Chapter 4
“You are worried about something,” the Duke said from across the carriage. “What is wrong?”
Ophelia had been gazing out the window in a state of nervous anticipation.
For an hour now, she and the Duke had ridden together, not a word spoken between them, which she felt was for the best. After all, he was not exactly prone to small talk, and she sensed that any efforts to try might see his temper grow hostile.
The silence had given her a chance to think.
This situation she had found herself in… why does scandal seem to follow me everywhere I go? I try and do the right thing, yet time and again, I am punished for it.
In truth, there was a small part of her that was grateful for what the Duke was doing.
She knew he did not wish to marry her, just as she had no wish to marry him.
But the circumstance demanded it, and having found herself on the wrong end of a scandal already once in her life, Ophelia knew this was for the best.
However, as she looked out the window, she began to recognize the landscape. It was her home, a place that should have brought with it warm memories of a happy childhood, but were filled with dread on account of those memories that had seen her flee her home in disgrace.
As to her father, he, whom they were on their way to see? His reaction to the news that they brought worried her more than anything.
“Nothing,” she said softly, still looking out the window.
“If you say so,” the Duke said.
Ophelia turned to study the Duke. He too looked out the window, his expression dark and sorrowful so that she did not have to wonder too hard at what was on his mind.
He is a scary man, of that there can be no doubt. Only, I wonder if he is nearly as scary as he pretends to be…
She was having a hard time deciding how she felt about the Duke. Where her first impression confirmed the rumors that she had heard, a full day had since passed, and the more she spent time with her future husband, the more her impression changed.
Ophelia could not say why she felt as she did, but she got the distinct impression that he was not nearly the monster that people said.
Obviously, he had it in him to be terrifying.
But she wondered if that was the true him.
He was grumpy, he was sullen, but he was also sad…
he is lost, is what, unsure of himself and his place in the world.
“I have not seen or spoken to my father in three years,” Ophelia found herself saying. “I am… worried about what he might say when he sees me, and when we tell him the news.”
The Duke looked at her. “I thought you said that you had a good relationship with your father.”
“I do,” she said with a warm smile. “He is a kind man. And I know he loves me dearly. But he worries about me, as I worry about him.”
“I do find it curious,” the Duke said slowly. “If you two are so close, why has it been so long since you spoke?”
“Oh…” She blinked and looked away. “No reason.”
He scoffed. “If you say so.”
She looked out the window but felt the Duke watching her as if in suspicion.
He had a right to be, because she had just lied to him.
Her father was in financial peril, and a part of the reason that Ophelia had gone to work for Lady Delacourt was to help ease it.
But the true reason that she had not spoken to him in so long was on account of her shame.
Father told me he did not blame me for what happened, but that matters not. I blame myself, and I hate what my actions have done to him and his name…
This was sure to be a most awkward morning. The Duke had told her that they would not lie to her father, and she had assured him that he could be trusted with the truth. But she had shamed him once already, and she hated that she was doing so again.
And that wasn’t to mention the Duke and the impression he would likely make. Not a good one, if she knew the man who she would soon call her husband.
She glanced at him, saw his scowl, sensed his frustration, and sighed. No, likely not a good impression at all…
“Father!” Miss Ophelia rushed from the carriage as soon as it came to a stop.
Her father, Lord Warwick, stood on the driveway, his arms held wide for his daughter, his smile even wider than that. He was a surprisingly short man, even more so than his daughter, but Adrian saw in him such love and adoration for his daughter that it made him seem twelve feet tall.
They embraced just as Adrian stepped out of the carriage.
He stayed back and watched as the two hugged and laughed while holding one another. It was without a doubt a touching scene, the kind that might warm the heart and even bring a tear to the eye. For Adrian, however, it made him feel uncomfortable.
He could not help but remember his own father, just as he could not help but wonder at how their reunion might have been were the man still alive.
Certainly, it would be nowhere near so joyous or happy.
In fact, Adrian could not remember a single day in his life when his father had hugged him like that or looked as if he wanted to.
“And this must be His Grace…” Lord Warwick might have been short, but his voice was large. He kept his arm around Miss Ophelia’s waist and beamed as the two approached. “It is an honor to meet you.”
Adrian did not smile, as that was never his way. But he approached Lord Warwick and offered a hand to shake.
“Lord Warwick,” he said as his large hand encased the small lord’s. “It is a pleasure to meet with you. I do wish the circumstances were not so dire and I thank you for agreeing to see us.”
“Dire?” Lord Warwick frowned. “What could be dire about this? My daughter is getting married. And to a duke, no less!”
Adrian frowned. “You are aware of the situation…”
“Of course,” Lord Warwick chuckled. “And I have much to say about it. But not here.” He waved Adrian down. “Inside, yes. Let us head inside.”
While Miss Ophelia might have said that she was nervous about seeing her father, Adrian saw none of that now. She looked upon the man with utmost love, and he returned the look in kind.
Adrian’s chest tightened as he observed them. Shame struck him. Lord Warwick might have been putting on a brave face, but this was not nearly the happy circumstance that he pretended it to be. And while it was not Adrian’s fault, he still felt as if it was.
Lord Warwick led the two inside and as could be expected, the manor was as warm and inviting as its host. The staff smiled as they passed by.
The sun shone warm through the windows. There was a constant air of comfort and happiness found without having to look for it, and Adrian continued to feel uncomfortable because he was not used to such things.
“Now, I have tea ready for us outside,” Lord Warwick announced as he led them through the manor. “And I want to hear everything.” He scowled jokingly at his daughter. “Three years and I have not heard from you once!”
“I am sorry, Father…” Miss Ophelia grimaced with shame.
“Oh, perhaps I should be sorry,” he said. “I too did not write, and I can only imagine what you must think is the reason.” A shake of the head. “But that is in the past now. Let us not dwell on such things.”
“Agreed!” Miss Ophelia beamed.
Adrian considered the small exchange with great curiosity.
He knew little about Miss Ophelia, save for what she had told him. And what she had told him made little real sense. She was the daughter of a baron, but she worked as a maid. And if she was this close to her father, why had he sent her away?
There was more to it, Adrian was certain. Time and again, she had hinted at something in her past that she was not proud of. He thought to ask, to push the subject, but refrained from doing so.
Even though he was set to marry Miss Ophelia, Adrian believed the less he knew about her the better. And the same went for the less than she knew about him.
“Before we do head outside, however…” Lord Warwick raised an eyebrow at Adrian. “Perhaps it is best if His Grace and I have a little chat first.”
“Of course,” Adrian agreed. “There is much to discuss.”
“Ophelia, might you meet us outside?”
She looked between the two men, and Adrian was certain she was about to argue. But she must have seen something in her father’s eyes because she smiled, rolled her eyes, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
“Be gentle with him, Father.
“Me!” he laughed. “I am the one you should be worried about. Jokes, of course,” he hurried to add with more humor. “Just jokes.”
Adrian stood silently and awkwardly throughout the small exchange. He had no idea how to handle such warmth and enthusiasm, so he chose to say nothing.
This was not his world and never had he felt so out of place.
He followed Lord Warwick into his office. The diminutive lord was sure to shut the door behind them, after which he took a seat behind his desk. There, he folded his hands on the table, fixed a scowl to his face, and Adrian almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Finally, the charade was dropped…
“Well?” Lord Warwick said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Adrian stood tall and proud. “I want to start by apologizing, Lord Warwick. I did not intend for any of this to happen, but since it has, you should know that I have worked tirelessly to soften the blow of scandal that threatens both my name and the name of your daughter.”
“Have you now?” he said without emotion. “I read today’s scandal sheets and nothing about what they have to say suggests a softening of this blow. They are ripe with speculation and judgment.”
“False accusations,” Adrian countered. “And once we wed –”
“Assuming I allow it.”
Adrian started in surprise. He was not used to being spoken to this way, especially by some country lord who ought to have known better. He was trying to do the right thing, even if he was not to blame. And this was how he was treated.
“Careful, Lord Warwick,” Adrian said with a sharp tone. “I have been kind to you thus far, and to your daughter. But I will not be spoken to like –"