A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 177 - Hundred And Seventy Seven

Delaney nodded her head slowly.

"It is me," She whispered softly. " Or rather, it was me."

Rowan’s eyes widened even further. He opened his mouth, but absolutely no sound came out. The sheer, impossible reality of the situation struck him so hard he felt physically dizzy.

Delaney offered a small smile. She looked up at his stunned face, her heart overflowing with love.

"Though I believe you are still with my button," Delaney added. Her voice carried a light, teasing warmth that cut through the heavy tension in the room. "I couldn’t wear that dress again because I lost that button at that balcony."

Rowan’s breath caught sharply in his throat. He let out a harsh, ragged gasp.

The button.

That small plain fabric button covered in dark thread. He had found it lying on the floor after she had jumped off the balcony and fled into the night. He had picked it up, carefully wiping the dust away with his thumb. He had taken it home and kept it locked safely in the top drawer of his desk in his study for three entire years. It was the only physical proof he had that the girl was real.

Rowan was still trying to process everything. His mind, usually so fast and capable of solving complex estate problems in seconds, was completely short-circuiting. The woman he had loved as a haunting memory, and the woman he loved now in his reality, were the exact same person. He wasn’t imagining it, he didn’t hear it wrong and she had just confirmed it.

Delaney saw the absolute, stunned disbelief written clearly across his handsome face. She saw how he struggled to grasp the magnitude of what fate had just done to them.

She gently reached her right hand up. She moved her hand toward his face.

She brushed her soft thumb gently over his parted lips. The contrast of her smooth skin against the rough, masculine stubble on his jaw was incredibly grounding.

"Say something," Delaney said. Her voice was low, and incredibly tender.

Rowan blinked rapidly. He swallowed hard, trying to find moisture in his suddenly dry throat. He lowered his head just a fraction, leaning heavily into the comforting warmth of her small hand.

"How did..." Rowan started to ask. His voice was a thick, raspy whisper. The words seemed to hang painfully in his throat, blocked by a massive lump of pure, overwhelming emotion. He had to clear his throat and try again. "How did you know? I never told you it was three years ago."

"I heard Ines and Aunt Margery talking about it," Delaney confessed softly. She kept her hand resting gently on his cheek. "They spoke of the girl you searched for three years ago. They spoke of the girl who you met once and fell in love with."

Delaney smiled. Her hazel eyes shone with deep wonder.

"Well, we have Aunt Margery to thank," Delaney said quietly. "She brought us back together. She hired me without knowing our past. And now, she is trying to push us to make things right."

Rowan frowned slightly, still trying to catch up with her words. The throbbing pain in his bandaged head was completely forgotten, replaced by a desperate need to understand.

"How so?" Rowan asked. His voice was rough with confusion. "How is she trying to make things right?"

"To be able to stand beside you with my head held high," Delaney replied gently. She let her hand drop from his face, resting it against his bare chest, right over his heart.

Rowan blinked. His eyebrows drew together in deep, painful confusion. The beautiful puzzle pieces were not fitting together correctly in his injured mind. He remembered the terrible, heartbreaking words he had heard in the dark garden just a few minutes ago. He remembered the sound of his own heart breaking into a million pieces.

"But..." Rowan said. His voice dropped into a desperate, painful whisper. He looked deeply into her eyes. "I heard you asking Aunt Margery when you should leave."

He looked down at her, his eyes begging for an explanation. He needed to know why she was planning to walk away from him if she truly loved him. He needed to know why she would abandon him after all the promises they had made.

Delaney’s expression softened completely. She realized exactly what had happened. She saw the raw, bleeding pain in his eyes. He had stood in the cold shadows and broken his own heart over a simple misunderstanding of society rules.

"I was asking when I should leave the employment of this house," Delaney clarified softly.

She moved both of her hands up. She gently cupped his face. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin. She looked directly into his worried eyes, making absolutely sure he heard every single word clearly.

"Your aunt dismissed me, Rowan," Delaney explained. Her voice was steady and filled with gentle reassurance. "She told me that if we love each other, you must court me properly. According to the strict rules of the Ton, you cannot court a hired servant living under your own roof without causing a terrible, dirty scandal. Society would call me your mistress, not your bride."

Rowan stared at her. His mind slowly processed the words.

She was not leaving him because she did not love him. She was not leaving him because she was afraid of Lord Farrington, or because the carriage crash had terrified her. She was not running away from his noble title.

She was leaving the house so he could officially, legally, and properly claim her in front of the entire world. She was leaving so he could buy her flowers, walk with her in the park, and ask for her hand in marriage as a true gentleman should.

Rowan replied, his voice a breathless, stunned whisper. "You are leaving the house... so I can court you?"

"Yes," Delaney nodded. Her smile widened, reaching her bright eyes and making them sparkle in the lamp light. "I was trying to decide if I should wait for you to wake up so I could tell you my new location, or if I should leave a letter."

A massive, overwhelming wave of pure relief crashed over Rowan.

It was a completely physical sensation. He let out a long, violent, shuddering breath. His entire body went completely weak with the sudden, massive release of tension. His strong arms, which had been locked stiffly against the stone wall for support, lost all their rigid strength.

He dropped his arms from the wall. He wrapped them tightly around her small waist, pulling her flush against his bare, bruised chest.

He rested his forehead heavily against hers again. He closed his eyes, completely overcome by the sheer, beautiful mercy of the truth. She was not running away. She was staying. She was his.

"Thank God," Rowan breathed out. His voice was shaking with absolute, profound gratitude. He buried his face in the soft, dark hair at her temple, inhaling her sweet scent. "Thank God."