The Devil Who Tamed Her (15 page)

“Stop right there,” she cut in…“Apparently
you
haven’t learned anything from these discussions. With my temper, which was responsible for exacerbating my jealousies, in better control, nearly complete control for the time being—and I’ll allow I have you to thank for that—how can you think that I won’t be different now?”

“A good point. Then I see no reason for us to remain here any longer. We will set out for London first thing tomorrow morning.”

O
PHELIA SHOULD HAVE BEEN ECSTATIC
, jumping for joy to finally be going home. Instead she found herself fighting back tears more than once on the trip back to London, and otherwise feeling quite down. She couldn’t even fathom why, other than that she’d been introduced to the most exciting experience of her life and she’d
thought
she’d be able to enjoy it again, but there wouldn’t be any other opportunities to do so once she was back at home. She couldn’t be feeling so odd simply because her time with Raphael Locke was coming to an end.

Rafe didn’t need to drive the coach this time. Esmerelda’s footman was still with them and had been given that chore, so Rafe was able to ride inside with the four women. But Esmerelda’s home would be reached before the day was out. And while she kept up a steady stream of chatter that Ophelia tried halfheartedly to take part in, Esmerelda wouldn’t be with them for the rest of the journey. Not that that would leave her alone with Rafe for the remainder of the trip. Sadie did make a good chaperone, after all.

They agreed unanimously to spend the night at Esmerelda’s again rather than to look for an inn. They had a nice dinner together, their last, and the older woman got emotional there at the end of it.

“I won’t see you off in the morning. I don’t like good-byes. But I do expect to see you again sometime, gel. Enjoyed your company, ’deed I did.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” Ophelia said. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to London with us to enjoy the rest of the Season?”

“Goodness, no! The Season is for young folks. But I’ll come for your wedding, once you find the man you want to settle down with.”

If that day ever came. But when Ophelia returned to London she wouldn’t be shackled with an unwanted engagement or be spending all her time thinking of ways to get out of it, so she could actually concentrate on finding a husband. If there were any good catches left this late in the Season. Although that would hardly matter. She could easily lure any man away…

Ophelia stopped the thought abruptly, appalled at herself. Did she really used to think that way? Seeing her past behavior from such a different perspective was quite an illuminating experience. Insensitive, uncaring, self-centered. Did it really matter that she’d felt justified? That she’d merely treated others as they treated her, or at least, as she’d assumed they treated her?

She was going to have to reexamine all of her relationships now, including her relationship with her parents. It might actually be nice not to feel angry at her father all the time. And he would be her greatest test. If she could get through just one conversation with him, without having the bitterness show up…

They left Esmerelda’s early the next morning. As she’d guessed, the ride was a bit uncomfortable now without the buffer of Rafe’s aunt. He seemed to be deep in thought for most of the day, so while she tried a few times to strike up a conversation with him, she soon gave up.

They were pulling up in front of Summers Glade before she realized that was their destination. Sadie had been sleeping, and when she woke up and saw where they were, she said what Ophelia was too surprised to utter: “What the devil are we doing here again?”

Rafe chuckled at both of their expressions. “Merely dropping me off. I figure the happy couple will be getting married anytime now, so I’m saving myself a trip back here from London.”

“You could have mentioned that was your intention,” Ophelia chided lightly.

“Sorry, thought I did,” he replied with a shrug. “But come to think of it, this would be a good time to put what you’ve learned to the test, don’t you think? Would you like to stay for the wedding?”

She didn’t have to think about it. Her answer was immediate. “No, those two aren’t going to believe that I’ve changed. And I don’t want to put a damper on their happy event. I’ll be fine getting home by myself.”

“Very well, then. I’ll see you in London, probably in a few days.”

Another surprise, this one even more unexpected, but much more pleasant. “Will you?”

“Certainly. I have no doubt we’ll be attending the same parties.”

That wasn’t what she thought he’d meant, but she managed to keep her disappointment to herself. Their time together was over. She’d gotten much more than she’d bargained for from his outlandish plan—Rafe’s success!

But without further ado, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Just like that. No further farewell, no admonishments to behave, no…

The door opened again, and Rafe, with an annoyed look on his face, leaned in, grabbed her shoulders, and kissed her hard on her mouth. Her desire for him rose up immediately, and she felt a delicious sense of satisfaction when she saw the heat in his eyes as he leaned back. But then just as abruptly he was gone again.

Sadie was staring at her with both her brows arched higher than Ophelia had ever seen them. She didn’t blush. She was too pleased to be the least bit embarrassed.

“Don’t ask” was all she told her maid, as if that would work.

It didn’t. “Since when has he been taking such liberties with you?”

Ophelia still tried to shrug it off. “That was nothing. We had quite a few heated discussions where I insulted him, repeatedly. That was probably just his way of letting me know there were no hard feelings.”

Sadie snorted over that answer. “Saying so would have sufficed.”

But it wouldn’t have been nearly so thrilling, Ophelia thought, grinning to herself.

I
T DIDN’T LOOK AS IF
it had snowed in London recently. The streets weren’t muddy, just typically wet for this time of year. The sun had even come out for the last leg of the journey, though only briefly before it started drizzling again.

Ophelia had decided to spend one more night at an inn, near the city, so she could arrive home the following day close to noon when her father wasn’t likely to be at home. His habit was to lunch with his friends at his club, and she wanted to have a chance to get settled in before she had to deal with him and the questions he would ask.

She hadn’t heard from him at all, so she didn’t even know if he was still angry that she hadn’t brought Duncan to the altar, or if the Locke heir’s interest in her had mollified him.

The earl’s family home was on Berkeley Street, north of Hyde Park. It was a quiet street, not very long. On the west end of it was Portman Square, and just east was the smaller Manchester Square. Ophelia had never played in either park. Playing was considered childish, and she’d never really been allowed to be a child like other children. As far back as she could remember, she’d been treated more like an adult, at least by her father. Her mother had tried to give her some normalcy, but Sherman had always intervened with his own dictates. He’d been grooming her for an elite marriage from the day she was born.

Her mother would be home, of course. Mary rarely left the house these days because she was always too busy planning her parties. Her friends came to her, she didn’t call on them. She hadn’t even chaperoned Ophelia at the start of the Season. Sherman had insisted on doing so. It wasn’t pride in her, it was more like gloating as he stood back and watched her success. He’d spared no expense for her come-out wardrobe, but it wasn’t for her, it was so she would shine and
he’d
be congratulated on having such an amazing daughter.

The bitterness almost snuck up on her, but she recognized the signs and shoved it away. She had her goal now, and the sooner she accomplished it the better. She was going to marry a rich man so she would have nothing more to do with her father.

“Shall I unpack first, or do you want to rest for the afternoon?” Sadie asked as they entered the large town house Ophelia had grown up in.

“I’m not tired, so go ahead and unpack,” Ophelia replied.

Their voices drew Mary Reid from the parlor. “You’re home! Goodness, I’ve missed you!”

Mary Reid had a sweet tooth. She had indulged it over the years, until she was quite plump now. An inch shorter than Ophelia, but three times as wide, she was good-natured, almost too good-natured. The only time Ophelia had ever heard her mother raise her voice was that horrid day all those years ago when Ophelia had found out that she didn’t have any real friends, and that her father’s only interest in her was how she could improve his social standing.

Ophelia’s blond hair and blue eyes came from her mother, who had been a beauty herself in her day. Her father’s hair and eyes were brown. She was glad she’d inherited nothing from him.

She hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “I’ve missed you too, Mama.”

“That was quite a surprise that you got engaged to Duncan again.”

“And an even bigger surprise that we broke it off yet again?” Ophelia guessed.

“Well, yes. But look whose eye you’ve caught instead! The Locke heir. Your father is so pleased!”

Ophelia cringed inwardly. “Rafe and I merely became friends, Mama. Nothing is going to come of it.”

“Really?” Mary frowned slightly, her disappointment obvious. “You haven’t considered him for a husband a’tall?”

“I might have, but he made it quite clear he isn’t ready to take such a big step. And it’s rather nice, being friends with a man who hasn’t fallen at my feet to worship me.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t discount him yet. Some men take a while to recognize a good thing when they trip over it. But in the meantime we’ll carry on as if you haven’t caught the eye of the most eligible bachelor in the realm.” Mary grinned. “But you should have let us know you were returning. I would have arranged a party for you.”

That statement wasn’t the least bit surprising. It wasn’t surprising either where Ophelia had gotten the notion that giving the grandest balls London had ever seen would make her happy, when her mother’s life revolved around entertaining. That would probably still make her happy—at least, she’d enjoy it—but her new goal held priority: getting out from under her father’s thumb.

To please her mother she said, “You can still throw a party. That will be as good a way as any to let everyone know I’m back in London.”

“Indeed, my thoughts exactly. But I do have a pile of invitations as well that I’ve mostly been ignoring. You might want to go through them to see if any are worth attending for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll take them up to my room.”

“Good, then go rest while I work on a quick guest list. I’m sure I can entice a few people into breaking whatever engagements they had for tonight, to come here instead.”

Mary managed to do better than that, Ophelia discovered, when she came down to dinner that night. The house was filled with guests, mostly young gentlemen she already knew, though there were a few she didn’t recognize. And at least she was dressed splendidly for the occasion.

It was nice to have her full wardrobe available to her again, rather then the slim choices her trunks had supplied. Sadie had picked out a soft cream silk evening gown with white lace trimming. Pearls dangled at her ears, and an oval pendant hung daintily at her neck. Her hair was coiffed in her usual tight style with just a few ringlets dangling at her temples, but Sadie had dug out some pearl hairpins to give it a little more flare.

Her mother caught her in the hall as she was glancing in the parlor. Ophelia raised a brow at her. Mary understood and said merely, “I didn’t expect
all
of them to accept the invitation, but I should have known better. You are so very popular, after all.”

“Is father going to make an appearance?”

Mary blushed. “I didn’t send him word to let him know you’re back. I expected to tell him this afternoon when he returned, but then he sent word he won’t be home until late.” And then Mary shrugged. “No matter. It isn’t necessary for him to be here for us to enjoy the evening.”

Ophelia almost laughed. It was easy to read between the lines with her mother. Mary knew well that Ophelia and her father didn’t get along well and could easily spark each other’s temper. By making no effort to let her husband know that she was entertaining tonight and why, she’d assured that Ophelia could relax her first evening back in town and enjoy the impromptu party.

Mary escorted her into the parlor. They barely got through the door before Ophelia was surrounded by her admirers, who all vied for her attention at once.

“So good to have you back in town, Lady O!”

“And not engaged!”

“You take my breath away with your beauty, Ophelia, as always.”

“Lord Hatch,” another gentlemen reminded her. “I hope you remember me?”

“Charmed, my lady, as always,” Lord Cantle said as he kissed her hand.

“Introduce me, Peter,” another of them said impatiently to a friend, and when Peter didn’t, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Lady Ophelia. Artemus Billings, at your service.”

“A pleasure,” she said quickly before another young man tried to gain her notice.

Artemus was rather handsome, and at least he hadn’t dropped a title, which usually meant a man took it for granted everyone knew who he was. She might have to find out a little more about him, but that would have to wait until she got her hand back. Every single one of them was determined to kiss it.

Except Hamilton Smithfield, Viscount Moorly. Recently turned twenty-one and come into his title, Hamilton had always been quite bashful when he’d spoken to her. He’d certainly never struck her as a man bold enough to pull her away from the crowd, but he did that now.

He led her across the room, then stopped and quickly told her, “I never got up the nerve to ask you this before. And then I could have cried when I heard you were engaged to MacTavish. But since that didn’t pan out, I’m not going to risk missing this opportunity again. I beseech you, Ophelia, to marry me.” He gazed at her adoringly.

She’d always been rather terse with her refusals, and this was the sort of proposal she detested because it was coming from a man who hadn’t taken the time to get to know her first. But her refusal usually left a stricken look of disappointment on the man’s face, and she didn’t want to confront that now.

To avoid it, she merely said, “Talk to my father, Viscount Moorly.”

“Really?”

He looked elated, seeming to take that as her approval, so she gently corrected, “It’s simply not my choice.”

She was sure Sherman would turn him down, and therefore she wouldn’t have to witness the viscount’s disappointment. Rather cowardly of her, but she wasn’t used to feeling bad about turning down marriage proposals. She’d been too self-centered for it to bother her in the past. Now, she was faced with dashing these young men’s hopes, and feeling sorry about it!

Jane and Edith rescued her from those uncomfortable feelings when they pounced on her and dragged her away yet again, wanting to know all the details about why she hadn’t married Duncan MacTavish. She didn’t elaborate as she once would have. She merely told them exactly what Duncan’s grandfather had announced, that they had amicably agreed they weren’t suited.

And then she asked, “You didn’t have somewhere else to be tonight?”

“Nothing important enough to miss welcoming you home,” Jane replied.

That almost had a ring of truth to it, but Ophelia knew better. Both Jane and Edith were highly skilled in saying exactly what they thought she wanted to hear. Unfortunately, they usually had to lie to do so. Which was her fault, she realized. If she hadn’t had such a horrid temper all these years, the girls in her circle might have behaved much differently around her.

“But we came by to find out what delayed your return to town,” Edith told her. “Your mother said you were visiting the Lockes. Is that really true?”

“You didn’t believe her?”

Edith blushed slightly. Both girls were quite pretty; they just didn’t come close to Ophelia’s beauty. With lesser titles, they didn’t expect to land any prime catch for a husband this Season. Actually, what they expected was to have first picks of Ophelia’s discards, so both girls were hoping Ophelia would make her choice sooner rather than later.

“Well, actually, we felt she might be misinformed,” Edith said, providing the reason for her blush.

What a diplomatic way to say they thought Mary had lied to them. “Misinformed by me?” Ophelia said.

“Yes,” Edith admitted, though she quickly explained, “We knew you and Locke didn’t take well to each other. Couldn’t imagine why, when he’s so handsome, but we saw those sparks fly between you two. So we were sure you would have refused an invitation from his family. We just thought that’s where you told your parents you were, when you weren’t really there a’tall.”

Ah, so they were sure that
she
had lied to her mother. Rafe was so right in that regard. Once you start down the path of lying, you’ll always be doubted, and both girls knew she was adept at lying.

Oddly, the time she had spent with Rafe—not the reason—was something she would once have gloated about to these two. Now, she preferred that they not know about it, so this wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss.

And Edith and Jane weren’t pushy. She thought she could get by with merely saying, “That was a trying time at Summers Glade when I realized I didn’t want to marry MacTavish after all. I was afraid he wouldn’t let me beg off. But I finally had a nice talk with him and we both agreed it would be better if we didn’t marry. I just needed a little time to recover and think about my options. Besides, I was in no hurry to come home and face my father’s wrath over it. You know how much he wanted that match.”

There was the distinct possibility that they had spoken to Mavis since then and had the truth of the matter, but the “time to recover” part worked either way. Where she’d spent that time recovering was irrelevant.

So she was surprised to hear Edith ask pointedly, “So you weren’t really visiting the Lockes?”

Before she could think of a way to prevaricate further, Jane said, “Well, that answers that.”

Ophelia followed her gaze to see Raphael Locke stepping into the parlor. Her pulse picked up immediately at the sight of him. She had no idea why he was there, but she couldn’t deny she was thrilled to see him. She certainly hadn’t expected to, at least not this soon.

“Why didn’t you want to tell us you’d won him over?” Edith asked excitedly.

“Perhaps because I’m not sure how I feel about it myself,” Ophelia heard herself saying, then groaned inwardly.
Just
what she hadn’t wanted to confess.

“Good God, you’ve fallen in love, haven’t you?” Jane gasped out.

“No, absolutely not,” Ophelia replied immediately. But she was afraid that was one of the biggest lies she’d ever told.