“No, no, Lily! You cannot wear a fichu with that ball gown! It isn’t at all the thing, you know.” Charlotte sounded as if she were about to collapse with laughter.

The door connecting the two rooms stood open, and another shriek of glee made Delia clutch her head in pain. Charlotte and Lily had been closeted in Lily’s room all morning, deep in consultations over their gowns for the ball the following evening.

Delia had retreated to her own room after breakfast and spent the rest of the morning hiding there under the pretense of writing a letter home. She picked up her latest attempt and slowly crumpled it in her hands. The sheet was so crossed and blotted it was unreadable.

Her eyes felt swollen and dry, and her head ached terribly.

There was another screech of laughter from Lily’s room. “Hide it? Nonsense, my dear. We’ll do all we can to call attention to it!”

“But, Charlotte.” Poor Lily sounded a little desperate. “It’s cut so low. I’m not accustomed to … That is, it exposes so much of my …” Her voice trailed off into a forlorn squeak.

“Exactly. That’s the very point. You may count yourself fortunate you have a bosom worth displaying. I know at least one gentleman who will be exceedingly grateful indeed.”

“Lord Archibald?” Lily sounded resigned. “But he’s such an awful rogue, Charlotte.”

“Oh my, yes,” Charlotte replied blithely. “But a rich, handsome, and titled one!”

Delia rose from the desk, crossed the room, and closed the door that connected her room to Lily’s. The last thing she wished to hear about this morning was rich, handsome, and titled rogues. She lay down on the bed, pulled a fluffy pillow over her face, and immediately commenced thinking about rich, handsome, and titled rogues.

Well, one specific one anyway. She didn’t want to think about him or the scene in the stables, but the effort to keep from doing so was exhausting her. She was sure it was the reason she had such a dreadful headache. She pulled the pillow off her face and shoved it under her head. So she was going to lie here and think about it, and when she’d done so, she was never, ever going to think about it again.

Alec wished she’d never come here. Well, that made two of them, so that wasn’t what was making her feel as though her heart had been cut to ribbons.

So her father had been “a nobody” and her mother a scandal, so much so even their own grandmother pretended she and her sisters didn’t exist. Very well. Delia could bear that. The part about her father hurt a bit, but the truth was Henry Somerset had been somebody, somebody very special indeed, and nothing anyone said about him could change that.

What else? Oh, yes. A marriage to Delia would disgrace the entire Sutherland family, so Alec had only been pretending he desired her, in order to keep her out of Robyn’s way. She was fit to be Robyn’s mistress, but men like the Sutherlands only married wealthy aristocrats like Lady Lisette. As far as Alec was concerned, Delia was no more significant than the young woman he’d been debauching on the day she arrived in Kent.

Oh, God. That did hurt. It hurt terribly. She rolled onto her back, threw an arm over her eyes, and let the misery wash over her.

But even this wasn’t the worst of it. She’d tried to deny it, and she’d tried to pretend it wasn’t true, but there was no help for it. The truth, the very worst part of the whole awful affair, was she knew how much it must have hurt Alec when Robyn said he was just like their father, the late earl. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alec’s face when she’d walked into the stables after Robyn stormed out. He’d looked so pale, so lost. Of all the ugly, hurtful words said that day, it was these words that left Delia gasping with the pain that flooded her heart.

The more fool she, but there it was.

It was time for her to go back to Surrey. Back home. She’d thought she could come here and prove something to these people. To Alec. To herself, really. But she wasn’t as strong as her mother, after all. Millicent hadn’t been exiled by society. She’d chosen not to be a part of this world, and she’d orchestrated her own exit on her own terms, and never looked back.

Running away back to Surrey with a broken heart wasn’t the same thing at all, was it?

Delia rolled over onto her side, drew her knees up against her chest, and closed her eyes. A few tears leaked out to dampen her pillow, but she tamped them down before they could become a deluge. What good would it do to lie there and snivel and whimper about it? It was over and done with, and she wasn’t going to waste any more time thinking about it. Crying about it. Wishing things were different …

“Delia? Delia!”

Delia woke a little while later to find Lily standing over her bed, shaking her shoulder gently. “You missed luncheon.” Lily sat down at the foot of the bed and looked at Delia with concern. “I almost woke you, but you looked so tired.”

“It’s all right.” Delia sat up. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.” She felt a little better now. Her heart was still bleeding, but at least her headache had eased somewhat. “Where’s Charlotte?”

“She went for a walk with Lord Archibald.”

“You didn’t want to walk with them?”

“No.” Lily avoided her sister’s eyes. “I want to talk to you about something, actually.”

Delia groaned to herself. Oh, for pity’s sake! What now? She wasn’t sure she could handle any more surprises.

“Charlotte has invited us to accompany the family to London for the season,” Lily began carefully. “Lady Carlisle extended a formal invitation yesterday afternoon. You are invited, as well, of course.”

Delia felt her heart plummet into her stomach. It was lovely of Lady Carlisle to invite them, but there was no way she could go, given the circumstances. The only place she was going was back to Surrey. Soon. And now it looked like she was going alone.

She bit her lip to keep from loudly enumerating all the reasons why Lily shouldn’t go, either. London was wicked. The ton was wicked, especially the gentlemen. It wasn’t proper for Lily to go without Delia. Lily didn’t have the right clothes. The right slippers. The right jewelry. Or, indeed, any jewelry at all. And finally, grasping at straws: the journey was too long and wet. Lily could catch cold.

It was all nonsense, of course. London might be wicked, but one could get up to wickedness anywhere, like a house party in Kent, for example. Delia couldn’t argue that she was a more appropriate chaperone than Lady Carlisle, either, who had not, as far as Delia knew, been locked in a passionate embrace with an almost-engaged rake of an earl at the bottom of the staircase last night. As to clothes, well—Charlotte had mountains of them. Enough for a dozen young ladies to attend every party of the season without ever appearing twice in the same gown.

“That is so kind of Lady Carlisle,” Delia said, “but I can’t go, dear.”

“No, I didn’t suppose you would. I don’t think this visit has agreed with you, Delia. You’ve been rather out of sorts since we arrived.” There was a pause, then, “Do you suppose I may go, just the same?”

Lily looked at her with pleading eyes.

Delia sighed. Oh, how she’d miss her pristine, fastidious little sister! But she couldn’t think of a single person who deserved a chance to see some of the world beyond Surrey more than Lily did, and this was likely Lily’s best chance to do so. They had one other connection in London—Lady Anne Chase, their maternal grandmother. But Alec was right about her. There was only resounding silence from that quarter. She would never acknowledge them.

“Of course you must go.” Delia was thankful her voice wasn’t shaking. “I would like to have a word with Lady Carlisle first to settle the details, but that’s simple enough.”

Lily clapped her hands with delight. “Oh, thank you, Delia! Oh, how wonderful.” Lily’s face glowed with excitement. “I’ll miss you terribly, though.” She looked at Delia, her bright expression fading a little. “I wish we could both—”

“You won’t even notice I’m not there after a week, because you’ll be so engaged with parties and balls.” Delia tried to ignore the sharp pang in her chest. “Besides, one of us must go back to Surrey and make sure our sisters haven’t locked Hannah in a cupboard.”

Lily laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that. Poor Hannah. When will you go?”

“Soon, I think,” Delia replied vaguely. Very soon.

“I must go tell Charlotte.” Lily jumped up from the bed and rushed to the door. “Oh, Delia, before I forget. Eleanor is looking for you. She’d like you to come to her bedchamber when you wake. She said she wants to show you something.”

Delia threw her legs over the side of the bed. She enjoyed Eleanor’s company very much, and a visit with her friend sounded like just the thing. “Have you seen Lady Carlisle this afternoon?”

“Charlotte said she’s in her private sitting room, finalizing details for the ball tomorrow night. Will you go and see her now?”

Delia nodded. “Yes, I think so. I’ll go to Eleanor afterwards.”

“I’ll go find Charlotte. Lord Archibald awaits, after all.” She gave Delia an impish smile. “Delia?”

Delia stood at the looking glass, repinning her hair. “Yes?”

“I know you’ve been unhappy since we arrived here. No,” she continued quickly, when Delia started to speak. “I’m not going to ask why, because you’ll tell me yourself if you want to. I know you didn’t want to come to Kent, and that you came for my sake. Thank you. You’re a wonderful sister. I just wanted to say that.”

“Oh, Lily.” Delia’s throat went tight.

“Now fix your hair,” Lily said with a grin before Delia could say another word. “It’s a disaster.”

“One of many, I’m afraid,” Delia murmured to herself after the door had closed behind Lily.

Within the quarter hour she’d tidied her appearance and was standing in the hallway outside Lady Carlisle’s private sitting room, her hand poised in front of the handsomely carved door like a pale bird arrested in mid-flight. It was silly to be nervous. Lady Carlisle had been nothing but kind since they’d arrived at Bellwood, but Delia wasn’t looking forward to discussing the one little nasty of piece of business that brought her here.

She sighed and willed her knuckles to make contact with the polished wood.

“Yes?” Lady Carlisle’s voice carried clearly into the hallway.

Delia opened the door and peeked around it. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

“Oh, Miss Somerset. Please come in. Won’t you sit down?” Lady Carlisle gestured to the tea service on a small table next to a sumptuous blue velvet chair. “Will you take tea?”

“No, thank you, my lady.” Delia took a seat on a tufted yellow satin settee.

Lady Carlisle settled herself on the chair across from Delia and folded her hands serenely in her lap. “What a surprise to see you here.” She regarded Delia with her kind dark eyes.

But Lady Carlisle didn’t look surprised. Delia had the oddest sense the older woman knew precisely why she was there. Oh, good God. Surely Alec hadn’t confided the details of their sordid little game to his mother? Just the thought made Delia squirm nervously in her seat.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Lily tells me she’s been invited to accompany your family to London for the season.”

Lady Carlisle nodded. “Yes. I do know you have responsibilities at home, however. Three younger sisters, I believe? I hope we don’t presume too much in extending the invitation.”

“Presume? Oh, no, my lady. Not at all. It’s just …” She stopped, not sure how to get the next words out gracefully. “That is, our grandmother … I did want to make it clear our maternal grandmother does not …” Delia trailed off hopelessly, realizing too late there was no graceful way to explain their wretched grandmother would likely cut Lily directly if she were to see her at a party or ball in London.

“Ah, yes. Lady Chase.” Lady Carlisle set her porcelain teacup carefully in the saucer. “I’m acquainted with her. She’s very grand, is she not? I believe you wish to tell me she doesn’t receive you?”

“Yes.” Delia released the breath she was holding. She was grateful to Lady Carlisle for so generously excusing her from having to say it. “Doubtless you will encounter her at various social functions, and I’m afraid there may be some awkwardness. Lily and I have no wish to embarrass the Sutherlands—”

“My dear Miss Somerset,” Lady Carlisle interrupted gently. “Please don’t concern yourself with this. I don’t think any of us need concern ourselves with Lady Chase at all.”

Delia gazed at her companion with admiration. Lady Carlisle was saying, in her refined way, that the Sutherlands had more than enough social clout to withstand being cut by Lady Chase. Delia’s own mother had had the same gift of saying a great deal with a few well-placed words.

“Then I have no hesitation at all in encouraging Lily to accompany you to London,” Delia replied with a smile. “It’s a wonderful adventure for her. Lily will make the most of this opportunity without ever causing you a moment’s concern.”

Lady Carlisle raised one fine, dark eyebrow. “The invitation was extended to you, as well, Miss Somerset. My daughters have such pleasure in your company.”

Delia’s face fell.

The trouble isn’t your daughters, my lady. It’s your son. The elder has rather too much pleasure in my company, and for all the wrong reasons.

But it would never do to say so, no matter that Delia was almost irresistibly tempted to confide everything to the countess. She pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out the truth. “You are very kind, my lady. But under the circumstances—”

Oops. That wasn’t quite what she’d intended to say, for she’d much rather believe Lady Carlisle didn’t have any inkling of the circumstances she referred to. Delia bit her lip and tried again. “What I mean is, it would be better for everyone if …”

Blast. It was impossible to lie with Lady Carlisle’s benevolent dark eyes upon her. Fortunately there was outright lying, and then there was simply withholding the entire truth. Delia clenched her hands in her lap. “As you said, my lady, I have responsibilities at home. Our younger sisters need a steady influence.”

Not that I’m qualified to provide one. Look at what a mess she’d made of things during her short visit to Bellwood.

But Lady Carlisle nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course. We’ll feel your loss most keenly, though.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Delia rose from her seat and dipped into a curtsy.

She was at the door when Lady Carlisle stopped her. “Miss Somerset? I hope you will not judge my son too harshly.”

Delia froze. Her heart rushed up from her chest and lodged in her throat.

Lady Carlisle watched her steadily. “His father was a … difficult man. Alec, as the eldest, suffered the worst of it, I’m afraid, and since he became the earl, he’s had to muddle through as best he can. He’s made many mistakes, but most of them arise from his wish to protect this family. Indeed, he tries rather too hard sometimes.” She paused and looked calmly up at Delia, who still hovered by the door. “I’m sure you can understand that kind of concern for one’s family. Can’t you, Miss Somerset?”

Delia looked into Lady Carlisle’s intelligent dark eyes. She understood it perfectly. It had never occurred to her before, but perhaps in some ways she and Alec were quite a lot alike. “Yes, I believe I can.”

Lady Carlisle smiled. “I thought so.” With that cryptic reply, she retrieved her tea from the table and nodded politely.

Delia considered herself dismissed. She closed the door behind her and walked down the hallway in the direction of Eleanor’s room, lost in thought. When she reached the family wing of the house, however, she stopped and looked around blankly.

Drat. She was staring down a long hallway of identical closed doors. She retraced her steps back to the staircase and then walked forward again, counting doors this time, but it was no use.

She couldn’t remember which room was Eleanor’s.