When Harry Met Molly

Chapter 39

Once at the curtain, Molly noticed right away that the men had moved back far enough from the torches so their faces were in shadows.

“Ladies,” she heard Harry say, “you’ve all done marvelously well this week. We wish all of you could win the title of Most Delectable Companion.”

Lumley clapped and hooted.

“But we must choose only one winner,” Harry went on. “We’ve tallied the votes, double-checked our figures, and now are proud to announce…”

Molly felt as if time slowed down then, even though Lumley slapped his thighs in a rapid tattoo, in imitation of a drum roll.

“The winner of the Most Delectable Companion title is—” Harry paused.

Molly clutched hands with Bunny and Athena.

“Delilah!”

Molly blinked. It didn’t seem possible! She? The most delectable companion?

The other mistresses hugged her and congratulated her. But it was as if she were in a dream. She felt the same way when the men came forward. All of them wished her many happy returns, except Sir Richard, who stood alone, his lip curled.

Harry had a pleasant smile on his face but his gaze was carefully neutral. She supposed as host he didn’t want to go overboard showing his joy at being the lucky bachelor whose name didn’t have to go into the hat. That wouldn’t have been sporting of him.

But she knew, however much she pretended not to care, that he must be thrilled to have another year of freedom. He despised the parson’s mousetrap. He’d made that clear in his words and actions for years.

He held out the sparkling tiara. It was beautiful, Molly, thought, but it was made of worthless paste.

It was a sham.

Like her.

Like her week with Harry had been.

“Congratulations, Delilah,” he said, rather formally.

“Thank you,” she responded in kind.

And he kissed her cheek. It was a polite kiss, nothing more, signifying no connection between them beyond their obligations to each other as coconspirators in a fraudulent endeavor.

When Harry pulled back, Bunny took the crown from him and placed it on Molly’s hair.

Lumley draped a beautiful purple cape over her shoulders, patted her back, and said, “Well deserved! You’ve got some money coming to you, you know. Don’t forget that hundred pounds.”

She leaned over to Bunny. “I’m giving you the money.”

Bunny’s eyes widened. “Whatever for? You’ll need it.”

“No. I—I’ve made an arrangement with Harry. If he throws me over, he’ll pay me a great sum. Besides, if I keep the money, I’ll waste it on…queen cakes. I have an obsession with them.”

“A lady shouldn’t overindulge in queen cakes, Delilah,” Bunny scolded her affectionately.

Molly grinned. “Which is exactly why you shall use my winnings to start your own sewing business. No arguments.”

“You’re too generous.” Bunny threw her arms around her and squeezed.

Molly forced herself to smile, to act happy. She would simply hang on until they left this place—until she could be completely alone somewhere and cry her heart out.

She spun for all the company, allowing her beautiful purple cape to billow and sink back around her legs, her crown to sparkle in the torchlight.

Why was love such torture? she wondered, as she smiled at her well-wishers.

And why were happy endings as impossible as the bachelor she so desperately wanted?