Chapter Twenty-One
The following morning found Ophelia in the Lynchfords’ music room, a soothing place.
At least, Ophelia had previously considered it to be so.
A thick rug, brocade curtains, and an intricate wall tapestry woven with birds, trees, and flowers muted any distracting echoes.
In contrast to Trentham’s music room, which must have been designed for hosting musicales, Lynch’s was not vast. There was seating for just eight, including the piano bench and the stool by Ophelia’s new harp.
If one squeezed in extra chairs, only perhaps a dozen and a half people could be comfortably accommodated.
As neither Dessie nor Lynch were musical, Ophelia had adopted the private space as her own.
For a little over two hours, she played first her scales and then the piece Mr. Cameron had given her to work on for tomorrow, her second lesson. She felt compelled to practice, even though her fingers were as nimble as ten wooden sticks and she could not possibly concentrate.
Lynch hadn’t been at home last evening when she and Dessie returned from their thwarted mission.
He was at his club, so they’d dined alone.
There was only so much they could say about Lady Townes’ awful husband, Trentham’s obvious anger, and their own powerlessness under the circumstances.
Dessie had explained in greater detail the bill that Lynch was trying to pass to give women more legal protections.
Protections against men like Sir George.
So Ophelia had no doubt that Dessie and Lynch had discussed Lady Townes after he’d returned.
Maybe, Ophelia hoped, he might have a better solution than kidnapping Trentham’s sister and niece and bustling them off to New York.
Just as Ophelia reached the end of the new piece and was considering whether to play it through one more time, she heard Dessie’s quick, light footsteps in the hall.
Dessie burst into the room, breathing heavily. “Here you are! Oh!” She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Ophelia’s shoulders. “It’s awful! Awful! It’s so much more horrible than we imagined.”
Ophelia shuddered. “Is it Lady Townes?” Had Sir George injured her? Or…worse?
“No. No. It’s Robin.” She moved to the harp stool and collapsed, as if she were skin and blood, but no bones.
Ophelia had never seen her like this. She wanted to ask what about Trentham was so terrible, but her mouth had gone dry and she couldn’t speak.
“Lynch was supposed to meet me for breakfast, but he didn’t. So, I went to find him in his study. I thought he’d been caught up in his correspondence or speech writing.” Dessie groaned. “But that wasn’t it. He was with Robin.”
“At this time of day?” It wasn’t even noon.
“Yes, and they were arguing. Their voices were raised so they must not have heard me coming, and I didn’t dare interrupt. I didn’t mean to listen, but…”
Dessie’s chin was quivering so violently it chilled Ophelia’s blood.
“But?”
She whispered, “I know what he did.”
Ophelia heard the noise of the men approaching. Hurriedly, she asked, “What Trentham did?” Please, don’t let it be horrible.
Dessie nodded. She glanced quickly at the door, then said, “He slept with another man’s wife.”
Ophelia’s insides crumpled. “Oh,” she murmured. So he was a rake. Worse than a rake.
“She was his friend’s sister.”
Ophelia tried to respond, but only a choked cough emerged. He’d committed adultery with the sister of a friend. Was it someone they knew? Someone they’d had tea with or talked to at a party?
“That isn’t all,” Dessie whimpered. “They fought a duel. With pistols.”
“A duel! That can’t be… Is that legal here?” It was medieval! Dueling had been against the law in New York for decades. And if Trentham was alive, did that mean…?
“No. It isn’t legal. That must be why Robin had to go to Cana—”
Lynch and Trentham entered the room, both grumbling furiously, but the presence of the ladies silenced them.
Dessie straightened up. “What’s wrong?” she asked with convincing concern. Nothing in her expression gave away that she had overheard them arguing. She should be on stage. Ophelia struggled to keep her own countenance neutral while her mind whirled. Pistols? Had he killed his friend?
“You were there yesterday. You saw.” Trentham clenched his jaw. “Sir George is a blackguard. Felicity is trapped. And Lynch and Eli both agree there is nothing I can do.”
“Nothing permissible within the bounds of the law,” Lynch said.
Ophelia swallowed hard. Surely he wasn’t contemplating another duel. It was difficult to follow Dessie’s lead when she wanted to demand answers. Answers she was not entitled to.
Dessie said, “We saw that Sir George is cruel to Lady Townes. But not what made him so angry with her that he would display his brutishness before strangers.”
Trentham turned on the ball of his foot, then went to the nearest chair and sat.
He folded forward, elbows on knees, and buried his face in his hands.
Breathing in and out, deeply, slowly, he appeared to be fighting for self-control.
Ophelia averted her eyes, embarrassed and a little frightened.
This was a man who could become violent.
Who had become violent. Maybe he was no better than Sir George.
Lynch said, “They may as well hear it from us before they read it in the gossip rags.”
“Blast it.” Trentham’s mouth twisted with disgust. “It’s all lies.”
“Of course, it is. Most rumors are.” Lynch faced Dessie. He was a serious man in general, but Ophelia didn’t recall ever having seen him so solemn. “Sir George has heard whispers that Lady Townes has been unfaithful.”
Ophelia and Dessie gasped at the same time.
“That’s impossible,” Ophelia said. “I don’t believe it for a minute.”
“Neither do I,” Dessie chimed in.
“No one will believe it,” Trentham said, without raising his head. “Yet the scandal will be ruinous.”
Silence fell. Ophelia heard nothing but the ticking of a wall clock until Dessie finally spoke.
“I hate to sound insensitive to Lady Townes’ predicament, but good may come of this.”
Ophelia cringed. Her sister found the silver lining in everything. Normally, that was one of her most endearing traits, but not now. Trentham’s gaze shot up, appalled.
“Dessie, don’t,” Lynch said.
She began pacing. “I only want to say that the Barringtons might think twice about letting Robin marry Lady Elizabeth. Surely, they’ll want to distance themselves from a scandalous association.”
Shaking his head, Trentham said, “Barrington is desperately in need of funds, or he would not have allowed me to court his daughter in the first place. Scandal isn’t enough to dissuade him. Believe me, my reputation is not spotless.”
“I believe you,” Dessie said with a sniff.
That was an understatement if ever there was one. Assuming what Dessie had overheard was true. Maybe it wasn’t! Ophelia hoped Dessie had misheard. She did that sometimes.
Dessie rested her gaze squarely upon Trentham. “Is that why you volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb?”
“The what?”
“Wooing Lady Elizabeth.” She returned to her pacing, stomping out the words. “Propping up the Barringtons with your fortune, saving Lady Elizabeth from penury. Are you doing this so more stuffy aristocrats will like you?”
Trentham followed Dessie’s movement with his eyes. “Simplistically stated, but yes.” A hint of his more typical archness sneaked into his tone, but it was tempered with annoyance.
“But that’s absurd. And cruel. She doesn’t want you!” Dessie exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “She wants me to convince Lynch to talk you out of courting her.”
Trentham’s eyes darkened. “Oh, good God.”
“She has to reject him,” Lynch said. “I told you, Dessie—”
“I know she doesn’t want me!” Trentham shouted.
He rose from his perch. “She has made that abundantly clear. But if I don’t ask for her now, Barrington will rake me over the coals.
” He turned to Lynch. “It won’t do you any good to be associated with me.
Nor will it help Felicity. It will make things worse.
” No one spoke for a minute. Then Trentham said, “Lady Elizabeth and I will survive. Neither of us expects a love match.”
“Robin!” Dessie marched over and shoved him in the chest. “It won’t even be a like match. Lady Elizabeth is a fine person, but she has no sense of humor whatsoever. Tell me you can live with that for the rest of your life.”
Trentham opened his mouth, then shut it. His whole body sagged with defeat.
Ophelia couldn’t figure out who Dessie was trying to shield by acting as if she was unaware of Trentham’s adultery.
Maybe she didn’t want to be accused of listening in; or she doubted her own eavesdropping ears.
Or maybe she assumed he was so far from redemption that saving Lady Elizabeth from him was paramount.
Lynch said, “Darling, you have to convince her to refuse Robin.” Dessie flinched, but whether it was at the directive or the “treacly” endearment, Ophelia couldn’t guess. “You can do it,” he urged. “Dessie, you can convince a sailor to buy a horse.”
Had she done that?
Dessie’s whole face screwed into a knot, a sign she was thinking intently. Then she said, “We need to hold a dinner party.” She counted something on her fingers, then frowned. “No, I don’t suppose Lady Townes will be permitted to come.”
Was Dessie still trying to bring the two women together? It wouldn’t work. Unless…Lord help them, unless Dessie was considering inviting Sir George as well. Watching him with his wife should dissuade anyone from marrying, ever.
“She will not,” Trentham said. “You heard Sir George. She is not to see me. And even if you don’t intend to invite me—”
“Oh, hush. Let me think.” Dessie counted again, then said, “Lord and Lady Melvin. Me and Lynch. Those are the love matches. Lord and Lady Beming. They argue nonstop. Sir Albert and Lady Coates. They never say a word to one another. Robin. Ophelia. Lady Elizabeth.” Her brow furrowed. “Mr. Cameron?”
Trentham shook his head. “Not Eli. The Barringtons won’t want their daughter attending a dinner where a performer is a guest.”
“Does that mean you’ll bar Mr. Cameron from your home when you’re married?” Ophelia asked, annoyed by the way he kowtowed to the snobs.
“Of course not.”
“I know,” Dessie said, before an argument erupted. “That young fellow we passed on the stoop. Viscount something or other from Dainswick.”
Trentham choked. “Hayworth?” He looked shocked by the suggestion. Lynch appeared equally startled, and began rubbing his jaw as if to erase his expression.
Dessie continued, “Lynch wants to sink his claws into the man before the Conservatives get to him.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes,” Lynch said. “Invite Hayworth. I think that is a good idea. Show we have no quarrel with him. Unless,” he looked to Trentham, “you think it might inflame Sir George to a dangerous degree.”
“I don’t know what sets him off,” Trentham grumbled.
“Why would Sir George care?” Ophelia asked.
The two men exchanged glances. Then Trentham said, “He is my sister’s supposed paramour.”
Ophelia could only gape in disbelief, but Dessie burst into giggles. When she got hold of herself, she said, “Oh, come now! Admit it. That is funny!”
Still, no one else laughed.
“Well, all right,” Dessie said, looking a bit piqued.
“Tomorrow night we have another engagement, but the day after tomorrow, Lynch and I will host a dinner party.” Three skeptical faces stared back at her.
“I know this seems too tame to work, but I suspect Lady Elizabeth is closer to the tipping point than you think. She won’t listen to reason, but if we can frighten her enough, it should convince her that refusing Robin is the lesser of two evils. ”
Trentham responded to that with a short, hollow laugh.
“So what do we do at this party?” Ophelia asked. “What are our roles?”
“Everyone just needs to be themselves. Lady Elizabeth will see the results of making an unhappy marriage.” She smiled at Lynch. “Contrasted with the results of a love match.” She turned to Trentham. “And Robin, just be droll. She’ll hate you.”