Delilah managed to smile as Lady Newfield led her to the door. She threw a look back at Betty, who nodded and smiled, continuing to unpack Delilah’s things as though she had always done so. Her heart still pounding furiously in her chest, Delilah walked after Lady Newfield, looking all about the townhouse and trying to imagine her father living there. Pain sliced through her as she recalled the many happy times they had enjoyed together back at her father’s estate. To lose him so suddenly—for he had unexpectedly had great pains in his chest, which had led to him taking his last few breaths of life—had been torturous to witness and all the more painful thereafter when she had realized he would not be returning to her. When her uncle had come to take over the estate, his title now the same as her father’s had once been, Delilah had not known what to expect. She had prayed that her uncle would be kind, that he would understand the pain and grief that had racked her, but her prayers had not been answered. He had marched into the estate and had changed her life forever.
“You must not be afraid of your uncle, Delilah,” Lady Newfield murmured as they began to descend the stairs. “And even if you are afraid, then I must ask for you to do all you can to hide your fear.”
Delilah opened her mouth to ask why, only to close it again.
“You can understand why that is,” Lady Newfield said with a knowing look. “Your uncle will use your fear against you. It will give him an increased sense of control over you if you show him that you are fearful of him.”
“I understand,” Delilah answered honestly. “I shall do all I can to remain strong in the face of his callousness.”
“I know that he has been more than unkind to you,” Lady Newfield said. “But that was at a time when you were grieving, when you were in the depths of sorrow. I cannot imagine what you must have endured, being sent away and knowing that you did not have either your mother or your father any longer.”
A sob lodged in Delilah’s throat, and she did not answer, shaking her head instead.
“Lord Denholm clearly did not want the burden of you any longer,” Lady Newfield said with steel in her eyes. “But I certainly do, Delilah, and I promise you that no matter what you are faced with, you shall not have to do so alone any longer.”
It was this courage that brought Delilah a little hope as she walked into the drawing-room to find her uncle standing at the mantlepiece, his brows lowered over his eyes, his hands held firmly behind his back. His eyes were like flint, watching her as she came into the room and never once looking away. With fear still blossoming in her heart, she bobbed a quick curtsy and then sat down. Lady Newfield did not curtsy but rather marched to a chair next to Delilah and took a seat.
“Delilah.” Lord Denholm’s voice was low and rough. “You know why you have been returned to London.”
Delilah wanted to remain silent, not quite sure she could trust her voice. Breathing out slowly, she nodded, only to catch Lady Newfield’s eye. With a deep breath, she lifted her chin a little more and looked at her uncle.
“Yes, Uncle,” she said, aware that her voice trembled but doing all she could to speak with as much firmness as she could muster. “I am to be married.”
Her uncle flinched as though he had not expected her to speak so. “Yes, that is so,” he grated. “I will not tell you the name of the gentleman as yet, for I do not think that such a thing is necessary at this time.”
Lady Newfield let out a huff of breath. “Do not be so foolish, Denholm,” she said abruptly, gesturing furiously. “If she is to meet the gentleman tomorrow at the ball, then why should you not give her his name at present?”
Lord Denholm drew himself up. “I do not think that this is any of your business, Lady Newfield,” he said with great dignity. “After all, you—”
“I am to be accompanying Delilah through the Season, as you well know,” Lady Newfield interrupted, her voice ringing out across the room. “Given that she has no mother to guide her, as well as the fact that you have no real interest in doing anything other than marrying her off to whomever you have chosen, you can, at the very least, inform the girl as to who her husband will be!”
Lord Denholm gritted his teeth, anger burning in his eyes, and Delilah felt herself shrink away, daring to look at Lady Newfield and expecting her to be doing the same as she.
However, Lady Newfield’s back was straight, head up and her gaze fixed to Lord Denholm. Her eyes were blazing, her chin lifted and her hands tight on the arms of the chair. It was clear that she had no fear when it came to Lord Denholm and that, Delilah realized, was the sort of courage she wished she could have.
“I do not think it necessary,” Lord Denholm snapped, his eyes hard. “But given that your godmother insists...” The word was spoken with venom and Delilah felt herself shudder, hating the feeling that came with it. “I shall do what she has asked.”
“Good,” Lady Newfield retorted, sitting back in her chair a little more. “It is the very least that your niece deserves.”
Even when she had gained what she had wanted, Lady Newfield did not remain silent. She had every intention of showing Lord Denholm that she was not someone who would hide from him and remain silent and obedient as he hoped. Delilah herself kept quiet, finding it difficult enough to look directly into her uncle’s face but forcing herself to do so regardless.
“An arrangement has been made with a gentleman of the ton,” Lord Denholm said with a tight smile that looked almost like a snarl. “He does not require a great dowry—which is just as well given that you have very little.”
Delilah closed her eyes for a moment, a shudder running through her. She knew that she had once had an excellent dowry, and certainly did not think that her father would have removed it from her before he had passed away. Which meant, as far as she was concerned, that her uncle had taken some of it for himself, reducing her value significantly.
“The gentleman is an earl, with excellent connections, a good amount of wealth, and an eagerness to ensure that his family line continues,” Lord Denholm finished as though this should satisfy Delilah’s curiosity. “You will give him what he desires.”
“And in return, you are to gain something from him, I suppose,” Lady Newfield said sharply. “Might I ask what it is?”
Lord Denholm’s eyes glittered. “There is nothing that I am to gain,” he snapped, although Delilah was certain he did not tell the truth. “The gentleman is to meet you for the first time tomorrow evening, and all shall go from there.”
“Might I ask what that entails?” Delilah found herself asking, her breathing a little tight as she tried to speak to her uncle without fear. “Do you expect us to become engaged immediately?”
Her uncle opened his mouth but glanced at Lady Newfield before closing it again. When he finally spoke, it was with consideration.
“I should prefer it to be at once,” he said, his lip curling. “But Lady Newfield insists that there is a short time of courtship beforehand, and thus, I have agreed.”
Delilah frowned, wondering what it was that had Lady Newfield speaking so openly and being able to demand so much from Lord Denholm. Yes, she had a very strong presence indeed, but that could not be all that was pushing Lord Denholm to do as she requested.