A Scandal By Any Other Name

The morning sun rose with agonizing slowness over the sprawling grounds of the Kingsley estate. The pale, weak light struggled to push through the thick, gray clouds.

The usual bustling, cheerful sounds of the country manor—the maids opening the heavy curtains, the stable boys calling to the horses, the clatter of breakfast plates in the kitchens—were entirely absent. The house was trapped in a suffocating, terrified silence.

Inside her large bedchamber on the first floor, Delaney stood perfectly still in the center of the room.

Two young maids were moving quickly and nervously around her. They were highly focused on their important, delicate task. They were preparing her for the most significant, and undoubtedly the most terrifying, day of her entire life.

One maid stood behind her, carefully fastening the dozens of tiny, delicate pearl buttons down the back of the beautiful silk dress. The newly altered gown fit Delaney’s slender figure absolutely perfectly. The fine lace that Madame D had expertly added covered her arms and her shoulders, making her look exactly like a true, elegant, high-born lady of the Ton. The silk skirt pooled beautifully around her soft shoes, whispering softly against the wooden floorboards every time she took a tiny breath.

The second maid stood in front of Delaney, holding a silver hairbrush. She carefully and methodically brushed Delaney’s dark hair. She pinned the long, dark locks up into a neat, highly sophisticated style, securing the curls against the back of Delaney’s head with simple hairpins.

Delaney did not speak a single word to them.

She stared straight ahead, looking directly into the tall, gilded oval mirror standing near the window. Her hazel eyes were completely blank, entirely stripped of any fear or hesitation. Her heart was beating with a steady, slow, highly calculated rhythm. She was mentally building a massive, unbreakable wall around her emotions, preparing herself for the dangerous, unpredictable journey ahead.

"Miss Delaney," one of the maids said. Her voice was very soft and slightly trembling, afraid to break the heavy silence of the room.

The maid stepped back, wiping a small smudge of invisible dust from her crisp white apron. She looked at Delaney with a mixture of awe and deep pity.

"We are done," the maid announced quietly.

Delaney slowly turned her head. She looked at herself in the tall mirror.

Everything was done. She looked absolutely stunning. The bright silk contrasted beautifully with her dark hair and her smooth skin. She looked exactly like a highly anticipating, perfectly obedient, completely vulnerable young bride. She looked exactly the way her cruel cousin, Lucas, expected her to look.

Lucas believed he was in absolute control. He believed he was simply going to take her straight to the church in London, hand her over and then immediately collect his massive payment of gold.

Delaney offered the two nervous maids a very small, highly polite smile.

"Thank you," Delaney said quietly. Her voice was incredibly steady and completely devoid of any nervous tremors. "You have both done a wonderful, careful job this morning. Now, please go downstairs. Tell my footman, Hamish, to come up to the room to carry my trunk down to the carriage."

One of the maids nodded her head quickly, offering a deep, highly respectful curtsy. "Right away, Miss Kingsley."

The two young maids turned and walked quickly out of the room. They pulled the door shut, the brass latch clicking softly behind them.

Delaney waited. She stood perfectly still, listening to the sound of their soft, hurried footsteps fading away down the long, carpeted corridor.

A few long minutes passed. The tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked loudly, counting down the seconds.

Finally, a heavy, solid, firm knock came on the door.

The door pushed open, and Hamish stepped inside. He was dressed for the harsh journey. He wore a thick, dark woolen driving coat that fell to his knees, thick leather gloves, and a plain, dark hat pulled low over his forehead.

His face was incredibly serious, carved from hard stone.

"Miss Kingsley," Hamish said, bowing his head respectfully to her.

Delaney moved with a sudden speed. She quickly stepped forward, grabbed the brass handle of the door, and pulled it completely shut. She quickly turned the key, locking it tight so no one could walk in on them.

She turned back to face the tall guard. Her hazel eyes were wide and filled with intense focus.

"You must have heard what happened to Odis last night," Delaney said. She kept her voice to a very low, urgent whisper, forcing the words through her tight lips.

Hamish’s eyes hardened instantly. His broad jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle ticked in his cheek.

"Yes, Miss Kingsley," He nodded slowly, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "The maids were whispering about the terrible body on the steps. I saw them washing the stone this morning. I knew immediately it was him."

"I am incredibly sorry, Hamish," Delaney said sincerely, a brief flash of deep sorrow crossing her face before she forced it away. "But his death means you absolutely should not underestimate Lucas today."

She took a step closer to the tall guard, looking up into his face.

"Lucas is incredibly dangerous, Hamish," Delaney warned him seriously. "He is a true monster, and he is very smart. But because Odis fought back so bravely, Lucas’s left arm is severely injured. He cannot fight with his full strength today. That is our only advantage."

She paused, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. She quickly explained her new, highly altered plan for the dangerous journey ahead.

"During the en route to London," Delaney instructed clearly, pointing her gloved finger at him to emphasize the sheer, absolute importance of her words, "you will take the

ledger..."

She turned around and walked quickly over to her winter cloak, which was hanging on the door of the large wooden wardrobe. She reached deep into the hidden, torn lining of the wool. Her fingers brushed against the crisp paper.

She brought out the folded shipping manifest.

She walked back to Hamish and held the old yellowed parchment out toward the guard.

"...and you will take this shipping manifest," Delaney continued, her eyes burning with determination, "directly to the House of Lords for the trial. Do not wait for me. Do not wait for the carriage to reach Hawksley’s house."

Hamish hesitated. He looked down at the old, folded parchment in her hand, and then he looked up at the young woman. His primary, absolute order from the Duke of Ford was to protect her life at all costs.

Hamish spoke, his deep voice thick with genuine, profound concern.

"What about you, Miss Kingsley?" Hamish asked, frowning deeply. "If I take the evidence and run, I must leave you entirely alone with him in that carriage. He has already killed Odis."

"I will be fine," Delaney replied instantly, completely cutting off his worry. Her voice was filled with a cold certainty that left no room for argument. "Those pieces of evidence are far more important than my safety, Hamish. They are the only things that can save my father’s honor and hang Lord Hawksley. If Lucas suspects anything during the ride, and if he tries to take the ledger from you, absolutely everything is lost. You must get away from the carriage the moment the time comes."

Hamish stared at her for a long, silent second. Then he nodded his head slowly, finally accepting her direct, absolute command.

He reached out his large, gloved hand and carefully took the folded shipping manifest from her fingers. He unbuttoned the top of his coat and carefully slid the parchment into the deepest inner pocket, right next to where the ledger was already securely hidden against his chest.

"I will deliver them both safely to His Grace, Miss Kingsley," Hamish promised solemnly, patting his coat to ensure the papers were safe.