A Scandal By Any Other Name

"It was my absolute pleasure, Miss Kingsley," Madame D replied, stepping forward. "Now, let us get you out of this fine silk before it gets wrinkled or soiled. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow."

Madame D carefully helped Delaney out of the delicate white dress. The older woman moved with practiced efficiency, unfastening the tiny pearl buttons down the back and carefully sliding the silk over Delaney’s head.

Delaney changed quickly back into her woolen day dress.

While Delaney fastened her own buttons, Madame D went to a side table. She carefully folded the beautiful white gown and packaged it neatly into a large, sturdy wooden bandbox, wrapping the silk in soft tissue paper to protect it during the carriage ride. She tied a thick pink ribbon securely around the box.

Delaney pulled her small velvet reticule open. She retrieved some gold coins—part of the marriage portion her uncle had grudgingly given her—and paid the dressmaker for her excellent work.

She took the large wooden box by the ribbon handle and left the warm, quiet shop.

The brass bell chimed happily as she stepped back out onto the busy cobblestone street. The cold wind immediately hit her face, but she barely felt it. Her heart was light, and her mind was completely focused on her final goal.

She walked quickly over to the small carriage waiting by the wooden post.

Hamish was sitting alertly on the driver’s box. When he saw her approaching, he immediately climbed down to help her with the large, awkward box.

As she got to the side of the carriage, she did not hand the box to him right away. She looked around the busy street to ensure no one was standing too close.

"Hamish," Delaney called softly, gesturing for him to come closer to the small side window of the carriage.

Hamish stepped closer, leaning his head down slightly so she did not have to raise her voice over the noise of the street merchants.

Delaney pulled out the leather book. She brought out the ledger and held it out toward him.

"Take this," Delaney whispered urgently.

Hamish’s immediately reached out with his large, gloved hands and took the ledger from her, sliding it quickly and smoothly under his thick, dark driving coat to hide it from public view.

"Guard it well, Hamish," Delaney instructed, her voice completely serious and commanding. "That book contains the very lives of Lord Farrington and Lord Hawksley."

"With my own life, Miss," Hamish swore quietly, patting his coat where the book rested safely against his ribs.

Delaney nodded her head firmly.

"After the activities of the day are finished," Delaney continued, explaining her plan. "Tonight, when the house is completely asleep, I will sneak out and bring you the original shipping manifest. I have it safely hidden in my room. Then, you will send a fast rider, or go yourself, to deliver them both directly to Rowan."

Hamish collected the information and nodded in complete understanding. He knew the extreme importance of the mission.

"I will ensure they reach His Grace before dawn, Miss Kingsley," Hamish promised.

He helped her climb up the small metal step and into the carriage, taking the large wooden bandbox from her hands and placing it carefully on the floorboards near her feet. He climbed back up onto the driver’s seat, picked up the leather reins, and clicked his tongue to the horse.

He drove them safely and steadily away from the busy town, heading back toward the Kingsley estate.

The ride back was quiet. Delaney sat in the carriage, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The cold wind blew against her dark hair. She felt a profound sense of peace settling over her. This massive, dangerous game was finally coming to a perfect end.

They reached the wrought-iron gates of the Kingsley estate. Hamish drove the carriage smoothly up the long, winding gravel driveway and pulled to a neat stop right in front of the wide stone steps of the manor.

Delaney stepped down from the carriage. She picked up the large wooden bandbox containing her altered wedding dress.

"Wait in the servant quarters, Hamish," Delaney said quietly over her shoulder. "I will come for you tonight."

Hamish nodded and gently guided the horse away toward the stables at the back of the property.

Delaney turned and walked slowly up the front stone steps. The large wooden front doors were slightly ajar.

As she approached the doors, she paused.

Getting closer to the home, she noticed an unusual quietness.

It was not the tense, suffocating quiet of the past few days, where the servants moved like frightened mice trying to avoid Cole’s temper or Eunice’s spite. This was a different kind of quiet. It was an empty, heavy stillness, as if the entire house had suddenly stopped breathing.

There were no footmen standing in the grand foyer. There was no sound of maids dusting the large wooden banisters. The house felt entirely deserted.

Delaney frowned slightly, a small prickle of unease touching the back of her neck.

She stepped through the wooden doors and into the grand foyer. She set the large bandbox down gently on a small side table near the entrance.

She proceeded to remove her gray leather gloves, pulling the soft fabric slowly from her cold fingers. She looked around the empty, silent hall, her hazel eyes searching the deep shadows near the drawing room doors.

"Hello?" Delaney called out softly, her voice echoing slightly against the high ceiling. "Uncle Cole?"

There was no answer.

Delaney began pulling the second glove from her left hand.

Suddenly, a tall figure stepped out from the deep shadows of the main hallway. The man walked slowly into the center of the foyer, stopping right at the bottom of the sweeping marble staircase.

Seeing the figure standing a few distance from her, she froze completely, stopping in the middle of removing the second glove.

"Welcome, Delaney," a voice welcomed her.

It was a smooth, highly polished, and incredibly arrogant voice. It was a voice that itched her ear terribly anytime she heard it, a sound that brought back painful memories of insults and cruel, mocking laughter.

Delaney’s breath hitched in her throat. She stared at the man standing in her family’s home.

He wore an extremely expensive, perfectly tailored dark blue coat that cost more than a common family earned in a decade. His cravat was tied with meticulous, arrogant perfection. He held an elegant silver-topped walking cane in his right hand, resting it casually against the marble floor. His dark hair was styled impeccably, and a cruel, completely victorious smirk rested on his handsome face.

She looked at the young man standing in the foyer with pure, unadulterated hatred burning in her hazel eyes.

"Hello, Lucas," she said.