Enchanted Rendezvous: A Tangled Hearts Romance by Rebecca Ward Page A

earth. If the Duke of Pershing’s son was one of the smugglers, his rank would not save him. And those who gave him comfort would not be spared.
    So vivid were these thoughts that when Grigg entered the room to announce a visitor, Cecily started. She envisioned Colonel Howard striding into the room to arrest Lord Brandon and accuse Lady Marcham of being his accomplice, but their visitor was only Delinda.
    As usual, Delinda’s costume was expensive and ugly. Though her bonnet of lavender chip straw tied with ribbons might have come from the best milliner in Bond Street, it had a distinctly dowdy look, and her walking dress of sprigged muslin made her appear even taller and bonier than she was.
    “Good morning, dear Lady Marcham,” Delinda breathed. “Good day, Miss Vervain, Lord Brandon. I hope I am not intruding. It is, after all, so early—”
    “It is never too early,” Lord Brandon interrupted. He rose and bowed with sleepy gallantry as he added, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”
    The flustered Delinda curtsied and dropped herreticule. “Oh—forgive me,” she stammered as his lordship retrieved it. “Papa says that I am fumble-fmgered and as clumsy as a plow horse.”
    That was exactly what a clod like the colonel would say, Brandon thought. He returned the reticule with another bow saying, “He does you an injustice, ma’am.”
    “I collect that he has reason,” Delinda said mournfully. “I am so clumsy—I drop things everywhere. I fear that I am sadly wanting.”
    “Another injustice. I find you most delightful in all things, ma’am.”
    Cecily felt a rush of warmth for Lord Brandon. He was probably guilty of many things, but he was kind, too. She decided that, smuggler or not, she did not want the colonel to trap him.
    “Fathers don’t often see that their daughters are diamonds of the first water,” Lord Brandon was saying. “Were it not time for me to take my mornin’ perambulations, I’d beg to be permitted to share your company, Miss Howard. The loss is mine, ’pon my honor.”
    Excusing himself he sauntered off, and Delinda said resolutely, “Lady Marcham, there is a reason I have come—”
    She broke off, looking confused. Lady Marcham said kindly, “You are nervous, child. I have an infusion of sage that will make you feel more the thing. If you come to my stillroom, I will give you some to take home with you.”
    Delinda murmured her thanks but glanced pointedly at Cecily. “If you will excuse me also,” Cecily was beginning, but Lady Marcham shook her head.
    “No, you must come with us. Delinda will be glad of your company.”
    Delinda looked anything but pleased, but she did not dispute Lady Marcham. “It will take a momentto prepare the tonic,” Lady Marcham said as she led the way to the stillroom. “I will also infuse for you some tea of broom flowers and dandelion root and juniper berries. It is my secret recipe for a digestive tonic.”
    While Cecily assisted her grandaunt, Delinda walked about the stillroom. She paused before the book of herbs that Lady Marcham’s grandmother had illustrated, and exclaimed, “What wonderful drawings. May I look at them?”
    She began to leaf through the pages and became so absorbed that she did not at first hear Cecily come up behind her. Then she started, blushed a fiery red, and slammed the book shut.
    “I beg you will not spy on me,” she cried.
    Cecily was astonished. “I did not mean to spy on you,” she protested. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
    To her surprise two tears appeared at the corners of Delinda’s eyes. “Forgive me,” she sobbed. “I have not been truthful. I did not come for a remedy for headache.” She gulped hard and whispered, “Lady Marcham, could you—would you make me a . . . a love potion?”
    There was a moment of silence before Lady Marcham laughed. “You are funning me.”
    “There must be a recipe for a love potion in your books,” Delinda pleaded. “There is a