A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 30 - Thirty

Delaney landed on her hands and knees on the Persian rug, right at the Duke’s feet. Her leather bag skidded across the floor. Her notebook slid out. Her dignity evaporated instantly.

The room went deadly silent.

Rowan froze. His hand was still on the doorknob. He looked down.

He saw a mess of gray skirts. He saw a severe bun that was slightly askew. He saw a familiar pair of boots.

Delaney squeezed her eyes shut. "Please let the floor open up and swallow me. Please let a sudden earthquake destroy London right now."

She slowly opened one eye. Then the other.

She looked up.

Rowan was towering over her. He was wearing his white shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a dark waistcoat. He looked shocked. His mouth was slightly open. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

Behind him, Mr. Simmons stood by the desk, holding the letter. For the first time in history, the butler looked surprised.

Rowan stared at the woman on his floor.

He knew who it was. Of course he knew. There was only one woman in his house who wore that shade of depressing gray. There was only one woman who had the audacity to be everywhere he didn’t want her to be.

But in his shock, the formal barrier between them shattered. He didn’t think of her as "Miss Kingsley." He didn’t think of her as "The Matchmaker."

He looked at her, sprawled on his rug, looking up at him with wide, guilty hazel eyes.

"Miss Kingsley?" Rowan said. " What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you." He smirk.

Delaney scrambled to her knees. She smoothed her skirt frantically. Her face was burning hot. She was blushing so hard she felt like a tomato.

"Your... Your Grace," she stammered.

She tried to stand up. She stepped on her own hem and stumbled again.

Rowan moved instinctively. He reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her. His grip was strong and warm through the wool of her sleeve.

"Steady," he said automatically. Just like in the alleyway.

He pulled her upright.

They were standing very close. Delaney could smell the scent of ink and sandalwood on him. She could see the faint lines of fatigue around his eyes. She could see the confusion warring with amusement in his expression.

"Miss Kingsley," Rowan said again, letting her name roll off his tongue. He didn’t let go of her arm. "Were you... listening at the door?"

Delaney pulled her arm back. She took a step away, creating a safe distance. She lifted her chin, trying to regain some scrap of authority.

"I was not listening," she lied. Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I was... inspecting the structural integrity of the wood."

Rowan raised an eyebrow. "With your ear?"

"It is a very advanced technique," Delaney said. "You listen for... termites."

Mr. Simmons coughed politely into his hand to hide a smile.

Rowan looked at her. He looked at the door. He looked back at her.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

"You were eavesdropping," he accused. "The professional Miss Kingsley. The woman of rules and schedules. You were spying on me."

"I was waiting to speak with you!" Delaney insisted. "And then I heard... voices. And I didn’t want to interrupt."

"So you fell into the room," Rowan deadpanned.

"It was an accidental entry," Delaney said with great dignity. "Gravity is very unpredictable in this wing of the house."

Rowan laughed.

It was a real laugh. It started in his chest and bubbled up. He shook his head, looking at her with a mixture of exasperation and delight.

"You are terrible at lying," Rowan told her. "But you are excellent at falling."

He walked over and picked up her leather bag. He gathered her notebook. He handed them back to her.

"So," Rowan said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "Since you were inspecting the termites, I assume you heard the letter?"

Delaney hugged her bag to her chest. There was no point in lying now.

"I heard it," she admitted. "The Farringtons. Lady Celine."

Rowan’s smile faded. The tired look returned to his eyes.

"Then you heard that I am declining," he said. "Simmons is writing the note now."

Delaney stepped forward. The matchmaker took over. The embarrassment vanished.

"You cannot decline," she said firmly.

Rowan groaned. He walked back to his desk. "Miss Kingsley, please. Not now. I am tired."

"You have to go," Delaney insisted. She followed him into the room. "Lady Celine is perfect on paper. She is rich, she is titled, and she has been in Paris for three years. Do you know what they speak in Paris, Your Grace?"

Rowan sat down heavily in his chair. "French?"

"French!" Delaney exclaimed. "Criteria Number Three! She speaks the language of passion! She is intelligent enough to navigate foreign society. And she is back in London for the first time."

She placed her hands on his desk, leaning over his paperwork.

"This is not just a ball," she said intensely. "This is a targeted opportunity. If you stay home to sleep, you are failing the mission."

Rowan looked up at her. He looked at the fire in her eyes. She was so passionate about finding him a wife. She was so dedicated to getting rid of him.

He felt a perverse desire to argue just to keep her standing there, looking at him with that fierce expression.

"I don’t like balls anymore," Rowan said stubbornly. "They are hot. The music is loud. And everyone wants something from me."

"I will be there," Delaney said.

Rowan paused. "You?"

"Yes," Delaney said. "I will go as your... shadow. I will help you navigate. I will signal you if a woman is boring."

Rowan looked at her.

"You will come to the ball?" he asked. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Yes," she promised. "I will make sure you survive it."

Rowan looked at Simmons, who was waiting with the pen.

He looked back at Delaney. She looked disheveled from her fall, but her eyes were shining with determination.

He sighed. He knew he was going to regret this.

"Fine," Rowan said.

He looked at Simmons.

"Accept the invitation, Simmons," Rowan ordered. "Tell the Farringtons that the Duke of Ford will attend."

Delaney let out a breath of relief. "Excellent decision, Your Grace."

"But," Rowan added, pointing a finger at Delaney. "If I am bored... if one of those mamas disturbs me with their daughters... I am leaving. And you are coming with me."

"Deal," Delaney said.

"And Miss Kingsley?"

She froze.

"Yes?"

Rowan smirked. "Next time you want to know my schedule... just ask. The floor is very hard."

Delaney flushed pink again from embarrassment. She curtsied awkwardly.

"I will keep that in mind, Your Grace."

She turned and fled the room, walking as fast as she could without running.

Rowan watched her go.

"Miss Kingsley ," he whispered to the empty doorway.

He turned back to Simmons.

"Simmons," Rowan said.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Get my valet to start preparing my evening clothes," Rowan said, picking up his pen. "It seems we are going to a ball soon."