Stolen by the Ruthless Duke (Stolen by the Duke #2)

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

O phelia had slipped out through the connecting door later in the night, wanting to be back in her own chambers to clear her mind.

It was clouded with lust from their night, and although her body and mind were the furthest things from sleep, she burrowed under the sheets and awaited slumber to find her.

It did, and she slept fitfully, dreaming of the other ways the Duke’s hands might find themselves on her.

When she awoke, she ventured downstairs for breakfast. She had forgone her breakfast room since Lucy had arrived, and she now ate in the main breakfast hall, ever hoping that Maxwell would join them.

To her surprise, it was not Lucy that she found but Maxwell. He was dressed impeccably in his dark clothes, as usual.

He looked up as he buttered his toast. She saw the faintest hint of warmth in his eyes as they roved over her.

Did he take stock of the bruises she had asked for? Most of them were hidden, but she had begged, had she not?

Her face flushed as she remembered herself pleading, arching into him as his hands wrought pleasure from her.

Maxwell cleared his throat. “Sit.”

She did, and as she opened her mouth with the intent to speak about the night before, footsteps sounded, interrupting her.

“Good morning, Cousin,” Lucy said in a cheerful voice. “Good morning, Ophelia.”

“Morning,” Maxwell muttered.

Ophelia plastered a smile on her face and murmured, “Good morning.”

A place was immediately set for Lucy and Ophelia, and their breakfasts were served. As Ophelia began to eat, ever aware of the Duke’s gaze on her, she looked at Lucy instead.

“How was your evening? Did you have a good time?”

Lucy nodded, swallowing her bite of food. “Yes. Indeed, I did. I actually forgot that I can have fun at events. Of course, there was a touch of awkwardness with Miss Crowley, but Frederick more than made up for it. Thank you for encouraging me to go.”

Ophelia noticed out of the corner of her eye how Maxwell’s expression softened at his cousin’s words. He truly had a soft spot for her. Every puzzle piece she thought did not have a place, she was finding where it belonged.

Things are making more sense, and I can see it clearer, yet I still do not have the whole picture.

“Did you both have a good time?” Lucy asked, cutting up her eggs, so she did not see the way Maxwell shifted in his chair.

Ophelia did, and she hurried to answer. “I—” She cleared her throat, thinking of the Duke’s fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh. “I—Yes. Yes, I did. Did you, Your Grace?”

Maxwell watched her for a moment, his expression vacant, as though he, too, was thinking of the good time they had.

“Yes,” he answered, clearing his throat as she had. “It was—it was good.”

Lucy looked up, her eyes flitting between them. She gave a small, knowing smile. “I see. I am sure it had nothing to do with any noises I overheard, then, and everything to do with, say, the quality of the music the night before?”

“Yes!” Ophelia said quickly. “Exactly. Yes, the music.”

“The music was excellent,” Maxwell agreed. “I could have listened to it all night.”

Ophelia blushed.

Lucy laughed quietly into her breakfast, finishing up the small helping she had. “Well, I am going out for a ride today. I shall leave you both alone while I explore the cliffs. My heart is full, and I’m rather craving the fresh air.”

“You are all right to go alone?” Maxwell asked.

“Oh, very much. I often ride out there to clear my head in many ways.”

Lucy had a soft, happy look on her face, and Ophelia wondered if it had anything to do with her and Freddie’s closeness at the ball.

“Well, Arielle is there for you whenever you need her.”

Lucy paused. “I do not know why, but I kept telling myself you had sold my horse.”

“Why on earth would I do such a thing?”

“I do not know,” she confessed. “To banish any reminders of… our past.”

“Of me” was left unspoken, but Ophelia heard it in the ensuing silence.

“Never,” Maxwell swore. “Your horse is there, and she is waiting for you. Do not think for a moment that I want you out of here. We both understand where we come from, Lucy. I want to move past it , not to forget it entirely. To forget is to become complacent. The memories remind me how not to be.”

Ophelia listened to him, and although the words were not directed at her, it was the most he had said about his past in her presence. Quietly, she sipped her tea.

“You are right,” Lucy said. “However, Maxwell, I do not think you need reminders about how not to act. You are the opposite of those monsters.”

Maxwell’s eyes flitted to Ophelia, but she averted her gaze. Although they spoke in her presence, she could give them some privacy.

“Thank you,” Maxwell said to his cousin. “Sometimes it helps to hear that.”

“Well, I am sure if you opened up to your wife, she might be able to assure you of the same thing.”

It was supposed to be teasing, but did Lucy know just how much she spoke the truth?

Ophelia coughed delicately.

“When I am ready to speak of such things with the Duchess, Lucy, then rest assured I will.”

Lucy only rolled her eyes. “The past is done, Maxwell. You do not run from it. You fight it still. You can face a thousand men in that boxing ring, but you cannot escape the past. What you can do is speak about it with those you trust.”

“I trust nobody.”

“That is a lie and you know it,” Lucy said, her voice firm. “Now, I am going for a ride, and I hope you both have a delightful day.”

Without another moment of hesitation, she excused herself, leaving Ophelia and Maxwell alone.

Despite how much Ophelia had pushed Maxwell previously, he only sighed and leaned back in his chair, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Well, I am sure you found that interesting.”

“I did,” Ophelia admitted. “Only due to how open you were with her.”

“We come from the same family. I cannot keep secrets from my cousin. We went through… similar things.”

Ophelia nodded. “Of course.”

She felt shy looking at him, could not stop her gaze from drifting to his hands, of thinking of the wonders they had done the night before, with candlelight dancing over the lines of his body.

“In all honesty, this has been the most cheerful I have seen Lucy in quite some time,” Maxwell told her, sipping from his teacup. “I know she has been away, but even before then, everything was gloomy. So it is refreshing. I feel…” He let out a quiet laugh, cocking his head. “I feel quite accomplished, actually, in knowing that being here has brought her comfort once again. Like I have made these halls safe again.”

“Why was she so shut down before?” Ophelia asked, wondering what sort of family landmine she was treading on.

Perhaps Maxwell did not tell her much because it meant diving into waters she did not know the depths of. But her own family history had paved some way to it.

Maxwell hesitated, but she persisted. “My own life has not been without tragedy. I can understand pain, Maxwell. Yours, and Lucy’s.”

“No, it’s only that…” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head, looking away from her. She watched his walls fly right back up. “It does not matter. The only thing that does matter is how much better she seems to be.”

“But what has she?—”

“Stop.”

The single command had her recoiling, not in fear but in confusion. The way her husband picked and chose when to open up to her and when to shut her out had her on a string, dangled up and down.

Ophelia frowned. “I suppose it runs in the family.”

When she looked at Maxwell, his attention had returned to her, his eyebrow raised.

“Being shut off,” she clarified, somewhat sharply.

Tired of being pushed and pulled back and forth, of being allowed some information but not all of it, of men deciding her fate, Ophelia excused herself with a small murmur and stood to leave.

“Wait.”

Again, such a simple command, but it worked on her, his voice sinking into her bones.

“Yes?” She tried to keep the hope from her voice.

This is where he will change his mind and tell me what I have asked to know.

“Will you help Lucy re-enter Society? She needs a good husband.”

Her hope deflated, and she fought to keep the smile on her face. Inside, disappointment weighed her down.

Still, she nodded. “Yes.”

Maxwell returned her nod, looking relieved, and she left the breakfast hall.

A few days later, Ophelia stood on the turret with Lucy.

“Do you often come out here too?” she asked.

Both of them looked out at the wide cliffs that bordered Sussex, the waves that crashed against them. Despite herself, Ophelia’s eyes were drawn to those waves, as if searching for the Duke.

Was that why she came out here so often? Did she hope to spot him like she had that fateful morning?

It was not only to clear her head, evidently.

“I do,” Lucy told her. “There are many lookout points on the cliffs, but I used to come out here when I was younger, around ten and four. There was something about being within the walls of my own home, looking out at the freedom of the coastline. It hurt terribly, but it allowed me to remember that there is another world beyond these walls.”

Although Ophelia did not entirely understand yet what had caused Lucy so much hurt, she nodded. “There is always freedom to be found, even in the worst of places.”

“You understand,” Lucy said.

Ophelia nodded again. “I do. I know what it feels like to be trapped.”

“Do you feel trapped with Maxwell?”

Ophelia paused. “I did, at first. Now… I do not know.”

Lucy sighed. “This place was supposed to be beautiful, not a prison. Do not make it one. You have the power to make it into a proper home, Ophelia. I never thought I would be able to laugh in such a place. Yet, since returning, I have.”

Ophelia wished it could be a home. But a home was made with someone else, and she did not know her husband’s feelings.

“Well, I do hope I will make you laugh a little more in a few days,” she said, showing Lucy the invitation she had received that morning. “We have been invited to a garden party hosted by the Dowager Countess of Hayfield. I thought that since you enjoyed the ball the other night, despite that awful Miss Crowley, you might wish to go with me.”

“I would like that,” Lucy told her, nodding. “If nothing else, I shall go, as I have heard the Dowager Countess’s cakes are rather heavenly.”

“I will help you bat away all of those snooty ladies.”

A few moments passed before Lucy tucked her hand in the crook of Ophelia’s elbow. She remained tense, but at least she had reached out.

Ophelia smiled. Her hair fluttered around her shoulders. In the distance, a figure walked along the beach. She recognized her husband in an instant, and her heart gave a nervous flutter as he caught sight of them.

Ophelia gave a small wave. Maxwell paused, lifting a hand to his brow as if to see her clearer.

Wave back, wave back , she pleaded silently.

A silly thing, a hopeful thing?—

Maxwell waved back.