Page 36 of Love, the Duke
“We will handle it, Maman,” Ophelia said while attempting to steer her mother to a garden bench. “Come, let’s sit down.”
Roberta hesitated. “No, my dear. I will go inside and sit by the fire for a while. The warmth is comforting. Come with me. You’ll catch yourself a fine chill out here with nothing on to cover your head.”
“I’ll stay out a little longer. The sun has been peeking from between the clouds. The intermittent sunshine is enough for now. Besides, I need to think about this.” She squeezed the note in her hand.
“I don’t want you to worry yourself sick.”
“As if that would happen.” Ophelia looked down at the note. “I’ll join you soon.”
“Very well, my dear. Do cover your head with the shawl.”
“When I get cold I will. And have a cup of tea when you get inside!” Ophelia called to her mother as she walked away.
Alone, Ophelia returned to her chair but didn’t sitdown. She read the note repeatedly before placing it on top of her book and the shawl beside it.
She stood a long while in quiet contemplation, coming to terms with the inevitable unless something changed for the better soon. Then she set off on tracing a thought-provoking path from one end of the short garden to the other and back again.
How she missed the wild open fields in Wickenhamden, with the wrens who flew from the brambles as she passed. What an innocent lamb she’d been to let the silliest things send her into nature for contemplation growing up and free to roam—if she didn’t stray too far from the vicarage. As she grew older, she realized her best thinking had always been outdoors and walking.
Often, after her father died and Winston moved home and became the vicar, he would walk with her. They would go to the pond and throw pebbles into the water as they had when younger. She would play cards with him and then he would play charades with her. No matter what he was doing or how busy he was preparing his sermons or attending to his church duties, he always made time for her.
One of her fondest memories of her brother was the wintery day she caught him off guard and sprinkled his neck with the icy water. Luckily, he wasn’t upset with her for too long, but he did chase her all the way back home. They both knew he could have caught up to her anytime he’d wanted.
She would have loved to go on a long walk alone in Hyde Park, but here in London such behavior was not just frowned upon; it was forbidden. Unless, of course, a young lady wanted to find herself ruined for life. Walking without a chaperone was a good way to do it. But the back garden, no matter how small, was safe.
Nonetheless, Society’s strict rules aside, the moststraightforward way out of their current dilemma would be if the culprit who had stolen the chalice had an attack of shame and returned it. She wouldn’t even want to seek retribution. Since that scenario proved very unlikely, she found herself traveling down the only road she had: investigating the matter herself and carrying on with her limited search. There were more houses and book rooms to get into before the sacrament was found missing, and only one of her to look through them.
Ophelia didn’t want to fail her brother. The thought was so distressing she wanted to take to a sickbed the way her mother would do from time to time. But of course, that wouldn’t help her or her brother or her mother.
She didn’t want the duke to be right and that she was indeed on a fool’s errand to even attempt to find the thief or the chalice. But how could she just do nothing even if she was destined to fail in the end?
She would plan to talk to Mrs. Turner again tomorrow morning while both were feeling rested and fresh. Maybe Ophelia could come up with a new question that would spark a detail the maid had missed on earlier questionings.
“Are you trying to walk a pathway into the budding grass, Miss Stowe?”
Startled from her pensive thoughts, Ophelia spun and saw the duke coming through the side gate, and he looked absolutely divine.
