The Lady (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 14) Read online

  The smile that lit up his face at the thought of his child warmed her heart, and she was glad she had not burdened him by requesting a different chaperone. Somehow, she was sure she would manage.

  Two Weeks Later

  Living with Lady Felton and the two vipers she called granddaughters was a nightmare. Everything lovely about Delilah’s Season was swiftly falling to pieces.

  Hidden as best she could be behind the curtain of the window seat in the parlor, staring blankly out into the streets of Mayfair, Delilah bleakly wondered if she might not have been better off accompanying Lord and Lady Greene to the countryside. At least there, she would have been able to enjoy herself, even if her prospects for a husband would have been dismal.

  Ever since the Greenes had left London, her prospects had become more dismal by the day, anyway.

  It was clear, Lady Felton was not only uninterested in assisting Delilah in finding a husband, she was actively working against it in favor of pushing her two granddaughters to the fore. One of Delilah’s most promising suitors had already fled the scene, rather than brave Lady Felton and the twin terrors, and rumor now had him paying court to Lady Cynthia Starrett instead. Delilah did not blame him in the least, but it did not help her situation at all.

  She was hemmed in at every ball by the three women, unable to even speak to a gentleman. The moment one even attempted conversation, the women talked over her as if she was not even there. It had been over a week since she had been able to accept a dance with anyone. At first, Lady Felton had allowed it, as long as her granddaughter’s dance cards were full... but they had not been full for days, which meant Delilah did not dance at all.

  There was no peace to be found at Felton House, either. Her room was small, with barely enough space for her things. The window opened over an alley, which was full of wretched smells, but the moment she left its unpalatable confines, the twins would pounce. They delighted in tormenting her with words, small pinches, and blaming her for any misdeeds they performed.

  The staff seemed sympathetic to her plight, but there was only so much they could do. Their small kindnesses were all that got her through the day sometimes. Bread and butter left outside her door when she’d been sent to bed with no supper, blamed for spilling ink on Amy’s dress, when the twit had done it herself. Maids would help her tidy any messes they found before Lady Felton saw them and inevitably blamed Delilah, even though it was the twins’ doing. She had no coin to pass on to them, as Lady Felton held her purse strings very tightly, but she did what she could to return their kindness.

  Still, her life had become miserable, and the misery seemed to increase daily. At least today, after the housekeeper had chased Amy and Sylvia away from her door, she had been able to slip out of her room and sit in the front window to watch passersby. They had been trying to coax her into the hall, intent on some sort of mischief. Delilah knew better than to trust them. She’d learned that lesson the very first day she had come to stay with them. She’d put on her favorite pink walking gown, the last one Lady Greene had bought for her and was staring out the window, imagining she was one of the people walking along the street.

  Sadly, her peace was not to last.

  “There you are! We have been looking everywhere for you.” The gleeful announcement made Delilah wince, and she automatically tried to make herself smaller, but it was too late. She had stayed out of her room, lost in thought, for too long. The curtain was yanked back, and Amy was smiling down at her. It was not a nice smile, and Delilah shrank back, her heart already beating faster. The cramped, smelly quarters of her room had felt like a jail cell earlier, but now, she longed for the scant safety it provided.

  “What are you doing in the window?” Sylvie asked, coming up beside her sister. They were both very blonde with large blue eyes and delicate porcelain features. Nearly identical, except Amy’s nose was a bit longer than Sylvie’s, and Sylvie’s hair was a touch darker than Amy’s, but such small differences were only truly noticeable when they were standing beside each other. Usually, Amy wore lavender, and Sylvie wore cerulean, but even that was not always guaranteed. Sylvie sneered down at Delilah. “Are you flaunting yourself to the gentlemen passing by?”

  “No!” Delilah was aghast. “Of course not.”

  “Hmm.” Amy arched one delicate eyebrow. “Why else would you be hidden away in the window seat with the curtain drawn around you?”

  “I just wanted to look outside,” Delilah protested, her chest tightening. She knew it did not matter, they would twist anything she said, but she could not stop from defending herself. “I was not doing anything inappropriate!”

  Making a tutting noise, Sylvie walked away, moving over to the other window to look outside. “I do not see anything very interesting. I think she is lying to us again, Amy.”

  “I am not!”

  Amy backed away from Delilah as well. The space they were giving her made Delilah very nervous. Normally, they crowded her, so they could pinch and poke at her. The change in their demeanor did not bode well. She could not even anticipate what they might be up to.

  “You should tell us the truth,” Amy said, meandering around the room. The parlor was full of little decorations on display, and Amy started touching them as she passed. Many were quite delicate and breakable, and Amy’s demeanor was… worrying. Delilah’s heart was racing, her breath coming faster in anxious anticipation of something awful.

  “I have.” Delilah stood, brushing off her skirts. Perhaps if she was quick enough... She began moving to the door, but of course, Amy immediately crossed in front of her.

  The smile curving her lips was even crueler than the one before.

  “I do not believe you. Tell us what you were really doing, or Sylvie is going to break that little blue vase my grandmother loves so much, and we will say you did it.”

  Fear surged inside of her. Fear, resentment, frustration. Delilah had never been able to say she hated someone before, but right now, at this moment, she hated Amy and Sylvie with a passion she had not known was possible. They were truly awful young ladies for no reason she could see. They were beautiful, rich, and if they did not find a husband this Season, it would be no hardship for their family to sponsor another Season for them. They had every advantage in life, whereas she had so little, yet they were so needlessly and meaninglessly cruel.

  Tears sprang into the back of her eyes, but she clenched her jaw, blinking them back. She would not give Amy the satisfaction of seeing her distress, not if she could help it. A part of her mind raced for a plausible lie, but the rest of her already despaired, knowing how this would end. Knowing nothing she could say would satisfy the twins. Hopefully, they would not actually break one of their grandmother’s beloved heirlooms. She was fairly certain they were just toying with her, but she could not risk it.

  She had to get out of this room.

  “There is a particularly handsome lord, I do not know his name, who walks by the house every morning,” she lied. “I was just hoping for a glimpse of him.”

  Amy snorted, amused by this sad little confession as Delilah had hoped she would be. If it were true, it might even be humiliating. But Amy shook her head.

  “What a load of hogwash. Sylvie and I would know if such a lord were walking by the house. Sylvie, show her what happens to liars.”

  “No!” Delilah spun around, hands reaching, but it was already too late.

  Utter malevolence filled Sylvie’s eyes as she dashed the vase to the ground. Behind Delilah, Amy screeched with laughter as Delilah fell to her knees, already frantically trying to scoop together the shards. Perhaps, somehow, the vase could be salvaged before Lady Felton saw. No, that was ridiculous. In her heart of hearts, she knew it was hopeless, but her panicked emotions weren’t logical. She desperately wanted to forestall the oncoming disaster.

  “Are you going to tell us now?” Amy asked. “Or do we have to break something else?”

  “I was just watching the street!” Delilah would have screamed
the words, but her voice caught in her throat, little more than a hoarse whisper. The bars of the cage they’d neatly trapped her in were closing in around her. The irreplaceable vase was unsalvageable, the twins were relentless, and Lady Felton would blame Delilah, regardless. What would she do?

  Would she send Delilah away?

  Hope rose up inside of her at the thought.

  She wanted to be anywhere, but here.

  The sound of glass breaking behind her had her spinning on her knees. Amy was staring at the ground, her head cocked at the shepherdess figurine she’d just thrown there. The urge to scream was rising again. What was wrong with them? Why were they doing this to her? What was the point?

  Answers were not any more forthcoming than compassion from the black-hearted pair.

  “Stop it,” Delilah whispered.

  “What was that?” Sylvie asked.

  Delilah whipped her head around just in time to see Sylvie drop another glass ornament. Delilah dove forward, hands outreached, but she was too far away. The vase scattered beneath her skirts, which at least protected her legs from the shards of glass. There was no protection from the twins’ animosity, though.

  “I could not hear you, De-li-ar.” She drew out Delilah’s name, twisting it at the end to sound like ‘liar.’

  Pushing herself back carefully, Delilah stood, fists clenched at her sides. She glared at Sylvie.

  “Stop it. That’s enough.”

  “What is going on here?” Lady Felton’s strident tones cut through the air, like a portent of doom. Delilah spun around to face her. Standing in the doorway, her wrinkled face full of anger, Lady Felton glared at all three of them, not just Delilah. For just a moment, hope rose up inside of her. All three young ladies started talking over each other, Amy and Sylvie both pointing at Delilah as she tried to make herself heard over the din.

  “She went wild, Grandmother!”

  “They started breaking thing-”

  “- we tried to stop her - “

  “- they’re lying to you, they always lie -”

  “-she broke your vase, grandmother-”

  “-there was nothing we could do!”

  Despite the cacophony, Lady Felton obviously got the gist, her eyes darting around to see the small piles of mess on the floor... The shards of the vase were still at Delilah’s feet, and her heart sank in her chest as Lady Felton’s steely gaze rose to meet hers. The outcome had been inevitable from the beginning, even if she’d foolishly hoped otherwise. The older woman’s eyes narrowed, and Delilah took a step back, glass crunching under the heel of her shoe, which made Lady Felton’s outrage even more palpable.

  “You... you ungrateful brat! I took you in, treated you as my own,”—Delilah almost laughed at the absurd claim—“and this is how you repay my generosity? Thompson!” Lady Felton turned in the doorway to call over her shoulder to the butler. “Fetch me the cane!”

  “The cane?” Delilah asked faintly as Amy and Sylvie both sniggered.

  Lady Felton’s sharp gaze cut back to her. “You are finally going to get the thrashing you deserve, girl.”

  No.

  No.

  It was too much. Something broke loose inside of Delilah’s chest. She had to get out. It didn’t matter where. Anywhere was better than here with this... woman and her venomous descendants. The urge to run, building inside of Delilah for days, burst forth like a leak in a dam. She sprang forward so quickly, Lady Felton actually stumbled back. Amy and Sylvie were both shrieking, although she couldn’t tell what they were saying.

  With all the noise buzzing in her ears, all she could hear was her panicked breath and her pounding heart as she darted for the front door and freedom. She would not stand here and be thrashed for something she did not do. She would not.

  She did not think about the consequences or where she was going, she just lifted her skirts and ran down the street. Glancing over her shoulder, she was horrified to see footmen running out the door behind her. Even if any of them were the ones who felt sorry for her, they could not disobey a direct order from Lady Felton.

  Heedless of her direction, Delilah ran and ran, darting behind startled lords and ladies, gentlemen and women, all the way out of Mayfair. The streets began to twist and turn, the smell becoming fouler, and her feet throbbed with pain. Slowing, Delilah placed a delicate hand on the rough exterior of a building, stumbling forward as she dared to look over her shoulder. There, several streets away, she saw a glimpse of bright green, the same color as Lady Felton’s livery. It stood out starkly against the drab coloring of everyone else’s clothing in this area.

  She’d stumbled into the slums, and still, he was chasing her. Delilah did not know what to do. If Lady Felton had been going to thrash her before, there was no telling what she would do now. Delilah certainly could not stay here. It was far too dangerous. As if to confirm that thought, a rough, low voice came out of the gloom in the alley beside her.

  “Well, ‘ello luv. What we got ‘ere?”

  Her feet protested as she stumbled back, horrified to see the rough men emerging from the darkness, all of them leering at her. Dirty faces, broken teeth, dirty hands... they were like something out of a nightmare. Delilah collapsed.

  2

  The Tramp

  Pink. He saw pink.

  What was that color doing on his streets? No one in the Warrens could afford anything of that particular color, certainly not in such a bright hue. Not that such a thing would remain clean enough to maintain that condition.

  Frowning, Henry’s eyes followed the quick-moving dress, then widened when he realized it was the same debutante, he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, still wearing that atrocious pink dress. She was wildly out of place. Most of the people were watching her warily. A young woman, clearly a lady, running through the Warrens? Trouble. That’s what that was. His eyes darted behind her, to the direction she’d come from, and another bright color caught his eye—green.

  So not Bow Street, then. That was good. Although many of the runners were bribable, not all were. Henry preferred not to tangle with them unless absolutely necessary. Certainly, not for a woman. Then, she was not just any woman, was she? She was the only woman who had ever burrowed into his mind and stayed there. His fantasies had become darker, more perverse with every passing day, and now, here she was as if fate had sent her to him.

  “Butch. Green livery. Send him off.” Henry pointed down the street, not even bothering to look. He knew his man would take care of it. His eyes were already on the vision in pink.

  He was not the only one. Rowdy Roddy’s men were emerging from the alley beside her, grinning and elbowing each other over their find. Simpletons. It did not even occur to them to look and see if she was alone. That was why so many of them ended up on the gallows. Roddy was too stupid to lead, yet he had an innate charm that drew a few followers to him. None of the caliber Henry would want working for him.

  Seeing them, she sank down to the ground, dropping out of his sight, and Henry lurched forward.

  “Roddy,” he barked out the leader of the gang’s name. “She’s mine.”

  The barrel-chested tough turned, looked disappointed, but immediately backed away. The rest of his crew had already scattered back into the alley, the moment they’d heard Henry’s voice. On the ground, in a puddle of pink skirts, hands pressed flat against the rough stone, the lady in pink looked up at him. There was something broken about her—her eyes were listless, and her expression was one he’d seen many times in the Warrens—hopeless. She was a far cry from the bubbly young lady he’d seen walking through Hyde Park, yet this sad, broken creature drew him even more than that one.

  Creamy breasts heaving, pink lips parting as she panted for breath, she stared back at him, waiting.

  Beside him, Frank cleared his throat, reminding Henry they were standing in the street.

  Henry held out his hand. “Come along, Lady.”

  She stared at his proffered fingers, appearing shocked, the
n her expression changed to one of apology. She huddled inward, reminding him of a dog who expected to be kicked.

  “I... I do not think I can stand, sir, even with assistance.”

  Her soft voice, slightly husky, rolled over him. He wanted to hear what it sounded like when she cried out with pain, when she screamed with pleasure. His cock was already hardening.

  Nodding, he stepped forward and scooped her up in his arms before she could protest. She was a slight weight against his chest, some of the curves he’d observed the first time he’d seen her gone. Indeed, her ribs felt almost bony under his hand, and he frowned. Whatever had happened to her in the intervening weeks, clearly it had been detrimental, but there would be time to find out what.

  Perhaps Butch would be able to shed some light when he returned. Whatever her pursuer had to say would certainly be worth hearing. Hopefully, Butch would think to question the man before sending him off, but if not, there were other ways to get information.

  To his surprise, the lady did not fight him or even question where he was taking her. She just snuggled up trustingly against his chest, bemusing him. Perhaps fate had brought her to him.

  Lady Delilah Darling

  Her rescuer was very strong.

  That was Delilah’s first real coherent thought as he carried her through the streets. Her mind was still whirling, her body aching from her impetuous run. It felt as though all the strength in her limbs had dissolved, leaving her limp as a newborn pup. She leaned her head against the man’s chest, determined to enjoy whatever small peace and comfort she could until it was snatched away from her again. No matter what terrible thing came next, at least right now, she felt safe, and no one was hurting her. That her desires had shrunk so small made her want to cry, but she did not have the energy for tears.