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

Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

“ I t is beautiful here,” Lucy commented as they entered Grateshead House.

It was a sprawling estate with a considerably smaller garden than Ophelia was used to, but it was impressive nonetheless. Bushes had been trimmed into archways that guided guests down pathways through the garden. Moonlight slanted over the walkways, offering dim light and many shadows.

Ophelia’s conversation with Maxwell lingered in her mind.

What might we do in the shadows if he were here ?

But he was not. Instead, Freddie accompanied them to Lady Grateshead’s ball. He walked with them to the entrance and led them inside. The ballroom was full, the ball already in full swing when they entered.

“The party began without us,” Freddie sighed mockingly. “It is a shame. I had hoped to pilfer the cake before everyone else arrived.”

“I am sure there are plenty of opportunities to pilfer,” Lucy joked.

“If there is not, I shall be sure to blame you.” Ophelia tensed up at Freddie’s teasing, but Lucy only blushed. “If you ladies had not taken this whole season to prepare just a single ringlet of hair, then we would have arrived sooner.”

“Oh, you are most dramatic, Freddie.”

The sound of Lucy’s laughter made Ophelia’s heart soar. She now knew from Lucy herself and Maxwell that it was a rare noise, so to hear Freddie coax it out in public made her happy. Still, she couldn’t help but worry about what Maxwell would think of his cousin and best friend.

Do not jump to conclusions .

They walked deeper into the ballroom, with Freddie leading them to the refreshments table.

Ophelia kept her eyes peeled, on guard for her stepmother ever since she had seen her at the garden party. Now that she knew her stepmother was out in the country and had pestered her to see Stormcliff, Ophelia was not certain she was as free from Arabella as she wished to be.

Thankfully, she did not see the older woman.

“You must miss having your ever-attentive husband at your side,” Freddie said conversationally as Lucy did her own assessment of the room. “He is just that, you know? Attentive. He is the sort that notices things you think he will not.”

“Really?”

Freddie hummed, nodding. “For example, he noticed that you do not enjoy wearing things in your hair but that you like to tuck a flower behind your ear when you walk in the garden.”

Ophelia blinked, looking at him. “He said that?”

“Your dear husband has many hidden layers, Ophelia. Do not underestimate him.”

Ophelia was at a loss for words. As much as she had watched the Duke, it seemed he had watched her right back.

What else might he confess he noticed ?

“I will not,” she said.

After all, her thoughts were tangled up in realizing that the Duke desired her in the ways she was starting to desire him. That alone had been a surprise—she had not thought he saw her in such a way until she was limp against the door to his chambers, gasping his name.

Freddie leaned closer. “I shall ask Lucy to dance with me. Maxwell has told me about his hopes for her to find a good husband. If other eligible bachelors see her dancing, see her worthy of dancing with a viscount, then they will be encouraged to seek her out as well.”

“That is a good plan,” Ophelia said in a low voice, as Lucy was too busy inspecting her wine glass and avoiding the eyes that swiveled in her direction.

“Lucy,” Freddie spoke as he regarded her, “have I told you how stunning you look tonight? Wear that compliment with pride as I guide you to the dance floor. That is if you will dance with me. We had a spectacular waltz at the last ball, did we not? Indulge me once again, sweetheart.”

The smile he gave her was positively charming, and part of Ophelia wondered if Lucy would fall for Freddie rather than let him be used as bait to lure other suitors. Ophelia was torn between hoping that Freddie’s plan worked and wanting him to be the one Lucy noticed most.

“I do not know,” Lucy confessed. “I… I think tonight’s ball is busier than the last one. I do not know if I can…” She blushed. “I do not know if I can handle so many people watching me.”

Freddie stepped closer to her, ever charming. “Lucy, the only man you should care about watching you is me. Nobody else will exist for those moments. Now, a beautiful melody is being played, and I am aware you enjoy a pretty tune. Please do me the honor of letting me dance you around the dance floor.”

Lucy blinked at his beautiful words, and Ophelia ached. She did not know Freddie well enough to know if this was a game he was playing. Nevertheless, she had the sense that he was being genuine.

After another self-conscious glance around the ballroom, Lucy finally accepted his hand. Freddie led her to the dance floor, and Ophelia gave her an encouraging smile. She saw the Viscount’s lips moving again in a speech that she did not hear, but when Lucy turned during their dance, a pink hue colored her cheeks.

Ophelia’s eyes scanned the room once again as she nursed her wine. Suitors were looking at Lucy, whispering to one another in a way that seemed more interested than judgmental.

I hope this re-entry into Society will be good for her .

But as she regarded the interest Lucy was gaining, Ophelia finally saw the woman she had hoped wouldn’t be there.

Lady Kirkland entered through the patio doors, returning from a stroll in the garden. A shawl was draped over her elbows, and she wore a fine gown of deep green.

A large emerald nestled at her throat, hanging on a heavy silver chain.

My father’s gifts .

Of course, her father’s wife would have everything he left for her. Still, Ophelia never stopped hating seeing her family jewels adorning such a hateful woman. Once upon a time, those jewels had adorned her mother.

As though Ophelia’s hatred beckoned Arabella’s attention, the woman’s eyes landed on her.

She and her bevy of women walked over to her, all bright smiles that hid a snake’s bite beneath. Ophelia had been struck by that bite far too often to underestimate her stepmother now.

“Lady Kirkland,” she greeted politely, trying to quell her anger, to stop herself from screaming at her stepmother for throwing Bridget onto the streets.

She had spent years pretending all was well around Lady Kirkland. What were a few more moments?

“How are you this evening?”

“Your Grace,” Lady Kirkland returned. “I am well. And yourself?”

“I am fine.” Ophelia’s smile was so strained that her cheeks ached.

“Your husband is not joining you tonight? Or is he… tired?”

Tired of you , you mean to say.

“He was obligated to prioritize his work tonight,” Ophelia answered. “I am sure he will attend the next function. He works hard for his tenants.”

“I am sure. We all have heard the rumors.”

To ears unused to Lady Kirkland’s darker nature, the words would have sounded complimentary. But Ophelia could not help wondering if it was the rumors about Maxwell killing his uncle. She had done her best to not think of them since Lucy had arrived, but her curiosity and worry still niggled at her.

“Regardless, I would like to speak with His Grace,” Arabella continued. “I fear that if you do not invite me to Stormcliff, I will have to beseech the Duke directly. Our meeting at the wedding was too brief. It will be an honor to meet with my son-in-law once again.”

Ophelia’s stomach tightened as she struggled to keep her smile from fading. “It was all so quick, with what happened,” she said. “I am sure he will write to you soon.”

“I am sure one of you will.”

Ophelia nodded, having no intention of passing on any messages to her husband.

Behind Lady Kirkland, two of the women whispered shamelessly to one another, forcing Ophelia to retreat to the refreshments table. She could not escape their whispers, but she could fight for some distance.

“A marriage caused by the ruination of the girl,” they gossiped. “He only married her because he ruined her.”

“We must leave and take another turn around the room,” Arabella said. “Do let the Viscount Rowe and Lady Lucy know we wished to greet them. It appeared Lady Lucy was upset by something the last time we spoke.”

Because you know exactly what you did to upset her, Ophelia wished to say.

Instead, she politely, answered, “I will pass on your regards.”

Her stepmother walked away with her group of friends. Only once they disappeared into the crowd did Ophelia relax. How often would she have to endure her stepmother’s company? The audacity of the women whispering about her in front of her…

“It seems my plan went well.” Freddie’s voice startled her, and she turned to find that he had returned from the dance floor.

He nodded toward where Lucy was dancing with another suitor, her smile shy and her eyes never quite meeting those of her dance partner.

“It seems it did,” Ophelia agreed.

But she noticed how Freddie watched Lucy protectively, his jaw tightly clenched, and she noticed something else.

Longing.

Quietly, she tucked away her discovery as Freddie quickly excused himself for some fresh air.

Ophelia found herself thinking of Maxwell and wishing he was there, at her side.

How strange to miss him when only weeks ago, I would have been grateful for the respite.

More invitations came through, and by the week’s end, Lucy had attended another dinner party and two other balls, with Freddie accompanying them yet again.

The dinner party was the one Lucy struggled with the most, as, due to her frequent appearances, she was garnering more attention from eligible bachelors, and a dinner party forced more conversation.

Freddie helped her at every turn, and Ophelia found herself barely needed. However, it unfortunately meant more unwanted encounters with her stepmother, and miss her husband’s presence.

“Lady Lucy has always been a fan of the opera,” Freddie was saying to a few men as they all sat at the dinner table at the most recent party.

“Is that so? Well then, Lady Lucy, you must allow me to take you some time.” A dark-haired lord eyed Lucy with keen interest.

Ophelia could not help but notice how Freddie encouraged Lucy and the bachelors, but when a keen interest was shown, he always looked away or excused himself.

“I am simply giving Lucy space to speak with the suitors,” he’d protested when Ophelia asked, but she wasn’t entirely sure it was only for that reason.

Lucy didn’t glance at Ophelia as much as she once had when she ventured into the ton’s events. This time, she nodded, still shy and blushing, without much speaking, but she was answering.

That was something.

Perhaps, in time, it might even be healing.