Chapter Two #3
‘I am Miss Ophelia Granger, matchmaker and proprietor of The Cupid’s Arrow Agency. In case you ever have need of my services, sir.’
He accepted the card, read it and then glanced back at her with a furrowed brow and grunted. ‘This is what you were so desperate to have retrieved?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And here I thought it might be jewels given the urgency of your call and headlong chase.’
She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused.
‘They are akin to jewels to me, sir.’ She smiled at him and to her surprise he chuckled and smiled in return.
It transformed him from handsome to dashing, as it brought a lightness to his eyes and softened the severity of his facial scar.
A little zing travelled to her toes. Perhaps this robbery was a fortuitous one.
Romance could happen anywhere, could it not?
Who was she to judge upon the circumstances?
‘My apologies. Where are my manners?’ he began. ‘I am Viscount Worthing. Lucas Worthing. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger.’ He added a small bow.
Oh, my. Her stomach clenched. A viscount. And handsome. That little zing travelled through her again, landing in her toes.
He glanced around her. ‘Do you require an escort home, miss?’ he asked gesturing to his carriage. ‘To ensure your safe arrival, of course,’ he added, shifting on his feet. ‘I cannot help but notice you are travelling alone, and I do not wish for you to be…accosted again this morning.’
She nibbled her lip. While she knew she shouldn’t be accepting a ride in a strange man’s carriage, she also didn’t know her way back and was a bit nervous to walk alone after this morning’s events.
He shrugged. ‘I can allow you to travel within the carriage, and I can join my driver on the box if you wish. I know it is not entirely appropriate for you to travel with an unattached man such as myself without a chaperone.’
The way he said the words, with a bit of boyish uncertainty, made the man who had at first seemed quite large and overwhelming appear…gentle and kind. She decided to ignore the warnings of propriety from Daphne and Trudy resounding in her head and trust what she always had without fail: her gut.
‘No need, sir. Any man who will chase down a thief to retrieve my reticule and then search to return it to me seems trustworthy. I would very much appreciate an escort home. I am rather shaken, and if I am honest, a little lost. I have been here in London for less than two weeks.’
He smiled fully then, and his handsomeness threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Then, please let us escort you home, Miss Granger.’ Instead of waiting for his driver to do so, Viscount Worthing opened the carriage door for her.
‘Where to, my lord?’ the driver asked from the box seat where he sat holding the reins.
Ophelia’s steps toward the carriage faltered. She knew little about titles. She would have to ask Hattie. Was there a difference between a lord and a viscount? How should she address him? She bit her lip. Oh, she should have asked Hattie more about the peerage!
‘Your address, Miss Granger?’ her rescuer inquired.
‘Westchester Manor, my lord,’ she answered with as much confidence as she could muster. Since he didn’t balk at her use of lord, she applauded herself for her choice.
Despite a flutter in her stomach, Ophelia stepped into the carriage.
The seats were pitch-black and lush. She chose the seat that faced forward, settled into the squabs and sighed.
His carriage was as comfortable as William’s, which immediately put her at ease.
She smoothed her skirts and clutched her reticule in her lap, still loath to let go of it after her recent adventure.
Viscount Worthing joined her in the carriage, taking the opposite seat, and closed the door, sealing them within. Suddenly, the spacious interior felt terribly intimate. He knocked his knuckles on the roof, and settled back, his gaze never leaving Ophelia’s.
He shifted in his seat as if he struggled to get comfortable and scanned her features.
His scent, a light mixture of musk and leather, tickled her nose.
It was an intoxicating and heady aroma that soothed her as the carriage lurched forward.
‘Were you hurt earlier, Miss Granger?’ he asked, his gaze still upon her.
‘No, my lord. Merely a tear to my gown,’ she added, nodding to her ripped sleeve and taking the time to study him as she drew another breath, savoring his scent.
Even inside of the carriage, his large, muscular stature was unmistakable.
His thigh muscles pulled the fabric of his trousers tight, and his shoulders were broad.
He was definitely a man of wealth and breeding, if his finely cut clothing was any indication.
His dark brown wavy hair stopped just above the neck of his cravat which was pristinely tied into a fine knot even after giving chase to her assailant.
He clasped his hands tightly in his lap as the carriage rolled on down the road.
While his eyes were full of questions, he did not speak for another minute of their journey.
As she was wont to do, Ophelia waited until he was ready and observed him.
If the orphanage had taught her anything, it was the importance of timing as well as patience.
Despite what Hattie and Trudy often thought, she possessed both in spades.
She also had a keen intuition. Something told her that Lord Lucas Worthing would become important to her during her stay in London, but how exactly that might happen was yet to be seen.