Season's Feather

Chapter Eight

The Opera. Up at the front was a beautiful opera singer. Anthony walks in and his gaze locks on her. He used to have feelings for her. He used to think nobody could compare to her beauty and voice.

Now, it was different. Delilah was in the picture. Everything he'd wanted in a woman. Now he looked up at the opera singer. Siena. And his world no longer crumbles at her gaze, she looks like every other woman out there.

He turns and his eyes meet silver ones. Real beauty, real emotion, real commitment. If only he could secure it before the other man in her eyes does.

"Delilah!" He calls. He now sees her beautiful signature Silvester dress. A pale silver with light flowering down the sides.

"Anthony." Her soft voice calls back. Her smile lights up her features even more. Her dark brown hair was in soft curls around her head in an updo with silver embedments holding it together.

"You look beautiful." Anthony complements. Delilah blushes. Something in Anthonys eyes changed, 'She's blushing?'. He was now curious. Why was she blushing? Did she possibly like him?

His eyes trailed over her blushed cheeks. Maybe he should test the waters. He needed to win her before this mysterious suitor did. He needs to be the one she always confides in. But most importantly, he needed her because with her he was so happy. Happy all because of her.

"Sit with us in our box?" He blurted out.

Delilah's eyes widened a bit. Shock. But, it was completely replaced with a smile. "Of course, I'd be delighted." Anthony smiled as well. He took her arm in his and led her through the crowd with Delilah closely perched at his side.

Anthony leads her up and Delilah immediately clings to Daphne, "Daph!"

"Delilah!" Daphne laughed.

The two girls sat next to each other. Anthony took a close seat next to Delilah.

The play begins. Siena the Opera singer shines brightly on the stage. But Anthony's eyes were focused on Delilah. She was shining just by herself under the reflection of the lights. The silver from her dress lightened up their box just slightly, creating a silver glow around her that made her look heavenly.

Anthony slips his hand intertwining it with Delilah. He grips her hand tightly, her breathing picks up. A soft smirk comes across his face. Maybe she did like him. He leaves it alone for now but continues to hold her hand.

Delilah now has a permanent blush on her face. She can feel his hand slipping into hers. Why? Why was he doing this? She can't look back. She would never forgive herself if she looked back. She would kiss him, and she would ruin everything.

— & —

Now in the Bridgerton house. The family, Delilah, and Simon sit around the table. Simon sits next to Daphne. Delilah sits opposite the duke and next to Gregory. The rest of the family are in there respective places and Violet sits at the head of the table.

"For all we know, Whistledown may be some interloper living in Bloomsbury of all places." Anthony speculates. Delilah looks at Anthony while laughing quietly to herself. 

"What should be so terrible about Bloomsbury? Is it because people there actually work for a living?" Benedict argues.

"She does seem to be someone with access," Daphne says.

"And connections," Delilah adds. The two nod at each other with a smile.

"Who knows if Whistledown is even a she?"  Colin now asks.

Eloise turns and gives him a stern look.

"Fair point," Anthony says.

"Oh, because she is simply too good to be anyone but a man?" Eloise now argues.

Francesca now speaks up, leaning slightly in for everyone to see her and hear her opinion, "I think it rather obvious that the writer is Lady Danbury." She says.

Delilah scofs into her hand. "Lady Danbury enjoys sharing her insults with society directly. She would never bother herself writing them all down." She counters. Anthony smiles, and Daphne sees it.

"Could it be Lady Featherington?" Hyacinth asks. All the Bridgertons and Delilah burst out in laughter.

"No." Everyone claims in unison.

Eloise turns to her youngest sister with a smirk, "You have yet to read what Whistledown writes of the Featheringtons, little sister."

Delilah smiled around the table before glancing over at the Duke, "On behalf of Violet, you must forgive the unruly debate, Your Grace."

"Nonsense." The duke shakes his head, "I find it entertaining and rather reminiscent of our dinners. Don't you agree, Lilah'?"

"Oh, so you do remember me, Simon."

"We went over this in your study, I could never forget my sister."

Delilah smiled at him, "Well, all of us at one table. Even the children. They all like each other. I was surprised as well by my first dinner here all those years ago. At home - and in the country with you - we had our private ones."

Simon smiled into his breath, "Oh yes. I remember when you had trouble using your knife."

"It was a nuisance," Delilah scoffed, "Considering you forgot what a napkin was half the time."

"Lily."

Daphne looked between the two of them, "You two grew up together?"

"Yes," The duke smiled, "Delilah and I grew up closely as a result of our mother's friendship. She is a sister to me."

Daphne looked over at her with a curious smile, "How interesting."

"Daphne do not think I kept it from you, he is the 'older brother' I used to talk about often."

"The 'older brother'?" Simon asked.

"Harrowing tales I used to share of you, Simon," Delilah commented. Taking one last sip of her wine, she removed the napkin from her lap, "Well, I must excuse myself. Mother is waiting for me back at home." She gives her last greetings and walks to the front door when Anthony stops her.

"Delilah, please be safe." He says grabbing her hand.

She looks up into his worried eyes and smiles. "Of course." She leans in to kiss his cheek and exits the door. Anthony quickly breaths out and rushes back to the dining room. Both are breathing slightly faster.

When Delilah arrived home she ran up to her mother's room. "Mama, it was beautiful. The lights, the music. It felt like a dream." She said as she came in and sat down in the chair beside her mother.

Her mother chuckled softly, sitting up and reaching over to caress Delilah's hair. "I remember going to see the opera with your father." She said,

"He told me I was the real gem of the season. And that watching the opera with me would have been the best gift god had ever let him receive." She laughed softly. "Although I don't think he was watching the opera. I liked to believe he was watching me."

Delilah giggled. She remembered vague images of her father. But she always looked at the portrait in the study to know what he looked like. "I'm sure he was mama." She said looking down at her mother. "How are you feeling?"

Her mother smiled, "Much better. Maybe strong enough to go around in a wheelchair if we can get one. But, better nonetheless" Delilah smiled at this.

"Now go rest, child. You have had a long day." Her mother playfully scolded.

Delilah laughed but exited her room with a quiet, "Good night, Mama."

She walked to her bedroom and began undressing. It was a wonderful night. It was.