A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 212 - Two Hundred And Twelve

Delaney nodded her head gently. She kept her gloved hands perfectly still by her sides, gripping the fabric of her skirt very lightly to avoid any nervous, twitching gestures that might betray her true, hidden intentions.

"I am, Uncle," Delaney replied smoothly. She decided to offer a highly clever, perfectly calculated lie that would not only explain her absence but would also deeply appease his incredibly frugal, money-hoarding nature.

"I am going into the village to pick my wedding dress from the dressmaker," Delaney explained, her voice entirely innocent. "Aunt Eunice was kind enough to give me the old, white gown that Anne used for her coming-out season a few years ago. I did not want to waste your generous marriage portion on a brand new silk gown when Anne’s was perfectly acceptable. So, I took it to the dressmaker a few days ago to simply alter the hemline and add some fresh, modern lace to the bodice. I am going to collect it today so it is completely ready for tomorrow’s journey."

Cole’s eyes widened slightly, and a massive, genuine smile broke across his sharp face. The slight, lingering tension in his broad shoulders relaxed entirely.

He thought to himself, watching her bright, agreeable, seemingly innocent face.

Look at her. She is even anticipating the wedding more than me. She has truly, finally accepted her fate without putting up a single fight. She wants to look beautiful for Hawksley. And best of all, it is costing me far, far less than I ever feared! Using Anne’s old dress! What a wonderfully practical, obedient girl she has finally become!

Cole chuckled. It was a dry, raspy, grating sound that echoed strangely in the quiet, sunlit bedroom.

"You do just that, my dear," Cole encouraged her, waving his hand in a magnanimous, overly generous gesture. "It is very good to be prepared. Lord Hawksley is a very important man of the Ton. He appreciates punctuality, neatness, and obedience in a woman. You are making a very wise choice by ensuring everything is ready."

Cole took a step further into the room, his heavy leather boots creaking softly on the polished wooden floorboards.

Then, his eyes narrowed slightly as he suddenly remembered something highly important. He reached his hand into the inner breast pocket of his dark brown coat and pulled out a folded piece of thick, expensive parchment.

"Speaking of the wedding," Cole said, tapping the edge of the folded letter against the palm of his other hand. "He sent a letter late last night by a special, incredibly fast courier from London. I believe his butler must have written it, as the handwriting was quite hurried, sloppy, and not Lord Hawksley’s usual elegant script."

Delaney felt a sudden, sharp, violent spike of adrenaline pierce directly through the center of her chest. Her heart instantly began to hammer a wild, frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She knew exactly what was happening. But she forced her face to remain perfectly blank, tilting her head slightly to project an image of mild, polite curiosity.

"Oh?" Delaney asked softly, her voice giving absolutely nothing away.

"Yes," Cole continued, puffing out his chest proudly as if the news reflected incredibly well upon his own personal social standing. "Lord Hawksley has been summoned by the House of Lords yesterday afternoon. A very sudden, very urgent, and highly secretive meeting."

Delaney smirked inwardly. A warm, brilliant, completely overwhelming rush of absolute triumph washed over her entire soul.

She knew exactly why Lord Hawksley had been summoned. Rowan had done it. Her golden puppy had finally struck. The Crown had officially, legally sent for the traitor.

The massive, inescapable trap was springing completely shut in London at this very moment, and her foolish uncle was standing in her bedroom, completely and utterly blind to his own impending doom.

But she could not let him see her victory. She had to play the fool until the very last second.

She widened her hazel eyes dramatically. She clasped her gray-gloved hands tightly together in front of her chest and feigned sheer, delighted, girlish excitement.

"Summoned by the House of Lords?" Delaney gasped softly, acting exactly like a silly, highly ambitious girl who only cared about titles and shiny jewels. "Do you think they want to elevate his status, Uncle? Do you think he is to be made an Earl or a Marquess?"

Cole stopped tapping the letter against his palm. He paused, looking down at the parchment, thinking about her question deeply. He stroked his graying chin, his greedy, calculating mind working rapidly to connect the false dots he wanted to see.

Lord Hawksley had been working closely with Lord Farrington for a very, very long time. Farrington was a highly powerful Earl with immense, shadowy influence and vast power in the parliament. It was highly possible, even extremely probable in Cole’s greedy mind, that Lord Farrington was finally rewarding Hawksley for his years of quiet, unquestioning loyalty by granting him a higher seat in the Lords.

"It is very, very likely," Cole murmured, his eyes gaining a distant, highly calculating, and incredibly greedy gleam.

He snapped back to the present and finished delivering his message, returning his full attention to his supposedly innocent niece.

"Because of this highly important, sudden political business," Cole explained, his voice taking on a tone of great importance, "he cannot travel down here to the country for a quiet, rural wedding as we originally planned. He is simply too busy with the Lords. Instead, he will send a very fine, well-guarded carriage to come here tomorrow morning and pick you up."

Cole pointed a finger at her, making sure she understood the new arrangement.

"You will travel directly to his London residence in Mayfair," Cole stated, "and the wedding ceremony will be performed quietly and swiftly there, in a chapel. I hope you are ready for the journey?"

Delaney’s brilliant mind raced with incredible speed.

She picked up on all the subtle, desperate clues her uncle had entirely missed in his blind greed. Hawksley’s butler had written the letter because Hawksley was likely already detained by the royal magistrates and strictly forbidden to write or communicate himself. He was not sending a carriage because of an elevated status; he was completely trapped in London by the long arm of the law, and he was desperately, frantically trying to secure his bride and flee before his entire corrupt world collapsed around him.

Delaney replied, her voice soft and full of fake, overwhelming gratitude. She looked at Cole as if he were the greatest hero in the world.

"I am ready," Delaney breathed out, her eyes shining with fake joy. "Thank you so much, Uncle, for arranging such a wonderful, incredible match for me. Thank you for taking care of me. Now I will also be a true lady of the Ton. I will make you very, very proud."

Cole looked at her smiling, grateful face.

He thought to himself, his heart beating faster and faster with greed.

If Hawksley truly gets elevated to a higher title by the House of Lords, his personal wealth will double overnight. The final, massive payment he promised me upon the delivery of the girl will surely be increased. I will not accept the original terms! I will demand fifty thousand gold pounds before I let her step a single foot into that carriage tomorrow! I will be rich!

The sheer, intoxicating thought of possessing so much gold made him absolutely giddy. He could not contain his joy.

Cole threw his head back and gave a loud, boisterous laughter. The sound was harsh, incredibly grating, and entirely devoid of any true warmth or human affection.

"It is the absolute least I could do for my dear, sweet niece," Cole declared grandly, wiping a fake tear of mirth from his eye. "We are family, after all, Delaney. We must look out for one another. Now, go and get your dress from the dressmaker. Time is of the absolute essence so that you will have enough time to pack your trunks perfectly for tomorrow’s grand journey."

Delaney nodded her head obediently. She offered him another small, perfect, highly respectful curtsy.

"Okay, Uncle," Delaney said gently, her voice perfectly submissive. "I will not be long. I will return before luncheon."

Cole turned sharply on his heel. He walked out of the bedroom, humming a merry, tuneless song under his breath, completely, utterly oblivious to the massive, inescapable destruction looming right over his head. He pulled the door shut, leaving her alone.

The very moment the brass latch clicked firmly into place, Delaney’s polite, incredibly pleasant smile dropped instantly.

The submissive, obedient bride completely vanished. Her face turned incredibly cold and hard.

She turned away from the door and walked slowly over to the window. She looked down through the glass at the small, open carriage waiting patiently in the circular gravel driveway below. Hamish was standing tall and alert by the horses, completely ready to drive her into town to secure the final, damning piece of evidence.

She placed her gloved hand flat against the cool glass of the windowpanes.

She thought to herself, her heart beating with a steady, fearless, and terrifying rhythm.

"Rowan has started moving the pieces on the board. It is my turn now."