Chapter Thirty-Six
Although Ophelia was anxious to be back in London where her father and Aunt Grace awaited them, she was thrilled to be able to spend the whole day traveling with Robin. And Dessie, of course. Though, mostly Robin.
For the first part of the journey, he entertained them with stories of Lynch’s boyhood—his behavior had not always been faultless.
Dessie returned the favor, relating a few of Ophelia’s less mortifying stumbles.
They had a better than adequate luncheon in a private room in a coaching inn in Aldershot while the horses were changed.
When Dessie fell asleep on the next leg of the journey, Trentham pulled Ophelia over to his side of the barouche and kissed her, slowly, until she was warm and floating and the world around her disappeared.
He whispered, “I am imagining you in that nightdress.”
“I’m picturing you out of your banyan.”
He laughed out loud, then sprang away from her when Dessie stirred.
The scenic route spooled out in reverse: the farmers’ fields, villages, wooded acres, stone bridges over slow-moving rivers, all so very beautiful now. Yesterday, she’d thought she’d lost Robin forever. Today, he was hers.
The last hour was the longest. Although Ophelia didn’t think she would ever tire of Robin’s company, spending that many hours in a carriage, two days in a row, was simply too much.
When they pulled up in front of the Lynchford home, Ophelia echoed Dessie’s sigh.
Finally. The gaslight glow spilling from the windows, the now-familiar stately brick front, and the knowledge that her father and beloved Aunt Grace would be inside made it feel like homecoming, even though London was not Ophelia’s home. Not yet.
They disembarked. Trentham gave instructions to the coachman, then they went into the house. Peters came hurrying to them, but before he’d said a word, Ophelia heard her father’s laughter echoing down the hall.
“Thank you, Peters,” Dessie said, smiling. “But I believe we can find them.”
Dessie linked her arm through Ophelia’s, and they followed the happy sounds to the parlor. Robin came with them, close behind, making Ophelia’s breath catch and skin tingle in anticipation. Did he mean to ask for her now? Could they really be married within the week?
When they entered the room, Daddy and Lynch rose, and Eli practically rocketed from his chair, beaming broadly.
His mouth opened as if he had something to say, but he clamped it shut, still grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Aunt Grace nodded a more subdued greeting from her seat near the fireplace.
Lynch strode forward. “Darling, I’m glad you’re home. No troubles, I hope?”
“None at all, snookums,” Dessie replied.
Lynch halted, with such a look of puzzlement, Ophelia had to smile.
“And you?” Robin asked. “How did the Barringtons react to the return of their daughter? Or didn’t you wait around to find out?”
“I escorted the pair inside for moral support,” Lynch said.
Of course, he did. Dessie had married a thoroughly good man. Hmm. Didn’t that get dull? Ophelia repressed a giggle.
Lynch continued, “I thought Hayworth would shake in his boots, but he proved his mettle. He took full responsibility for running off with Lady Elizabeth, not even mentioning your name. He blamed it on love.” Lynch’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a snicker.
“I suspect he’d been practicing his speech the whole ride back. ”
“Good for him!” Dessie cheered.
“Barrington was furious, naturally, but Hayworth stood firm while the old man dressed him down.”
“Did he, by God?” Robin looked surprised but pleased. “And Lady Elizabeth?”
“No waterworks, though I suspect she came close. Lady Barrington was sobbing—with relief, I think, but it was hard to tell. When Barrington finished yelling at Hayworth, the fellow flat-out asked for her hand, as if he hadn’t even noticed the vituperation being thrown at him.”
“Bold move,” Daddy put in, bobbing his head with approval.
“Yes, and it worked.” Lynch smiled. “I left shortly, and the men were removing to Barrington’s study to discuss terms. Hayworth wants you to be at the wedding, Robin. To show the ton there are no hard feelings.”
Robin laughed. “Gladly. But I’ll put it to him they should also invite Lady Townes and Sir George.”
Ophelia’s startlement was echoed in the faces of Lynch, Dessie, and Eli.
“You can’t be serious,” Lynch said.
“Michael Derry’s idea, taken to an extreme.
It will tamp down any remaining scandal.
Though the gossips will have fodder for months, especially when I take over the lease to their London home and bar George from it.
” While they were all digesting that, Robin stepped close and took hold of Ophelia’s elbow.
“Now, I’d like to make a bold move of my own.
Mr. Delancey, would you come with me for a few words? Lynch, may we borrow your study?”
Ophelia began to tremble with excitement. This was real. Her wildest dream? A love match. She wouldn’t care if Robin was a stevedore. And it wouldn’t matter to him if she was penniless.
“Oh?” Daddy said. His expression clouded. Ophelia watched his gaze slide from her face to her elbow and Robin’s hand. Then, he half-turned and gestured to Eli. “What have you to say about this, Elias?”
What on earth? She felt Robin’s hand tighten, and he pulled her against him. Possessively.
Ophelia’s tutor had been smiling throughout the discussion, but now, with the whole gathering’s attention, his jaw dropped, aghast. “Alfred, I think that you may be laboring under a misapprehension.”
“A misapprehension?” He frowned. “You won’t fight for her?”
“Fight Robin?” Eli pulled his hands behind his back as though to hide them. “Certainly not!”
Daddy glowered. “But dash it all! I had made my peace with the idea! She doesn’t need to wed a peer. I want her to be happy. And she’s dotty for you!”
“Ah. I see.” Eli’s eyes dulled and his face went pale. He didn’t look at Ophelia or Robin. “Then, of course, our arrangement is off?”
“What arrangement?” Robin demanded. “Eli? What arrangement?”
Eli grimaced. “Don’t be an idiot, Robin.” Then he let out a long sigh. “I had no idea that’s what Alfred thought. If I had, I would have set him straight. Ophelia is not ‘dotty.’ Not for me, at any rate.”
Dessie burst into giggles. “It’s like watching a stage farce.”
After a long moment, Daddy shook his head and said, “The offer still stands.”
“Daddy, what are you talking about?” Ophelia asked.
“I asked Elias to come with Grace and myself, and you, I thought, when we return to the States. To perform an American tour. A real one, not simply a few house parties like Vanderpoel set up. I’m on the board at Steinway Hall, and I have connections up and down the seaboard.
He’ll be the year’s great sensation, mark my words. ”
“But by your sponsorship, you meant to reinvigorate a son-in-law’s career, did you not?” Eli’s smile was gone, along with his earlier elation.
“Bunkum! I want to show up Vanderpoel, the godawful snob. Last year he brought out some cellist from Vienna. Talked the man up like he was Cervetto reborn. Pshaw! I have the new Liszt!”
“This is all well and good for Eli,” Lynch said. “But I believe Trentham is awaiting your pleasure. In my study.”
Daddy harumphed. “I suppose he wants to marry my daughter now. Although if I have this story straight, he was betrothed to another gal yesterday. And if she hadn’t run off with the other fellow—”
“But thank God, she did,” Robin said.
“Ophelia, luv, you don’t have to marry a peer to please me. I thought you knew that. You always said you wouldn’t.” He shot a pleading appeal to Aunt Grace. “Talk some sense into her.”
She said, “Of course, you wouldn’t marry a duke simply to please your father.” She gave Ophelia a piercing look. “But it does seem your head has been turned rather quickly. It isn’t like you. Is it that you want to be with your sister? To remain in England?”
Robin’s fingers slid from her arm, and he took a step back.
“No!” she protested. “I mean, of course, I do. But that isn’t why—”
“She doesn’t have to marry to stay in England,” Dessie scoffed. “Lynch and I have already adopted her! And you weren’t worried that I was marrying an earl to please you!”
“You and Lynch are peas-in-a-pod,” Daddy said. “What with your crusades for this and against that. But name one thing those two”—he waved his arm at them—“could possibly have in common.”
The room fell silent.
Then Robin said in a firm, if resigned, voice, “I play the harp.”