Ah, so they were sure that she had lied to her mother. Rafe was so right in that regard. Once you start down the path of lying, you’ll always be doubted, and both girls knew she was adept at lying.
Oddly, the time she had spent with Rafe—not the reason—was something she would once have gloated about to these two. Now, she preferred that they not know about it, so this wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss.
And Edith and Jane weren’t pushy. She thought she could get by with merely saying, “That was a trying time at Summers Glade when I realized I didn’t want to marry MacTavish after all. I was afraid he wouldn’t let me beg off. But I finally had a nice talk with him and we both agreed it would be better if we didn’t marry. I just needed a little time to recover and think about my options. Besides, I was in no hurry to come home and face my father’s wrath over it. You know how much he wanted that match.”
There was the distinct possibility that they had spoken to Mavis since then and had the truth of the matter, but the “time to recover” part worked either way. Where she’d spent that time recovering was irrelevant.
So she was surprised to hear Edith ask pointedly, “So you weren’t really visiting the Lockes?”
Before she could think of a way to prevaricate further, Jane said, “Well, that answers that.”
Ophelia followed her gaze to see Raphael Locke stepping into the parlor. Her pulse picked up immediately at the sight of him. She had no idea why he was there, but she couldn’t deny she was thrilled to see him. She certainly hadn’t expected to, at least not this soon.
“Why didn’t you want to tell us you’d won him over?” Edith asked excitedly.
“Perhaps because I’m not sure how I feel about it myself,” Ophelia heard herself saying, then groaned inwardly. Just what she hadn’t wanted to confess.
“Good God, you’ve fallen in love, haven’t you?” Jane gasped out.
“No, absolutely not,” Ophelia replied immediately. But she was afraid that was one of the biggest lies she’d ever told.
Chapter Twenty-nine
M ARY WAS KEEPING RAFE OCCUPIED and had been since he arrived. Ophelia wasn’t surprised that her mother had thought to invite him, but she was surprised that he’d been in London to accept the invitation because she’d left him off at Summers Glade the day before. Duncan and Sabrina couldn’t have married that quickly. Or perhaps they’d already married and Rafe had missed the wedding?
She wasn’t able to appease her curiosity immediately. She’d been given a few minutes to chat with her friends, but then more of her admirers swarmed around her, so it was quite a while later before she found a chance to speak with Rafe alone.
Too many guests were present for a sitdown dinner, but that was often the case at the Reid parties, and Mary was adept at setting up long buffet tables filled with hors d’oeuvres for picky eaters, and heartier fare for bigger appetites.
Ophelia had to leave the room to gain a moment alone, so when she returned, she was able to head straight for Rafe. He’d just filled a plate high with food and was looking about for an empty chair. There weren’t any. Every available seat in the room was already occupied now that most of the guests were eating.
“The dining room just might be empty,” she suggested in a conspiratorial whisper as she came up beside him.
His light blue eyes came to rest on her and stayed there. Her breath caught in her throat. He was so handsome. He always seemed to have this effect on her, and he was looking especially handsome tonight in his dark broadcloth jacket which fit his wide shoulders perfectly, and his snowy white cravat tied loosely at his throat. His golden locks shimmered in the candlelight. Being this close to him made her pulse race too. God, she hoped it wasn’t obvious what he did to her.
He must not have noticed anything out of the ordinary because he asked, “But are there any chairs left in it, or were they all moved in here?”
Ophelia got her breathing under control. “You’d be surprised at how many chairs my mother keeps on hand. She considers small parties a waste of her talents.”
When she glanced at his overfilled plate, he grinned and said, “I missed lunch.”
“Shall we check then?”
“Why don’t you get your dinner first.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He raised a brow. “We never did get around to working on your thinness, did we?”
He was teasing—or maybe he wasn’t. “Do you really think I’m too thin?” she asked as she glanced down at herself with a worried frown.
“You don’t really want to know what I think about your figure.”
She blushed immediately, probably because she looked back up to see that his gaze had turned lambent as it moved over her breasts and lower. She quickly grabbed a small sausage wrapped in a thin biscuit crust from one of the many offerings on the table, then showed him the way to the dining room.
It was almost empty, but not quite. Two gentlemen were eating at one end of the long table and having a heated discussion. One of them, Jonathan Canters, had asked her to marry him just fifteen minutes ago. Her second proposal of the night. And he’d been as serious as young Hamilton. Jonathan had asked her at the beginning of the Season as well, before it became known she was already engaged to Duncan.
She smiled at the two men, just a cordial smile, then ignored them, so they’d understand she wasn’t interested in joining them. She took a seat at the other end of the dining table and waited for Rafe to sit down next to her. She was amazed she’d been able to contain her curiosity that long.
“What are you doing here?” she burst out in a whisper. “You’re supposed to be at Summers Glade.”
“As it turned out, Duncan and Sabrina aren’t getting married for another few weeks. Apparently Sabrina’s aunts insisted on a proper wedding with all the grand touches that take so long to work out. And with Duncan barely containing his impatience, since he’d rather not wait, I decided it wasn’t a good place to wait it out m’self, so I returned to London after all.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t find that out before I drove on.”
“Indeed. That’s why I missed my lunch, actually. I kept thinking I’d catch up to you this morning, but I couldn’t find which inn you were staying at.”
“I’m still surprised to see you here, that you would actually accept my mother’s invitation. I could have sworn you didn’t want your name linked to mine in any way.”
“My being here doesn’t link our names, m’dear. And I haven’t been home yet to receive your mother’s invitation. I merely stopped by to make sure you got home all right.”
“Well, that was nice of you.”
“I do have my moments.”
He had more than a few of those, good ones. Of course, he’d had more than a few bad ones too, where he hadn’t been so nice, had been quite high-handed, but she’d forgiven him for those. They had ended on a good note, perhaps a little too good….
“Besides,” he added as he began to eat, “I have a vested interest now, in seeing that you find happiness with the right man. That was part of the deal, if you’ll remember.”
She went still. He didn’t notice. Was he serious? He was going to play matchmaker for her, after what they’d shared?
“Was it?” she said a little curtly. “I don’t recall your mentioning that.”
“Didn’t think I needed to, when it goes part and parcel with your happiness,” he replied in his typical jaunty tone. “You do still intend to marry, correct?”
“Certainly.”
“Then you’ll be spending the rest of your life with this lucky chap, whoever he is, so we need to assure that you’ll be happy with him.”
“We? And how can that possibly be determined ahead of time, that he will be able to make me happy?”
He gave her a surprised look. “Don’t tell me you’re still only going to look for a fat purse. Money doesn’t buy happiness, Phelia, it just makes misery easier to bear. It won’t make you happy in the long r
un.”
She took a bite of the sausage she held in her hand and ground it between her teeth. “And what will?”
“Love, of course.”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”
“Neither would I.” He grinned. “I’m just trying to look at it from a female perspective. Based on my sister’s thoughts on the matter, which I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been forced to listen to, she’s convinced love will make her ecstatically happy. It does seem to go hand in hand, love and happiness, that is.”
“It probably does. I wouldn’t know from personal experience. But there are other things that can make someone happy.”
He sighed. He’d probably noticed by now that she sounded annoyed. “Don’t tell me you’ve reverted to form, that all of our combined efforts—”
“Oh, stop it.” She let out a sigh of her own. “I merely have a new goal, to reach a point—soon—where I never have to do my father’s bidding again. He makes decisions with his happiness in mind, not mine, and I’ve quite had enough of that.”
“That implies you’re going to accept the first proposal that comes along.”
He looked so worried, she found herself wanting to reassure him, so she chuckled and said, “At least half the men here tonight have already asked me to marry them, a few in the last hour. I haven’t accepted a proposal yet.”
“Are there any here that—interest you?” he asked a bit hesitantly. “I might know something about them that you don’t.”
She shrugged. “Not really.” She took a moment to smile at Jonathan again. Both men had stopped their discussion when she’d entered the room and had been stealing glances at her ever since. “I haven’t given up on the criteria that I would prefer—yet.”
“You never did mention what you were looking for in a man, besides wealth.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Still keeping that to yourself?”
She sighed. “No, I just didn’t want to discuss it with you at the time you asked. I simply don’t trust any man who professes to love me instantly. And they’ve all done just that.” She waved a hand to encompass—all of London. “I’m waiting for the man who takes some time to know me first—like you did.”
She didn’t blush. She shouldn’t have said that, but she’d already warned him that he didn’t need to worry that she was going to set her cap for him and why.
“To be honest, Phelia, that’s an excellent goal now, but it probably would have worked against you—”
“Nonsense,” she cut in, aware that he was going to mention her past behavior. “I know you’d like to take full credit for the ‘new’ me, but in fact, you’ve merely opened my eyes to a few things and helped me to control some flaws that had gotten out of hand. However, I did have some good qualities prior to that, I just kept them mostly to myself.”
“Yes, I did notice that.”
“What?”
“That you weren’t completely lacking in good qualities. The way you easily won my aunt over was a good example.”
“Won her over?” She grinned. “She took to me immediately and you know it.”
“Yes, I suppose she did. And now you should get back to your guests. Spending a few minutes with me is one thing, but more’n that and tongues will start wagging.”
“I know.” She stood up to leave. “And thank you for coming by to check on me. That was rather sweet of you.”
His blue eyes flashed. “Good God, never use that word in relation to me. You’re going to give me a bad reputation, ’deed you are.”
“You’d rather be known as an irredeemable rake?”
“Absolutely!”
She knew very well he was teasing, and in the same vein she said, “Then your secret is safe with me.”
She turned to leave. He caught her elbow. She drew in her breath, closed her eyes for a moment. She’d been just fine sitting there, concentrating on their conversation rather than his presence so close to her. But his touch made her remember exactly what they’d shared and how wonderful it had been—and what Jane had said….
“How did your homecoming go with your father?” he asked. Her spirits plunged at his reason for stopping her.
She didn’t turn back around, afraid to look at him just now. “He hasn’t been home since I got here, so he doesn’t even know that I’ve returned.”
“Why don’t you wait and see how that goes then, before you make any rash decisions.”
“Me? Rash?” She left him with a delicate snort and heard him laughing as she walked away.
Chapter Thirty
F EELING DISTRACTED AFTER LEAVING RAFE, Ophelia couldn’t have picked a worse time to cross from the dining room to the parlor. She didn’t even notice her father at the front door shrugging out of his long coat and handing it to the waiting footman. But he noticed her immediately.
“Pheli? When did you get home?”
No welcoming smile for her. No open arms to offer her a warm hug. He merely looked curious.
Sherman Reid, Earl of Durwich, was in his midforties now. He had a full head of dark hair and sharp brown eyes. He was tall and narrow of frame, and if he stood next to his wife, he might be called skinny. He wasn’t a plain-looking man, but he’d never been called handsome, either. Which was perhaps why he’d been so amazed to have produced a daughter of such unsurpassed beauty, and why he’d been determined to exact some benefit from that gift of nature for himself.
“I returned this afternoon. Mother, as you can see, managed a welcome-home party and invited quite a few of my admirers.”
He glanced toward the noise coming from the parlor. “Was that necessary?”
Ophelia was given pause. She’d mentioned the admirers because normally her father would have been delighted that she was being shown off and racking up even more marriage proposals—well, it would have before he’d settled on Duncan MacTavish for his son-in-law. Besides, he’d always encouraged Mary to entertain. That was one thing husband and wife were in complete agreement on.
“Necessary, no. But it made Mama happy to do it, so it served a purpose.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, girl.”
She almost laughed. Her tone hadn’t changed in the least, if anything it was milder than it had ever been with him. But he was obviously expecting her to get snappish. After all, ever since he’d engaged her to Duncan, nothing but heated arguments had passed between them.
“Adjourn to my study. I’d like a few words with you,” he said.
“Can’t it wait? We have guests.”
“No, it won’t wait.”
He said no more and passed her, heading down the hall to his study. She took a deep breath and followed him. She wasn’t going to let him disturb her newfound peace of mind. Somehow, she’d keep her temper under wraps. She’d never been able to do that with him before, but this would be a good start.
He was already seated behind his desk when she entered the study. She hated this room, where they’d had most of their arguments. It’s dark browns and greens, in carpet, in drapes, in furnishings, might have been quite tasteful and suited to a man’s study, but she found them depressing. Once, long ago, she used to love coming into this room and finding her father there….
She usually sat across from his desk, but tonight she moved to the one window that caught a corner view of the street out front. The drape hadn’t yet been drawn on the evening, though someone had started a fire in the fireplace behind his desk earlier to take the chill off the room. Outside, streetlamps had been lit and coaches lined the curb in front of the house. Surprisingly, it had started to snow lightly. There wasn’t enough to cover the street yet, but it looked rather pretty, falling about the lampposts, and watching it soothed her mounting tension.
“Did you bring home a proposal from Locke?” Sherman asked as he lit one of the lamps on his desk.
Ophelia closed her eyes before she asked, “Is that what you were hoping?”
“Hoping, no. Expecting, yes.
That would be the only thing that would make your broken engagement to MacTavish, for the second time, palatable.”
He’d raised his voice to stress that. She didn’t turn around to face him yet. She used to come in here often, hoping for a crumb of his attention. She’d never noticed that she rarely got it. Odd how children take certain things for granted, such as their parents’ love.
“Raphael Locke is a rake,” she stated in a tired tone. That should have been sufficient to end the subject, but not with her father.
“So?”
As she had thought. That information didn’t phase him in the least. Rafe could have had the worst reputation imaginable and her father would still have approved of that visit. The Locke title was the only thing that mattered to him.
“So he has no intention of getting married to me or anyone else.” She turned finally so she could see her father’s reaction. “I believe the way he put it was ‘not in this century.’ ”
“Nonsense. You’re capable of changing any man’s opinion about that.”
That was a compliment—of sorts. She just wished she could take it that way instead of feeling insulted.
She wasn’t going to tell him how she’d fought that “invitation” tooth and nail to begin with, that she’d more or less been abducted to the wilds of Northumberland. Not only would he not care, it was no longer an issue for her. She’d gotten more out of that trip than she’d ever dreamed. And that she hadn’t lost her temper yet with this man was a prime example of the benefits she’d gained from Rafe’s interference in her life.
“Is he at least in love with you like all the others?” Sherman asked.
“No, but we became friends of a sort.”
“Are you telling me he didn’t compromise you? A known rake and he didn’t even try to seduce you?”