Chapter 12
Della showed herself to the carriage while waiting for everyone to get situated. Maggie and Samuel chased the two youngest Derrington children as they ran in circles around the Duchess. Finally, Maggie grabbed hold of Victoria, placed her in a carriage, and went back for Cornelia.
She laughed at the scene before her when she heard two people arguing. Peeking her head out the window, Della saw Royce and Miss Putnam off to the side, talking angrily—again. Miss Putnam turned to climb up and Royce slammed the door shut behind her, looking enraged. Della ducked back in as he started storming in her direction.
A few moments later, Royce climbed in. “I hope you do not mind if I ride with you and Maggie. Miss Putnam is going directly back home.”
“Oh, of course not.” Della smiled.
Royce sprawled on the seat across from Della. Her carriage was smaller than the ducal one—now occupied by the Duchess and the children—but it still felt spacious. However, that spaciousness seemed to disappear with a man of Royce’s stature.
He had now come to her aid several times, never complaining or berating her for her carelessness. But that was the kind of man he was, strong, dependable, and protective. The dukedom was safe in his hands. But a tinge of guilt gnawed at her.
These incidents, it would seem, had created some tension between Royce and Miss Putnam. His recent arguments with Miss Putnam appeared to confirm this, as she had never witnessed him so visibly agitated and flustered.
She wracked her brain about what she might say to comfort him when a small item wrapped in white cloth was laid on her lap.
“That is for you. I noticed you did not get one after accepting the lemon tart from Lord Haddock. So, I took the liberty of having the last one saved for you.”
Smiling at Royce, Della picked the item up and gently unwrapped it…a petite duchesse. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Della.” The slight darkening in Royce’s voice made Della’s heart race.
“Right then, off we go.” Maggie flung the door open and clamored in, sitting next to Della. “Oh! Might I have a bite?” she begged. “I wanted one so badly, but mother told me I was to wait until everyone else had the chance to eat one…because someone partook before the picnic,” Maggie said, eyeing her brother. “Sometimes being a lady is so difficult.”
“If you can call yourself that,” Royce quipped.
Maggie kicked him in the shin. “If I cannot call myself a lady, then you most assuredly cannot call yourself a gentleman, sprawled as you are. Would you please sit up so Della and I might have some space?”
Suitably chastised, Royce pushed himself into a more proper sitting position as he scowled at his sister. Della split the pastry, giving half to Maggie.
“Oh, I meant to ask you if you would like to stay with me tonight since the Ravensdale’s ball is tomorrow. Please say you will! It will be like when we were little girls! We can send one of the footmen to fetch your dress.” Maggie looked at Della expectantly as she took a bite of her half.
“I will get my dress myself. Besides, Father and Tilly should be made aware of what happened today. And I would like to tell them myself—“
“I will accompany you,” Royce offered.
Della stared at him but continued, “…before word gets out, as it inevitably will, once your mother tells her circle of friends what a horrid man Lord Haddock is.”
Glancing down at her hand, Della spotted some chocolate still on her finger and looked around for the cloth, but Maggie was already using it. Instead of doing the ladylike thing and waiting her turn, Della stuck her finger in her mouth to lick it off.
Della raised her head and felt a nervous flutter in her stomach at the intense look in Royce’s eyes.
Her cheeks grew warm as she realized what she was doing, and she pulled her finger out of her mouth. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, his eyes darting toward the window.
“I never cared for the man,” Maggie said, seeming unaware of the heated exchange between Della and Royce.
“Nor I.” Della shook her head and frowned. “Even less so now, especially after today.”
“He is what I consider an opportunist.” Royce said. “After the rumor was spread about postponing the announcement with Miss Putnam, Lord Haddock saw his chance to offer for her. I overheard someone say that Lord Milton refused him.”
“But why would he ask for my hand so quickly after asking for Miss Putnam’s?”
“Your dowry,” Maggie mentioned without hesitation. “It is common knowledge that your father has settled on a considerable amount for your dowry.”
Della’s smile faltered as she looked at Maggie and then at Royce. “Is my worth now solely measured in terms of money?”
“You are worth far more than any sum your father could offer. And those men are idiots if they cannot see that,” Royce said, his gaze fixed on her as he spoke.
“Does that include yourself?” Maggie asked, drawing simultaneous looks from Della and Royce.
Royce did not respond to Maggie’s goading and looked back out the window. “Stay away from Lord Haddock. He does not seem the type to give up easily. But if he knows what is good for him, he will come nowhere near me or mine.”
Despite her best efforts to get comfortable, Della could not relax. The pain from her fall had set in, making her toss and turn. Luckily, she only had a couple of minor scrapes and bruises, in addition to the incident with the hackney, but her ankle appeared unharmed.
The weight of the day’s events left her mind feeling heavy and drained. All she wanted to do was to forget Lord Haddock’s proposal and that slobbery wetness he called a kiss. Just the mere thought of it made Della sick to her stomach.
Lord Haddock’s anxious behavior had seemed odd, constantly looking down the corridor as if expecting to find something. She never would have guessed there might have been another person hiding in the shadows.
And even though Royce had found a rope hanging from a lookout, perhaps there had not been another person. Maybe her body’s natural reaction to falling had made her feel as though she had been pushed.
A small laugh bubbled to the surface as she recalled the expression on Royce’s face after he saw Lord Haddock curled up on the floor. She had found herself in a difficult situation when that abhorrent man had tried to kiss her, and she had defended herself the only way she knew how.
Though the actions of Lord Haddock were unforgivable, Della struggled to make sense of the other events that had occurred. But it all seemed to be just a bout of bad luck. Hopefully, she had endured enough, and her bad luck would soon be over.
Della stared at her ceiling, knowing she would not fall asleep anytime soon. Maybe a dull book would help. Pulling her dressing gown on and grabbing a candle from her bedside table, she tip-toed into the darkened hallway, down the stairs, and into the library.
Setting the candle down, Della made her way over to the shelves, reading each title as she looked over books of various sizes. Once she had made her selection, she realized it was out of her reach and looked around for something to stand on. There was no ladder, so she climbed the shelves to give herself a boost.
“That should do it,” Della said out loud to an empty room and gently let herself down, being careful not to agitate her ankle.
She curled up with a blanket on the settee and had barely begun reading the third page of her book when she heard the doorknob turn.
Royce rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and leaned back in his chair. After helping Della retrieve her dress, he had gone straight to his study, where he busied himself with the household accounts, and asked for a meal to be brought to him—staying hidden until everyone had gone to bed.
The carriage ride back from the ruins had been torture as he sat across from Della while she had eaten the pastry he had given her. The image of her licking the chocolate off her fingers was seared into Royce’s mind, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair as a certain appendage made itself known.
Della was completely unaware of how her innocent gesture had affected him, or how he had longed to bring her fingertips to his own lips and lick them…one…by…one.
Royce could not recall Miss Putnam ever evoking such a response in him, and that is the way he had wanted it, what he had desired. But his father’s words kept echoing in his head: remember, what we think we want is not always what we need.
It had not gone unnoticed that Della had handled everything that had happened to her recently with incredible grace—and stubbornness—while Miss Putnam had shown how selfish and uncaring she could be. Though he did not want to marry for love, he did not want a cruel wife.
What if his father had been right in making that agreement with Mr. Rowntree? What if Della was the answer to what he wanted in a marriage, and what he needed? If so, what was he to do about Lord Milton and Miss Putnam?
With more questions than answers, he stood and stretched, his muscles protesting. A few bruises had formed from his fall, but that aside, the only reminder he had from earlier was a slight stiffness in his back. He sighed and went to the sideboard for a drink.
It had been a trying day, and sleep was calling his name. He hoped Della had found some rest as well. Blowing out the candles on his desk, Royce picked up his coat where he had discarded it, slung it over his shoulder, and walked into the foyer.
Approaching the stairs, he saw a faint light coming from under the library door. Either a person was in there, or someone would be in trouble for not ensuring all candles had been snuffed before retiring for the night. Making his way to the door, Royce raised his hand to knock, but decided to just open it up and go in.
“Your Grace!” Della exclaimed, holding the book against her chest as she scrambled up from the settee. “You frightened me!”
“My apologies. I was heading to bed and saw a light from under the door. I thought that someone might have left a candle lit in here,” Royce said, using an arm to prop himself against the doorframe. “What are you doing up at this hour? And in your dressing gown, no less?”
With a gasp, Della ran behind the settee to hide herself. “I-I could not sleep, so I can down here to find a book that might bore me enough so I could.”
“Ah, and what did you deem boring enough to lull you into slumber, hmm?” Royce pushed himself away from the door and walked closer, tilting his head to read the title of the book she was holding. “A Treatise on Carriages,” he read aloud. “Interesting choice.”
“Yes, well…I really should get to bed. Let me just put this back.”
“I know on what shelf that book sits. Not to mention that my youngest siblings broke the ladder during one of their wild games of tag through the house, and we are waiting for the new one to arrive. So, now I need to know how on earth you got it,” he stated, his eyes fixed on Della as she padded across the floor.
“I, uh, I climbed,” Della said over her shoulder without looking at him.
“Climbed what?”
“The bookshelf,” she grunted with each attempt to put the book back.
“Della…”
Della bowed her head and let out a heavy sigh. “Could you help me, Your Grace?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Royce’s mouth as he came up behind Della and placed his hand over hers, helping ease the book up to its home.
“It was quite impressive how you dealt with Lord Haddock today,” Royce said, bringing his hands down on either side of Della, caging her between his arms. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“It would serve you well to remember that, Your Grace,” Della said in mock sternness as she twisted around to face him.
“Royce…”
“Royce,” Della repeated softly. “I believe I owe you an apology and a sincere thank you.”
“Whatever for?”
“You took the brunt of my fall today—again—so thank you. I have also been remiss in asking how you are faring, and for that, I am sorry. It must be vexing to constantly be coming to my aid when you have more important matters to worry about.”
“Della, no apologies are necessary, nor do I require thanks. The wellbeing and safety of those I care about will always be my priority.” He leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. “I do not know what we would do if something happened to you.”
“We?” Della whispered.
“We,” he whispered back.
“Royce?”
“Hmm?” was all he could manage, his heart feeling as though it would beat right out of his chest.
“Kiss me.”
Royce was not sure if that had been a question or command, but when he saw the earnest look in her eyes, he found himself unable to resist. He kept his touch gentle, letting his hand rest softly at the small of her back, while the other hand delicately cradled her cheek, allowing her a moment to decide if this was truly what she wanted.
He knew he wanted to kiss Della, to part her lips and delve into her depths, but that was not what she needed, not after that disaster with Lord Haddock. Taking a subtle approach, he leaned closer and tenderly brushed his lips against hers, being mindful to not overwhelm her the way her mere presence overwhelmed him.
Despite this, it seemed Della had a different opinion on what she needed at that moment as she grabbed onto his untied cravat and pulled him in closer. Their kiss grew more intense, their bodies eagerly pressing against each other as if they were determined to eliminate any space that separated them.
With a guttural growl, Royce lifted Della up, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pinned her against the bookshelf, unable to restrain himself from responding to her less-than-subtle demand.
He explored Della’s mouth and slid his hands down, cupping her backside. Tightening his grip, he thrust his hips against her most sensitive spot, causing both of them to moan.
How long they had remained like this Royce did not know, but all too soon, the lustful haze that inhabited his head began to clear. With a mischievous grin, he lightly nibbled on Della’s bottom lip before lowering her down to the floor.
“Goodnight, Della.” Royce let her go and gripped hard on the bookshelf, his knuckles turning white in their bid to keep from pulling her back to him.
“Goodnight, Royce,” Della whispered breathily, dipping out from between his arms and making her way to the door. “Sleep well.”
With her white dressing gown flowing behind her, she slipped into the darkness, disappearing as though she had been nothing more than a beautiful apparition.
Sleep well. Ha! Sleep would be the last thing that would occupy his mind as he lay in bed. The only thing he would think of was the warmth of Della’s body pressed against his own or the sound of frustration she had let escape when the gentleness of his kiss had not been enough.
Royce placed his hands on his hips, letting his head fall back on a sigh. What a mess…