Page 79 of Love, the Duke
CHAPTER23
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
If exposed, have a ready plan.
After returning from her brisk walk around the neighborhood, Ophelia was still anxious. Arguing with Hurst had gotten her nowhere. She wanted to find him and try reasoning with him once again about the urgent need to visit Lord Gagingcliffe. But she was too late. Maman told her he’d left the house in his carriage.
Ophelia had a strong hunch she knew where Hurst had gone. This time leaving the maid at home, she hired a carriage to take her to the baron’s house. She knew her hunch was right and her husband was inside when she saw his black gleaming barouche with its sophisticated crest on the door parked in front of Lord Gagingcliffe’s home. As she had suspected, Hurst had come without her. But why? She didn’t know for sure what he’d planned to do, but she knew what he wasn’t doing: checking the book room. Unless he’d managed to get the baron to invite him into it.
She had a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach as if something amiss was going on inside. Was Hurst there to warn the man, or had he decided to do a little diggingon his own to see what he could find out? Either way, he should have waited for her.
Trying to settle her nerves, she had to keep to her own plan. She supposed she’d know the duke’s strategy as soon as she got inside. Maybe Hurst being there would be to her advantage, she rationalized. If he was busy with Lord Gagingcliffe, it was all the better for her—as long as they were not in the book room.
Hoping she would be successful this time, Ophelia gathered her skirts and made purposeful strides up the short steps to use the knocker on the front door.
It seemed a long time before the butler swung it open, his face more than slightly puzzled to see an unaccompanied lady standing before him.
“I’m Miss Stowe to see the baron,” she said, before she thought to say she was now the Duchess of Hurstbourne. But perhaps it was best he didn’t know who she really was for now.
The butler’s exterior didn’t look nearly as polished as Gilbert’s, and he seemed a little flustered by her. “He’s not available. He already has a visitor.”
“But you see I have information for him, and I know he will want to see me if you just tell him I’m here.” She smiled sweetly, but exhaling an impatient breath of air.
Resigned, the butler said, “Your calling card, if you will, miss.”
“I don’t have one.” Trying to keep annoyance out of her voice.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to speak to his lordship for you. Good night.”
He went to close the door but Ophelia put out her hand and stopped him. “Never mind all that. It’s dreadfully chilly out here and I’m without a cape. May I sit in the vestibule while you check with the baron?”
Ophelia brushed past him without giving him time to answer. Merciful saints and angels too, it would have been easier to sneak in rather than pass muster by the butler at the door and be gained entrance.
He stood tall and slim in front of her, barring her from a determined path toward a chair where guests would wait.
The butler stated, “I told you, Lord Gagingcliffe already has a visitor.”
“I understand. I’ll wait here in front of the door if you prefer I not sit down.”
The butler seemed to be torn about his decision. While he was engaged with that, Ophelia noted the line of stairs on the right and opened doors of a drawing room. She heard no voices, notably not her husband’s. Where were Hurst and the baron? Hopefully in the garden to take in the last of the bit of twilight.
The butler tugged on his sleeve cuffs, as if to right something that had not been out of order with his tidy livery, while mumbling something about it not being proper for a lady to show up at man’s door without a companion.
Face flushed and a sheen of perspiration on his brow, he finally pointed to the chair and said, “Wait there. I’ll be right back.”
But his declarative order didn’t matter to her. As soon as he was out of sight, she was out of the chair and peeking into the empty drawing room. There were two used wine glasses. She’d become accustomed to telling which way to go to look for the book room and took off. Half running down the corridor on tiptoe, hoping to make no sound. The situation wasn’t funny, yet the preposterous way she had gone about this entire search now settled on her shoulders. She had to work quicklybefore the butler found her gone and came looking for her.
Plunging into this scenario could be her undoing, but she must. If the two men were in the book room, she would be doomed to make a choice. Neither option she had in mind would be good: confront them or hide until they were gone, and she could conduct her search when the house was quiet for the night.
In truth, she’d been reckless and hadn’t been thinking clearly. Too focused on finding out if this man was the culprit, she’d taken chances she shouldn’t have, especially now being married to a duke and the man she loved. She wouldn’t have risked her reputation if the stakes hadn’t been so high and failure so heartbreaking.
She came to two large doors, each on its own hinges so they could swing inward upon entering, but only one door was cracked open. Soundlessly, Ophelia peeked inside to see her husband moving about in the room, lifting pieces of art and looking behind them, moving over to the bookcase shelves, pulling books out as if seeking a hidden compartment behind. It seemed an unbelievable mirage. Her chest felt heavy. He was helping her! And in the one way he said he never would. Her heart thudded with love for him.
As she quietly entered the room, her breathless pants gave away her presence.
He turned sharply toward her, anger settling on Hurst’s face as she knew it would. Even so, she was so happy to see him and wanted to rush into his arms and cover his face with kisses. Seeing him searching for her, her mother, and Winston’s legacy put her on the verge of bursting into tears of relief and happiness. At that moment, she loved Hurst more than she could say.
