Hey There, Delilah

A Step in the Right Direction

Song: Calm playlist by S0M30N3

Cursing like a drunkard halfwit was an egregious act that was below and unbecoming of an accomplished woman.

Beulah Irene Theodora Calcraft-Hoffman was an accomplished woman. She knew this for a fact because she was raised to be an accomplished woman. A woman of her caliber, although somewhat lowly in birth, had little choice to be anything but an accomplished woman in the country of Regent. So for all her air of elegance and grace, twenty sun cycles of studied charm never failed her, not once, no matter how dire the news was which she received.

Until now.

For when her mother announced her arranged marriage to the incorrigible Silas Lawrence Underhill-Thornton—

Ambrose swore when a pillow slammed into the back of his head, halting the editing process he was balls deep in. "What?!" he hissed, spinning around to glare at Vincent.

"I asked if you knew who the guy was!" Vincent declared with a huff, plopping onto Ambrose's (now messy) bed. He toyed with his fluffy hair, interested eyes egging Ambrose on. "Well?"

Ambrose let out a heavy breath, swerving around. The keyboard made a tippity tappity sound as he wracked his mind for the whispered name that'd been floating around.

Well, she was completely, wholeheartedly, undoubtedly beside herself! Before she could even attempt to reign in the fire burning within her loins she'd gone and let loose a few words of profanity on scalded tongue. The attending maid had run out blushing like a fool with her eyes downcasted yet wide.

Ambrose hummed, that wasn't too bad. A sudden light bulb went off and he snapped, glancing at Vincent over his shoulder. "Simon Darcy. Tall dude? Green eyes. He definitely skips leg days."

Ambrose chuckled, turning around to delete and rewrite the next part. He completely missed the dark shadow to befall his cousin's face.

"My dearest Beulah," he whispered, savoring the words on his tongue before taking advantage of the glorious silence. He launched into the next part of the ridiculous story with vigor, rewriting whole sections now.

"My dearest Beulah," her mother said, eyes sparkling with glee despite her daughter's clear distaste. "You and I both know that that is no way for an accomplished woman to behave. Not after hearing such merry news!"

Beulah bit her tongue to keep it from becoming forked like that of an evil demon stained with phrases colored by malediction.

Her mother took her silence as a confirmation to continue talking.

"Mr. Underhill-Thornton chose you out of every girl in the town!" she cried, half jumping as she danced around the drawing room like the romantic fool she truly was at heart. "He was so enraptured by your beauty, this I know because it's the talk of the town, that he forced the carriage to a stop! Just so he could admire your face a little longer."

Vincent threw another pillow, whooping victoriously when it smacked Ambrose. A deadly glare pierced through Vincent. Yet he smiled nonetheless, innocently toying with his silk pajamas.

"What? I have another question."

"Spit it out," Ambrose growled, irritation ebbing and flowing like the dark sea.

He really hated being interrupted when he was in the zone and writing. It'd been three whole months since he'd had this much inspiration. He didn't want to lose it because Vincent couldn't take a hint to go bother Jill instead.

"Did you hear anything they said?"

"Why don't you go ask your friend?"

"Because I wanna ask you, cugino." Vincent stretched like a cat, purposely messing up Ambrose's tidy bedding. He laughed softly when he saw Ambrose's right eye twitch. Vincent perched his chin on his hand, kicking his legs behind him and raised a brow. He widened his lovely brown eyes for good measure and said, "Please, tell me what you heard. If you do, I'll take it as a five percent payment for letting you and Cameron live in my apartment."