A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 109 - Hundred And Nine

The heavy, uncomfortable silence that followed the Duke’s dramatic exit from the breakfast room lingered over the table like a thick, cold fog. No one spoke for a long minute. They simply finished their breakfast in silence as they stared at the broken pieces of the silver butter knife resting on Rowan’s empty plate.

Lady Farrington, determined to pretend that everything was perfectly normal, sharply clapped her hands together.

"Well," Lady Farrington said loudly, her voice entirely too bright for the gloomy atmosphere. "After such a lovely meal, I believe a little music is in order. It will lift our spirits."

She turned her sharp gaze to her daughter.

Lady Farrington suggested Celine play the pianoforte.

Celine looked up from her lap. Her blue eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, silent pleading. She did not want to play. Her fingers felt stiff, and her heart felt entirely too heavy for entertaining guests.

"Mama..." Celine spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper. "My hands are a bit cold this morning."

Lady Farrington did not soften. She glared at her daughter. It was a fast, incredibly sharp look. It was a silent threat that promised severe punishment if Celine dared to disobey her in front of the Hamilton family.

Then, as quickly as the harsh glare appeared, it vanished. Lady Farrington resumed her bright, artificial smile for the benefit of the room.

"Come, my dear," Lady Farrington coaxed. Her tone was sweet, but her words were an absolute command. "Don’t be shy. You play so beautifully."

She stood up, walked behind Celine’s chair, and placed her hands firmly on the young girl’s narrow shoulders. She guided Celine out of the dining room and into the adjoining drawing room. She led her straight toward the grand piano that sat near the large, sunlit windows.

"I’m sure Lady Margery would be delighted to hear your new piece," Lady Farrington added, looking back at the older woman.

Aunt Margery, who was currently feeding Fifi a piece of roasted sausage she had remained from her own plate, nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course," Aunt Margery agreed, standing up to follow them. "Music soothes the nerves. And heaven knows my nerves need some soothing after that... display with the cutlery."

Celine gave in to her mother’s pressure. She knew she had no other choice.

She sat on the polished wooden piano stool. She arranged her silk skirts with trembling hands. She took a slow, deep breath, raised her delicate fingers, and placed them gently on the ivory keys.

She started a tune. At first, the notes were hesitant and quiet. But as the song progressed, Celine poured all of her hidden, unspeakable sorrow into the music. It was a soulful, deeply melancholic piece. The melody filled the drawing room, capturing the quiet tragedy of a girl trapped in a life she did not want.

Everyone sat in the drawing room and listened. Ines watched Celine with deep sympathy, recognizing the sadness in the chords. Smith Jones stood near the wall, playing his part perfectly by looking respectfully attentive.

But Delaney was not listening to the music.

She sat on a velvet chair near the back of the room, her hands tightly folded in her lap. Her mind was a million miles away from the piano keys. She was incredibly worried.

Rowan had not eaten anything. He had sat at the head of the breakfast table, completely consumed by a dark, burning jealousy over her fake husband, and he had left his plate completely untouched.

Delaney felt a sharp, painful ache in her chest. She knew how hard Rowan worked. She knew the heavy, crushing burdens he carried every single day to keep the Hamilton estate running perfectly. A large, strong man like Rowan needed his sustenance. He had left the table angry, jealous, and starving.

She could not sit here pretending to enjoy a piano concert while he was suffering alone. After all, they are partners.

Delaney stood up slowly, making sure her dress did not rustle too loudly. She walked quietly over to the sofa where Aunt Margery was sitting.

"Excuse me, my lady," Delaney whispered, leaning down slightly.

Aunt Margery looked up, adjusting her spectacles on her nose. "Yes, Miss Kingsley? Is the music too loud for you?"

"I need to lie down a bit," Delaney said politely, forcing a small smile. "My head is aching rather terribly this morning."

Aunt Margery looked closely at Delaney’s pale face. The older woman’s expression softened into genuine, motherly concern.

"Of course, my dear," Aunt Margery nodded, placing a warm hand on Delaney’s arm. "If you feel ill, let me know, okay? I can send my maid to your room with my special headache powder."

Delaney nodded with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Lady Margery. I simply need some quiet rest."

She turned and quietly left the drawing room. As she stepped into the hallway, the sad, beautiful notes of the pianoforte faded slightly behind the thick wooden doors.

Once out in the quiet marble hallway, Delaney did not walk toward the grand staircase that led to her guest suite. Instead, she turned left and walked toward the servant corridors that led to the kitchens.

The house was incredibly large, and the back hallways were busy with the morning chores. Maids and footmen moved quickly, carrying brooms, dusters, and fresh linens.

As she rounded a corner, she saw a familiar face.

It was Sarah. The young maid was carrying a large, woven laundry basket filled to the brim with white bedsheets.

Sarah stopped in surprise when she saw the guest in the servant’s area. She quickly bobbed a curtsy, nearly dropping the heavy basket.

"Miss Kingsley?" Sarah said, her eyes wide with confusion. "What are you doing here? The family is in the drawing room enjoying the music."

Delaney stepped closer to the maid, keeping her voice low so the passing servants would not hear her.

"I know," Delaney replied. "But His Grace hasn’t eaten anything. He left the breakfast table early." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Sarah nodded in immediate understanding. The servants in a great house always knew everything. They had undoubtedly already heard the whispers about the broken silver knife and the Duke’s foul mood.

"Could you prepare something light I could take to him?" Delaney asked softly.

Sarah did not question the highly unusual request. She simply saw the genuine, deep worry shining in the matchmaker’s hazel eyes.

"Of course, Miss," Sarah replied kindly. "I’ll tell the cook immediately. The Duke cannot work on an empty stomach; it makes his temper worse."

Sarah hurried off down the hall, balancing the laundry basket on her hip before disappearing through the swinging wooden doors of the kitchen.

Delaney waited near the servant’s staircase. She paced back and forth over the stone floor. Her heart was beating a little too fast. She knew she was crossing a serious line. She was a hired employee, currently pretending to be a married cousin. It was highly improper for her to bring food personally to the Duke.

But her protective instincts completely overrode her common sense. She could still feel the phantom heat of his kiss from the night before, and she simply could not bear the thought of him sitting alone and hungry.

In some minutes, Sarah came out of the kitchen doors.

She was carrying a beautiful silver tray. On it rested a plate of thinly sliced cold roast beef, a thick chunk of fresh, crusty bread, a block of sharp yellow cheese, and a steaming porcelain pot of dark tea with a matching cup.

Sarah started to walk past Delaney toward the main stairs. "I will take it to his study right away, Miss."

"No," Delaney said quickly. She stepped forward and held out her hands. "I will take it to him."