A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 110 - Hundred And Ten

Sarah hesitated. She looked at the tray, then at Delaney. "Are you sure, Miss? The silver tray is quite heavy."

Delaney insisted to take it to him herself. "I am sure. I wish to speak with him anyway."

Sarah gently gave her the tray, carefully shifting the heavy weight into Delaney’s waiting hands.

"Very well, Miss," Sarah smiled.

Delaney nodded her thanks. She turned and carried the silver tray carefully down the corridor, the fine china clinking very softly as she walked.

She went straight to Rowan’s study on the ground floor. She fully expected to find him sitting behind his massive oak desk, scowling darkly at the estate ledgers, trying to bury his anger and jealousy in endless columns of numbers.

She stopped in front of the heavy wooden door. She balanced the heavy tray on her left hip and knocked gently on the wood with her right hand.

There was no answer.

She frowned. She knocked a little louder.

Still silence.

Carefully, using her elbow, she pushed the door open. She peeked inside.

The study was completely empty. The fire was burning low in the grate. The stack of ledgers they had dropped last night was neatly piled on the corner of the desk, exactly where Rowan had placed them. But Rowan himself was nowhere to be seen.

Delaney backed out and pulled the door shut.

Where could he be?

She walked back toward the grand foyer. As she passed the main staircase, she saw Mr. Simmons. The elderly, dignified butler was standing near a marble table, carefully adjusting a large vase of fresh white roses.

Delaney walked over to him, keeping the tray steady.

"Mr. Simmons," Delaney said politely.

Simmons turned and bowed slightly. He looked at the silver tray filled with food in her hands. A brief flash of surprise crossed his wrinkled face, but his professional mask quickly hid it.

"Miss Kingsley," Simmons replied. "May I assist you with that tray?"

"No, thank you," Delaney said. She asked her question quickly. "Mr. Simmons, do you know where His Grace had gone to? He is not in his study."

Simmons sighed softly. He picked up a stray fallen leaf from the marble table and placed it into his pocket.

"He is not in his study, Miss," Simmons answered in his calm, measured tone. "He had a slight accident in his study just after he left the table."

Delaney’s eyes widened in panic. "An accident? Is he hurt?"

"No, no, he is perfectly unharmed," Simmons reassured her quickly. "He simply spilled a glass of dark red wine on his clean morning shirt. He was moving rather... hastily."

Delaney understood immediately. Rowan was never, ever clumsy. He possessed perfect physical control. If he spilled wine on himself, it meant his hands were shaking violently with anger, or his mind was entirely consumed by his blinding jealousy over Smith Jones.

"He’s in his room," Simmons continued, pointing a white-gloved finger toward the ceiling. "His valet should be there soon to assist him with a change of clothes."

Delaney nodded slowly. She gripped the decorative edges of the silver tray a little tighter.

"Thank you, Mr. Simmons," she said.

She turned and went up the grand staircase. The wooden steps groaned softly beneath her feet. The heavy silver tray felt heavier and heavier with every single step she took.

She reached the top of the stairs and walked down the long, carpeted hallway.

She came to a stop.

She stood perfectly still at the crossroads.

To her left was the hallway leading directly to the guest wing, where her own Blue Suite was located. If she went left, she could set the tray down on a side table, call a maid to deliver it to the Duke, and hide safely in her room away from the emotional storm. She could avoid the danger of seeing him alone.

To her right was the private family wing. It was the long hallway leading directly to Rowan’s personal bedchamber.

Delaney sighed, a long, shaky breath that ruffled the steam rising from the teapot.

The house was so incredibly quiet she could hear the ticking of a grandfather clock on the landing below. She could hear Celine playing the piano. She looked to the left. It was the safe path. It was the sensible, proper thing to do.

She looked to the right. It was highly dangerous. It was foolish.

But the man who had held her against the bookshelves last night, the man who had begged her to let him fill her thoughts, was down that hall. He was angry, he was hungry, and he was hurting because of the lie he started.

She could not turn away from him.

Delaney shifted her grip on the tray and walked towards his room.

The private hallway was darker than the rest of the house, lit only by small wall sconces. The carpets were much thicker here, muting the sound of her footsteps entirely. She walked past several closed doors until she reached the grand, imposing double doors at the very end of the corridor.

The Duke’s bedchamber.

Her heart began to hammer wildly against her ribs.

She was breaking every rule of polite society. She was a single woman, bringing food to a bachelor’s private bedroom. If Lady Farrington caught her here, the scandal would be explosive.

But she was already standing in front of the door. There was no turning back now.

She took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm her racing pulse. She balanced the heavy silver tray carefully on her left arm. She raised her right hand, curled her fingers into a small fist, and knocked lightly on the dark, polished wood.

For a moment, there was no sound.

Then, a deep, gruff voice sounded from within the room.

"Enter." Rowan spoke.

His voice sounded tired, rough, and deeply impatient. He clearly believed she was his valet coming to bring him a fresh, clean shirt.

Delaney swallowed the dry lump in her throat. Her hand trembled as she reached for the brass doorknob. She turned it slowly. The heavy latch clicked open with a sharp sound.

She pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside the Duke’s private bedchamber.

Delaney entered. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

She looked up, intending to offer him the tray of food and quickly apologize for the sudden intrusion into his private space.

But the words died completely in her throat.

She stopped walking instantly. Her breath caught in her lungs. The heavy silver tray dipped slightly in her shaking hands.

The scene before her made her eyes widen in absolute, stunned shock.