Page 15 of Love, the Duke (Say I Do #3)
C HAPTER 15
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Trust your instincts.
“Mr. Warcliff.” The duke’s strong tenor marked his stiff greeting. With a hard gaze leveled directly on Ophelia, he bridled his reproach. “Very good of you to come. Still have that cough, do you? I’ll take care of that for you. Follow me, and I’ll send for a glass of water.”
Ophelia did her best to keep in step with the duke’s impatient stride down the corridor. Laying her hand on top of her glass so the dark-amber liquor wouldn’t spill, she almost missed navigating the corner he turned, quite unsteady in her haste. The men’s boots she wore fit just under the bend of her knee and required some adjustment training with the way they fit. But she’d mastered them. Or so she thought. She felt as if lead had been added to the soles as she walked.
Dashing down the passageway, she shortened the gap between them. Then the duke had the ill timing to stop in his tracks so suddenly that she plowed into his backside. Her drink splashed against her fingers in her near stumble, but she didn’t tarry a fraction of a second. Taking an intentional step sideways, she quickly broke contact. But not fast enough. The warmth of a blush blanketed her from head to toe.
Out of breath and out of sorts, Ophelia stood there unable to move as their eyes met. There was no doubt he was seething. It showed in every feature on his face when he glanced back to look at her. All the while, she could hear the duke’s slow and controlled breathing. She was helpless not to gaze into his face. This close to him, it was as if she didn’t want to tear her attention away.
He lightly took her by the right shoulder and, steering her ahead of him, beneath his breath he whispered, “Ladies first. Enter the second door on the right.”
Trying to maintain calm, Ophelia did as he bid without question and entered what had to be the music room. A pianoforte, a harp, and a violin posed on a dark wood stand claimed the surroundings. She walked over to the piano, stopped, and turned around to face him. Her stomach jumped and she realized that no matter that he was upset with her, as impossible as it seemed, she was happy to see him.
His green eyes squeezed tightly at the corners, and his mouth was set and drawn. But none of that took away from the dashing figure he cut, and the man she was immensely attracted to.
Advancing on her, the duke said, “You are certainly filled with surprises, Ophelia.”
“I could say the same for you.”
“Me?” he questioned.
“Asking me to marry you was quite a surprise.”
“It shouldn’t have been. We were aware of each other the moment our eyes met. Even then we knew there would be passion between us.”
Passion, no. She didn’t know what passion was until he kissed her. A connection, a bond, yes.
He shook his head and inhaled deeply as if trying to settle himself. When he looked back to her, he asked, “What in the land of the living are you doing in my house mingling with my sporting club as if you were one of them?”
“I had no choice but to—”
“No, Ophelia, you had choice,” he insisted.
He gave her no opportunity to explain and continued. “If one of the men had figured out you were a lady, it would be all over London faster than you could change out of those clothes into a proper dress. And that would be only if they didn’t chew you up and spit you out on the front lawn before you had the chance. A man’s club is sacrosanct.”
Oh, he was in a bad temper. And she couldn’t tell him he had no right to be angry with her. But he didn’t. He was the one who hadn’t responded to her note. Setting her glass on a heavy wooden table near the piano, she made her defense. “I didn’t know you had guests until the butler showed me inside. He assumed I was a member.”
“You blame my butler?” he asked, astounded.
She started to answer but decided it was best to remain silent after she saw the scowl that formed and creased the duke’s forehead.
“And you allowed him to do so with no fear of consequences?” Hurst continued.
No, no. She had plenty of fear. Ophelia couldn’t very well admit that, so she continued to remain silent.
“I cannot believe you came back to my house dressed like this.” He pointedly gave her a critical up-and-down glance.
His overwrought attitude lent strength to her courage. She refocused on the reason she’d come. “I needed to see you and I don’t apologize for coming. Had you rather I come as a young lady to your door?”
“Why didn’t you just send me a note?” As was his custom when he was upset, his voice hitched a little louder.
“I did send you a note this morning and you didn’t answer.”
“Did you happen to think I might be busy?”
“There is no need for you to sound and look angry,” she accused.
“Do I?” He threw up his hands in frustration. “Maybe that’s because I am. Of all the men in there, what were you doing talking to Mr. Sawyer? I saw you playing cards with him at the garden party. You know him, Ophelia. He could have recognized you by your blue eyes, your voice, or your perfume.”
Perfume? Startled, she hadn’t considered that. She’d never given a second thought about her morning toilette routine of adding fragrance to her chest and arms with bergamot. It had been engrained in her.
“It doesn’t matter how Mr. Sawyer perceived me,” she answered without much conviction. “He was too busy looking for someone more important to talk to than to study over the likes of me.”
“You are damn lucky he was. And I told you to never put on those clothes again.” Changing course, he growled, “No, damnation, I told you to burn them.”
Ophelia gasped and reached for the glass of brandy from the table as if needing the alcohol as fortitude to sort through this shamble of a conversation. Aghast, she questioned, “Did you just swear in front of me?”
“You’re damn right I did.” He didn’t even blink at swearing again. “If you are going to wear the clothing of a man, you might as well hear the vulgar language of a man.”
“All right, fair enough,” she stated, her own ire rising. “I will. And just to be clear, I think you told me you would burn them, but in any case, it’s a good thing I didn’t dispose of them because I needed them again.”
Clenching his teeth, his jaw tightening, he seemed to swallow back another oath. “You don’t need the disguise to get in to see me, Ophelia.”
Taking on a defensive stance, she snapped back, “I can’t come to your door alone dressed as a lady. Would it have been a better idea if I’d hidden myself in that chest and had it delivered to you wrapped with a bow?”
He held on to a glare as if flinching one iota, he’d come unhinged. “And be slapped again after I get you out a second time? No thank you.”
That was too much, even from the duke, who had begun to know her more intimately than she’d ever perceived a man would. And likewise, she had learned things about him she treasured close to her heart. All that said, her sensibility had been besmirched, and she had no choice but to take him to task in some way.
“No true gentleman would bring that unfortunate event up to a lady.”
“What’s going on in here?” came a masculine voice behind her.
Ophelia twisted around toward the entryway. Two well-dressed men with easygoing strides entered the room and stopped just inside the room staring at them.
The gentleman with chestnut-colored hair narrowed his gaze onto the duke. “Hurst, what’s this about?”
The other man locked his eyes on Ophelia, and she wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. It didn’t dawn on her someone might have followed them and heard them arguing. A flush of heat swallowed her. Hidden, chest, bow, and slapped were not words she’d want anyone to hear from their conversation. Neither would the duke. Merciful heavens! The duke would never help her now.
Clearing his throat, the gentleman with the light-brown hair observed wisely to Hurst, “It sounds as if a storm has been brewing between you two a long time. Let’s calm it for now, Hurst. You have some introductions to make. You can save the explaining for another time.”
“And next time you decide to have a row, it would be best to close the door before you start.” Which the other man immediately accomplished.
Sage advice, but Hurst ignored them, though the scowl remained on his face.
These men had obviously heard her and the duke arguing. For how long, she didn’t know. She would assume by her voice they would know she was a lady, and the way they were looking at her left little doubt. It wasn’t her intention for anyone to know, but what could she do now? The damage was done.
Intent to slow the hammering beats in her pulse, and without thinking how it would look, she picked up the glass, brought it to her lips, and swallowed two hearty gulps of the brandy as fast as she could. Which was the wrong thing to do. Immediately, wheezing and coughing plagued her again as she tried to catch her breath.
“Give me that liquor,” Hurst ordered through clenched teeth. “It’s the last thing you need.”
Ophelia did as he asked, and the duke set the glass on the piano top with a thud. Facing their visitors, he relinquished the awkward moment by turning to the gentlemen and saying, “Your Graces, may I present Miss Ophelia Stowe. Ophelia, the Duke of Wyatthaven and the Duke of Stonerick.”
More dukes? She did the only thing she knew to do. “Your Graces,” she said, and as properly and humbly as possible, she pulled on the side legs of her trousers and curtseyed.
“Miss Stowe,” the Duke of Wyatthaven said, holding his smile in check. “Hurst has mentioned you to us, but we never envisioned a lady such as yourself.”
She was sure of that. His kindness made her feel all the worse, knowing she had searched the man’s home for the chalice.
The Duke of Stonerick grinned without restraint as he looked at Hurst. “You never told us how delightful she is in trousers and a wig.” Formally addressing Ophelia, he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Unable to bear the attention of six eyes staring at her a moment longer, she whispered, “Thank you, Your Graces. I’ll take my leave now and let you get on with your club meeting.”
“You will stay where you are,” Hurst said with the precision of an arrow hitting the center of its mark. “You and I are not through.” Turning his attention to his friends, he glowered. “As far as you two go, I don’t believe an explanation is necessary. Miss Stowe and I are simply trying to come to an understanding about something. I’m sure we will have reached a conclusion before she leaves.”
The dukes looked at each other. Ophelia didn’t think they were going to acquiesce to Hurst’s subtle hint they should be the ones to excuse themselves.
Finally, the Duke of Stonerick chuckled. “I recall the days when we had to muddle through trying to explain the unexplainable. It’s impossible.”
“Indeed,” the Duke of Wyatthaven agreed with merriment in his eyes, as Hurst remained silent. “Now we are happily married to them.”
Ophelia could only assume that they were talking about their own wives while Hurst was dealing with the shenanigans of an unmarried young lady, regrettably dressed as if a man.
“Don’t worry, Hurst. We will keep the club members settled until you join us. Take your time. No doubt you have a lot to get through.” Then both nodded to her and took their leave, low-voiced chuckles echoing between them as the door shut behind them.
Alone with the duke in the sprawling room, Ophelia regretted coming. Her disguise had been a rushed and foolish choice. But desperate emotions had led to desperate decisions that demanded she do so. But now he would be forced to try to explain her, the way she was dressed, and what they had been talking about to his friends. That might be harder to do.
Running a hand through his blond hair, he gazed at her through hooded eyes. She watched his exasperated expression change to resignation. “Why was it you said you couldn’t have just sent me a note?”
She appreciated the calmer, lower-spoken voice he used. “I did, but I didn’t receive an answer.”
“I don’t always look at messages when I first come home. I was running late for the meeting. Couldn’t you have at least waited half an hour before dressing in such a way and coming over?”
“That is not fair,” she said, filled with indignation. “It was several hours.”
“Perhaps my timing was off, but I would have come to you when I read your note.”
“Do you mean that?”
Culpability softened her, and she had no more defense on which to plead her case. She had been reckless and turned away from delving too deeply into consequences.
Hurst moved close to her as he nodded. She could feel his breath caress her cheek, her nose, and her mouth. A cascade of shivers rained through her very core. She wanted to look away from him but couldn’t.
In a tender voice, he said, “Of course, I mean it, Ophelia. I asked you to marry me. Why would you think I wouldn’t come to you?”
His closeness made tingles zing across her skin, and she could hardly form her next words. “Because I rejected you.”
“I didn’t lose sleep over it.”
His blunt response unsettled her. Worry festered in her mind, and she all but wrung her hands in hopelessness that he would now help her save her brother’s legacy.
Maybe she was right when she’d thought earlier that he might have proposed to someone else already. The very idea left her chilled, but she asked. “Are you already betrothed to another now?”
He didn’t readily answer, and the longer he went without speaking, the more her heart swelled to a squeezing ache in her chest.
“The woman I desire heats my blood, occupies my head morning, noon, and night. She’s quite unique but too daring for her own good. She sets me back on my heels, makes me want to throttle her and ravish her at the same time.”
Sailing on a ship of despair, Ophelia knew she had come too late. It was none of her business, but she couldn’t help blurting, “Who is she? Has she come out this Season? Georgina?”
“Miss Bristol? No, my beautiful, strongheaded Ophelia. She’s you.”
The rhythm of her heart rate accelerated. Did that mean there was still time for her to make amends? In light of all things in the past, he did just declare he carried a fondness for her as well as desire. Gathering every ounce of courage, she said, “Since you are not already betrothed to another, I would like to discuss the matter again.”
His brows rose with interest and his handsome features relaxed into a twinge of a smile. “I take it Debrett’s book didn’t help as much as you’d expected it to.”
She slowly shook her head with much chagrin. At least he wasn’t exactly saying, I told you so.
“The volume is quite detailed with its information, but too late, I’ve realized that Mrs. Turner simply didn’t see enough of the crest to remember clearly what was on it. And there were far too many possibilities. Perhaps I pushed her too quickly right from the moment she’d mentioned overhearing the suspect’s conversation with Winston. She became too confused to adequately be of any help.”
“That must have been difficult for you to accept.”
She startled when Hurst brushed the backs of his fingers slowly down her cheek, but the shock was quickly replaced by warmth and comfort. His touch caused the breath in her throat to feel thick and heavy.
“You could have warned me how difficult it would be.”
“I thought I did,” he said quietly, and gave her another tweak of a smile. “More than once.”
Growing more at ease about what she was doing, she gladly gave him one too. She’d had to admit to herself that the idea of marrying him had been cause for excitement from the time he’d mentioned it. Though she didn’t know exactly what it was or what to do about it, she recognized there was something always simmering between the two of them. Pulling them together as strongly and present as the moon pulled the tides. It was there whether he was with her or if she were alone. Whether they were in good humor with each other or bad. It didn’t seem to matter. She was always happy to see him. Thoughts of him were always with her.
Both of them huffed a little laugh before he said, “I guess some ladies would rather find out things for themselves than be told.”
She appreciated his words and wanted to tell him, but there was something more important she had to say, and the whole of it wouldn’t be easy. “I’m not here just because we couldn’t clearly define a family name from the crests. That is not the worst of it. Maman received a letter from her friend today saying the new vicar will arrive within the week.”
He gave a brief nod. “Time is short.”
“Yes. I admit I haven’t gotten very far on my own.” Her stomach quaked at what she was about to say, but she had to get it out. “I would like to propose an arranged marriage to you.”
His brow rose even higher than before, and his eyes studied hers. “That couldn’t have been easy for you to say.”
“It wasn’t. Admitting you were wrong about something never is.”
Nodding, Hurst asked, “What did you have in mind?”
Ophelia swallowed and said, “I will marry you and do my best to give you a son.” Was she as breathless as she sounded?
“And in return?”
“I would want my mother to live wherever I do and for our servants to be welcomed into your household staff as well. They have been faithful to us for many years, and I don’t want to turn them off.”
“There’s no reason you should. That is an easy request to fill. I’ll make sure everything is arranged with Gilbert, and he’ll find a place for all of them.”
“Thank you, but there’s more.” She hesitated, not sure she could get the rest of her proposal out.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“I am willing to listen to you, but I don’t want to be forbidden to do anything.”
He folded his arms across his chest and shifted his stance. “‘Anything’ is asking a lot of a man, Ophelia.”
“Specifically, I ask that you not hold me to the tradition of obeying you, as my husband, until after the issue with my brother and the chalice has been settled to my satisfaction.”
His expression was somber. “A vow before God is still a vow, Miss Stowe.”
She probably knew that better than most. Only a clergyman could have been to more services, teachings, and weddings than she had.
Suddenly she wished for another sip of the brandy to wet her dry throat. What she had in mind would be to go against something she’d been raised all her life to not only respect but cherish; the holy bonds of matrimony were not to be tampered with or taken lightly. Nevertheless, she couldn’t excuse the fact that she’d recently done a lot of things she never would have thought she was capable of doing.
“Only if the vow is taken in the right spirit.” She paused and moistened her lips to swallow down the raging feelings of guilt boiling inside her. “But just as a man can allow his wife to retain control of her monies and property if he so chooses, I assume you can release me from the vow to obey you. Perhaps the vicar can mumble the words softly under his breath or have a fit of coughing as he says them.”
He seemed to study carefully on that before saying, “You are asking a lot of me, Ophelia.”
“We are asking a lot of each other.”
“You are saying if I release you from the vow as my wife of you serving, obeying, cherishing, or any similar words to me as your husband, you will marry me?”