The Duke and the Lass by Jessie Clever

Chapter 17

“I’m going to kill him.”

Della could understand the sentiment from Andrew’s oldest sister, but she hardly thought murder was worth it.

She leaned forward and patted the woman’s arm.

“I can relate, but don’t you think murder is rather too messy?”

Della liked Viv. She could admit she had been the most skeptical about meeting the eldest Darby sister. The stories from Eliza, Louisa, and Johanna had suggested a formidable force, especially considering the woman’s determination to see her sisters wed, and Della wasn’t sure if she could stand up to her.

But it turned out standing up to her wasn’t required because Viv only used her powers for good. She supported her sisters and defended the weak. Della still wasn’t sure which category she landed in, but she hoped it was the first one.

Viv had returned from Margate with her husband in tow after apparently receiving a scathing letter from Johanna. Della was beginning to understand that the youngest of the Darby sisters served as the principal communicator in the group. It would do well to remember this.

They were gathered in Eliza’s drawing room. The topic of today’s duchess lesson was invitations, but they’d done little more than discuss the type of paper that was acceptable. They were required to ensure Viv was up to speed on all that occurred, and this took precedence over invitations. Of course it did.

“Not for Andrew,” Viv said now. “It would be worth it.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I hate the idea that I was manipulated like that.” She pushed to her feet and paced away. “I really thought I was best suited to ensuring you all obtained advantageous matches.” She stopped at the window that overlooked the street.

“Well, did Andrew agree with you or did he suggest it?” Louisa asked.

Viv shook her head, never moving her gaze from the window.

“I couldn’t say now. It was so long ago, and in my mind, I was always so sure it had been my idea. But now I don’t know.”

Eliza’s son, George, played on the floor with Johanna, and he clapped his hands together as he successfully knocked over a block tower Johanna had constructed for him.

“Again,” he cried, hands clapping furiously.

Johanna only smiled and went back to stacking blocks. The sight was so terribly domesticated, Della felt a pinch in her chest in response. She suddenly wondered if she and Andrew would have children or would their marriage be the tense, silent arrangement that they had entered after the day her father had tried to abduct her.

Eliza reclined in her seat, propping her feet up on an ottoman as she pressed her hands to her back with a slight squeeze of her eyes as if she were exhausted. Her belly was large, and the rest of her was quite thin, and Della could only imagine how exhausted the poor woman must be.

“I for one do not care whose idea it was,” Eliza said. “It got me this after all.” She spread her hands encompassing the room, the house, her life, and Della couldn’t help but smile.

“I agree,” Louisa said from where she stood behind them, swaying on her feet as wee Simon slept against her shoulder. “Do you think Sebastian would have married me otherwise?”

Viv turned from the window. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, running her hands over her own expanding stomach. “But would you suggest we let him off the hook for lying to us?”

Johanna wrinkled her nose. “Is it really lying? Or did he mislead us?”

Eliza picked up her head from the back of the chair. “What is the difference?”

“Misleading someone is far more calculating,” Johanna said as she placed the last block on top of the tower and indicated for George to knock it over. He did, his laughter filling the room. Johanna looked up to meet Eliza’s gaze. “Misleading someone suggests a level of forethought that I do not care for. What else should Andrew think he has the right to meddle in?”

“She’s right,” Viv said before making her way back to the seating area where Della and the sisters had taken up residence. She lowered herself to one of the sofas. “I suppose we could be angry with him or just be glad everything seems to have worked out in the end. Her gaze traveled around the room, her hands moving absently over her belly until she landed on Della. “But I do think he’s been an idiot.”

“Oh, of that, we can agree,” Johanna said from her place on the floor.

“He owes you an apology, Della,” Louisa said softly from behind her, never breaking her swaying motion.

“An apology?” Eliza said. “An apology is far too tame. I’m casting my vote for Viv’s idea.”

“Murder?” Della asked.

Eliza nodded. “It’s the only thing that will do for what he said to you. He should be grateful you married him at all.”

Della had thought Eliza had said the words flippantly, but then the other sisters murmured their words of agreement.

Della shook her head. “It’s I who am grateful that Andrew married me. If it weren’t for him—”

“You would have married someone more deserving,” Louisa said matter-of-factly.

“A prince,” Johanna said from the floor. “Oh, wouldn’t Della make a beautiful princess?”

Eliza smiled. “Especially with a name like that. Princess Catriona Cordelia. And the most dignified of aristocrats would call you Princess CeCe.”

The sisters erupted into laughter at this, and Della couldn’t help but be swept up in it. She gazed about the room, wondering when it was that her life had become so full. But even as she thought it, her heart stuttered a little.

It wouldn’t be complete without Andrew, and she knew now that he would never love her. Her laughter faded, and she plucked at her skirts.

Viv shifted along the sofa and put her arm around Della.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be all right. Trust me.” Her smile spoke of history Della couldn’t fathom. “I should know.” She laughed then.

“You should know?” Louisa spoke from behind them. “What about me? I married the Beastly Duke. If that doesn’t take a spot of fortitude, I’m not sure what would.”

“I married a fortune hunter,” Johanna said as George knocked down yet another block tower. “But I was madly in love with him, so I’m not sure that counts,” she said with a wrinkled nose.

“I can best all of you,” Eliza spoke softly.

Her dog, Henry, had uncurled himself from his spot by the door where Della wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t taken up as a means of guarding the women inside the room and now sat perched under his mistress’s arm.

“How do you figure?” Viv asked.

Eliza’s smile was purely devilish. “My dog tried to eat my husband when he even suggested the idea of marriage.”

This drew forth another round of laughter, and for the first time in days, Della felt marginally better.

Viv squeezed her again. “See? When you married Andrew, no one was under duress of being the next meal of a surly canine.”

Henry whined.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Viv said. “There is nothing surly about you.”

His tail thumped against the floor as if he accepted her apology.

Louisa took a chair, careful to keep Simon steady against her shoulder as he apparently had fallen truly, deeply asleep and the poor woman could finally get off her feet.

“I know just the thing,” she said, lowering herself into the chair. “You should host a dinner, Della.”

Della shook her head immediately. “I think it’s already been made clear how inadequate I am at engaging in dinner parties.”

Eliza laughed. “Hardly inadequate. The Countess of Bannerbridge will not stop badgering me about when you might be accepting further invitations. She cannot wait to host you and Andrew.”

“The Countess of Bannerbridge?” Della tried to recall the woman, but that night at the Ashbourne dinner seemed so long ago.

Louisa smiled. “The countess is a lovely woman. You should absolutely accept an invitation from her.”

Della’s head swam with this new information. “But I made a complete ninny of myself that night.”

Eliza laughed. “Not at all. You were like a breath of fresh air. Do you know how many dinners one attends during a season? It was so delightful to have you there to offer a different perspective. I think Louisa’s right. You should host a dinner. It will be family and just a few select invitations. It will be a great way for you to try out your duchess lessons on a sympathetic audience.”

Viv squeezed her shoulder again. “I think it’s a marvelous idea. It will give you a wonderful place to start before the pressure of the season next year. You will be expected to host a ball then after all.”

Della shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly host a ball.”

Johanna waved this off. “Balls are easy. They’re always such a crush that none of it really matters.”

George made a triumphant sweep of his blocks then, sending them scattering over the carpet. This was met with much glee and hand clapping.

“You make it sound easy,” Della murmured, not feeling so sure.

“It’s all quite easy when you have sisters,” Louisa said, her smile sure and bright even as her eyes were so very tired while she patted wee Simon’s back as he slept against her.

Della had never felt more alone in that moment, sitting in Eliza’s drawing room, surrounded by the Darby sisters and knowing she’d never be a part of them no matter what they said or did. Andrew’s words echoed through her mind with too much force.

Della didn’t have family, and she never would. But she could understand now why Andrew felt such a compulsion to protect these women because Della felt the same. She would do anything to keep these women safe, just as they had come to save her.

She raised her chin.

“I think Ravenwood shall host a dinner. It would be an excellent opportunity to try out my duchess lessons as you said, Eliza.” She smiled at the woman.

Johanna clapped with George from the floor. “Auntie Della is going to host a party, George. What do you think of that?”

The little boy threw up his arms and cried, “Again!”

Even though he knew not of the conversation around him, his answer couldn’t have been more perfect, and all of them laughed.

* * *

He tuggedat his cravat and jacket, but he knew the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with the clothing he wore.

This dinner was a very bad idea.

Andrew didn’t like the idea of people coming into Ravenwood House. There was too much opportunity for the MacKenzie to slip in unnoticed.

Even though Della had limited the guest list, it still left the house vulnerable. No matter how he, Dax, Sebastian, and even Ben had tried to find word of the MacKenzie’s whereabouts, all had been silent for nearly a fortnight since the man had tried to abduct Della straight out of her home.

Andrew paced across the length of the drawing room now, his frustration driving him to move. He’d only taken a couple of steps when movement at the door drew his eye. He looked up and stopped, seized by the vision that stood there.

Della.

Only it wasn’t a Della he had ever seen. She wore a gown of sinful red silk that spilled from her shoulders in wide sweeping sleeves that only served to accentuate the trimness of the waist that spread into a waterfall of skirts. Her pale hair was swept up in a neat twist that showed off the column of her neck and the arches of her cheekbones.

She was no longer the woman he had met that night in the cold, drafty room of a Scottish castle, and he knew it was more than just a change of clothes.

He knew she had lost some weight. He could tell mostly by how slim her face had become, but she was still voluptuous and curvy, and more than ever, he wanted to trace her body with his hands. Preferably while they were both naked.

The thought had his throat constricting. They’d done little more than speak tersely to one another for the better part of two weeks, and most of all, he hated going to bed alone every night.

But as he looked at her now, he realized she held herself differently than she had when he’d first met her. The nervousness that had seemed to vibrate around her was gone, and she held herself with a confidence he suspected she didn’t recognize.

She wasn’t smiling, but he took a step toward her and said, “You look beautiful tonight, Della.” He swallowed as his throat became suddenly dry. “But you’ve always been beautiful to me.”

It was not the apology she deserved from him, and she watched him warily now as though she didn’t trust his words, and this more than anything cut deep.

“Della, I—”

He was cut off by the entrance of Mallard. The butler gave a small bow.

“Your Grace, guests have begun to arrive.”

“Please show them in, Mallard. We’re ready to begin receiving them,” Della answered, stepping into place at what would be the head of the receiving line.

“Very good, Your Grace,” the butler intoned and backed out of the room.

Andrew took his place beside his wife and watched the door, expecting the first of their guests. But he thought of the interminable hours that lay ahead, acting the dutiful host next to his beautiful wife with so much standing between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. This is hardly an appropriate or adequate apology, but I must tell you. I can’t stand this silence between us, and I miss you.” The words tumbled out of him in a rush.

Her lips parted, but she gave no other sign that she’d heard him as her eyes remained on the door of the drawing room as if waiting for the first guests to arrive. She didn’t even look at him, and whatever hope he had mustered that she may forgive him vanished.

There was no time to say anything further. Their first guests arrived, the Earl and Countess of Bannerbridge. Della’s smile was bright enough to light an underground cave, and he wondered what the countess held that he did not.

Della vibrated with glowing energy for the remainder of the guests. With each one, she gave special acknowledgment, thanking them for coming. It was as though she had been doing this all her life. When the viscountess she had taken tea with stepped up to greet them, he thought Della might split in two with happiness.

“V!” she proclaimed. “I’m so happy you were able to make it.”

The viscountess curtsied and squeezed Della’s outstretched hands.

“I’d like you to meet my husband,” the viscountess said, drawing forth the tall gentleman behind her.

Andrew knew the man well, but he was distracted by the look of pure awe on Della’s face. A part of him he didn’t know existed coiled in jealousy at Della’s obvious appreciation of the man, and when he walked away, Andrew swore she said, “Well done, V.”

He didn’t have time to dwell on his feelings as more guests entered.

Louisa and Sebastian, Eliza and Dax, and Johanna and Ben were there, of course. But it was Viv and Ryder that he had not expected.

“Johanna wrote you,” he said when Viv stepped up to him.

She smiled and punched him in the shoulder.

“Brother,” she said before turning to greet Della with a kiss to her cheek.

Ryder only shook his head, his lips thin in commiseration.

The drawing room was filled with guests within the half hour.

“You’ve a full house tonight, Your Grace,” he whispered to Della. “That’s quite a triumph for your first dinner.”

“I have your sisters to thank,” she said, and he couldn’t help but notice an odd tone to her voice, almost as if she were detached from the whole thing, and it made him wince.

Della left his side to mingle with her guests while they waited to be called into dinner, but he remained where he was, watching her, brooding.

“Have you apologized yet?”

Andrew was surprised to find Dax standing next to him, Sebastian behind him.

“I have, but there wasn’t time to talk it over.”

Sebastian gave a disgruntled noise. “Apologies are one thing. Have you told her you love her? For whatever reason, they seem to like that even more.”

Andrew blinked at his brother-in-law. This was by far the least expected conversation he had ever had with the man.

“I have not as such.”

“You should tell her.” Andrew turned to find Ryder had joined them, followed by Ben.

“You should,” Ben agreed. “Sebastian is right. They like that.”

Sebastian gave a nod as if to suggest how obvious it was that he was right, but Andrew was distracted by the arrival of Mallard announcing dinner.

Andrew made to move toward the drawing room door as custom would dictate he lead the guests into the dining room, but he was stopped by a commotion at the door leading from the hallway. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The Scottish brogue was clear enough.

“I’ve come for my daughter, and I’ll nae leave without her.” The man barreled into the room, silencing the low murmur of conversation until only a few gasps of surprise punctuated the air.

Andrew curled his hands into fists and made to step forward, but the sound of Della’s voice stopped him.

“Of all the bleeding codswallop,” she said and then there she was, standing directly in front of her father.

Her height meant she matched the man inch for inch, and in her fiery gown, she appeared the far more threatening of the two. The MacKenzie looked like a man who had been drunk for the better part of a week with soiled and wrinkled jacket and trousers and a beard gone oily and clumped.

Andrew felt as though he were standing on a precipice. He could step forward, shield his wife from her belligerent father. Or he could step back. He could give her the choice to handle it herself. He had only to trust her, and nothing had ever seemed so scary or so simple.

This was the moment that would decide his future. This was the moment in which he knew if he made the wrong decision, he would lose Della forever. Everything became clear in an instant then, and he took a step back.

The MacKenzie pointed a shaking finger at his daughter. “I’ll be the one who—”

“You’ll be the one who what? If ye think I don’t know yer blootered, yer baum’s out the windae.”

Andrew blinked as Ben sucked in a breath beside him. “There’s the lassie you married,” he whispered as he elbowed Andrew in the side.

Andrew was man enough to admit he found the sudden brogue in Della’s voice rather appealing.

But she wasn’t done.

“I’ll nae be going anywhere with ye, Da. Yer nothing but a wee bully, and yer rank with drink.” She flung out a hand as if to encompass the room. “Dae ye really think to take me awa’ from this? Yer eggs are double-yoakit, and ye know it.”

The MacKenzie blinked, but Andrew didn’t miss how the man had taken a step back toward the door.

Della must have seen it too for she dropped her arms, the fight seeming to drain out of her even as her chin remained firm.

“I’m married, Da. There’s naught to be done for it. At the least, I’ll nae be a burden to ye no more.” She gestured to Andrew then. “Yer attached to the Ravenwood title. Is it nae enough?”

The MacKenzie seemed to shrink before Andrew’s eyes, but it wasn’t what held his attention. It was Della’s words that had his heart thundering and twisting.

I’ll nae be a burden to ye no more.

She had it all wrong. She wasn’t a burden. She wasn’t a responsibility. She was a beautiful, strong woman that he wanted more than anything to love.

He just wanted to love her.

If she let him.

The MacKenzie was nearly to the door now.

He waved a hand weakly. “It is, lass. It is. I’ll get tae now.” He scraped and bowed, leaving Andrew to wonder how Della had known that her father was all bluff.

“Da,” Della called after him. “Why nae stay and have some scran?”

The MacKenzie hesitated in the doorway.

Andrew didn’t know what scran was, but he assumed Della had just invited her father to dinner. He looked about them, at the impeccable guest list Della had constructed for her first society dinner.

And then he looked at the MacKenzie, a drunken old man in dirty clothes.

The Scotsman seemed to understand that he wasn’t appropriately dressed, and he ran his hands down his jacket.

“There’s a lassie,” he said. “But no, girl. I’m nae fit for it.” He turned to leave but something stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at his daughter. “Ye’ve surprised me, lassie,” he said. “And nae many people do. I dinnae think yer either me or yer mother. Ye might just be something else.” And with that he left.

But Andrew wasn’t watching the MacKenzie. He couldn’t take his eyes from Della’s face as her father’s words hit her. He watched the subtle transformation that passed over her features. The way her eyes widened ever so slightly, the way her bottom lip parted from the top one as she absorbed what she’d likely already suspected.

The woman without country or name was now without roots, and he knew she was left wondering where she belonged.

He made to step toward her, the need to pull her into his arms so great he didn’t care who was there to witness it, but before he could move, something happened.

His sisters separated themselves from the gathered crowd and one by one took their places beside Della with Louisa stepping the closest, looping her arm through his wife’s.

“It isn’t any wonder that he doesn’t know who you are,” Louisa said.

Viv shook her head. “How could he?”

“It wasn’t as if he could know,” Johanna said.

“Know what?” Della asked, looking amongst the sisters.

Eliza’s smile was peaceful and knowing, which was entirely like her. “He couldn’t possibly know that you were meant to be a Darby sister.”