Page 75 of The Danger of Desire
Drawing himself up with a shuddering breath, Niall continued his march to the stables. “Yes, it can.”
“Niall—”
“I’m not going to talk about it,” Niall said firmly. “You can ask and wheedle and taunt all you want, but the subject is closed. Understood?”
Warren took in the carved features of the man he’d grown up with and considered to be as much his brother as Hart or Stephen or any of them.
Clarissa wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Niall’s forced exile after killing her attacker in a duel had changedhim, too. Gone was the lighthearted youth who’d always taken life as it came, and in his place was a hard man who’d learned that life could be tremendously unfair, even for an earl with a fine estate.
“Very well,” Warren said.
But he suspected that if Niall wouldn’t talk, Mrs. Trevor would, at least to Delia. So he would learn the truth that way.
Apparently having a wife included advantages he hadn’t considered. It never hurt to have a gossipy female in one’s pocket, after all.
Eighteen
Several hours after the ladies had parted from the gentlemen, Delia wasn’t terribly surprised to have a servant inform her that Brilliana had retired with a headache. She had begun to realize that her sister-in-law had been avoiding being alone with her and Clarissa ever since they’d met up with Lord Margrave.
At first, Delia had thought it merely the result of their frenzy to finish plans for the wedding. As soon as Warren and his lordship had left, the servants had approached to help them with choosing flowers from the garden, and from then on, she and Clarissa and Brilliana had constantly been surrounded by others. Clarissa’s sister-in-law Yvette Keane had joined them, as had Aunt Agatha, and it had been one task after another in trying to get things ready for the ceremony.
Yet when Delia had finally found a moment to be alone with her sister-in-law and had attempted to ask about Brilliana’s peculiar response to Lord Margrave, the woman had changed the subject and plunged into another task that would land them in the midst of a group of people.
Now she’d gone to bed, which Delia found highly suspicious. Brilliana never retired without saying good night to her.
“I’ll be right back,” Delia told Clarissa, then hurried up to her sister-in-law’s room. Something was wrong, having to do with Lord Margrave, and Delia meant to find out exactly what.
But when she knocked at Brilliana’s door, there was no answer. And after knocking harder, then trying the door and discovering it latched, Delia realized there would be no response tonight. Apparently Brilliana was determined not to talk about this afternoon’s peculiar meeting.
She would let Brilliana play the coward for now, but her sister-in-law couldn’t avoid her forever.
Clarissa came up next to Delia, having obviously followed her upstairs. “Is Mrs. Trevor all right?”
“I don’t think so.” Delia raised her voice. “But I can’t be sure since she’s pretending not to hear me!”
Even that got no response from inside the room.
“Perhaps she really does have a headache,” Clarissa whispered.
“I doubt it. Brilliana doesn’t get headaches.”
“Well, I came to find out if you want a few rosettes sewn on that veil of your aunt’s, to make it look less plain.”
With a sigh, Delia headed down the hall with Clarissa. “At this point, I’m so tired I don’t even care.”
“Of course you are.” Clarissa halted outside the door to Delia’s bedchamber. “We’re fairly ready; you should go to bed.” A sly smile crossed her lips. “You’ll need plenty of sleep tonight to make up for your lack of it tomorrow night.”
Delia bit back a smile of her own. She certainly hoped she would. Because her one experience of conjugal relations with Warren hadn’t been nearly enough. Why, she had yet to see him naked. That alone had her eager for her wedding night.
Clarissa left her to the tender care of a maid, and by the time Delia was in her nightdress she was practically dead on her feet. Despite her desire to play her lovely time with Warren over and over in her head, she fell asleep as soon as she climbed between the sheets.
It seemed like only a moment later that she was awakened by a commotion on the lawn. Singing? What in heaven’s name? Was someone actually singing on the lawn in the dead of night?
No, it was more like a caterwauling, punctuated by loud laughter. Dragging herself from her bed, she headed to the window and opened it to look out.
The lawn below was ablaze with torches held by stumbling gentlemen. And in the midst stood Warren, weaving along between Lord Margrave and Lord Blakeborough, who seemed to be holding him up. Well, sort of holding each other up, since all three were staggering, obviously in their cups. Mr. Keane was little better, though he was managing to smoke a cigar as he walked unsteadily behind them.
His companions were singing, “With women and wine I defy every care / For life without these is a bubble of air.”
