Season's Feather

Chapter Thirty

"An artist must be free to follow their muse. But, it appears the ton has fallen prey to the fickleness of fashion. For how else might one explain the tawdry - dare I say vulgar - gown sported lately by Miss Cressida Cowper?

"Mayfair's newest modiste has one thing, and one thing only, going for her. She is new. Whereas Madam Delacroix might be old, but at least she is capable."

"Of course, not everyone can always get things so right."

Williamson was walking aimlessly through Aubrey Hall. He didn't exactly know who he was looking for, only that he was looking for, something? He paused where he was and turned before catching sight of Newton, the Sharma's pet dog.

He looked at the pet before smiling, as if trying to communicate a joke without words. Newton only stared at him from his relaxed position on the ground, and growled. Williamson furrowed his brows then slammed the doors closed on the dog. How stupid to assume he needed a dog's approval.

"Though I suppose for some it may simply be too late to change course and undo any damage."

Delilah was strolling with Anthony around the grounds. It was a nice day, and it was a lovely walk. A comfortable silence draped over the two. They were walking next to the lines of flowers. They were beautiful.

"You know, your father used to make me pick a bundle of flowers for both you and Daphne before we would come into the house." Anthony said.

Delilah smiled at him, "You know, a way to flatter a girl is to break her delusions."

"Delusions?"

"I liked to think you picked them for me because secretly you liked me. But, you didn't want to make it obvious, so you picked one for Daphne too."

Anthony laughed, "I am sorry to disappoint."

"Hah," Delilah shook her head, "You are not the disappointment this weekend."

Anthony looked down at her, "You find it disappointing that Williamson did not declare himself?"

"It is all he has been talking about, and when the opportunity arose he did not take it. I think there is a different kind of disappointment for everyone."

"Well," Anthony nodded, "She shall not be disappointed. Williamson will propose. Last night was a lark, at best. My brothers were up to no good, and with everyone staring at him. Well, maybe his feelings would not allow him to speak."

"He does not believe in love." Delilah commented.

"Other feelings, love, like mortification if she were to say no." Anthony added.

Delilah nodded her head but was not fully convinced. She sighed, "All he is doing is toying with emotions. Miss Sharma is such an impressionable young lady."

"Miss Edwina seems perfectly capable of forming her own impressions." Anthony replied.

Delilah looked up at him, "Do you claim to know the diamond?"

Anthony gave her a pointed look, "Like any young woman she wishes to be happy."

"That is what Kate wishes for her." Delilah said, "Happiness is not Williamson's strength. Exasperation, fixation, blackmail if you wanted. But, my goodness, happiness and love. Williamson does not know how to anything but deprive-"

"Do not move." Anthony said.

"Anthony?" Delilah asked.

"Stand still!"

What Delilah had not noticed was bee flying very near her. Anthony began to panic.  His breath quickened. His eyes dilated. Delilah looked up at him concerned. The conversation was forgotten. She looked down at the bee on her gown.

Then she realized.

She looked up softly, before waving the bug off. But, Anthony panicked.

"No-"

"It is only a bee, my-" She gasped as it stung her.

Anthony took her face in his hands and studied her carefully. His breath became quicker, his eyes dilated. There was fear in them. Real genuine fear. She frowned, she knew what he was thinking about.

She put her hands on his wrist trying to calm him down.

"Are you hurt? Can you breathe?" He asked.

"Anthony-"

"Are you hurt?"

Delilah looked into each of his eyes, flicking from one to the other, trying to calm him down, "It is only a sting."

"Are you certain?"

She squeezed his wrists. Nodding at him, trying to show him that she was okay. But, Anthony was holding her tighter. Like she would collapse, as his father did, and die right then and there.

"Anthony," She whispered.

The viscount shook his head. His breath came out in heavy pants. Delilah didn't know what to do. How to bring him back from panic. How to let him know she was okay. She felt tears stinging his eyes. Come back to me my love.

"Anthony," Delilah said, "I am unharmed."

She brought his hand to her chest, placing it over her beating heart, "I am unharmed."

When his palm felt the beating of her heart, his breathing began to break slowly into an even pace. She kept her eyes locked to him. Willing her tears back, she couldn't let her fear show through. Delilah took his other hand and placed it over his own. Both hearts are still beating. She rested her forehead against his.

Come back to me, Anthony. Come back to me.

"I am here," She whispered, "I am here. Right here. Alive and unharmed."

He nodded. His forehead dropping farther onto hers. Then he kissed her. She was there. She was alive. She was unharmed. He kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Like she could still collapse at any moment. When he pulled back, he was shaking and Delilah wiped the few stray tears from his eyes.