Chapter Thirteen
Ophelia stepped away from her latest partner on the dance floor and made a daring escape for some refreshment before the next reel began.
The ballroom was full, bursting, it seemed, from the many masked guests at the celebration.
The event was a remarkable success for the Marquess as well as for her and Lord Worthing.
She had met many intriguing gentlemen, had some fine practice with dancing and conversing, and so had her client, from what she could see as she followed his progress as much as seemed appropriate.
One couldn’t stare at the man all night without creating talk, and her goal tonight was for positive gossip.
But he looked so mysterious and powerful as he moved across the floor.
His black trousers and jacket accentuated his muscular frame, his dark hair was set off by his mask, and when he met her gaze across the room, he smiled, making him look even more dashing.
That same zing she had felt upon their first meeting soared through her body again as her eyes followed his graceful movements and she shivered.
She could only imagine how mesmerising he must have been before his injuries.
When he hadn’t been broken by war and heartache. He must have been simply…
Gah. She commanded herself to stop fawning over him.
He was her client, not her prince, and she had no business thinking about how mesmerising he was, then or now.
She turned away from the dance floor to break the spell he was casting over her.
She needed to focus on her business and finding him a match.
Her prince would come in time, but for now she was busy.
Lord Worthing was a fine man to practice on and build her social skills with, as she, too, needed the experience, but nothing more could ever happen between them.
And finding him a match was essential for her success and independence.
Falling for her client would ruin everything: her reputation, her business and her happiness. Besides, he would never feel the same for her as he wanted a wife of convenience, not a love affair, which was the opposite of what she desired: true love.
Her prince would be passionate and romantic and love her with all his heart. She sighed. She could hardly wait to find him.
She plucked a glass of wine from a servant’s tray as he moved past, and she sipped it near a door that had been opened to let in some fresh air.
The long wispy curtains rippled in the breeze coming in from the balcony outside.
The light wind was lush and refreshing on her damp skin, and soon she found herself stepping outside to enjoy more of the cool air upon her face.
Although she could hear murmurings and soft laughter coming from the garden path below, she was alone on the balcony for now.
What an evening. She leaned against one of the mighty stone columns, revelling in the cool pooling through her limbs from the stone and the warmth of the wine spreading through as she savored another sip.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Indeed, the night had been perfect.
It was a night of fairy tales. She smiled.
‘A beautiful evening, is it not?’ a deep baritone spoke from behind her. She opened her eyes and turned.
‘It is,’ she replied, proud that she did not falter at the sight of the man towering before her dressed in a finely tailored black ensemble with a crisp white shirt, and a unique cravat with hints of silver and black threaded through it.
It matched the mask he wore, which resembled that of a phoenix, with raven wings and maroon tipped edges.
He smiled at her, revealing a pair of dimples and a cleft chin, and eyes the shade of amber.
‘Even though I know we are supposed to have some semblance of anonymity with these ridiculous masks, I must know your name, my lady. I am Lord Randolph Phoenix. At your service,’ he added with a graceful bow.
‘Phoenix,’ she replied, gesturing to his mask. ‘A fine choice, which I now understand.’
‘And what of you? You remind me of a beautiful butterfly. Does that resemble your name as well?’
‘No, and I did not plan to be any singular creature, just beautiful, my lord.’
‘Then, you have succeeded in your aim. You are enchanting. Divine, if I may be so bold.’
Divine?
Her pulse increased. Could this be her prince? Only why did she strongly suspect otherwise? While he was quite handsome, he did not create the zing through her body that the sight of Lord Worthing did despite the man’s pretty words and obvious charms.
‘The blush upon your cheeks is even more becoming. Are you unused to such attentions?’
‘Indeed, she is. Especially from the likes of you, Dolph.’
Ophelia looked up to find Lord Worthing staring at them with what appeared to be a playful scowl. She didn’t know if she was more surprised to find him jesting or that he knew the man she was speaking with. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her breath caught at the unexpected sight of him.
‘Lucas!’ The men shook hands and then hugged each other. Each pulled away, generally pleased to see one another from what she could determine. Her emotions jostled between surprise, confusion and happiness.
It seemed Lord Worthing had an unexpected ally at the party and a handsome one at that. Although side by side, it was easy to determine who was the more dashing.
If she had to pick, she would select Lord Worthing every time.
Blast.
She commanded herself to cease her ridiculous fascination with him this evening. He was simply not an option for her, and Lord Phoenix was no paltry second choice, was he?
‘I heard you were here, my friend, but thought it merely gossip as I only arrived a few minutes ago. What a joy it is to see you after all this time. It has been too long.’ Lord Phoenix’s words were kind and rang with the ache of missed friendship.
Lord Worthing looked away briefly and then deliberately met his friend’s gaze. ‘And that is my fault.’
His friend shrugged. ‘I tried to keep in touch, but eventually gave up, thinking you needed space. I am pleased to see you looking so well.’ He paused and looked from Lord Worthing to Ophelia. ‘Is this beautiful woman what has brought you back to us?’
Lucas laughed. ‘Yes, but not for the reason you may think. Miss Ophelia Granger is a matchmaker and has endeavored to help me find a suitable bride, settle down and begin a family of my own.’
Lord Phoenix seemed at a loss for words. ‘You are a matchmaker, Miss Granger?’
‘Yes, my lord. I am the proprietor of The Cupid’s Arrow Agency.’
‘My, I am impressed. And you have agreed to take on Worthing as a client?’
‘I have,’ she replied lifting her chin.
‘Then you are both beautiful and bold. What an intoxicating combination.’ His amber gaze threatened to swallow her whole but somehow she found she could easily resist it unlike the rolling waves of attraction she felt for his friend, Lord Worthing.
‘Hell, Dolph,’ Lord Worthing muttered, nudging him with an elbow as he rolled his eyes. ‘You haven’t changed a bit. Still as charming and seductive with the ladies as ever. Take it easy on Miss Granger, will you? She is unused to such…attentions.’
His friend laughed and it was a pleasing sound that made her smile. ‘Unfortunately, such charm has not found me a wife yet either,’ he said ruefully. ‘Perhaps you would take me on, Miss Granger?’
‘I am afraid I cannot until Lord Worthing here finds his match. He has a rather…urgent timeline for me to follow that requires all my attention at present.’
‘That sounds exactly like the Lucas I used to know.’
‘Thirty days,’ he stated proudly.
Lord Phoenix balked. ‘Thirty days is hardly long enough to have a wardrobe made, and you wish her to find you a bride in that time?’
An idea formed. ‘Perhaps you could assist us both in such an endeavor, my lord, since you know the Viscount so well. If you have the time, of course.’ She gave him as welcoming a smile as she could to show her encouragement without being too desperate.
Or at least she hoped she didn’t appear too desperate.
His gaze flashed an agreement before he even said the words. ‘Now that, Miss Granger, is the best idea I have heard this evening. I agree, and I am at your bidding.’
His words made her giggle as she imagined just what that bidding might entail, even though she wished the words came from a different man.
Steady.
Lucas gripped his glass so tightly he feared it might shatter right there in his hand if he wasn’t careful, just like when he’d held Ophelia’s hand mirror two days ago.
Seeing his friend, and indeed a good man and a possible match, flirt with his matchmaker was more challenging than he’d expected.
He knew he had agreed to help her practice her social graces, but watching it play out in front of him was far more difficult.
Dolph looked at her as if he wished to claim her right there on the balcony in front of everyone in every way possible, and Ophelia appeared more than amenable to accept his attentions.
This might be a very long month indeed.
He took another sip of wine from his glass.
The Duke and Duchess joined their party with Miss Hastings not too far behind, which relieved a bit of the strain.
Introductions and small talk abounded and to his surprise, Miss Hastings appeared flush with colour from dancing, too.
Everyone appeared to have had a successful evening.
Even him, if he dared acknowledge it. He had found a long-lost friend, and danced with several ladies, most of whom seemed acceptable.
They were not Ophelia, but they weren’t supposed to be, were they?
She was his matchmaker, nothing more. If only his mind could accept her as such.
But he only had himself to blame. He was the one who was allowing himself to become so captivated by her.