Through Gypsy Eyes by Killarney Sheffield Page A

them until it was broken by the earl’s heavy sigh. “It is the king’s duty to see to the welfare of his subjects, and mine to do as he requests.”
    Delilah crossed her arms. “Why, because you are his loyal subject?”
    “Yes, no, it is more complicated than that.”
    “I fail to see how.”
    “It is a political matter.”
    “My welfare is a political matter?” Delilah snorted. “I assure you, my lord, there can be no possible political reason to force me into marriage. My father was a simple country squire and poet, not a political figure.”
    The earl shifted beside her on the bench. “The politics are between the king and I, and have naught to do with your father. I have designs on becoming the next leader of the Whig party and as such need the backing of the king to seek such a high appointment. He has offered his support in exchange for my help in this matter.”
    “Oh.” Delilah dropped her hands to her lap. “So, I am naught but a political agenda. No one is concerned about what I want or need.”
    “That is not true, Delilah. I care about what you want and need. I know you want some romantic notion of love but there is not time for months or years of searching for a true love that may never be found. After all, most men and women live happily in their marriages without love at all, that is the way of it.”
    “As you pointed out, my lord, I am not like most women.”
    “Indeed you are not.” The earl stood and squeezed her hand. “If you will excuse me, I have some pressing business matters to attend.”
    The dried leaves crunched beneath his feet as he moved in the direction of the house.
    Delilah leaned back on the bench. Why did that have to be the way of it?

Chapter Fifteen
    Delilah rolled over the morning of her wedding and groaned. Hours of strange dreams made her toss and turn until the wee hours, leaving her tired and out of sorts. Flopping onto her back, she assessed the situation. Since the incident on the horse there were no other unusual occurrences, for which she was grateful. Still, the strain of expecting one wore her nerves raw.
    Perhaps she was too rash in accepting the baron’s suit. Maybe she could still back out. She frowned as the downstairs clock struck ten, its forlorn chimes echoing throughout the great house. The wedding guests would be here in mere hours. With a sigh she rang for Teresa. There was no turning back now. It wouldn’t be so bad. After a few days at the baron’s to accomplish the ruse, she could return to her former life.
    The door opened with a click. “You must hurry and dress, Miss Daysland,” Teresa chirped, far too merry for Delilah’s resigned mood. “His lordship did say to let you sleep in this morning, but I’ll not be responsible for you being late.”
    Was the earl trying to sabotage the wedding? Delilah almost wished he would. How romantic would it be if he called a halt to the proceedings and announced his everlasting love just like in some of the romantic poems her father wrote? She frowned.
Good Lord, I am as noddy as everyone else believes. As if it would ever happen.
“Let us get on with this.” Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she got up and counted the steps to the dressing table. With little enthusiasm she waited while Teresa fastened her corset in place and tugged the laces. “Not so tight, Teresa, I should like to be able to breathe.”
    The maid giggled. “Yes, miss.”
    When she finished Delilah sat so the maid could fix her hair.
    “Shall I pin your hair with the seashell combs your mother left you?”
    Delilah shrugged. “Do as you please.”
    It didn’t take long. With a sigh Teresa gave it one last pat, her tone well pleased with herself. “Perfect. Now which dress would you prefer to wear today?”
    “What difference should it make to me? This day is designed to get my life back, the cut and color of my gown will not change it.” When the maid sighed Delilah relented. “You decide what will flatter me