Page 55 of The Danger of Desire
“Why? Because he flirts with me?”
“Heflirtswith you?” her aunt said. “That is most irregular for him. As is paying calls to a respectable young lady. Or, for that matter, asking a lady’s relations the sort of probing questions only appropriate for a suitor to ask, as he did today at lunch. But you will drive him off if you continue to do this mad—”
“What probing questions was he asking?” Delia broke in, her heart dropping into her stomach.
Brilliana exchanged a glance with her. “Oh, things like how long we’ve been in town and why we decided to stay the summer.”
“His questions were more pointed thanthat,” Aunt Agatha said. “He wanted to know the details surrounding Reynold’s death, and I told him in no uncertain terms that it was rude to ask.”
Delia swallowed her panic. “So you didn’t tell him.”
“Certainly not. None of his concern.” Her aunt drew herself up with a sniff. “Much as I would love to see you married to a marquess, I shan’t allow such intrusive questions until you have an understanding. Though I’m sure there’s been speculation about Reynold. There always is.”
Aunt Agatha lowered her voice to a confidential murmur. “Besides, Lord Knightford is a member of that St. George’s Club, which is nothing more than a place for men to gossip. I’m sure if he knew the truth, he would spread the word among its members, and then who knows if you would ever find a husband?”
Relief coursed through her. “So you didn’t tell him about Reynold losing all our money gambling.”
“Well, of course I told him ofthat. Everyone already knows about it.”
Despair swamped Delia. Everyone didnotknow, and she’d worked hard to keep it that way. Aunt Agatha had surely said enough to rouse Warren’s interest.
Curse him, why was he meddling? How could she make him retreat? Couldn’t he see that Aunt Agatha would consider his interest a different kind of interest entirely?
He was going to ruineverything. She must get him alone somehow and demand that he stop. This couldn’t go on.
The afternoon bled into evening, and still she hadn’t found a chance to speak to him alone. Mr. Keane sketched more guests, but Warren left to go riding with his friend Lord Blakeborough, apparently keeping himself aloof from the proceedings now that his own sketch had been done. He was, after all, a marquess. Such people needn’t concern themselves with parlor games.
Even after he returned, they were all with other guests until dinner was finished. And once the ladies retired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to play cards and drink the night away, she’d lost her chance to speak privately with him. When a man was in his cups, he was virtually useless.
The next morning, she rose before dawn because she couldn’t sleep. Warren was bedeviling her dreams. If she didn’t have it out with him today, she might go mad.
She headed downstairs in hopes that some breakfast items might have already been put out for early risers, but strange sounds coming from the drawing room drew her attention. Aunt Agatha tended to rise early, and, worried that she might be having difficulties, Delia diverted her course.
When she entered the drawing room Warren was sitting on the settee, still wearing his dinner attire from the night before. But he wasn’t awake. Indeed, judging from the way he thrashed about, he was having bad dreams.
She halted, uncertain how to act. Should she wake him? Leave him alone? Let the nightmare run its course?
“Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear!” He tossed his head from side to side. “Don’t leave me! Too dark... too dark... Come back!”
His desperate tone sent a chill down her spine. Even knowing he wasn’t speaking to her, she felt a tug at her heart. The poor man. What on earth was he dreaming?
This couldn’t go on. He would make himself ill.
Approaching him warily, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Warren, wake up.” She shook him a little. “You’re having a bad dream.”
Without warning, he grabbed her and tugged her onto his lap. “Yes. Yes. Help me. Stay with me!”
She struggled against his embrace, the beginnings of alarm rising in her chest. “Let me go. Warren, wake up!”
“You mustn’t go!” he cried, clutching her so tightly she feared he might actually hurt her. “Don’t...can’tgo.”
“I won’t.” How could she abandon him when he seemed so panicked? She laid her hand on his cheek. “It’s all right. I’m here.”
He groaned in his sleep. “Don’t leave me, Delia. I don’t want to go back in the dark. Please, no. Don’t.”
The words, cries of a child spoken in the deep voice of a man, made something twist in her heart. “I won’t leave you, I swear.” She clasped him to her. “Hush, dearest.” She pressed a kiss into his hair. “Everything will be fine now.”
His breathing grew less frantic, though he still gripped her so fiercely that she couldn’t have left even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t.
