A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 97 - Ninety Seven

Ines walked in first, followed closely by Delaney, and then Smith Jones.

"Everyone," Ines announced cheerfully, gesturing to the handsome man in the navy coat. "What a wonderful surprise! Captain Smith has returned early from his duties in Portsmouth to surprise his dear wife."

For a second, there was dead silence.

Then, Aunt Margery proved exactly why she was the reigning Aunt of London society. She did not miss a single beat. She fell into the act so flawlessly that even Delaney was impressed.

Aunt Margery practically threw Fifi off her lap and stood up, throwing her arms wide open.

"Smith, my boy!" Aunt Margery boomed joyfully, walking across the room as fast as her age would allow. She grabbed the actor by the shoulders and planted a loud, fake kiss on his cheek. "Look at you! Safe and sound on dry land! How have you been? How are the terrible English waters?"

Smith Jones was a true professional. He caught the rhythm instantly. He wrapped his arms around the older woman in a warm, familial hug.

"Been really tasking, Aunt," Smith replied, sighing dramatically as he stepped back. "The storms off the coast were fierce. But the thought of coming home kept the crew moving forward."

He turned his body away from Aunt Margery.

He looked directly at Delaney.

Smith’s face completely transformed. The polite, charming smile vanished, replaced by a look of deep, profound, soulful affection. He looked at Delaney as if she were the only source of light in a dark room. He stepped toward her, his movements slow and reverent.

He reached out and gently took Delaney’s hands in his own.

"My dear," Smith said, his voice dropping to a soft, husky whisper that carried perfectly to every corner of the silent drawing room. "I have missed you terribly."

Delaney felt her hands tremble slightly in his warm grip. She stared at him.

"Wow," Delaney thought to herself in pure shock. "He’s good." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Smith gently lifted her right hand and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles. He did not break eye contact.

"Thank you for taking care of her while I was away," Smith continued, playing his script perfectly. He raised his free hand and very carefully, very respectfully, tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind Delaney’s ear. "I’m so happy to see you. You are looking more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

Delaney forced a blush to her cheeks. She lowered her eyelashes, playing the part of the bashful, loving wife.

"Welcome home, husband," Delaney murmured.

Across the room, a loud, sharp crack echoed through the air.

Everyone turned their heads.

Rowan Hamilton had gripped the wooden edge of the marble mantelpiece so hard that the polished wood had actually splintered under his massive strength.

Rowan was literally looking like a kettle filled with boiling water, whistling to its owner.

His face was no longer pale. It was dark with absolute, murderous fury. The muscle in his square jaw was ticking so fast it looked like a pulse. His chest heaved up and down as he fought to draw air into his lungs. His bright brown eyes were fixed entirely on Smith’s hand, which was still resting near Delaney’s face.

If looks could kill, the actor playing Captain Smith would have been dead and buried under the floorboards in five seconds.

Rowan took a step forward. He looked massive, imposing, and entirely unhinged.

"Captain," Rowan ground out. The word sounded like a threat. He forced his hands behind his back so he would not cross the room and wrap them around the other man’s throat. "Welcome to Hamilton House. I am... happy you returned safely.

Smith turned away from Delaney, keeping one arm casually draped around her waist. Delaney stiffened, remembering her threat about the bullet, but she allowed the touch for the sake of the audience.

Smith bowed to Rowan. "Your Grace. Thank you for your hospitality. My wife has written to me about your kindness."

"Has she?" Rowan asked. His voice was dripping with acid. He stared at Smith’s arm around Delaney’s waist. He wanted to chop it off. "How wonderful."

Lady Farrington, sensing the heavy, masculine tension in the room, stood up. She looked closely at Smith, inspecting his coat, his boots, and his manners.

"Captain Smith," Lady Farrington said, her tone cool and assessing. "We were just discussing you. Lord Sterling mentioned you are a very jealous man."

Smith laughed. It was a rich, confident sound. He pulled Delaney just a fraction of an inch closer to his side.

"Only when it comes to my wife, my lady," Smith replied smoothly, looking down at Delaney with a fond smile. "A man must guard his most precious treasure, must he not?"

Rowan’s eyes flashed with violent fire. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Indeed," Rowan said, his voice dropping dangerously low. "But one must also remember that a treasure does not belong to a man simply because he claims it. It must be earned."

The room went dead silent.

The underlying threat in the Duke’s words was impossible to miss. It was a direct challenge. It was two stags locking horns in a forest.

Celine looked at Rowan in shock. She had never seen him act this aggressively. He was practically baring his teeth.

Lady Farrington frowned, confused by the Duke’s sudden hostility toward the other man.

Ines, however, was in absolute heaven.

She stood near the tea table, watching the entire scene unfold with the keen eye of a theater director watching a masterpiece.

She saw the way Rowan was breathing heavily. She saw the sheer, unadulterated jealousy radiating off his body in waves of heat. She saw that he was completely ignoring Lady Celine, his actual intended bride, to glare at a stranger touching Delaney.

Ines crossed her arms and took a sip of her cold tea. She looked at her brother’s tortured, furious face.

"I need to know what you want, Rowan," Ines thought to herself as she watched his reaction. She watched him track every single movement Smith made.

"You say you must marry for duty," Ines continued in her own mind. "You say you must secure the estate. But look at you. You are ready to commit murder in a drawing room because another man is holding her hand."

Ines smiled softly behind her teacup.

"Do you want this marriage, brother?" Ines thought, her hazel eyes locking onto Rowan. "Or do you want Miss Kingsley? Because you are running out of time to decide."

Aunt Margery, sensing that Rowan was about three seconds away from throwing a punch, loudly clapped her hands together.

"Well!" Aunt Margery shouted, startling everyone. "This calls for a celebration! Mr. Simmons! Bring the good sherry! Captain Smith must be parched from his journey!"

"Yes, my lady," Simmons said, quickly leaving the room to escape the tension.

Smith looked down at Delaney. "Are you well, my love? You look a bit pale."

"I am perfectly well," Delaney forced out through gritted teeth, stepping subtly out of his embrace. "Just... overwhelmed by your sudden return."

"I shall not leave your side for the next three days," Smith promised loudly, playing his part to perfection.

Lady Farrington asked, " Three days? That’s too short."

"I’m afraid it is, My Lady, but duty calls." Smith replied, smiling. " I just have three days to be with my beloved before I’ll be apart from her again."

Rowan turned his back on them abruptly. He walked to the window and gripped the heavy velvet curtains, staring blindly out at the lawn.

He closed his eyes.

Three days. He had to endure this man touching her, calling her his love, claiming her in front of the world for three entire days.

Rowan squeezed the velvet fabric until his knuckles popped. He didn’t know if he was going to survive the afternoon, let alone three days, without doing something entirely disastrous.