleven o’clock.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I look forward to it. If you ladies will excuse me, I have somewhere I must be.” Lord Haddock glanced at Della, and left without saying another word, leaving his book lying forgotten beneath the tree.
“You had to invite him?“ Maggie looked at her mother incredulously.
“What is wrong with Lord Haddock? He is a perfectly fine gentleman,” the Duchess said.
“There is something about that man that does not sit right quite right with me. He always lurks in the shadows or shows up at the most peculiar moments, much like he did just now.”
“Oh, pshaw. There goes your overactive imagination again. I invited him because I dislike uneven numbers.”
“Mother, you are not to play matchmaker for Della or me.”
“I was doing nothing of the sort.”
“Of course not.” Maggie rolled her eyes.
Della walked over to pick up the book that Lord Haddock had left behind. She loved books and could not allow it to stay out here exposed to the finicky London weather and ruined. The book was a lovely deep red with an embossed silver print across the front.
She would return it to Lord Haddock during their trip to the ruins.
They had just arrived back at the Derrington home when the sudden feeling of being watched came over Della as she stepped down from the carriage.
She spied a large shire horse strolling by, pulling a hackney with a large yellow stripe, and attempted to look into the darkened interior as it continued down the street. But she could only make out the nondescript silhouette of a person sitting within.
Paying more attention to the carriage than where she was going, Della stepped into a small hole in the pavement, causing her ankle to bend awkwardly… “Drat!” she cried out, stumbling a bit. A firm hand grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up sharply.
“I…uh…thank you, Your Grace.” Della smiled sheepishly up at Royce.
“That was fortuitous timing, my dear,” the Duchess remarked.
“Indeed it was,” Royce said, his brows furrowing as he looked at Della with concern.
“We were just in Hyde Park where we chanced upon Lord Haddock. Our numbers were uneven for our trip to the ruins, so I invited him to join us,” the Duchess continued, as though nothing had happened.
As soon as Lord Haddock’s name was mentioned, Della saw a slight tick in Royce’s jaw and felt his hold on her arm grow tighter. When she tried to pull free, Royce looked at her in apology and released her, letting his hand fall to his side.
“Shall we go in?” the Duchess asked.
“I think I shall see myself home. My ankle is bothering me a little.” Della grimaced as she tried to put weight on her foot.
“Oh dear, why did you not say something?” the Duchess reprimanded. “But of course Royce will see you home.”
“I thank you, Your Grace, but I will be just fine on my own.”
“Be that as it may, I must insist he does,” the Duchess spoke assertively, making it clear that she was not willing to accept a refusal. “Royce, come find me once you see Della safely home.” With that, the Duchess and Maggie went through the gate and up the stairs.
“Shall we?” Royce held his arm out and Della placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I would like to apologize for the other night.”
Della was silent for a moment. “We are both to blame, Your Grace. Neither of us behaved as we should have.”
“It is true you should not have been out in the garden alone, but I blame myself partly for your current condition, too. I also wanted you to know that I do not see you as a temporary lapse in judgement. I…well, what I am trying to say is…” Royce hesitated, as if searching for the right words, when loud shouting interrupted their conversation.
Glancing over her shoulder, Della saw people attempting to jump out of the way as a horse and hackney careened around the corner. She immediately recognized the large yellow stripe as the one belonging to the hackney that had passed by a few minutes earlier.
The horse thundered ahead as its driver cracked a whip, encouraging it to go faster. Della could not help but feel increasingly worried about the people desperately trying to flee from this madman’s destructive rampage.
Royce seemed to share her concern, and without saying a word, he placed his hand at the small of her back, silently urging her to quicken her pace. But her ankle throbbed with every step she took, and she had to stop, if only for a moment.
Royce walked a little further before realizing Della had stopped and began to walk back when the angry shouting grew louder. Both of them turned their heads just in time to see the hackney narrowly avoid colliding with another cart.
The driver continued to crack his whip, urging the horse even faster as it charged forward, not caring about the destruction he left in his wake.
Struggling to make sense of the situation, Della tried to walk as quickly as she could. They needed to get somewhere safe until the danger had passed.
“Della, move!” Royce yelled.
The hackney came hurtling toward her, its wheels grinding against the uneven cobbled pavement, leaving her with no time to escape, and her heart sank. This was it—she was done for, Della thought as she closed her eyes, preparing to be trampled.
With a great deal of force, something hit her from the side and Della found herself sprawled on the ground, dizzy, and unable to move. The impact having knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath.
“Della, look at me,” Royce whispered soothingly as his face came into view. “You need to breathe.”
“Ouch,” was all she could manage to say as her lungs recovered from the shock.
“Is this going to become a common occurrence when I am around you?” Royce softly laughed as he gently caressed her cheek and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“The hackney?” Della asked.
“Gone, thankfully.”
Della stared at those captivating eyes. She would have gladly stayed like this forever with her body firmly planted on the ground beneath him. But she also wanted to give him a piece of her mind about this being a common occurrence, and would have, had she not heard Maggie and the Duchess approaching.
“Della? Royce? Good heavens, are you two all right?” Maggie asked when she saw them lying on the ground.
“We heard all the commotion and came out right as you knocked Della out of the way, Royce! Honestly!” the Duchess exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips. “Is no one to be trusted anymore? I just sent a few of our footmen to see if they could find out who drove that hackney and bring him back for a few questions.”
Royce helped Della up into a sitting position. “Can you walk?”
“I believe so, now that I can breathe again.” Della saw the bystanders staring at them.
“I am sorry, but I could see no other way to get us out of the way of that lunatic, whom I would gladly kill should I ever get my hands on him,” Royce snapped.
“Royce, please inform Della’s father and aunt of what has occurred and see that she is taken care of. I shall wait for your return and to see if our footmen can find out who that imbecile was.” With that, the Duchess turned back inside, with Maggie close behind.
“Well, this time, I might be a damsel in distress,” Della joked. “Could my knight in shining armor help me up?”
With a warm smile, Royce held her hands, helped her stand, and immediately swept her off her feet. Evidently, the pained expression on her face had been noticeable.
“This knight in shining armor will carry you to the carriage and take you home.”
“Put. Me. Down.” Della demanded sharply.
“Must we go through this again?” Royce released an exasperated sigh as he carried Della the short distance back to his home. He located the groom and asked for the carriage to be brought back.
“I suppose this goes along with your lecture the other night about me needing someone to protect me,” Della said, crossing her arms. “Well, one incident does not mean that I—”
“Two,” Royce interrupted.
“Two?”
“You said one incident. The count is now two. First the garden and just now with the hackney. Two incidences in which you needed someone there to watch over you.”
“Is it really two when you just admitted that the incident in the garden was your fault? I could walk to the carriage if you would just allow me to use you as a prop,” Della said with a huff. “It would not surprise me if this incident graces the papers in the morning, labeling you as a hero. Miss Putnam will be all the happier to align herself with the tall, dark, handsome, hero duke.”
“Handsome?”
“Did I say handsome?” Della laughed nervously. “I meant mediocre, somewhat decent looking…” she waved off her comment. “The point is, I have already endured this embarrassment once at the Bellamy’s ball. Do not make me do it again.” Della looked up at Royce pleadingly. “Please, put me down.”
“Very well.”
Royce held onto Della until she could balance herself and gingerly placed her weight on her ankle. It hurt, but she would not give Royce the satisfaction of asking to be carried after she demanded he put her down. So, she hobbled along at a snail’s pace until they reached the carriage.
Royce’s conscious had been bothering him since the moment he had made the agreement. He had told Miss Putnam that honesty was the best way forward. And even though had promised Mr. Rowntree he would say nothing to Della, it would be hypocritical of him if he were not honest with her as well.
But the time to speak with her about it had not presented itself…until now.
“Royce?” Della looked at him with concern. “Are you all right?”
He had wanted to carry Della, but she had insisted on walking on her own to avoid gossip. Royce understood, but his arms had hesitated when he set her down, seeming reluctant to let her go.
Feelings he had never thought he would have for Della had taken root, and it was getting harder to ignore them. Perhaps they had always been there, and he had just been too blind to notice. But these feelings could not go any further. He had to marry Miss Putnam. The sooner, the better, for everyone involved—especially for himself.
Royce shook his head…right, Della had asked him a question. This was his chance. He was going to tell her about the agreement with her father.
“Yes, I am fine,” he replied. Damn! I am a coward, he thought to himself. “Just a lot on my mind, as you can imagine. I am sure we will both suffer a few bumps and bruises from today’s mishap. Your ankle, notwithstanding, of course.”
“I am sure we will,” Della said, giving him a small smile. “Well, here we are.”
“Allow me to help you.” Royce let Della lean on him as she climbed down from the carriage. “Is there a problem?” he asked when she hesitated.
“Stairs.” Della motioned toward steps leading to the front door.
Taking advantage of the moment, Royce scooped Della into his arms and practically ran up the steps, setting her back down once they reached the top.
“That was well done of you. I did not even have the chance to—”
“Object?”
“Yes.” Della turned to knock, but the door was already open.
“Miss Rowntree, Your Grace.” Croxton bowed, moving to the side to allow them entrance. “Has something happened?” he asked, closing the door.
“Oh! There you are, Della!” Tilly exclaimed. “I was wondering when you might return from your walk. We needed to discuss…Oh! Your Grace, I did not notice you standing there. How lovely to see you.”
“I am afraid Miss Rowntree and I had quite the scare with a runaway horse and hackney. Unfortunately for us, we were directly in its path, and we barely managed to get out of the way before it hit us. I would recommend she rest, as she seems to have injured her ankle again.”
“Oh, poor dear. First, you sprained your ankle at the ball, and now you were almost trampled to death.” Tilly held a hand over her bosom. “Have pity on my heart. You must take better care of yourself. You have been extremely fortunate that His Grace has been there to keep you safe…twice.”
Royce hid his laugh behind a cough as Tilly continued to talk and looked at Della. He could tell from the way she glanced at him from the corner of her eye she was not amused by his earlier statement being proven correct.
“Let us not make it thrice, hmm?” Tilly said, turning to speak with Croxton.
Della leaned toward Royce and whispered. “Does anyone say thrice anymore?”
Royce just shrugged. “Apparently.”
“Do not worry about Della. I will make certain that she is well taken care of.”
“I am to go to the ruins with His Grace’s family the day after tomorrow,” Della informed her aunt.
“Only if you get upstairs and rest,” Tilly said, planting her hands on her hips. “My sincerest thanks for protecting Della, Your Grace, but you should get home and rest yourself.”
“I think I am being dismissed,” Royce said, a small smile playing about lips.
Tilly left to retrieve a few things as Royce bowed and walked to the door. “Della, follow your aunts’ orders. Let us not make it thrice.”
“Oh!”
That was all Della could say before Royce stepped out and quickly shut the door behind himself. And he could not help but laugh as a loud thump resonated from the other side.