A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 141 - Hundred And Forty One

The next morning, the sky was still a deep, inky black. Before the sun woke up to paint the horizon with the soft pinks and golds of dawn, the Hamilton household was already awake and moving.

The urgency of their mission hung heavy in the cold air. True to Carcel’s word, a fast rider had arrived from London the evening before. The man’s horse had been covered in sweat, and his boots were thick with mud. He had handed a sealed letter directly to Mr. Simmons, who had carried it straight to the Duke’s study.

Rowan had received the letter from Vance the evening before, exactly as Carcel said he would. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper with a hastily scribbled address. It was the location of a small, forgotten cottage on the far outskirts of a quiet coastal village. It was where Miss Flora, the dismissed handmaiden, had been hiding for three long years.

The entire journey would take two days of hard, continuous travel in a heavy carriage. There was absolutely no time to waste.

Inside the Blue Suite, the fire in the grate had burned down to a pile of gray ash. The room was freezing.

A soft, polite knock sounded at the heavy wooden door.

Delaney stirred beneath the thick, warm quilts of her large bed. She pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders, reluctant to leave the lingering warmth of her dreams.

The door opened with a quiet creak. A small pool of warm, flickering orange light spilled into the dark room.

Sarah stepped inside carrying a lit candle in a brass holder. She walked carefully across the thick carpet and stopped near the edge of the bed.

"Miss Kingsley," Sarah called out softly.

Delaney opened her eyes with a soft, tired groan. The room was terribly dark, and her body felt heavy. She had spent half the night tossing and turning, worrying about the long journey ahead and the fact that she would be sitting in a small, enclosed carriage with the Duke of Ford throughout the entire journey.

"I’m awake," Delaney replied. Her voice was husky and thick with sleep. " I’m awake."

She sat up slowly, pushing her tangled dark hair out of her eyes. She rubbed her face, forcing herself to wake up.

Sarah came in fully, setting the candle down on the bedside table. She quickly moved to the washstand, pouring fresh water from a porcelain pitcher into the matching bowl.

"I brought warm water, Miss Kingsley," Sarah said kindly. "And cook has packed a large basket of food for the carriage. His Grace is already downstairs giving instructions to the drivers."

Delaney nodded her thanks. She slipped her bare feet out from under the covers. The cold air raised goosebumps on her arms through her thin cotton nightgown. She moved quickly to wash her face, the warm water helping to clear the lingering fog from her mind.

Sarah helped her get ready. The maid pulled a heavy, dark gray woolen traveling dress from the wardrobe. It was a practical, sensible garment, designed for warmth and comfort during long, bumpy rides rather than for showing off in a ballroom. It had long, tight sleeves and a high collar that buttoned securely at the throat.

Delaney dressed quickly. She sat at the dressing table while Sarah brushed her dark hair, pulling it back into a simple, tight braid that would not easily tangle in the wind. She pinned a dark, modest bonnet to her head and draped a thick woolen shawl over her shoulders. She looked exactly like a serious, respectable lady preparing for a difficult journey.

"Thank you, Sarah," Delaney said, pulling on her dark leather gloves.

She picked up her small travel bag with her things and walked out of the room. She moved quietly down the grand, silent staircase. The manor was full of shadows, lit only by the lamps carried by the footmen who were busy moving trunks out the front doors.

Outside the courtyard, the morning air was bitterly cold. A thick, white mist clung to the gravel driveway and the stone walls of the estate.

A large, heavy traveling carriage stood waiting in the center of the courtyard. Four strong, dark horses were harnessed to the front, their breath puffing out in white clouds of steam in the freezing air. Two footmen were busy strapping the final leather trunks to the back of the carriage and the maids had taken the large basket of food and a carboy of water inside the carriage.

" Why did he pack a lot of things like he would be gone for months?" Delaney thought to herself, looking at the trunks then at her small bag. " Isn’t it a bit much?"

Standing near the open carriage door, illuminated by the warm, yellow glow of a hanging iron lantern, were Rowan and Aunt Margery.

Rowan wore a heavy, dark wool greatcoat that reached down past his knees. The collar was turned up against the wind. He looked massive, serious, and entirely capable of handling whatever dangers lay ahead on the road. He was listening intently to his aunt.

Aunt Margery was wrapped in a thick, dark green velvet cloak. She was not holding Fifi this morning, the poodle was fast asleep enjoying the warmth of the room. Her hands were busy gesturing as she spoke quietly but firmly to her nephew. She was giving him last-minute advice, acting exactly like the protective matriarch she truly was.

Delaney tightened her shawl around her chest and walked toward them. The gravel crunched softly beneath her sensible black boots.

Aunt Margery was talking to Rowan when Delaney arrived.

Rowan heard her footsteps. He stopped talking immediately and turned his head. His eyes locked onto Delaney. Despite the early hour and the cold, a soft, warm light entered his eyes the moment he saw her. He took in her plain gray dress, her tight braid, and her pale, beautiful face. To him, she looked absolutely perfect.