The Devil Who Tamed Her (3 page)

But Sadie, dear Sadie, she understood too well. She’d listened without interrupting, and now she merely opened her arms wide. And that cracked the dam again.

R
APHAEL SNAPPED THE REINS
to get a little more speed from the horses pulling the fancy coach he was driving. He was enjoying the experience, it being a new one. Carriages, in good weather, with a single horse, he was quite used to driving about town, but he’d never tried to drive a large coach before. He usually traveled nice and warm inside them, as the occupants of this coach were doing.

It was cold. The wind whipped his blond hair about his shoulders and into his face, reminding him that he needed a haircut. He wouldn’t get one where he was going.

He wasn’t sure if he’d come up with a brilliant plan to win the bet with Duncan, or the most stupid idea imaginable, but he’d acted on it nonetheless and could only hope now that he wouldn’t live to regret it. There was still time to change his mind. Ophelia was so absorbed in her self-pity that she didn’t even know yet that she and her maid weren’t on their way to London or that he was driving her coach. But the truth was, he didn’t want to change his mind.

He’d been intrigued by her reaction to receiving her comeuppance at Summers Glade. Tears from the ice queen made that monicker a misnomer. Had she been hurt by what was said? And if so, why? Or had her tears been no more than an expression of self-pity? And then that amazing transformation in her when she spoke with Mavis in the parlor, where she was self-contained and imperious again, showing no trace of resemblance to the woman who’d cried in his arms. He’d assumed the worst about her. They all did. Yet what he’d heard in that second conversation implied there might be more to it than what he’d thought. He didn’t like being wrong, so he wanted to find out the answers for himself.

But that was just one of several reasons why he’d impulsively acted on his idea. There were benefits other than just winning the bet with Duncan, if he succeeded in his plan. Performing a miracle and turning Ophelia Reid into a likable woman would be doing everyone who knew her a favor. He rather liked that notion. Playing the hero, as it were.

But it wasn’t even just that that motivated him. If he could believe everything her ex-friend Mavis had said about her, and he had no reason not to believe it, then Ophelia, despite her beauty, was despised by one and all, aside from the besotted fools who didn’t really know her, and those idiots didn’t count. Oddly enough, that made her the underdog. And it wouldn’t be the first time Raphael had championed the underdog.

Of course, there was also his desire to win the bet, and Duncan had been right, Raphael wasn’t going to convince Ophelia to change her ways in London. He could follow her around to every party she attended, but to what purpose? She knew he didn’t like her. He’d made that clear more than once. So he couldn’t very well pretend an interest in her now. She wouldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t be able to pull it off anyway. Pretense of that sort was beyond him. Besides, if he even looked at a woman twice, the London gossip mills somehow had them engaged. He’d been unable to enjoy his first foray into the London social whirl because of that. In fact, that was why he’d gone abroad. So he’d as soon not be “seen” with Ophelia.

He had enough reasons now to settle it in his mind. For good or bad, he was going to make his best effort to help Ophelia see the error of her ways and change for the better, and then even she could make a good match and find happiness eventually. Quite the challenge, but then Raphael loved a good challenge. And if he succeeded, everyone would be happy, even her.

It was growing late, the sun beginning to set. Her coach wasn’t designed for night travel, at least not out in the country where no lampposts lit the way. Raphael debated whether to take a chance and find an inn for the night, or to continue on and hope he could find Alder’s Nest in the dark.

It was one of the many properties he’d inherited from his grandfather, one so remote that he’d only been there a few times over the years. A retreat, the old man had called it, while Raphael’s father had scoffed that a cottage would have done well enough for a mere “retreat,” that his father didn’t need a bloody manor out in the middle of nowhere. The previous duke had merely laughed and said, “Me? In a cottage? Preposterous!”

So he’d built his large retreat out in the wilds of Northumberland, and he’d even enjoyed his solitude there quite frequently. None of the other Lockes ever did. The consensus of the family was that Alder’s Nest was too far from
anything
. But the Nest was still hours away. And the occupants of the coach Raphael was driving were no doubt getting as hungry as he was. Nor had they even crossed into Northumberland county yet; he was sure they were still riding through Durham. But inns were few and far between, even in Durham, and the farther north they went, there’d be even fewer.

He’d stayed at his aunt’s house the last time he’d come this way. Esmerelda was the oldest of his father’s many sisters. She’d married a Scotsman, but had insisted they live in England. Her husband had agreed, but only if it was a short jaunt back to Scotland, and in fact he’d wanted to live right on the border! They’d settled on Durham, one county farther south, but still a long way from London. Esmerelda could have moved back closer to the family when she became a widow, but she’d lived long enough in Durham to come to love it there. And Raphael was a dunce for not thinking of her sooner.

Her house was only a few more miles down the road if he wasn’t mistaken, at least the side road leading to it was. If he hadn’t passed it already. He’d go back, though, if he had passed it. Ophelia wouldn’t be hearing from anyone there that they were in Durham, north of Yorkshire, rather than halfway to London down south as she assumed. Come to think of it, his aunt would make a much better chaperone for Ophelia than Ophelia’s maid would, and he didn’t doubt his aunt would be pleased to join them at Alder’s Nest for a while. He did need to assure that no scandal whatsoever resulted from his impulsive plan, after all.

Fortunately, he’d already taken care of the only obstacle that he had foreseen. Ophelia’s parents. He’d jotted off a brief note to them when he’d made his decision and had pulled aside the footman that had been enlisted to drive her, to have him deliver it posthaste. Two birds with one stone, as it were, since he assured the man that he’d find someone else to drive Ophelia.

Her parents were far too impressed with titles more lofty than their own. That they had arranged her marriage to the marquis’s heir against Ophelia’s wishes proved it. So he had no doubt at all that they would give their wholehearted approval to her sojourn with his family. He’d implied he’d taken her under his wing. If they assumed that meant he had an interest in her himself, he could hardly be blamed for such an errant notion.

It was five miles farther on the main road and another thirty minutes down that side road to his Aunt Esme’s house. It was full night, by then, but light flooded out of the front of the house from a long bank of windows off the parlor, enough for Ophelia to see that it was no inn they were stopping at for the night.

Raphael braced himself for an unpleasant scene when he opened the door to the coach and offered his hand for the lady to step down. She took it without even glancing at him. A footman, as she assumed he was, would be beneath her notice, after all.

But he caught himself staring at her as she alighted and he sighed mentally. Even rumpled from the ride, and drowsy by the look of it, or maybe her eyes were just puffy from so many tears, her exquisite beauty still took his breath away. He’d been bowled over when he’d first clapped eyes on her at Summers Glade. Fortunately, he’d been across the room from her, so by the time he actually stood next to her when she’d joined Sabrina and him for introductions—
intruded
was more like it—he’d had his amazement well in hand.

She turned back now to say something to her maid and gasped when her eyes passed over Raphael then abruptly returned to him. “What the deuce are
you
doing here?” she demanded. “Following me back to London?”

“Not at all. You took it for granted that one of the marquis’s footmen would drive you all the way to London, but as it happens, they would have only driven you as far as Oxbow to find a driver there. They aren’t paid to be away from Summers Glade for days, unless the marquis himself sends them off. So I’m doing you a favor, dear girl, since we happen to be going in the same direction.”

“
You’re
driving us?”

“Amazing, ain’t it?”

She huffed, possibly because of his jaunty grin. “Don’t expect any thanks, since I didn’t ask you to do this.”

He didn’t usually lie. Couldn’t tolerate people who did. But the alternative would have been to tell Ophelia he was absconding with her, and that wouldn’t have gone over too well, he was sure. She still had no idea that they weren’t traveling toward London, and he’d just as soon reach their destination tomorrow before she figured that out.

With a huff she walked toward the front door, but her step slowed and then stopped completely when she finally realized they were at someone’s residence, not a hostelry as she’d assumed.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Where are we?” Her tone was merely curious now.

He helped her maid down from the coach before he strolled past Ophelia and rapped on the door. Keeping her waiting for an answer wasn’t intentional. He didn’t yet know how impatient she was. He just wanted to be careful for the time being with every word he said to her. So when he turned, he was rather taken aback to find her glaring at him. It took him a moment to recover and assume his usual jaunty air.

“Erm, I have a
large
family spread across the breadth of England. Makes it quite convenient, for me anyway, when traveling. My aunt Esmerelda lives here. Esme, she prefers to be called. We’ll be staying the night. Much softer beds than an inn could supply, I do assure you.”

The door opened before he finished. Old William stood there, squinting at them through his narrow spectacles. As blind as Esmerelda was deaf, William was the butler she’d stolen from her father when she’d left home to marry all those years ago. At least that was how the previous duke told it.

“Who’s there?” William asked.

The spectacles obviously didn’t help the old butler much anymore. He knew Raphael well. Perhaps if there was daylight, he would have recognized him. Then again, perhaps not. Esmeralda was getting up in years herself, and William, quite her senior, must be eighty by now.

“It’s Rafe, old chap. Just stopping by for a little hospitality before we continue on in the morning. We’ll need three rooms, and some food would be nice. Is my aunt still about, or has she retired for the night?”

“She’s up, in the parlor, attempting to burn the house down she’s got so many logs crackling in the fireplace.”

Raphael grinned at the complaint. Esmerelda took chill easily in the winter. His grandmother was the same way. Most of the family dreaded visiting Agatha Locke because she kept her suite of rooms in Norford Hall so warm. But William would never admit that he needed that extra warmth at his age, as much as Esmerelda did.

“I’ll let her know I’m—,” Raphael began, only to be rudely interrupted.

“I’d like to be shown to my room, thank you,” Ophelia said as she marched into the entryway. “And I’ll take my meal there as well.”

“Certainly, my lady,” William replied promptly by habit. With his bad eyes he couldn’t probably see the finery she was draped in to know she was a lady, but her imperious tone must have been sufficient indication that she was an aristocrat.

Raphael shook his head, watching Ophelia climb the stairs. She’d taken it for granted that William would be following her to show her to a room. Not likely at his age, and in fact he rushed off to find the housekeeper. Apparently, she’d also dismissed Raphael from her mind and didn’t intend to say another word to him. He wasn’t used to being ignored. While her disdain was helpful in that it kept him from having to lie again if she asked how much longer it would take to reach London, her complete dismissal of him actually annoyed him.

“Apparently I’ll see you in the morning, then,” Raphael said to her back.

“Early,” she replied without turning to look at him. “I don’t want to spend another entire day on the road.”

He disappeared into the parlor before she finished. He
hoped
she’d turn around and see that, but she probably wouldn’t. Damned haughty chit.

“W
HAT D
’
YOU MEAN, YOU
’
VE KIDNAPPED
her? Speak up, boy. I must have misheard you.”

Raphael patted his aunt’s hand. He wasn’t going to shout. He didn’t need to because he was sitting next to her on her left side and her left ear was still in moderately good working order. But she currently had her neck
and
ears bundled in a scarf. A thick shawl was about her shoulders too. He was surprised she wasn’t wearing gloves as well.

Good God, the parlor was hot. He loosened the neck of his shirt. He’d been nigh frozen after driving the coach all day, but not two minutes in the room and he’d had to remove his jacket.

“You didn’t mishear me. But it’s not what you’re thinking. In a few days I’ll have her parents’ full approval to keep her as long as I like.”

“They’re selling her to you?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort. They’re just going to think that I have matrimony in mind, and I do, just not for me. The chit is the veriest shrew, rude, mean-spirited by all accounts. She spreads lies without the least care that someone might be hurt by them.”

“And half of London doesn’t?” Esmeralda remarked with a snort.

Raphael laughed. “At least they think they’re spreading the truth when they pass a rumor around. Ophelia knows full well the rumors she starts are lies.”

“Then what the deuce are you doing with her?”

“I’ve taken it upon myself to turn her about. Her beauty is unparalleled. Imagine if she were just as beautiful on the inside.”

“Then she’d be good enough for you?”

“Don’t turn your matchmaking tendencies on me, Aunt Esme. When you meet her, you won’t like her a’tall, I do assure you.”

“But you’re going to be turning her about, so I’ll ignore first impressions.”

He shook his head. “Why is it women always look on the bright side?”

“Because you men are such pessimists that you never do. Well, I’ll allow you might be the exception, since you seem to think you can change this gel for the better.”

“It’s a hope, certainly not a foregone conclusion. But if it does happen, I’ll sponsor her m’self in London, to assure she makes a good marriage. It won’t be with me, though. I have quite a few more years of grand debauchery to enjoy before I even think of settling down.”

“Then why even do this?”

“If you must know, it’s a bet. A friend of mine is convinced that Ophelia Reid is a lost cause. I’m not so sure. So we bet on it.”

“I should have known,” Esmeralda said in disapproval. “That’s a bad habit you have, m’boy, of taking up the challenge so easily. And why does it sound like you’ll be cheating in this case?”

“Me?” He grinned. “Never say so. I’d merely call it an edge. But someone needed to take up the gauntlet. The chit isn’t going to give over her bad habits without some assistance, not when she doesn’t think she
has
any bad habits. By the by, I do intend this to be on the up-and-up, so what would you say to joining us at Alder’s Nest? You’d make a splendid chaperone for her.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?”

He gave that a moment’s thought, but then shook his head. “Your home isn’t remote enough. You have neighbors too close by.”

“So?”

“So I don’t intend to keep her under lock and key. But I do want to assure that she won’t be walking away from this little sojourn in the country. Can’t very well help her if she flies the coop, as it were.”

“As you wish,” she said with a shrug, then admitted, “I
have
always been curious about my father’s folly, as my sisters and I called it. Never been to Alder’s Nest m’self. He didn’t exactly invite the family along when he went there to get away from all the noise we created at Norford Hall.”

“Never say so. You? A rambunctious child?”

“I said no such thing,” she huffed, but her brown eyes twinkled. “It was always my sisters Julie and Corinthia who did the screaming—well, the loudest anyway. But your father was the instigator, you know. A day wouldn’t go by that he wasn’t teasing one of us, or chasing us around the house, or pulling his pranks on us. At least he finally outgrew those terrible tendencies.”

Raphael wondered if
he
ever would. That was one habit he’d picked up from his father that he still enjoyed. He loved teasing his sister, Amanda. But then the darling was so gullible that he simply couldn’t help himself.

“We’ll leave early in the morning,” he said as he rolled up his shirtsleeves and wiped his brow. “And don’t let on to Ophelia where we’re going. She still thinks we’re on our way back to London.” Then he finally had to ask as he glanced at the fireplace that was still roaring, “Are you really so cold, Aunt Esme?”

“No, I just want William to feel useful,” she admitted in a whisper, in case the old man was eavesdropping. “He was talking about retiring. I’d miss the old boy too much if he did. We get so few visitors up here, so he doesn’t man the front door like he used to. But he does pile on the logs for me.”

Raphael laughed. “Mind if I open a window for a few minutes?”

She grinned at him. “Please do.”