Delaney blinked. She stared at the older man in pure confusion. Her heart dropped slightly in her chest. Had Rowan changed his mind? Had an emergency called him back to London? Did he leave because she took too long to change her dress?

"I do not understand," Delaney said softly, shaking her head. "Did His Grace leave already? Was there an urgent message for him?"

Mr. Benry quickly shook his head, waving his gloved hand in a small, dismissive gesture.

"No, no, my lady," Mr. Benry continued, rushing to explain the bizarre situation. "You completely misunderstand me. His Grace the Duke of Ford is not here at all. He has not arrived yet."

Delaney felt a sharp pang of disappointment. "He is not here? Then who is in the drawing room?"

Mr. Benry sighed heavily. "I mean to say, you do not have a single caller. You have callers, my lady. Plural."

Delaney and Aunt Renee exchanged a highly confused look.

"Callers?" Aunt Renee asked, stepping forward slightly. "Who are they? Did the local vicar come to pay his respects?"

Mr. Benry gestured weakly toward the hallway leading to the drawing room.

"They are lined up completely out the door," Mr. Benry stated, his voice filled with deep disbelief. "They are filling the front hallway, and some are even waiting outside on the stone steps because there is no more room inside. The hallway is entirely full of gentlemen."

Delaney’s hazel eyes widened in absolute shock. Her jaw dropped open slightly. "What? A hallway full of gentlemen? I do not know any gentlemen in this county. I have been locked away my entire life."

Mr. Benry sighed again. He raised his gloved hand.

He gave her the folded piece of cheap, coarse paper he had been holding.

"It is the morning gossip pamphlet, my lady," Mr. Benry explained quietly as Delaney took the paper from his hand. "It was delivered by the post boy early this morning from the local village."

Because Delaney never cared for such silly society gossips, and because her uncle Cole had never allowed her to read them anyway, Mr. Benry usually threw these pamphlets directly into the kitchen fire without a second thought. He knew they contained nothing but lies and cruel rumors. But seeing a massive, bold headline entirely about the Lady of the house, he had felt it his absolute duty to keep this specific one. He handed her the pamphlet so she could see the terrible truth for herself.

Delaney unfolded the cheap paper. The black ink was fresh and smudged slightly against her clean fingers.

Aunt Renee leaned over her shoulder to read the large, bold, dramatic letters printed across the very top of the page.

THE KINGSLEY HEIRESS RETURNS! A MASSIVE FORTUNE RECLAIMED!

Delaney’s eyes scanned the small, messy print rapidly. She read the words, feeling a cold knot form in her stomach.

The news had traveled from the high courts of London to the quiet countryside with impossible speed. The gossip writer had detailed the dramatic trial at the House of Lords. The writer loudly declared that the Kingsley heiress, who had been missing for twenty years, was finally back, completely free from her wicked, convicted uncle.

But the most damaging and dangerous part of the article was the final paragraph. The writer boldly announced to the entire county that Lady Delaney Kingsley was currently unmarried, completely independent, without a father or brother to protect her, and was officially entering the competitive marriage mart.

Delaney lowered the paper. She felt a sudden, heavy wave of exhaustion wash over her. She closed her eyes for a brief second.

She understood exactly what was happening.

Now that her social status had completely changed from a hidden, abused, silent orphan to a titled Lady with a massive country estate, expensive jewels, and restored bank accounts, the greedy wolves of society had quickly caught the scent of gold.

Every single ambitious man in the county wanted to secure the new heiress’s massive fortune for himself.

The law of the land was incredibly cruel to women. Under the strict legal doctrine of coverture in English law, a woman’s entire legal identity was completely merged with her husband’s the very moment she said her vows. She ceased to exist as a separate legal person. Technically and legally, any personal property, vast lands, or heavy cash she brought into the marriage immediately became his to control, spend, or gamble away as he pleased. A husband had absolute power over his wife’s wealth.

So, reading the morning gossip pamphlet, every desperate gold digger, every poor younger son with no inheritance of his own, and every supposedly respectable gentleman in the surrounding area had rushed directly to her front doors.

They wanted to court her before she could be claimed by someone else. They did not care about her heart. They did not care about the terrible trauma she had suffered. They only cared about the gold coins resting in the Kingsley vaults. They wanted to win the grand prize of the season.

Delaney felt a sharp spike of anger burn in her chest. She had finally escaped her greedy uncle, only to be surrounded by a hundred other greedy men.

She folded the cheap paper firmly, creasing the edges sharply.

She gave the pamphlet back to the butler.

"Thank you, Mr. Benry," Delaney said. Her voice dropped into a flat, completely unimpressed, and highly serious tone. "I understand the situation now. Please throw this paper directly into the kitchen fire."

"Right away, my lady," Mr. Benry nodded, taking the offending paper back and slipping it into his pocket.

Delaney took a deep breath. She smoothed her yellow silk skirts one final time. She lifted her chin high into the air. She called upon the quiet strength she had learned over the past month.

She would absolutely not let a room full of greedy, pathetic strangers intimidate her in her own home.

She turned to Aunt Renee.

"Aunt Renee," Delaney said. Her voice was incredibly steady, completely composed, and remarkably calm. "Let us go in and entertain a few guests."

Renee looked at her niece with deep, genuine concern. Her brow furrowed in worry.

"Are you absolutely sure, Delaney?" Aunt Renee asked softly, placing a comforting hand on Delaney’s arm. "We can have Mr. Benry and the footmen send them all away immediately. We can tell them you are not receiving callers today. You do not have to speak to any of these men."

Delaney shook her head firmly.

"No, Aunt Renee," Delaney reasoned calmly. "They already know I am home. The servants have let them inside. If I hide in my room today, they will simply come back tomorrow, and the next day. They will camp outside my gates. I must show them immediately that I am the master of this house, and I am not a foolish girl to be easily tricked."

Delaney adjusted her posture, standing perfectly straight.

"And," she added, her proper aristocratic manners taking over, "I am a Lady. I must not be incredibly rude to callers who arrived at my front door, no matter their hidden, greedy intentions. I will offer them exactly one cup of tea, and then I will send them all away."

Aunt Renee nodded her head in absolute agreement.

"Very well," Aunt Renee said, lifting her own chin proudly. "I am right beside you, my dear."

Delaney turned back toward the hallway leading to the drawing room.

They walked slowly and gracefully down the short corridor. As Mr. Benry had warned them, there was a long, incredibly awkward line of men standing in the hallway.

It was a ridiculous sight. There were older men with thinning gray hair, leaning heavily on polished walking sticks, hoping a young rich wife would care for them in their old age. There were very young men wearing overly bright, heavily perfumed coats, trying to look wealthy and important. There were loud men and quiet men. They all clutched small, pathetic bouquets of wilting flowers or small, printed calling cards in their gloved hands.

When Delaney and Aunt Renee walked past the line of men, a sudden, heavy silence fell over the crowded corridor.

Every single man stopped whispering to his neighbor. They all stopped shifting on their feet. They all stared openly at the beautiful, dark-haired woman in the pale yellow silk dress.

They saw her beauty, but more importantly, they saw the immense wealth represented by the fine Italian silk she wore.

They all bowed respectfully as she passed by them. They swept their hats low, trying desperately to catch her eye, hoping to stand out from the large crowd.

Delaney did not look at a single one of them. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead, staring directly at the double doors at the end of the hall.

She reached the open double doors. She did not hesitate for a single second. She stepped forward and boldly entered the formal drawing room, entirely ready to face the first victim.