A Scandal By Any Other Name

The light was incredibly soft. It was not the harsh, gray light of a cold London morning , nor the blinding sun of a summer afternoon. It was a warm, gentle glow, like the quiet light of a candle in a safe, peaceful room.

Delaney floated in this comforting warmth. The terrible, crushing pain in her head was completely gone. The burning ache in her throat, where Lucas had squeezed the life from her, had vanished. She felt light, peaceful, and entirely safe.

Then, a voice broke the quiet silence.

"Mon amour, ma chère fille." ( My love, my dear daughter)

The words were spoken in a soft, musical French accent.

Delaney felt her heart skip a beat. The voice was really familiar. It was a voice she had locked away in the deepest, most protected corner of her mind for twenty long years. It was a voice she thought she would never hear again.

She slowly opened her hazel eyes. At first, her vision was a little blurry, filled with the soft, golden light. But as she blinked, the light shifted, and a face appeared before her.

When she opened her eyes fully, she saw a woman sitting beside her. The woman had warm, loving eyes and a beautiful, gentle smile. Her dark hair was styled softly, and she smelled faintly of fresh roses and sweet lavender.

Delaney’s breath hitched in her throat. She stared at the woman in disbelief.

"Mama?" Delaney whispered. Her voice trembled, sounding small and fragile, like a little girl.

Genevieve Kingsley’s eyes brightened with immense joy at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Her smile grew wider, full of pure, maternal love. But as Genevieve leaned closer, her bright eyes suddenly saddened. She noticed the white bandage wrapped around Delaney’s head.

Genevieve reached out. Her touch was incredibly gentle, light as a feather. Her soft fingers brushed against the edge of the bandage.

"Qu’est-ce qui t’est arrivé ma chérie?" (What happened to you, my darling?)

Genevieve asked, her voice filled with deep, genuine worry.

Delaney could not find the words to answer. Her throat was tight with emotion. Before she could even try to explain the terrible events of the carriage, the trial, or the monsters she had faced, Genevieve turned her head.

"Arthur," Genevieve called out softly, looking over her shoulder. "Arthur, our daughter is hurt. Come see."

Delaney felt a fresh wave of shock wash over her. She turned her head slowly on the soft pillow.

From the bright, golden light, a tall, handsome man walked toward them. He had kind, crinkling eyes and a warm, proud smile. He walked with a strong, confident step, directly to the side of the bed.

Delaney stared at him. It was her father. Baron Arthur Kingsley.

Arthur walked to the side of the bed and sat down next to Genevieve. He reached out with both of his large hands and gently took Delaney’s small, pale hands into his own.

His hands were incredibly warm.

Delaney gasped softly. The warmth sent a shock through her very soul. For twenty years, her only memory of her father’s hands was from that terrible, rainy night in the mud. She remembered his hands being freezing cold and completely lifeless as she cried over his broken body. But now, his hands were full of life, strong and comforting.

Delaney spoke, her voice breaking into a soft sob. "Papa?"

Arthur looked down at her, his eyes filled with endless love and a deep sorrow. He gently rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles.

"My darling girl," Arthur spoke. His voice was deep, rich, and exactly as she remembered it from her childhood. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

Delaney looked at Arthur. Then she looked at Genevieve. She looked at the two people who had loved her most in the entire world, the people she had missed every single day of her lonely, difficult life.

The thick wall of stone that Delaney had built around her heart for the past week completely shattered.

Tears started spilling down her pale cheeks. They were not tears of pain or fear. They were tears of pure, overwhelming grief and massive, profound relief. She was no longer the strong, fearless woman who had faced down murderers and lords. In their warm presence, she was simply their little girl again.

"I miss you so much," Delaney cried, her voice shaking violently as the tears flowed freely. She held onto her father’s warm hands as if she were drowning. "I miss you two so much. I really, really do."

Genevieve smiled through her own soft tears. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms completely around Delaney. She hugged her daughter tightly to her chest, pressing a long, tender kiss to Delaney’s forehead.

Arthur did not hesitate. He leaned forward and joined in the hug. He wrapped his large, strong arms around both Genevieve and Delaney, enveloping his family in a deeply warm, completely safe embrace.

Delaney closed her eyes and let herself be held. For the first time in twenty years, she felt their love again. There were no cruel aunts, no psychopathic cousins, no greedy lords. There was only love.

After a long, beautiful while, they slowly broke the hug. Delaney pulled back slightly, but Arthur still held her hand firmly.

Delaney sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek with her free hand. She looked directly into her father’s kind eyes. A new sense of pride filled her chest.

"I did it, Papa," Delaney said, her voice growing a little stronger. She wanted them to know that their deaths were not in vain. "I cleared your name, Papa."

Arthur looked at her, his expression softening with deep understanding.

"I also got justice for you and Mama," Delaney continued, the tears still falling, but a small smile touching her lips. "I sent those responsible for your death to the gallows. Uncle Cole, Lord Farrington, Lord Hawksley... they can never hurt anyone ever again. I told the truth."

Arthur’s eyes filled with bright, shining tears. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently.

"I am so proud of you," Arthur replied, his voice thick with emotion. "You were so brave, my darling girl. You fought such a hard battle."

Genevieve smiled warmly, reaching out to wipe a fresh tear from Delaney’s cheek with her soft thumb.

"We are really proud," Genevieve spoke, her voice like a soothing melody. "You have a beautiful, strong heart, Delaney."

Genevieve stood up slowly. She reached down and held Arthur’s hand. Arthur stood up next to her. The warm, golden light around them seemed to grow a little brighter.

"We wanted to make sure you are okay," Genevieve said softly, looking down at Delaney with a peaceful smile. "We are leaving now."

They turned and started walking away, stepping back toward the brilliant, warm light.

Panic suddenly gripped Delaney’s chest. She did not want them to go. She did not want to be alone again.

Delaney quickly got out of the soft bed. She wanted to follow them into the beautiful, peaceful light. She took a step forward, reaching her hand out toward her parents.

"Wait," Delaney cried out, her voice desperate. "Wait for me! Please, take me with you!"

Arthur stopped walking. He turned around and looked at her. He held his hand out, palm facing her, gently instructing her to stop.

"You cannot follow us to where we are going, my darling," Arthur said gently. His voice was firm, but filled with immense love. "It isn’t time yet."

Delaney shook her head, fresh tears falling. "But I want to be with you. I am so tired, Papa."

Arthur smiled a sad, knowing smile. He pointed a finger back toward the darkness behind her.

"There are people who still need you," Arthur explained softly. "There are people who still truly love you. You have a long, beautiful life ahead of you, Delaney. Do not make them unhappy by leaving them so soon."

Delaney stopped. She knew exactly what her father meant. Her mind instantly flashed to a pair of bright brown eyes, a handsome smile, and a deep voice that called her his darling.

Rowan.

She watched her parents turn back around. She stood still and watched them walk slowly into the blinding, beautiful light. The light enveloped them completely, leaving her behind in the quiet space.