A Scandal By Any Other Name

A massive, silent scream tore through Delaney’s chest. Her heart shattered for the brave man who had lost his life in the dark woods.

But as she stared at the terrible scene, her sharp eyes noticed something else. She noticed the state of her cousin.

Lucas was trying to stand tall and victorious, but he was breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell in quick, painful gasps. And then, Delaney saw his left arm. It was hanging at a very strange, highly unnatural angle. His shoulder looked completely wrong, entirely out of its socket. He was sweating profusely, and a deep, purple bruise was already forming on his jaw.

Odis had not died easily. The brave guard had put up a tremendous, violent fight. He had greatly dislocated Lucas’s arm before he fell.

Lucas turned his face to Delaney. He wanted to see her break. He wanted to see her reaction.

"I saw a thief roaming the perimeter," Lucas said smoothly, a cruel, breathless smile on his face. "And I had to kill him to protect our home."

He paused, leaning slightly closer to her. He searched her hazel eyes for any sign of a reaction.

"Do you not think it is the right thing, Delaney?" Lucas asked, his voice a dark, mocking whisper. "A thief gets exactly what he deserves."

Delaney knew exactly what he was doing. If she cried, she would admit that she knew the man. She would admit that she had outside help, and Lucas would figure out her entire plan. She had to protect herself and Hamish. She had to become completely, entirely made of stone.

Delaney looked at his bloody hand holding her wrist. Then, she looked up at his expectant, twisted face.

With a sudden, sharp movement, Delaney pulled her wrist forcefully from his grasp.

Because his shoulder was dislocated and his body was in deep pain, his grip was much weaker than usual. Her hand easily slipped free from his bloody fingers.

She took a step back. She slowly raised her right hand and rubbed her wrist, completely ignoring the dark smear of blood he had left on her skin. She looked at him with an entirely blank, bored expression.

"Are you done?" Delaney asked. Her voice was flat, cold, and completely empty of any care.

Lucas’s cruel smile froze. His dark eyes widened in genuine surprise. This was not the reaction he wanted.

"I have dinner to get to," Delaney continued, turning her back on him and the body. She spoke as if he had simply tracked mud onto the carpets. "Do not pester me with ridiculous things, Lucas. Tell the servants to clean the steps. It is unseemly."

She did not look back. She walked smoothly away from the open doors, leaving Lucas standing in the cold wind, completely baffled and deeply angered by her absolute indifference.

Delaney walked across the grand foyer and entered the formal dining room.

The large room was brightly lit with dozens of tall white candles, but it felt incredibly cold and empty. The long table was set with fine silver and delicate crystal glasses. The smell of roasted beef and warm potatoes filled the air, but the scent made Delaney’s stomach turn.

Sitting at the far end of the long table was Aunt Eunice.

Delaney walked quietly to her usual seat. She looked at her aunt. Eunice was not wearing her usual fine silk evening gown. She wore a simple, slightly wrinkled day dress. Her hair, usually pinned up perfectly by her maid, was messy and falling around her pale face.

"Good evening, Aunt," Delaney greeted her politely as she sat down.

She was met with absolute silence.

Eunice did not look at her. She did not even blink. Eunice was just sitting there, staring blankly at the wall opposite her. Her hands were gripping the edges of the table so tightly that her knuckles were completely white.

Delaney noticed that Eunice looked like a woman who was about to go mad at any second. Her husband had been dragged away by the King’s guards. Her entire life of wealth, comfort, and high society was falling apart right before her very eyes. She had nothing left but her cruel son.

Delaney did not say another word. She picked up her fork and knife. She served herself a small piece of roasted meat and began to eat. She forced herself to chew and swallow, even though every bite tasted like dry ashes. She had to maintain the illusion of absolute normality.

A few minutes later, the dining room doors opened.

Lucas entered the room. He had washed the blood from his face and hands. He was wearing a fresh, clean white linen shirt and a dark waistcoat.

But he was not moving with his usual arrogant grace. His left arm was heavily bandaged beneath his shirt, and it was bound tightly to his chest in a dark silk sling. His face was pale from the intense, sickening pain of having his dislocated shoulder forced back into its proper socket by the estate doctor.

He walked slowly to the table and sat down heavily in his father’s large chair at the head of the table.

He looked at his mother. His harsh, cruel expression softened just a fraction. He reached out with his good right hand and placed it gently over Eunice’s shaking fingers.

"Do not worry, Mother," Lucas assured her, his voice low and confident. "I will take care of everything. I will collect the gold tomorrow, and I will take you completely out of London. We will go somewhere else. We will be safe."

The sound of his voice finally broke the silent spell holding Eunice.

Eunice turned her head and looked at her son. Her lower lip began to tremble violently. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over her pale cheeks.

This was the very first time Delaney had ever seen her cruel aunt cry genuine tears.

"He is gone, Lucas," Eunice wept, a harsh, ugly sobbing sound escaping her throat. She squeezed his hand back. "The Crown Guards took him. The evidence against your father is too great. The House Of Lords will not show mercy. He will surely be hanged."

Delaney sat quietly, cutting her meat. She saw a perfect opportunity to strike a psychological blow. She needed to play her part flawlessly.