Page 10 of Love, the Duke (Say I Do #3)
C HAPTER 10
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Don’t be afraid to make another plan.
Ophelia sat in a chair in their small garden and watched the sun crawling among the white clouds. Earlier in the day a fitful rain had heightened the scent of the flowers and shrubs with a damp, leafy fragrance. White trumpet flowers climbed high with their vines creating a spectacle of greenery. The area was more private than she would have liked. It would have been nice to see over their neighbors’ neatly trimmed hedges, but they were too tall.
She closed her book. There was no use pretending she was reading. All she could do was think about yesterday’s card party and her interaction with the duke and his cousin. As usual, the duke was maddening at times, delightfully funny at others, and, worst of all, he was very desirable all the time.
Ophelia would never forget how he looked at her when she met his gaze after he introduced his cousin. He seemed to take in every detail of her face as if wanting to enjoy how much he’d surprised her. And he had. It was completely unexpected and heady to learn he’d changed his mind and allowed her to listen to him question Mr. Halaway. Of course, he was surprised too. He hadn’t expected her to help him do the questioning. Even as she remembered it now, her breaths deepened.
Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she smiled, looking up at the sky. It was somehow comforting and satisfying to just think about the duke. Whether she was recalling enjoyable times such as the card party, or regretful ones like the afternoon she’d slapped him. He was constantly on her mind. And she did regret slapping him. At the time she wasn’t sure she thought he deserved it. Now she was certain he didn’t. Her action wasn’t just a knee-jerk reaction to the unavoidable accident of her getting stuck. She had come to think the real reason for her hasty and out of character response was that she’d thought about kissing him, and he knew it. Why should a man know a lady wanted a kiss from him? That wasn’t something a vicar’s daughter wanted a man or anyone to know.
In the grand scheme of things, she had done many things that weren’t becoming to a vicar’s daughter since she’d found the chalice missing that thinking about a kiss didn’t sound so bad. She simply had to realize and accept that this was now her life. Her new life. And handle it.
Why the possibility of his lips pressed against hers would have even entered her mind after being trapped in the chest and embarrassed that she’d been seen she had no idea. Unless, maybe, it was because the duke’s warm, strong hands had been on her back and shoulders helping free her. She couldn’t stop remembering it. And… the duke should have just forgotten about being a gentleman, forgotten about being in her home without her maman or a chaperone present, and kissed her the way a true rake would have.
No matter how many times she told herself she had more important things to dwell on than the duke, she found herself thinking about him again. Thoughts of him simply gave her no peace.
Sighing, Ophelia shook her head and opened Man’s Practical Guide to Apprehending a Thief again. She started skimming through the well-read pages as she had so many times before, hoping she would find a gem, a nugget, or something she’d missed along the way that might help her find the thief in a quicker way. The issue with the vicar could be solved any day now. She couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.
Ophelia squeezed her eyes tightly for a moment, trying to shut out everything that worried her, but her first thought was why couldn’t the maid have seen a scar on the thief’s cheek, that he had a pronounced limp, or was missing an arm? Anything that would have made him easier to find.
The back door opened, and she looked up to see her mother walking down the steps with a shawl in her hands. It was so like her to worry that Ophelia might be feeling the chill, even with her velvet spencer to keep her warm. She laid the book aside and went to meet her.
“Thank you for knowing just what I needed,” Ophelia said, taking the wrap as she noticed the worry furrowing her mother’s brow.
“What is it, Maman?” Unease worked itself through Ophelia and a sense of dread seeped through her. With all her mother’s concerns, she didn’t need more burdens.
“This just came.” She held on to a small note, the seal obviously broken. “I can’t read it again.” Distress had her fidgeting with the gold band she still wore.
Ophelia took the note from her mother’s trembling fingers. “No need to. Let me see it for myself. Surely, it’s not such dire—” But barely a sentence into the missive with its fancy penmanship marking the stationery of her mother’s dearest friend in Wickenhamden, Ophelia’s gaze lifted sharply to her mother’s face.
“I can tell you what it says.” Roberta spoke in a voice as fragile as a spider’s silken thread. “The elders of the church have met and, as we expected, they contacted the bishop and asked that he send a new vicar as soon as it can be arranged. You know what that means?”
In a tone lower than a whisper, Ophelia said, “Inventory.”
Maman nodded. “We must find the chalice, my girl. And soon.”
She was right, but Ophelia couldn’t let her mother fret over this more than she already had. While Roberta wasn’t of an age to qualify her as an older woman, her health was not what it was in her younger years.
“We will find it, Maman. As you can see, I’m reading the book again.” She pointed toward the book. “We’ve eliminated several gentlemen already. My list is getting smaller. You know we’ve made progress.”
“Not enough. We haven’t found one solid lead here. Maybe we should return home and examine every inch of the church and vicarage again. It is possible that we could have simply missed it because we were searching so hard. Maybe it fell behind a chest, shelving, or something else.”
“No, we couldn’t have.” Ophelia shook her head. “You know how thoroughly we searched, Maman. We had servants moving every piece of furniture, every book, all the clothing, and everything else that was movable. You know Winston’s devotion. He would never have taken the sacrament out of the church.”
Maman looked down at her hands as if they would somehow inspire her. “We are not going fast enough.”
“I know, but don’t worry, Maman.” Ophelia gave her a quick buss on her cool cheek, a loving pat on her upper arm, and a smile of reassurance. “We’ve managed to get invitations to all the parties coming up that are being held at titled gentlemen’s homes. We discreetly ask at parties if anyone knows of collectors. We’ve removed the gentlemen the duke knew from the crests I sketched.”
“All that has yielded nothing.”
“Not yet, but maybe tomorrow it will. But it is still progress when we eliminate someone. Given how long it took with the previous vicars the bishop sent, there will probably be meetings before a new vicar is approved for Wickenhamden and more time after that before he arrives.”
“But he will move swiftly, my dear. The vicars’ issues have gone on far longer than anyone expected.”
“We will handle it, Maman,” Ophelia said while attempting to steer her mother to a garden bench. “Come, let’s sit down.”
Roberta hesitated. “No, my dear. I will go inside and sit by the fire for a while. The warmth is comforting. Come with me. You’ll catch yourself a fine chill out here with nothing on to cover your head.”
“I’ll stay out a little longer. The sun has been peeking from between the clouds. The intermittent sunshine is enough for now. Besides, I need to think about this.” She squeezed the note in her hand.
“I don’t want you to worry yourself sick.”
“As if that would happen.” Ophelia looked down at the note. “I’ll join you soon.”
“Very well, my dear. Do cover your head with the shawl.”
“When I get cold I will. And have a cup of tea when you get inside!” Ophelia called to her mother as she walked away.
Alone, Ophelia returned to her chair but didn’t sit down. She read the note repeatedly before placing it on top of her book and the shawl beside it.
She stood a long while in quiet contemplation, coming to terms with the inevitable unless something changed for the better soon. Then she set off on tracing a thought-provoking path from one end of the short garden to the other and back again.
How she missed the wild open fields in Wickenhamden, with the wrens who flew from the brambles as she passed. What an innocent lamb she’d been to let the silliest things send her into nature for contemplation growing up and free to roam—if she didn’t stray too far from the vicarage. As she grew older, she realized her best thinking had always been outdoors and walking.
Often, after her father died and Winston moved home and became the vicar, he would walk with her. They would go to the pond and throw pebbles into the water as they had when younger. She would play cards with him and then he would play charades with her. No matter what he was doing or how busy he was preparing his sermons or attending to his church duties, he always made time for her.
One of her fondest memories of her brother was the wintery day she caught him off guard and sprinkled his neck with the icy water. Luckily, he wasn’t upset with her for too long, but he did chase her all the way back home. They both knew he could have caught up to her anytime he’d wanted.
She would have loved to go on a long walk alone in Hyde Park, but here in London such behavior was not just frowned upon; it was forbidden. Unless, of course, a young lady wanted to find herself ruined for life. Walking without a chaperone was a good way to do it. But the back garden, no matter how small, was safe.
Nonetheless, Society’s strict rules aside, the most straightforward way out of their current dilemma would be if the culprit who had stolen the chalice had an attack of shame and returned it. She wouldn’t even want to seek retribution. Since that scenario proved very unlikely, she found herself traveling down the only road she had: investigating the matter herself and carrying on with her limited search. There were more houses and book rooms to get into before the sacrament was found missing, and only one of her to look through them.
Ophelia didn’t want to fail her brother. The thought was so distressing she wanted to take to a sickbed the way her mother would do from time to time. But of course, that wouldn’t help her or her brother or her mother.
She didn’t want the duke to be right and that she was indeed on a fool’s errand to even attempt to find the thief or the chalice. But how could she just do nothing even if she was destined to fail in the end?
She would plan to talk to Mrs. Turner again tomorrow morning while both were feeling rested and fresh. Maybe Ophelia could come up with a new question that would spark a detail the maid had missed on earlier questionings.
“Are you trying to walk a pathway into the budding grass, Miss Stowe?”
Startled from her pensive thoughts, Ophelia spun and saw the duke coming through the side gate, and he looked absolutely divine.