Chapter Thirteen #2
He threw back the rest of his wine, letting the numbing heat spread through him. Feeling less would be essential to making it through what remained of the evening.
‘William and I must take our leave of you,’ the Duchess announced to them. ‘I am afraid my feet and ankles may swell out of my slippers if I dance any longer,’ she said with a smile as her husband rubbed the small of her back.
‘I, too, will join you,’ Miss Hastings announced. ‘I am rather tired all of a sudden.’
‘Trudy, do you wish to leave your first ball early?’ Ophelia countered. ‘Surely, just a few more dances.’
Her disappointment and reluctance to leave was unmistakable. ‘I am happy to escort Miss Granger and Miss Hastings home later, if they wish to stay longer, William. There is plenty of room in my carriage. If you felt it was appropriate, of course,’ he added hastily.
What was he doing?
Behaving like a blundering idiot was what he was doing. He was supposed to be creating fewer opportunities for intimacy between him and Ophelia, not more.
For the thousandth time, he was grateful for the mask he wore. It hid his embarrassment, uncertainty and all the other odd emotions he felt this evening.
‘That is most kind of you, my lord,’ Ophelia replied.
‘And it would allow us more time to get to know one another, would it not, Miss Granger?’ Dolph asked.
‘Yes,’ she chuckled. ‘It would.’
Lucas couldn’t suppress a scowl.
Miss Hastings sighed. ‘Then, I suppose I am staying on then.’
‘It is settled,’ the Duke replied. ‘We will see you both at the manor later. Thank you, Lucas, for agreeing to see Miss Granger and Miss Hastings home.’
‘My pleasure,’ he replied, and he meant it.
The evening carried on in much the same way it had begun with dancing and drinks and conversations that were much easier for him to navigate now the wine had softened the edges of his nerves.
The ballroom was still brimming with guests despite how the evening had turned into early morning, having struck midnight with a special reel that sent everyone into a frenzy.
When he left his latest dance partner, a sweet auburn-haired beauty, he scanned the room to check on his charges.
He was able to locate Miss Hastings with ease as her height and thin frame stood out amongst the crowd, but where was Ophelia?
Unease crept in, and he decided on a search to ensure her welfare.
London Society had a mix of the best and worst within it, and from his experience, the later a party ran, the worse the behavior of some of its members became.
While he hoped Dolph was still with her, Lucas couldn’t be sure.
The man was like honey and often attracted a bevy of women.
Another beauty may have caught his eye. There were handsome women at every turn, or so it seemed.
Lucas completed a lap around the dance floor, and still Ophelia was nowhere to be found.
Perhaps she had needed to take some air like before.
He made his way out on the balcony where a few young couples were grouped together talking, and another couple murmured to each other as they stared up into the night sky.
The stars twinkled above and the half moon cast a glow, along with the torches lit at generous intervals beside the garden paths below.
Walking past the other guests, he decided to explore the gardens.
If his memory served, they were glorious, even in autumn, and Ophelia may have been lured outside by the beauty, unaware of the dangers.
His pulse increased, his instincts on high alert. If she had dared come out here alone…
He passed several couples walking arm in arm, and soon he was halfway through the gardens. Fountains and sculptures were among the cultivated shrubs, plants and trees, and the number of shadows increased as he travelled.
‘Stop,’ a woman said in low steady tones.
‘You know you wish no such thing,’ a man replied.
‘Actually, I do wish you to stop,’ she continued. ‘Otherwise, I would not say it.’
‘That is not what I think,’ the man countered.
Lucas stilled. Although he was not one hundred percent certain, he thought it sounded like Ophelia.
He headed toward the voices. No matter who it was, the message was clear.
The woman was in peril and trying to escape a situation she no longer wished to be a part of.
He hurried down a lane of shrubs and turned to the left.
It was Ophelia.
A man held her tightly and she was doing her best to push him away, straining against him. Lucas’s pulse pounded, a darkness budding in him. He would kill the man if he had to.
‘I said, stop,’ she stated firmly before sending a well-placed knee to the man’s crotch which sent him crumbling to the ground with a loud curse.
She had disabled him before Lucas could even reach her. For some odd reason, it both pleased him and didn’t surprise him in the least.
‘Did he harm you?’ Lucas asked approaching her, his gaze scanning her for injuries.
She stared up at him in surprise and sputtered out, ‘No, no. I am fine. I just need to leave here. I—’
Her eyes welled. She looked away from him as she walked around the man, still in a ball on the ground, squirming from her well-placed blow.
Lucas hesitated to follow, wanting to give the man a piece of his mind and a kick of his own for whatever he had done or almost done to Ophelia, but she was rushing away.
He cared more for her well-being than this man’s, so he swiftly leaned down near his ear.
‘Do not ever let me find you near her again. Understood?’ he snarled.
The man’s eyes widened, no doubt recognising him, despite his mask. He nodded.
Lucas followed her out to a swing a few steps off the path from where they had come.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest. One of the sleeves of her gown was torn, and he clenched his fists at his sides and took a steadying breath.
It would do nothing to further his beastly reputation if he murdered the man who’d attacked her.
And honestly, heading to the gallows for killing a pathetic sot such as him simply wasn’t worth it, especially when all he wanted to do was comfort Ophelia.
‘May I?’ he asked gesturing to the seat beside her.
She wiped her eyes and nodded.
Despite the questions he wished to ask, he took a page from her book and sat in silence, swinging softly with her in the night, listening to the music from the main house and the whispers of the night breeze.
Finally, he spoke. ‘May I ask what happened?’
She hesitated to answer. ‘We had danced and after becoming too warm, he asked if I wished to take some air. And then take a brief walk in the garden. I did not think there was any harm…’
‘I am sorry,’ he replied. ‘He is no gentleman.’ But he was not surprised. The ton was not for the innocent, and she was the epitome of naivety… As he looked upon her, an intense wave of protectiveness flared in him. She was as sweet as he was ruined.
‘I have never understood why men do such things. Act as if they can just take what they want with no regard…’ She stopped and sniffed.
He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, reassure her. To do something to ease her pain. He decided upon the truth, instead. ‘It is the way of the ton, especially the men within it. We are beasts. Plain and simple.’
‘Even you?’ she asked, setting her blazing blue eyes upon him.
Her tears had made the shade more intense like the sapphires of his mother’s ring, and he wondered if this was how his mother had felt all that time ago when his father had first broken her heart.
He thought of how he had broken Rebecca’s heart by not being the man she’d deserved.
How the bastard that had accosted Miss Granger in the garden had stolen some of her innocence and pure trust in the world… and in men.
He sucked in a breath before he answered.
‘Yes. Especially me.’
She shook her head. ‘No, you are nothing like that man.’
‘Perhaps not in taking liberties such as he. That is reserved for a special type of scoundrel, but in being selfish, yes. In not knowing all the things a woman needs to be happy.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Because I do not know how to be any other way…not yet. My parents did not have a happy union. My father was a philanderer who had little interest in me, his own son and only child. It made me angry, impulsive and selfish. And now, I am simply trying to learn how to be a better man. As you know, I locked myself away after the war and after losing Rebecca, the woman I loved. Now I am daring to live again, for at last I want…’ He stopped himself. It was too soon to share more.
To tell her that he wanted her.
‘I know,’ she said, resting a hand gently on his forearm, sending a thrill through him. ‘Which is why we are going to find you a love match.’
His heart ached and he tried to distract himself from the luscious pressure of her hand on his arm and the fact that she truly had no idea of what he wanted at all.
Her.
But, he knew it would not and could not be her.
He could not endure another love match, and that was entirely what Ophelia had wanted and desired since she was a girl.
She deserved her prince, and her love of a lifetime.
He needed to remember he was not that man, and he never could be. He summoned his courage.
‘No, Miss Granger. Need I remind you that I wish for no such thing? My match must be one of convenience. Contractual. Love need be no part of it.’
‘Yes. Of course, my lord.’ She removed her hand and shivered, rubbing her arms.
‘Are you chilled?’ he asked, sitting forward. ‘Please take my jacket.’
‘Perhaps we should just go inside. Gather up Trudy and return home. I feel I have lost my joy in the evening. I think I expected everyone here to be a gentleman after spending time with you, William and then your friend, Lord Phoenix. The evening’s turn of events was not as I hoped.
’ The coolness in her voice was unexpected, and it almost startled him.
But then he looked upon her and realised what it was: fear.
Plain and simple. She was scared after the evening’s events even though she was safe now.
Rather than push her into staying or pulling her into his arms as he wished to, in order to comfort her until she ceased trembling, he relented to her request and shoved down his feelings once more.
‘Of course. We will give our thanks to the host and hostess and be on our way. I am relieved you are ready to depart,’ he lied and stood. He could have stayed with her for hours, but he reminded himself that she was not his match.
She was his matchmaker.
Not Ophelia, but Miss Granger—and he’d do well to remember that.
‘Thank you for your understanding,’ she said as she stood, brushed off her gown and accepted his offered arm.
As they walked in silence back to the ballroom, she still trembled against him.
Even inside where it was warm, overly so, the quivering didn’t cease, and he feared she might be in shock.
They gave their thanks to their hosts, found Miss Hastings sampling a sweet treat from the refreshments table, and headed outside to wait in the queue for his carriage to arrive.
‘Whatever has happened, Ophelia?’ her friend asked in low tones since there were so many others in listening proximity. ‘Are you unwell?’
Miss Granger mustered a false smile and said under her breath, ‘Not here. Later. I promise.’ Her eyes were wide and bright, too bright. Like an alarmed doe.
Her friend tucked her arm within Miss Granger’s and pressed close as Miss Hastings sent a warning glare his way.
He admired their bond and their fierce protection of one another and simply nodded.
She would know the truth soon enough. They stood in an awkward silence, and finally when he felt that even he could bear it not a second longer, his carriage pulled up to the kerb and the footman opened the door for them.
Once they were tucked inside, the carriage travelled down the drive, and Miss Hastings stared at him and clutched Miss Granger’s hand. ‘What have you done to her?’ she accused.
Miss Granger sighed and patted her friend’s hand. ‘He did nothing, Trudy, but help rescue me. It seems not all men within London Society are gentlemen. I was naive. I will explain when we get home.’
Miss Hastings held his gaze. ‘I am sorry, my lord. I misread the situation. Thank you for helping her…and us. While we are learning, the ton is still a bit of a mystery.’
He nodded and removed his mask. ‘No apologies needed, Miss Hastings. Sometimes it still is to me, too.’