Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
Mr. Cameron stepped into the room, looking as though hearing his name pronounced with such portentousness amused him. He started to bow to Dessie, then stopped. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Daddy stood up. Mouth agape. Then he walked toward Eli, squinting.
“Good God! It is you. I remember hearing you back in…what was it? Sixty-five? Seventy? You were in New York. You played at the Vanderpoels’.”
“Ah. Yes. I was in America, briefly. You were one of the Vanderpoels’ guests?”
“You were a young fellow then. Good God! But what a talent! Vanderpoel couldn’t stop bragging about his ‘coup.’ His ‘find.’” He turned to Ophelia, laughing. “You heard him through the floor! And didn’t stop talking about him for months!”
Ophelia’s cheeks grew hot.
Dessie giggled. “Years. She’s been talking about him for years.”
Ophelia saw Eli’s face redden, too.
“And you are Lynch’s friend?” Daddy asked. When Mr. Cameron nodded, he said, “Small world. Small world.” Then he turned to Ophelia. “Come, luv. Let’s go see what you’ve learned.”
It was as good an excuse as any to stretch their legs and move to another room.
“I haven’t practiced my scales today,” Ophelia admitted in a whisper, walking a little in front, alongside her tutor.
“I’m not surprised.” He glanced down at her slippers and grinned. “Do you want to start with something on the harp?”
“I imagine Daddy wants to hear me play the piano. Since I’m taking lessons. Resorting to the harp would be cheating.”
“Then choose the piece you are most comfortable playing. I’ll stand behind you and nod appreciatively. Everyone will trust you’re making exquisite music if I say so.”
“Does that work when you’re teaching the tin-eared?” Tricks of the tutor’s trade?
“Always.” He smirked. “Then we’ll play a duet to end the lesson, if that suits you.”
“Perfectly.” Because really, everyone wanted to hear Elias Cameron, not her.
When they entered the music room, Ophelia took her place on the piano bench, and Eli stood a respectful distance behind. Dessie, Daddy, and Aunt Grace sat facing them, wearing rapt expressions.
Ophelia chose a Chopin piece she could play in her sleep. Eli pronounced it excellent, and everyone clapped. Then he sat down beside her. But before they started, Lynch strode into the room. His shoulders were tense and his jaw locked.
“Did it not go well?” Dessie asked, then explained to the others, “He had a meeting this morning at the coffee house with Lord Selborne, the lord chancellor.”
Ophelia counted that as equal parts concern for Lynch and eagerness to drop names for Daddy’s sake. Earlier, Dessie had explained that Lord Selborne was the minister of justice for the crown. They were trying to sway the fellow to their side.
Lynch scowled. “It went about as well as expected. He won’t budge on two points, and neither will I.” He tossed off the explanation as if it wasn’t important, before glaring at Eli and demanding, “Did you know?”
Eli flinched, but he didn’t ask what Lynch meant. Or give an answer. He remained silent, his face white and shoulders hunched as if he wanted to hide.
“Know what?” Dessie asked.
“Three different people, three, came up to me to tell me to give Trentham their congratulations.”
“For?” Dessie asked.
“For his betrothal to Lady Elizabeth.”
Ophelia gasped. They were mistaken. Or lying. It had to be a mistake.
“No!” Dessie cried. “I was sure he wouldn’t ask her. And if he did, I was positive she would say ‘no’.”
Lynch shook his head. “I don’t know what happened. I would like to think the rumors are false. Eli?”
Eli said weakly, “It’s not my place—”
“Good God!” Lynch interrupted, his face thunderous. “It’s true.” He spun about. “I’ve got to talk to him.” He strode out.
Ophelia was left exchanging horrified looks with Dessie, while her heart cracked in two. She couldn’t bear to glance at Eli, keeper of Trentham’s secrets. But she did steal a glimpse at her father, whose confusion was clear.
Daddy coughed. “I take it this is not welcome news. This Trentham is Lynch’s friend? A duke, isn’t that right?”
Dessie might have written something to him about Trentham. Ophelia hadn’t. She left it to Dessie to answer because she didn’t trust her own voice.
“The Duke of Trentham is Lynch’s very good friend,” Dessie said, moving to Ophelia’s side and resting a hand on her shoulder. “And this match is awful. It’s one of those stupid aristocratic marriages to join bloodlines. They dislike each other terribly.”
Aunt Grace tsked. “How very sad.”
Too sad. Ophelia’s eyes welled with tears. A brute and a liar! How could she have been so easily misled? Dessie leaned against her.
“Ugh. Those kippers are not sitting well. Come with me, Ophelia?” She put one hand over her mouth and another on her belly.
Alarmed, Ophelia escorted her from the room.
Now there would be no chance of keeping Dessie’s condition a secret.
But outside the door, Dessie straightened, grasped her hand, and hustled her toward the stairs.
“You’re going to talk to me, Ophelia. What’s going on? ”
*
“He lied to me, Dessie.”
They were in Ophelia’s chamber, where the blues and yellows of the bedclothes were now just a blur. She blotted her eyes with a handkerchief, doing her best not to start bawling.
“When? When you went riding with him? What did he say?” Dessie wrung her hands. “Lud! I’m so sorry. I never asked. I was so distracted by Daddy’s telegram—”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.” She flopped onto the bed and began picking at the coverlet. She felt stupid. And incredulous. And stupid for being incredulous.
“Well, but what did he do?”
Ophelia sniffed. Then swallowed hard. “He said he was going to end his courtship of Lady Elizabeth.”
“End it! And instead he proposed?”
“He said he’d tell her he agreed they didn’t suit, or however one goes about such a thing.” She swallowed again. “He said that he loved me.”
Dessie gasped. “Did he? But that’s grand, isn’t it? No, I guess it isn’t. Good heavens. Everything is upside-down. What else?”
“I wouldn’t let him say anything else. You know. Because of Lady Elizabeth.” Her voice caught. “Do you think he mistook my—my reticence for rejection?”
“No. You did right. He shouldn’t have spoken until he’d broken with her.”
“Do you think that he—that he—oh, Dessie! He kissed me. He really kissed me. At your last dinner party, and I kissed him back. And all the while…” She couldn’t bear it.
She couldn’t believe it and she couldn’t bear it.
“Was he toying with me? Because I’m not a real lady, he thinks he can take liberties whenever he wants?
And I have mush for a spine because I let him! ”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You are a ‘real’ lady. And he wouldn’t dare! Ophelia, you’re Lynch’s sister-in-law!”
“Yes, but he slept with his other friend’s sister.”
He was awful. She had to accept that he was an awful, awful man. An adulterer. Almost a murderer. And a liar!
Dessie huffed. “Trentham couldn’t possibly be so unprincipled a rake that he would treat you that way.” She sat down heavily on the bed beside Ophelia.
“You’re calling him Trentham, not Robin,” she pointed out.
“Because I’m furious with him!” She demonstrated her fury by jumping back up. “But that doesn’t mean I’m mad at him,” she added, nonsensically. “Lynch says that Fanny incident was a decade ago. And Lynch says—”
“Now! Now you’re prefacing your statements with ‘my husband says’!”
Dessie’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “All right. I say that Fanny incident was a decade ago.”
“Well, but that’s another thing.” Ophelia felt a warm flush steal up her neck. “He said he never cared for her. Not even a little. He only wanted…” Her voice sank to a whisper, worried she’d shock her sister. “Sex.”
“Of course, he wanted sex, silly.” It appeared Dessie was trying to scowl, but her eyes danced. Then she giggled. “It’s simply marvelous. You’ll see. You won’t ever want to leave bed again. I know I—”
“Oh, hush!” Now her face flamed. There were certain images she never wanted in her head. “You and Lynch were married.”
“Eventually.” Dessie snorted. “Don’t gape like that.”
Ophelia snapped her mouth closed.
“We knew we were going to marry. And it was my decision as much as Lynch’s. But you are right. It was mean of Robin to sleep with someone he never cared for, if she cared for him. But people do it all the time. Maybe she just wanted sex too.”
“What if he wants sex with me?”
Dessie smirked. “If?”
“I mean just sex.”
“No. He cares for you. That’s abundantly clear to anyone with eyes. And he dislikes Lady Elizabeth, even though he must realize she makes herself unlikeable to him on purpose.”
“But she is a marquess’ daughter. And he wanted to redeem his reputation. At least, that’s what he said. I don’t know. I can’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth. There are at least three different Dukes of Trentham. Which is he?”
“Ophelia, he’s Robin. If he was toying with you, I would never forgive him. And I would never let Lynch forgive him. And I’d wager anything that Mr. Cameron wouldn’t forgive him either.” She frowned, tapping her foot. “He said he loved you?”
Not in those exact words. “More or less.”
Dessie looked her up and down. “He’s not going to marry Lady Elizabeth.
We won’t let him, because she doesn’t want him.
But unless he has a very good excuse, a very good reason, for proposing to her, we won’t let him marry you, either.
” She grabbed Ophelia’s hand and pulled her up from the bed. “Come on.”
“Come where?”
“Wash your face and finish getting dressed. We’re going to the Barringtons’ to talk to Lady Elizabeth and see if we can figure this out.”
“The Barringtons’? Dessie, it’s not even noon. And we can’t just barge in and tell her that her future husband is a bounder who kissed me and said he loves me.”
Dessie gave her a shove. “Oh, yes we can.”