The Lady In Question (2 page)

“This may well be the biggest scandal of the last few years,” Cassie added. “In fact, I am hard-pressed to recall a bigger scandal ever. Although I do suppose —”

“That’s quite enough, thank you.” Delia sighed again and slumped deeper into the sofa. The perfect carriage expected of a properly bred young woman of two-and-twenty scarcely seemed of significance when one was the center of the biggest scandal of the last few years. Or ever.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t been any help at all, have I? Very well. Perhaps I have exaggerated somewhat. It probably only seemed so huge because it occurred in December and there was little else for everyone to talk about.” Cassie cast her sister a sympathetic look. “I do apologize, dearest, it’s simply odd for me to be in this position. And frankly, that’s why I think Mother has had such a difficult time with it all.”

Delia raised a brow. “Because it isn’t you?”

“Exactly.” Cassie nodded firmly. “She and everyone else have always thought if one of us were ever to be embroiled in a scandal of this magnitude —”

“It could have been far worse. I did
marry
him, after all,” Delia pointed out.

“In this particular case, I daresay that
does
make it worse.” Cassie said. “I still do not understand why you did it.”

“Nor do I,” Delia said under her breath.

She had no idea how to explain what she could only call the madness that had inflicted her in weeks surrounding Christmas and ultimately led to scandal and her current odd position of barely wed widow.
Six months.
It scarcely seemed long enough for a life to change so completely. Six months ago she hadn’t a care in the world save for the usual questions about whether or not she or her sister would find a suitable match in the coming year.

“Your letters were not at all informative, at least not about anything of significance. We have had no chance to talk since it all happened.” Cassie shrugged casually. “You fled so quickly —”

“I didn’t flee. I”
—
Delia wrinkled her nose — “escaped. It was cowardly of me, I know, but I was hard-pressed at the time to accept that I lost my mind, ran off and ruined my life.”

“It’s not entirely ruined. You did marry him.”

“You just said in this case that might well have made it worse.”

“I did, didn’t I? Well, I might have been wrong.”

Delia snorted in a disdainful and unladylike manner most unbecoming for Miss Philadelphia Effington but quite appropriate for the widowed Lady Wilmont.

Cassie studied her sister carefully. “I have been most patient, but it’s past time you told me everything.”

“Everything?”

Cassie nodded. “Absolutely. Every detail. Do not leave a single thing out. It’s the very least you can do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, settled back in her chair and stared at her sister. “You have no idea what it feels like to discover one morning your sister, your
twin sister,
has run off with some man —

”

“Charles,” Delia murmured.

Cassie ignored her. “— and you knew nothing about it. You hadn’t so much as a hint of what she’d been up to. I can tell you right now it’s quite distressing. In addition, not one soul in the entire household believed I was completely innocent and no more aware of your intentions than anyone else.”

Delia winced. “I am sorry about that.”

“Mother and Father questioned me as if I were a traitor to the crown.”

“I can imagine.”

“No, Delia, I don’t believe you can. You’ve never been in this position because we have never had secrets between us. At least I have never kept secrets from you.”

“Nor have I,” Delia said quickly. “Until now.”

Cassie sniffed. “I’m still not certain I shall ever forgive you.”

“But I do apologize. Really, I do.” Delia couldn’t blame her sister for being overset, even angry, over Delia’s failure to confide in her.

“You can begin making up for it by telling me everything. However, I don’t have much time. Mother doesn’t know I’m here.”

“It’s absurd the way she’s separating us, as if we were still children.” Delia studied her sister. “I must say, your willingness to abide by her edict is somewhat surprising.”

Cassie laughed, the dimple in her left cheek a mirror image of Delia’s own. “I’m rather surprised by it myself. But, as I’ve always been the sister expected to totter off the edge of respectability, and therefore you’ve always been something of a favorite —”

“I most certainly have not!”

“Perhaps.” Cassie shrugged. “Nonetheless, I have quite enjoyed being the proper sister in your absence. It’s really quite pleasant, although not entirely fair. I’ve always maintained the differences between us were minimal and nothing more than superficial at best.” She grinned. “And I must say I do appreciate your proving me right.”

“So glad I could be of assistance,” Delia said wryly.

Cassie might indeed be right, although Delia had never thought so before now. The sisters were as alike in appearance as two peas in a pod, save that Delia favored her right hand and Cassie her left. Cassie had long believed it was the same for their temperaments and had always insisted the difference between them was no more than a matter of degree. Shading, if you will. She considered herself a bit more impulsive, outspoken and adventurous than her barely older sister, but only a bit. Delia rarely disagreed with this assessment aloud but privately thought it was a great deal more than a bit. She saw herself as far quieter, much more reserved and entirely more cautious than her sister.

“Now, you may begin by telling me exactly when you met Wilmont.” Cassie settled back in her chair.

“Go on.”

“Very well.” Delia blew a resigned breath. “Do you remember Lady Stanley’s Christmas ball? How frightfully overcrowded and stuffy it was?”

“It’s overcrowded and stuffy at every ball.”

“It was particularly so that night. I felt the need for a breath of fresh air, so I slipped out to the terrace.”

She’d since thought there must have been something in the air that crisp winter night, in the glow cast by the stars, in the promise of the spring to come. A promise of something new and unknown and exciting. Some kind of magic spell, perhaps, or more, something she had always yearned for but hadn’t recognized she’d wanted until that very moment.

“And that’s when you met Wilmont?”

“Yes.” Lord Wilmont. Baron Wilmont.
Charles
.

“And?”

“And…we exchanged pleasantries.” He’d appeared out of the shadows, almost as if he had been waiting just for her.

“Pleasantries?”

“One might call it something of a flirtation, I suppose.” He’d been outrageous. Totally improper and far and away too intimate. He’d taken off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Completely scandalous. And utterly, utterly charming.

Cassie raised a brow. “Oh? And were you flirtatious in return?”

“I might have been.” Delia shrugged offhandedly. She’d responded in kind that night with a confident, teasing demeanor not at all like her usual reserved nature. In the back of her mind, she’d wondered what on earth had possessed her, but enjoyed it nonetheless. “A bit, perhaps.”

“I see.” Cassie considered her sister for a long moment. Delia resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.

“And then what?”

“Then?”

“Yes, then. Unless you decided that very moment on the terrace at Lady Stanley’s that you would run off with him, there was obviously a
then.
When did you next see him?”

“The next day. At a bookseller’s, Hatchard’s, I think.” He’d scarce acknowledged her acquaintance save to tip his hat and politely recommend a book of poetry, handing it to her as he left. Inside, she’d found a scrap of paper with his signature and the words
until we meet again.
Later, he’d given her the same book. “And again at Lady Concord-Smythe’s soiree…”

Lord Wilmont,
Charles,
was not the type of man who was generally attracted to Miss Philadelphia Effington, which she could see now made him all the more attractive. His reputation as an irresponsible spendthrift and gambler rivaled only his reputation with women. Gossip had it that he had been the ruination of more than one young woman and no respectable lady should so much as favor him with a dance. His frequent absences from London for long periods during the last decade only fueled the rumors about him.

Still, when Wilmont did deign to make an appearance, his impeccable family ties allowed him entree into the tight-knit and somewhat hypocritical world of London society. Of course, the ladies could not fail to notice that he was exceedingly handsome, with hair the color of spun gold, a wicked twinkle in his eye and a smile that told a woman it was for her and her alone. And the gentlemen were quite aware that regardless of whatever else he may be, he always paid his debts. In addition, he was possessed of a significant fortune and bore an old and honorable title, if perhaps a bit tarnished. As for his reputation, it was all rumor and innuendo. Why, Delia had never actually met anyone who had been ruined by the man. The stories she’d heard about him might well be little more than fabrications spun by those jealous of his appearance or his wealth or his name.

Not knowing had made him all the more mysterious and dangerous and exciting. And he wanted
her.
From the moment they’d met, that simple fact had made her reckless and daring, entirely different from her usual nature. She’d reveled in the difference, in who she was with him and only with him, and reveled as well in the certain knowledge that this dangerous rake wanted her not because she was an excellent match but because she was very much a woman and he was every inch a man. It was the most intoxicating sensation she’d ever known. And completely irresistible.

“And at Lady Bradbourne’s New Year’s ball, and…” Delia smiled weakly. “I met him quite a bit, actually.”

“Good Lord.” Cassie sank back in her chair and stared. “I can’t believe no one noticed.”

“You’d be amazed at how easy it is to slip away from a crowded ballroom to a secluded library or empty parlor.” Delia drummed her fingers nervously on the arm-rest of the sofa. This had been her secret and hers alone for so long, it was surprisingly awkward to reveal it now, even to Cassie, the one person Delia had never kept anything from.

“Indeed I would. I suspect you can teach me a great deal, dear sister.” Grudging admiration shone in Cassie’s eyes.

“This is surprisingly difficult to talk about.” Delia rose to her feet and paced the room, wringing her hands absently with every step. “I had thought, given the passage of time, that it would be easy to tell you, but I find I am not at all good at confession.”

“It is good for the soul, they say,” Cassie said primly.

“I doubt that. My soul doesn’t feel the least bit good. Only quite, quite foolish.”

“Nonsense. Oh, not that it wasn’t foolish,” Cassie said quickly, “every bit of it, but you probably couldn’t help falling in love with the man.”

Delia stopped and stared at her sister, her words coming before she could stop them. “Oh, but you see, I didn’t.”

Cassie’s brows drew together in confusion. “But I thought —”

“Oh, I know.” Delia waved her sister quiet. “I would have thought exactly the same thing: that someone in my position would have gotten in my position in the first place because she had quite fallen head over heels and therefore lost all sense of proper behavior. But it wasn’t like that at all.”

“I’m afraid to ask precisely what it was like.”

“It was…” Delia clasped her hands together and screwed up her courage. “Quite the most exciting thing I have ever imagined. The adventure I had always dreamed of.”

“Adventure?”

“I’m not certain how else to explain it.” Delia groped for the right words. “It was very much like riding a horse entirely too fast. You know it’s dangerous and will more than likely end badly, but it’s so exhilarating, you don’t really care.”

Delia returned to perch on the edge of the sofa. “I know this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but Charles was not at all the kind of man who is usually interested in me. Even you must admit my suitors were inevitably somber in character, serious in demeanor and bent on the altogether critical quest of finding a suitable wife. And to a man they were one and all deadly dull.”

“Well, yes, they were rather —”

“Whereas gentlemen who seek your favors are typically dashing and exciting and often have an air of danger about them.”

“I have never understood it myself.” Cassie shook her head. “We are both precisely the same in appearance —”

“Yes, but there is something about you.” Delia studied her sister, trying to put her observations into words. “As much as staring at you is like staring at a mirror, there is a difference. In the look in your eye or the tilt of your smile, perhaps. Something that says you could be terribly improper given the slightest provocation.” She sighed and settled back on the sofa. “I obviously look like I would never so much as have an improper thought.”

“Looks indeed can be quite deceiving, as I have never particularly done anything improper save speak my mind. However, you managed to make yourself the center of scandal.”

“I did marry him.”

“And everyone asked why. Good Lord, Delia, people wondered if Wilmont married you for the respectability of your family or your family’s money —”

“Actually, his solicitor wrote me about that. I am apparently quite well off,” Delia murmured.

“— or to save your honor. Of course, that would make him a much better man than anyone suspected and would make you…”

Heat flashed up Delia’s face.

“Delia?”

Delia jumped up and crossed the room in a futile attempt to avoid the inevitable.

“Philadelphia Effington!” Shock sounded in Cassie’s voice. “I can’t believe —”

Delia whirled to face her sister. “Did I fail to mention the excitement of riding entirely too fast?”