Free Loretta Chase - The Devil's Delilah by Loretta Chase Page A

poetry, is it?"
    "No, Aunt," Delilah said quickly. "Horticulture. Mr. Langdon has a perfect passion for horticulture, do you not sir?" She turned to Jack with a dazzling smile.
    Jack nodded.
    "Since we have some time before tea will be served, you may wish to examine her ladyship's garden." Delilah moved closer to take Jack firmly by the arm. "Perhaps you'll be kind enough to explain the differences between the Greek techniques and modern methods of cultivation."
    Mr. Langdon stiffly avowed himself delighted.
    If Lady Potterby thought her grand-niece rather forward, she must have also recollected that Mr. Langdon, being an exceedingly shy gentleman, might require firm guidance. After giving the young pair permission to retire to the garden, she tried with all the frigid courtesy at her disposal to rid her hallway of the unwelcome visitor.

    "What is that fellow doing here?" Jack asked, when they had turned into the path leading to the decorative herb garden. "I thought your father sent him about his business."
    "Papa told you about him?" said Delilah, dismayed.
    "Your father was kind enough to enlighten me concerning your difficulties — and I do wish you had, Miss Desmond. Had I understood the enormity of the problem, I would never have behaved so — so childishly. To me it was simply a wonderful story," he explained. "I never thought of the difficulties it presented you."
    "Well, now you know. So you can guess that Mr. Atkins has come to plague my father again. Has Papa told you he was paid five hundred pounds?"
    "No. I take it the money has been spent?"
    She shook her head and appeared embarrassed. "We dare not spend it. It's been put aside as — as my dowry. Papa's income comes from cards," she explained quickly. "And no one in England will play him for high stakes. He must send money to my mother in Scotland as well as keep himself here, which means we have nothing to spare." Miss Desmond's smooth brow became furrowed. "Meanwhile, I must have a marriage portion. If I don't marry reasonably well, then we'll probably have to publish — some day. My parents are not getting any younger. It's most vexing, yet we seem to have no choice but to put Mr. Atkins off indefinitely."
    "I see," Jack said thoughtfully.
    "I know it sounds horribly mercenary — " she began.
    "Miss Desmond, I have three sisters," he interrupted gently. "The youngest, Gwendolyn, has been paraded on the Marriage Mart for three Seasons now. I understand the business fully — and it is a business, a most expensive one. In the circumstances, I fully understand your father's caution."
    "Still, there's no denying we've played Mr. Atkins false."
    Jack smiled. "That's absurd. Murray had to wait months while Byron agonised about publishing Childe Harold ."
    They had reached the herb garden, an extensive formal planting that radiated out from a central sun-dial. Miss Desmond gazed about her unhappily.
    "At any rate, even if we could repay Atkins, Papa's sure he won't take the money back — not while there's any chance of publishing and making a great fortune," she added cynically. "I fear he's right. Who'd have thought such a nervous little man could be so obstinate — or so devious? Papa says Mr. Atkins sent someone to Streetham Close to steal the manuscript. Now I'm sure he'll send someone here. We can't carry that tome about with us everywhere and we can't watch it every minute. The house is too large," she said, glancing back at the immense stone building. "She has nearly as many servants as Lord Streetham does, and I don't know a quarter of them."
    Jack followed her gaze. The late Lord Potterby's ancestors, like everyone else in the shire, had competed fiercely when it came to home building. Though none could compare with Blenheim, all the great houses for miles around were enormous structures, built to awe the beholder. Rossing Hall was the sole exception, because there had been more than one reclusive Langdon in the family tree.
    The second Lord Rossing