Chapter One

S he hated it.

It was as simple as that. Coming back to London was not one of her favorite things to do. The trips happened as infrequently as she could make them, and this time it had been put off long enough. Delilah Le Croix had disembarked her ship, The Sun Catcher , only an hour ago, and she watched every barrel that came with her being unloaded into her warehouse. With that task done, the carriage waited for her, and she lifted her skirts as high as she could so they wouldn't rake in the mud on the cobblestone streets. Always wet, overcast, and dreary in the city, she missed the sun already. Even on rainy days, the air smelled fresh and clean on the island.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste, while London had a burnt, acrid scent, the smell of piss and God knows what else in the streets in the poverty-stricken neighborhoods close to the docks. She looked at the small children whose faces carried more than a week's worth of grime and whose clothes needed to be mended. She hated with a passion the divide between classes in the city, one that was so rich from having its hands, its hands in countries from Africa to Asia. Yet there was nothing left for the people of Devil's Acres, the name given to the poorest streets in London. The only time they saw rich hands to exchange money was for opium or to use the women at the brothels, with an occasional missionary or charity coming through.

"If you frown any deeper, your face will crack," the light voice beside her said, and then small but strong hands patted her own. "It is only for a few weeks. We will be home soon."

"From your lips to the ears of the on high," Delilah said with a sigh. "I detest this place and the sycophants that live within it. There are good people, yes, but money...money seems to take the place of good and common decency in this place."

"Only a few weeks."

The words came from the lips of her personal maid, Juno, her thick accent a wonderful reminder of home. She was of mixed heritage, from a Caribbean mother and a Scottish servant father. Her parents still lived in a small home on the island, and Juno had come to work for Delilah at her mother's behest. Mrs. Boyce was her housekeeper and ran the house with a firm but kind fist. Just like Delilah's, Juno's hair was pinned up, she noted, as her maid tugged at her tight chignon. She could relate because letting her thick curls free would be a wonderful feeling that night. That and taking off the godforsaken corset.

The scenery changed as the coach bumped along the road, from the poverty-stricken to the middle-class row housing and into the high-class neighborhoods where landscaped lawns, trimmed gardens, and mansions graced the backdrop. Their destination came into sight, a large white stately mansion, the crowning jewel of an estate featuring acres of land that included two fountains, one in front and one in the back gardens, a large meditation nook with trees and stone benches facing a statue of the Virgin Mary, and a gazebo.

Delilah knew this because she lived in this massive home from the ages of nine to nineteen and hated every godforsaken minute of it from the time, she was fourteen. And yet here she was again, as she was every time she graced London with her presence, at the house of the Grand Duchess Ellington, her benefactor and godmother. The carriage came around the circular path that led to the house. There was a second path that would lead it to the stables and the servant housing when it pulled away. The door opened, and the smiling face of an older man beamed while both she and Juno were helped from the velvet seats.

"Thank you, Leonard," Delilah said when her feet touched the cut stone path.

"It is good to have you home." Leonard was her godmother's longtime driver. In fact, so was his father before him, and now his son also worked the carriages for Her Grace.

"Thank you, Leonard." She pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "You'll have to take me to the newest gambling hall while I am here."

"That's not becoming of a young woman," he said with a secret smile twitching at his lips.

"It never was," she laughed. "Yet, we did it anyway."

While their luggage was taken from the carriage, Delilah and Juno walked to the door that stood open, where the houseman stood straight with his head held high.

"Juno, you've never been here with me, so there are some societal norms that must be followed. My godmother does like the pomp and pageantry of her title," Delilah explained to her. "You will stay behind me until I introduce you, and then you will curtsy, head bowed, and say, ‘Your Grace.'"

"This is very exciting," Juno said. "I'm glad Mum let me go this time."

Delilah smiled. "Me too. I'll explain the rest when we are in our rooms, but in company, you'll have to address me as ‘Miss' and answer ‘yes, Miss' or ‘no, Miss.'"

"I understand." Juno nodded firmly. "I won't cause you shame."

"Oh, my friend, you never would." It was Delilah who now squeezed her friend's hand. "Now let's put on our formal faces."

They stood at the bottom of the steps until Montgomery, the houseman of her godmother, stepped aside.

"Miss Delilah." He inclined his head.

"Montgomery," she answered politely, "how are you?"

"Quite well, Miss," he answered.

She stepped into the foyer with Juno at her heels and turned to Montgomery, who closed the door.

"How is your back?" she asked in a whisper.

He looked around before answering. "I still have sore days when the weather turns cold. I am almost out of the liniment you made last time..."

"I brought all I need to make you more," Delilah promised.

"Thank you, Miss," he said with a warm smile.

"Where is my goddaughter!"

The voice wiped the smile from Montgomery's face immediately, and he hurried ahead. Juno gave Delilah a curious look, but she just shook her head in amusement, knowing her godmother was supremely kind and loving when she wanted to be. At the door of the informal sitting room, if one could call any area of the Ellington mansion informal, Montgomery announced their presence.

"Your Grace, your goddaughter, Delilah Le Croix, and her lady-in-waiting, Miss...?" He looked at Delilah.

"Juno," she told him.

"Miss Juno," Montgomery finished.

The Grand Duchess Bronwyn Ellington stood and looked at them sternly. She wore a burgundy satin dress with capped sleeves and her evening jewels, which were a ruby pendant on a pearl necklace and earrings to match. Her face, of course, was perfection. The grand duchess took great care in trying to keep her features youthful.

"Well, come closer. Let me look at you," the duchess demanded.

Delilah moved forward and curtsied, with Juno doing the same.

"Your Grace," Delilah said. "Well, how do I look then, fat enough or maybe too skinny?"

"You've always been insolent." The grand duchess smiled broadly and pulled her into an embrace. "Welcome home, darling girl."

"Thank you, Godmother," Delilah said, not feeling like she was home in the least.

"Montgomery, show the young Juno to Delilah's suite of rooms so she can get it all sorted for her mistress," the grand duchess said. "And leave the small bag, correct, Delilah?"

"Yes."

Juno looked to Delilah doubtfully, and she gave her friend a quick nod to go along with the houseman. The duchess sat at an ornate table with a lace tablecloth that faced one of the large windows looking out into the gardens. It had two crystal tumblers sitting on a silver dish, and without hesitation, Delilah took the bag from the floor and sat in the other carved white chair.

"Well, where is it?" her godmother asked. "I know you at least brought me one."

"I brought you several," Delilah said dryly and pulled a bottle from the bag and poured a two count in each glass. "Le Croix Spiced Rum, this has been aged in a barrel for two years now."

The duchess took a sip and closed her eyes in pleasure before speaking. "Darling girl, this is by far the most excellent rum you've made. I am quite pleased this dream has become a reality for you."

"Thank you for believing in me and supplying the finances to start my venture." Delilah took her godmother's hands.

"Darling, I did that with all the happiness in the world in my heart for you," the duchess said gently.

"I may need another favor." Delilah poured her godmother another dram of the rum.

"Hmmm, a favor..." The duchess took up her glass willingly. "Are you plying me with your rum so that I say yes?"

"I'm showing the merits of my product, Godmother," she said gently. "You yourself said it was wonderful."

"Quite," the duchess agreed. "What is this favor you require?"

"An appointment with Duke Blackshire." Delilah leaned forward. "I've done my research, and he is by far the best to align with for export purposes and to broaden the market for my rum. He also has the means for me to get exotic spices to enhance my spiced label."

Her godmother smiled. "Done. This is easy. We will send out invitations to a party to welcome you home, and the duke shall be there. Then you can speak to him personally about an appointment to discuss business."

"Could we not do this without the party?" Delilah grimaced.

"Stop making faces," her godmother admonished. "That would seem more or less like the grand duchess demanding something for her goddaughter rather than a happenstance meeting."

"I see your point," Delilah mused. "I agree, but can we keep it to a small number and not invite certain people?"

"I know, darling. I know." The duchess patted her hand. "Now pour me another dram and tell me all about life in Barbados."

"You'll be well and truly drunk before supper," Delilah laughed.

"Oh pish-posh, that has never happened before." The glass was lifted to her lips, and her godmother drained it.

Knowing her godmother's penchant for a good dram of whisky or rum, it wasn't a surprise that she and Juno ate dinner in her suite of rooms that night. The grand duchess was, of course, indisposed in her room for the rest of the evening.

"So, there's supposed to be a grand party." Juno clapped her hands. "How exciting."

"You'll be able to watch from a distance. I'll make sure Montgomery needs your help to take wraps for the evening. I'm so sorry I can't bring you with me, but Godmother wouldn't allow it," Delilah apologized.

"I understand it's not like home, and I am more than happy to watch from a distance," Juno said. "Trust me, I would rather not be in a room with all those people."

"Me either," Delilah sighed, "but Godmother makes a good point that I should approach the duke myself."

"Well, I hope it works, because I miss home. Why does it feel so cold here all the time?" Juno asked, rubbing her arms. "And the food is, well, not at flavorful as we make it at home."

"The houseboy will add more wood to the fireplace before bed," Delilah said in amusement. "There is nothing I can explain or say about the food. It's how it's always been."

"Would the cook let me in the kitchen?" Juno asked.

"Absolutely not, and do not dare try. My godmother likes her food a certain way," she advised her friend.

Juno cleared their meal and took the plates and glasses downstairs before returning to help Delilah from her dress and corset. It was wonderful to take a deep breath. Corsets were a creation of the devil and men. Taking the thick tresses of her hair down was another relief, and she let the wild waves fall to her shoulders. Juno always used cornrows or twists to keep her neat at night.

Juno had a separate room within the suite, and soon both were in bed, exhausted after the long journey and needing rest that wasn't combined with the rocking of a boat. Delilah's last thoughts were of the meeting she hoped to have with Duke Blackshire. This was just for profit, nothing more, nothing less, and she hoped it would go well and she would soon be back on The Sun Catcher heading across the waters to home.

HOW HER GODMOTHER PUT together the event by the weekend left Delilah with a sense of wonderment. Then she remembered that no one ever refused Grand Duchess Ellington anything in her life whatsoever, and that included her husband, who had gone to the great beyond a happy man. Delilah could vaguely recall his kind face and how he doted on his wife. He died when she was still quite small and new to London. He would come in and encourage her to learn her lessons, while the tutor always seemed to find fault with Delilah.

Her fingers took the punishment with a wooden ruler for any infraction, of which there were none. It wasn't until Delilah figured out, she would be punished regardless, and used her godmother's fondness to her advantage, that the abuse stopped. That was the easier part of life, because the rest of the abuse occurred when she was older and showed her, she could trust no one.

Instead of being in her warehouse, Delilah had been fitted for a dress and purchased shoes for the night. Downstairs, the ballroom was being readied, and the French doors would be opened to the gardens. Not one inkling of excitement filled Delilah, but she did have a dram of rum to settle her nerves. This was one part of high society she abhorred: galas, parties, balls, anything that made a woman must prance around like a show mare looking for the right stallion to mount her then marry.

Dressed in a simple black gown, Juno stood with Montgomery to take light wraps from the female guests and place them neatly in the library. Her eyes glittered with the excitement that Delilah did not feel. Delilah looked down at the emerald-green dress she wore, highlighted by her godmother's diamonds and earrings. She now stood with the grand duchess, greeting guests with a smile and a slight nod.

"Your goddaughter is back, I see." Lady Beatrice was one of her godmother's close friends. "I thought we'd seen the last of her."

Delilah knew it was an insult, but holding her tongue, she smiled and gave the customary nod.

"I thought we'd seen the last dreadful wig you wear, yet here it is upon your head," Duchess Ellington replied. "I shall have to make an appointment for you with my girl. She does marvelous things with wigs."

Lady Beatrice blushed red and went into the ballroom with an offended sniff. People seemed more cordial after that, choosing not to be at the business end of the grand duchess's sharp tongue.

The object of Delilah's attention walked in, and time seemed to slow. How could one man be so handsome? Not in the way of the fancy boys that called themselves men, but darker and more brooding. Duke Blackshire was a full head above most other men, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. The cut that ran through his left eyebrow spoke of dangers that others had not seen. He handed his cane and hat to Montgomery and his coat to Juno. The black hair on his head, he combed with his fingers, the untidy waves marvelous. Then he fixed deep jade-colored eyes on Delilah and the grand duchess, mostly Delilah, and never stopped staring even as he walked up and kissed her godmother's hand.

"Bronwyn, you never seem to age," he said. "What fountain of youth have you hidden from us mortals?"

The grand duchess laughed. "You are very kind, Julian. Consider me utterly charmed."

"And who is the beauty standing next to you?" he asked.

"Ah, you've never met my goddaughter, Delilah Le Croix." Her godmother's keen eyes went from the duke to Delilah's face. "She has come for a short visit from Barbados for some business."

Duke Blackshire kissed her hand. "What kind of business could such an exquisite woman have to bring to the doldrums of London?"

"I own and run a profitable rum distillery," Delilah answered. "I'm sure my godmother would afford you a sip of one of the bottles I brought her."

"They are quite good." Duchess Ellington placed her hand on the duke's chest. "The spiced rum is particularly delicious. You really must sit down with Delilah, hear about Barbados and her distillery."

Duke Blackshire smiled. "I would not mind that at all."

Delilah inclined her head. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"I must insist you call me Julian," he said with a smile. "I'll not keep you from greeting the rest of your guests."

With one more look at Delilah, he walked inside the ballroom, and she squeezed her godmother's hand in excitement.

"He will agree to an appointment to see me," she said. "Oh, Aunt Bibbie, you are simply marvelous."

"You haven't called me that in a very long time," her godmother said with a tender smile. "I rather missed the name. ‘Godmother' is so formal."

"I'll endeavor to say it more," Delilah promised.

The guests were loud and lively as the party went on. The string quartet and the pianist performed, and they danced. Delilah kept to herself more often than not, her eyes following Duke Blackshire as woman after woman fawned over him. Dear Lord, it's like mating season and he is the stud , she thought to herself. She was standing with three women with whom she had a good acquaintance: Mallory, a tall, fun brunette; Betsy, a petite blonde; and Gwen, whose hair was on the dark side of blonde. They all chatted about London and all she had missed.

"I simply do not know what you can do on an uncivilized island and why you chose it over London," Gwen sighed melodramatically. "Well, I could assume you are built for it, the sun and hard labor."

It was, of course, in her usual fashion to offer insult where none was needed. It never fazed Delilah in the least because while Gwen thought her words were sharp, Delilah's were far worse.

"Built for it because of my dark skin and my curves?" Delilah asked. "Well, if God graced me with such a body and color to survive an island, then he has blessed me. While you, Gwen, would burn like a match with only minutes of sunlight."

The other two women tried to hold back their laughter. It was always that way with her and Gwen. They matched wits like playing a game of chess.

A smile broke free on Gwen's face. "I forgot how much I enjoyed our sparring."

A woman in red was openly fawning over Duke Blackshire. She trailed him with her arm in the crook of his, matching his every step.

"So is Duke Blackshire betrothed?" Delilah asked, and the others looked in the direction of the couple.

Betsy laughed lightly. "Emma Smith would love that fact. She thinks she will eventually wear him down into a marriage proposal."

"She's given him everything else. You should hear the gossip about their interludes, yet he has not asked to marry her." Mallory shrugged. "It's just like my nanny used to say, a man will never buy the cow if the milk is free."

"She does like to show off her breasts," Betsy murmured and took a sip from her glass. "If they were any higher, one could consider it an offering to our Lord and Savior."

That made them all laugh and drew Duke Blackshire's attention. He fixed his eyes on Delilah until warmth crept under her skin and she had to look away. The woman at his side also noticed his gaze with a frown.

"It seems that the duke has set his eyes upon someone else," Mallory mused, looking at Delilah.

"Not me!" she denied quickly. "I am only here for less than a month, then back home to what Gwen considers my savage island. If only you all would visit and see how beautiful it is. My house overlooks the water of the sea."

"Maybe we will," Gwen said. "Oh dear, Emma is walking this way, ladies. Delilah, she has claws and likes to scratch."

"Hmm, we'll see." Delilah plucked a fresh glass from one of the servants that passed by with a silver tray.

"So, the duchess's goddaughter returns like the prodigal son," Emma said. "We've all heard about you, pockets empty. Coming home for more money?"

"I could wager her pockets have more in them than yours," Betsy snapped. "Why are you here, Emma?

"To tell this one the duke is mine," Emma gloated.

"Oh, so you've put a collar on him, then?" Delilah asked. "How long has he been courting you?"

"Well, there...you see..." Emma stammered.

"Ah, so not at all," Delilah said. "You poor thing, at least I work for my wealth, while yours seems to come in the form of gifts for being on your back."

Gwen choked on her champagne, and the others could not smother their laughter. With another dark look, Emma stalked away.

"That was brilliantly done," Mallory said. "She looked like a kettle ready to blow."

"Her face was the color of her dress." Betsy's smile was wide.

"I think I've heard all the insults one could give a woman," Delilah said. "Here my color puts me in a category, but at home I am free to do as I please, and people see me for who I am beyond my skin."

"I'm sorry I teased," Gwen said suddenly. "I cannot imagine how hard it is for you in London, and I understand why you hate it so."

"You better not be sorry. You keep my wits sharp, and I do know it's not out of dislike." Delilah squeezed her friend's hand. "I've long grown a thicker skin."

Her friends wandered off to dance with the eligible men at the party, while she had no problem being single. Their lives were built on the goal of finding a suitable husband. Delilah herself often wondered if she would be married and have children, but the path she was on gave her doubt that would ever be a possibility.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Duke Blackshire and four other men walk away, and she frowned. Not once had he approached her to discuss an appointment to meet with him, and yet there he went with wealthy men of industry. They would, of course, use the library of her godmother's late husband, in the duchess's home, to discuss business. Delilah had seen it happen more than once in her time at the Ellington mansion. Thinking quickly, she went to the entrance of the ballroom and called Juno over.

"Go to our rooms quickly, and bring me a bottle of the spiced rum," Delilah told her. "Wrap it in a silk scarf and bring it to me."

Juno went scurrying off to do as she was told. To anyone who passed to go in or out of the ballroom, Delilah smiled and gave a small nod. She kept looking at the stairs for Juno. Finally, she descended the steps on quick, nimble feet, and Delilah prayed she wouldn't fall.

"Here," Juno whispered and passed her the wrapped bottle as quickly as she could.

With a clipped word of thanks, Delilah hurried through the ballroom to the hall she knew led to the men's library, a place her godfather and his friends would retire to for a brandy and cigars. Standing outside the door, she heard them talking money, shares, profits or losses, and it irked her. Why did men think they knew so much, while women were designated to sit at home to mother children and stay out of the business aspects of life? She had proven them all wrong on the island, and so she would here.

With a deep breath that she expelled slowly, Delilah opened the door and stepped into the room. All fell silent when she did, and without hesitation, she sat in one of the chairs around the polished mahogany desk.

"Good evening, gentlemen, I've come for my seat at the table," Delilah said. "Would you like a dram of spiced rum, or are you firmly set on brandy?"