Chapter 67 - Sixty Seven
A series of sharp, insistent knocks on the entrance door woke Delia from a restless sleep. She sat up, her head fuzzy, and glanced at the window. The sky outside was still a pale, pre-dawn grey. "Who could that be this early in the morning?" she mumbled to herself, her voice thick with sleep.
She shrugged on her silk robe, tying the belt loosely as she padded to the door. She opened it, expecting to see a servant or perhaps even Mr. Rye with an urgent message. Instead, she found herself face to face with a woman she had never seen before.
The woman was almost the same age as her, dressed in an elegant but practical travelling suit. Her hair was styled simply but perfectly, and she carried a sturdy leather bag. She looked at Delia with intelligent, observant eyes.
"I am so sorry to bother you so early in the morning," the lady started, her voice clear and confident. She peered past Delia into the hallway. "Is Eric in?" she asked.
Delia was taken aback by the informal, almost casual way she used the Duke’s name. No one called him just ’Eric’. "I’m sorry," Delia said, her own voice still a little rough from sleep. "Who are you?"
"A friend," the lady replied simply.
Delia was confused. A friend? she thought to herself. How can a man and a woman be just friends without having some kind of romantic relationship? The idea was foreign to her.
The lady cleared her throat, a polite but impatient sound. "Uhm, may I?" she asked, indicating with a tilt of her head that she wanted to come in.
"Of course," Delia replied, stepping aside automatically.