Page 13 of Love, the Duke
“I agree with Georgina that a viscount must be given more than passing consideration,” Ophelia added to the conversation. “No matter his age. Maybe the two of you were not discussing the kind of things that would lead to delightful or intelligent conversing that would better suit you. Did you ask what he enjoys when he’s not seeing to his estate duties?” she asked, finding a way to gain more information on the viscount. “Perhaps he collects beautiful snuffboxes, old paintings, or artifacts of a certain type, and the like. Did he happen to say?”
“Yes,” Katherine answered, rolling her light-blue eyes. “As a matter of fact, he often mentioned his fondnessof horses, horses, and more horses. Stallions, geldings, mares, thoroughbreds, fillies, and other such names. It amazes me that it’s perfectly acceptable for a man to talk about a large muscular animal with a lady, but political and money matters are too complicated and too delicate for us to hear about.”
The three laughed, and Ophelia made a mental note to put the viscount at the bottom of her list of peers she needed to investigate further. Chances were good he was not into historical relics if his main focus was always on what was in his stables.
Their discussion continued, but somehow even with their banter, swells of lively music dancing around them, hums of drumming chatter, and booms of masculine laughter swirling about, thoughts of the much-sought-after duke crowded back into Ophelia’s mind.
After their discussion in his book room, she’d be happy to never speak to him again, but that wasn’t likely to happen. She could very well see him tonight since they were in the home of one of his good friends. With the Season in full swing, she could find herself evading him at many of the parties that were planned.
That aside, she wondered if he would recognize her at all if their paths crossed. She looked far different wearing a ball gown and her own honey-blond hair. It had taken her a long time to decide to present herself as a man to gain entrance into his house and speak to him about helping her. If not for her maid’s brother working for a tailor and agreeing to lend his hand to make the clothing, she’d never have accomplished it.
She was grateful the duke hadn’t laughed at her disguise. In fact, the way he scrutinized her so carefully with sharp interest had indicated he appreciated her efforts. But certainly not her plan. That had turned his temper hot asa poker left too long in the fire. She hadn’t minded the show of temper so much. It was an interesting change from her family’s perpetual unruffled countenances that had kept her home quiet.
The duke’s manner wasn’t what she was used to. Her brother and father were never so expressive for any reason. They always seemed to be in a continual state of calm. Their countenances seldom gave away their feelings. They’d been taught to remain serene no matter whom they were talking to or what the discussion. That was expected of a clergyman and his wife. And children too. Ophelia was to never appear exasperated, annoyed, filled with alarming disbelief, or any other such emotion when they disagreed with her or anyone else. They were to always be at the same emotional level of composure. Not so for the duke. He had freely shown her all he was feeling. And she feared she’d shown him a little of her repressed emotions too.
Long sighing gasps from Georgina and Katherine brought Ophelia’s attention back to the present.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing from one friend to the other as they stared at something behind her.
Georgina placed her fan over her lips. “The Duke of Hurstbourne just entered the room.”
Katherine leaned in and whispered, “And he’s glancing around. No, wait.” Her expressive eyes rounded and brightened excitedly. “I think he’s looking at me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Georgina scolded. “You are too short for him to see enough of you to tell whether he’d be interested in you. He couldn’t possibly see you in this crowd or any other. I, on the other hand, am tall enough.”
As Ophelia listened to the two of them, she was wondering what had happened to Georgina’s thoughts of the handsome Mr. Wilbur Sawyer.
“You cannot sway me with that comment, Georgina,” Katherine snapped back at her. “I know that if I can see him, he can see me.”
“Who told you that? I am tall enough and quite certain it’s me who has caught his eye. He seemed quite taken with me last evening.” She lifted her chin and chest and smiled.
Ophelia’s gaze followed her new friends’. Her heartbeat seemed to flutter. Oh, yes. The Duke of Hurstbourne was looking in their direction. And it was no wonder they each thought he was considering them. To Ophelia, it appeared as if he was looking straight at her too! With such strong intensity a chill shivered up her back, but strangely not in a fearful way. She felt as if he was trying to draw her toward him, but surely he wouldn’t recognize her. Her disguise had been excellent.
The duke stood just inside the doorway leading into the small ballroom of the private residence. Not only was her heart tossing around strange feelings, her breath caught in her throat, and her stomach clenched in an unexpected fluttery kind of way as it had when she saw him a couple of nights ago in his home.
It didn’t seem to matter whether she was close to the duke as she’d been in his book room or across a crowded, noisy ballroom; he was an imposing man—tall, powerfully built through chest and shoulders, and magnificent in how he carried himself with such an easy air of self-confidence. She couldn’t force herself to turn away from him at his home or now at this party.
His blond hair fell in a wispy wave across his forehead to just below his ears and an inch or two past his nape. Elegantly attired in a black evening coat and trousers with his shirt, neckcloth, and waistcoat an understated white, he was quite easily the most fine-looking man she’d everseen. He stood with all the self-assured swagger she’d expect from a man of the elite and privileged ton.
She remembered his wide masculine lips, narrow nose, square chin, and clean-shaven face. Quite sure she would never forget it. With pale hair and the most heavenly shade of green eyes she’d ever seen, he had a rakish appeal that sent her heartbeat into an abnormally fast rhythm.
But whatever the reasons for the stirrings inside her whenever she saw the duke, she shouldn’t be experiencing them. Ophelia wasn’t accustomed to being attracted to a man. It made her feel flushed and out of sorts with her usual sensible self.
At such a dire disadvantage, a vicar’s daughter trying to see a duke, it had taken all she could do to compose herself in his presence when she’d first walked into his book room.
She hadn’t expected him to be so dashing and appealing that her heart raced at catching sight of him. Not only that, thinking the duke so attractive felt like a violation to her brother’s memory. It was clear the man never felt the depth of friendship that Winston had for him. Her unsuccessful meeting with the duke at his house meant twice now His Grace had refused to help her brother when asked to do so.
It would rain gold from the heavens before she’d give him the opportunity for a third. But she couldn’t worry about him anymore. She expected to hear from her mother’s friend in Wickenhamden any day now the bishop had appointed a new vicar. That thought always caused a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Suddenly the duke was cutting a path through the guests with ease as he threaded through the crowded ballroom, seeming to know exactly whom to stop and speakto, whom to laugh with, which man to place his palm on a coat shoulder and give an encouraging pat on the back, and which young lady to give an extra smile. And looking genuine while doing it all.
For a second, it flashed through Ophelia’s mind that he could have been hers. But he had said no to her brother. Surprised and miffed by the pang of disappointment that came from nowhere, she turned away. She had to remember that he wanted no part of her family’s teetering ruin if she couldn’t find the chalice before the theft was discovered. His help would have been so valuable. He would be a welcome visitor in most every house in the ton. He could have made her quest easier and quicker.
But unable to stop herself, she looked back at the duke again, a dashing figure of a man if there ever was one. That’s when she knew, raining gold from the skies or not, she still closeted hope in her heart that he would help her find the thief.
Confident and glad for the distance between them, she silently prayed there was no chance he could have recognized her, and he was indeed staring at Miss Georgina Bristol.
Ophelia excused herself from the ladies and walked over to her mother. They moved away from the group she was with. “Maman, everyone’s concentration seems to be on the Duke of Hurstbourne.”
