Page 71 of Love, the Duke
CHAPTER21
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Don’t worry as you speculate, write a list of plausible culprits.
By the time they’d made the quiet walk back to the house, half of the afternoon had passed. Ophelia appreciated that Hurst hadn’t engaged her in idle talk. She knew all the things he would have said, including that historical sacraments were often copied with thin lightweight metals. Much in the same way prized pieces of jewelry were reproduced and made with colored glass stones rather than precious gems. She needn’t hear him say it happened all the time. She knew it and it didn’t matter to her. Her goal hadn’t changed. She would leave no cup, no stone, no possibility unturned in her quest to find the chalice. She would not rest until she found it and returned it.
Ophelia walked through the front door, still marveling at the expansive Duke of Hurstbourne’s foyer and all the elegant comforts surrounding her. She had gone from modest to richly elegant overnight. The feeling of nobility hadn’t fully settled in as she stripped off her gloves and pelisse and placed them on a nearby chair.
While taking off her straw bonnet, she glanced at the silver tray that stayed on the side table at the entryway.Its absence of notes, letters, and calling cards or anything else made her feel even more empty inside.
Suddenly the resolve she’d carried with her all the way home seemed to evaporate like warm breath on cold air—was she destined to fail, to resign herself to the fact that she couldn’t save Winston’s reputation? A different sadness seemed to settle over her as well. She wished Winston could have seen this house and have known his wish had come true. He had wanted her to live here as the duke’s wife. More disappointment wove through her as she wished her brother could have known that she loved the duke, and he loved her.
Hurst ran a hand through his hair, momentarily distracting Ophelia from the jumble of thoughts mounting in her mind. She favored that quality about him, that at times it didn’t matter if his hair wasn’t in perfect order just because he was a man of wealth and title.
Unbidden, an image came to her mind of how Winston must have looked combing his hair in such a way after coming in from the fishing pond where he and Hurst swam and whiled away the daylight. When a boy, the mussy hair gave her brother a rapscallion kind of look, one that endeared him to her to this day. She never saw it that way the entire time he was the vicar. Not a hair was ever out of place.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Gilbert quietly coming into the vestibule, but he suddenly turned and walked away. Hurst must have given him the sign not to intrude. She was thankful for that courtesy as well, and silently commiserated with Hurst as he too made an obvious study of the empty silver tray.
There had been plenty of time for the dowager’s friend to reply to her note, and for a note to have been sent to Hurst. Unless, of course, the friend was out for the daywith family or appointments. Maybe out of town or just not sensing an urgency to answer. But it didn’t matter why there was no message from the dowager; it remained, there was no answer from her. It was too frustrating to even think about.
After removing his hat and gloves and placing them aside, Hurst turned to Ophelia and gently took hold of her upper arms so she stood facing him. He placed a warm kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger for a few seconds before whispering, “I’m sorry it wasn’t the chalice.”
“I know,” she answered just as softly, allowing the weight of her weary head to lean against his lips. “It’s just that time grows shorter by the hour. My hope was so high for a few seconds it was euphoric.”
Hurst leaned away and gave her a teasing grin. “I don’t want anything or anyone making you euphoric but me.”
She huffed out an unsteady laugh and lifted her chin. By the look in his beautiful green eyes, he knew her heart was aching badly. Loving Hurst in peace, without the constant tension that was always on guard, was what she wanted, but she couldn’t bear the thought of letting her mother and brother down.
“I don’t have to tell you how I feel, Hurst. You know my hopes have been high since I came to London. Even before then. I knew I was going to find the sacrament in time and in a titled man’s home. I felt it in my heart, and my whole being,” she said earnestly.
“I know. It’s very hard to give up on a powerful feeling that seems to rest in your soul. And you don’t have to. We haven’t heard the vicar has arrived. It might still be days before he does. And what if he has a disposition like the last one and can’t or doesn’t do the inventory for days? There is still time, Ophelia,” he said encouragingly. “If the chalice is in London, it will be found.”
“I think I am losing hope.”
“No. I won’t let you do that. I’ll send Mr. Mallord to buy the reproduction chalice. It might come in handy to buy us some time. So let’s not think about that right now.”
“When should I if not now?”
“This evening,” he assured her pleasantly. “You didn’t sleep much last night. Why don’t you go up to our chambers and lie down? I will stay here and watch for the message to arrive. I’ll bring it up to you right away. I won’t even take time to open and read it for myself first.”
She smiled with weariness that settled on her shoulders. “I’m not tired or sleepy. I’m—”
“Disappointed? Worried? Frustrated?” he asked sympathetically.
“All that and much more,” Ophelia admitted. “It just seems that every time I think I’m moving forward on finding the thief, I suddenly feel as if I’ve taken three steps backward instead.”
“I want the person found as much as you do so you can focus on me and our life together.”
She could hear the same harbor of feelings in his tone. He truly did embrace her disappointment as his, clearly worried for her and frustrated not to have this matter solved and literally placed back in the locked box where it belonged.
Bringing her protectively close to him, he wrapped his strong arms around her. She pressed her cheek against his warm, comforting chest.
“What if I go up and lie down with you?”
He kissed her temple and around her cheek and eye and then intimately on the mouth. Pleasurable tingles danced within her, but she couldn’t give in to his tender kisses. “No,” she whispered. “I’d rather wait belowstairs.”
