A Scandal By Any Other Name

Comfort’s Haven was a truly incredible inn. It sat neatly at the very edge of the quiet country village, just a short carriage ride away from the Oakridge Manor. The environment was very clean, quiet, and completely comfortable to stay in. The floors were swept twice a day, the windows were clear, and the beds were stuffed with fresh, soft feathers.

However, it was also very expensive. It was the kind of inn where wealthy merchants and traveling gentlemen stayed when they passed through the county. But Rowan did not care about the cost. He spared absolutely no expense to get the best room in the entire building and a private servant for himself. He wanted his lodgings to be perfect while he stayed in the country to court his woman.

The sun was climbing high in the afternoon sky as Rowan’s carriage stopped at the front of the inn.

The driver pulled the horses to a gentle halt. A stable boy immediately ran forward to hold the horses’ reins. Rowan stepped out of the carriage. He walked up the wooden steps of the inn, his boots making a solid, heavy sound. He nodded politely to the innkeeper, who bowed deeply as the Duke walked past the front desk.

Rowan walked up the polished wooden stairs and went straight to his private room at the end of the hall.

He opened the door, walked inside, and closed it firmly behind him. The room was large and bright.

Rowan walked slowly to the center of the room. He let out a long, heavy breath. He sat down on the edge of the large, comfortable bed.

He raised his hands to his neck. His fingers worked the neat knot of his crisp white cravat. He pulled the white linen loose, letting it hang untied around his collar. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his waistcoat to let himself breathe easier.

He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head, and stared directly up at the white ceiling of the room.

The entire morning played over and over again in his mind. He remembered walking into the drawing room at Oakridge. He remembered the sudden, bright smile that had completely lit up Delaney’s face when she saw him. He remembered the sweet smell of the pink roses he had given her.

"Duchess Delaney Hamilton," Rowan whispered.

He spoke her name in absolute reverence. The simple word felt like a holy prayer on his lips. His chest felt incredibly warm and full. The courtship had officially begun. She had agreed to take a stroll with him in the gardens tomorrow afternoon.

Suddenly, Rowan opened his eyes wide. He sat up completely straight on the edge of the bed.

He had a date tomorrow.

It was their very first proper, official outing together. They were going to walk in the gardens of her ancestral home. Aunt Renee would be watching from the balcony. The new servants would be looking at him. He needed everything to be absolutely perfect.

Rowan stood up quickly from the bed. A sudden wave of nervous energy completely washed over him. The thought of what to wear for a simple walk in the garden was making him panic.

He walked over to the corner of the room. His large traveling trunk was resting on a wooden stand.

Rowan opened the brass locks with a sharp click. He threw the lid open. He had not brought his personal valet from London. He had wanted to travel quickly and keep his privacy, which meant he had to choose and manage his own wardrobe.

He reached into the trunk and brought out his finest wears. He laid them all out flat across the clean white blanket of his bed.

There were perfectly tailored coats made of the finest wool and silk. There were waistcoats embroidered with silver thread, and crisp trousers of various shades.

Rowan stood before the bed, placing his hands on his hips. He frowned deeply. He was completely conflicted on which one would catch Delaney’s eyes. He needed to look his absolute best for her.

He reached down and picked up a very formal, dark navy blue coat. It had bright gold buttons and a stiff collar.

Rowan held the dark blue outfit up to his broad chest. He walked over to the tall standing mirror in the corner of the room. He looked at his reflection. He turned slightly to the left, and then slightly to the right.

"No," Rowan muttered to himself, shaking his head. "It is far too formal. If I wear this, she might think I am preparing to give a speech in Parliament. It is too stiff for a romantic stroll."

He walked back to the bed and tossed the navy blue coat aside.

He reached down and picked up a handsome, dark red burgundy coat. It was rich and expensive. He held it to his body and looked in the mirror again.

He studied the dark red color against his skin. His frown deepened.

"Absolutely not," Rowan sighed, his shoulders dropping. "It is entirely too loud. It is too bright. If I wear this, she will think I am trying much too hard to impress her. I do not want to look like a peacock."

He threw the burgundy coat onto the nearby armchair.

Next, he picked up a very fine, light gray coat. He held it up and stared at the mirror. He narrowed his eyes, carefully judging the fabric.

"Too dull," Rowan decided quickly. "It makes me look pale. I do not want to look like a boring old man when I am walking next to a beautiful young woman."

He threw the gray coat onto the growing pile.

Rowan ran his hand roughly through his blond hair, making it messy. He was giving one excuse or the other for every single garment he owned. He was terrified that Delaney might not like his choice. He wanted her to look at him and feel proud.

He stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by expensive clothes, feeling completely lost.

Suddenly, a polite, gentle knock came on the door.

Rowan stopped pacing. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his usual, calm composure.

"Come in," Rowan called out, making sure his voice sounded deep and steady.

The brass door handle turned. A young servant boy, wearing a clean, simple apron, entered the room.

"Your Grace," the servant boy said politely. He stopped just inside the doorway and bowed respectfully.

The boy was holding a large silver tray in his hands. On the tray sat a plate of warm, buttered toast, a small pot of hot tea, and a beautiful bowl filled with fresh, cut fruits. The steam from the tea curled upward, filling the room with a very pleasant, sweet smell.

"You did not eat anything this morning when you lodged in, Your Grace," the servant boy explained, keeping his eyes politely lowered. "The owner of the inn noticed. He said I should send this food directly to your room so you do not go hungry."

Rowan looked at the silver tray. He suddenly realized that his stomach was completely empty. He had been so anxious about going to Oakridge Manor to see Delaney that he had entirely skipped his morning breakfast.

Rowan nodded his head in appreciation. His tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Thank you," Rowan said gently. "Please, set it down on the small table by the window. I am quite famished."

"Right away, Your Grace," the boy replied.

The servant walked quietly across the room. He carefully placed the tray on the round wooden table. He arranged the teacup and the plate so they were neat and proper.

The boy turned around. He bowed one more time. He was about to leave the room to let the Duke eat in peace.

Rowan looked at the servant. Then, he looked back at the messy pile of expensive coats resting on his bed. An idea suddenly formed in his mind.

"Wait!" Rowan called out, raising his hand to stop the boy.