Page 12 of Love, the Duke
CHAPTER4
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Don’t get caught looking for clues.
Ophelia Stowe wasn’t brave. Only determined.
Like most of the eligible young ladies basking under the large glimmering chandeliers at the elegant bustling affair, including the two standing with her, she was looking for a man. The difference was, they were looking for a husband. Ophelia was looking for a thief.
Admiring gentlemen for romantic purposes wasn’t the reason she was in London. Which, admittedly, was odd for a lady. Especially one who had been invited to a soiree at this magnificent home. She supposed at near twenty-one some might consider she was destined to become a dried weed on the shelf. That possibility didn’t cause her a twitter of concern. She figured she’d marry one day. But not now. There were other things to do first. That didn’t mean she didn’t understand most ladies’ desire to wed. Snaring a suitable husband in her first Season was what a proper young lady was brought up to do. And by all accounts Ophelia was proper—or had been until she’d arrived in London a few days ago and then dressed as a gentleman to present herself to a duke.
However clever the plan was, it hadn’t gone well.
Shaking off that remembrance, Ophelia glanced away from her chattering new friends, caught sight of her mother, and smiled. Roberta Fawnsworth Stowe stood quietly with a small, stylish group of ladies and a gentleman while the hum of music, conversation, and laughter mixed with the movements of the room.
Having made her debut in Polite Society more than twenty years ago and staying in touch with solid members of the ton since made it easy for Roberta to fit back into London’s social events with ease. Wearing her half mourning gown of black silk banded by white ribbons at the high waist and lace cuffs, Roberta was a striking lady of medium height, and a natural beauty even with a little gray showing in her honey-colored hair. She was perhaps too thin and pale at present, but there was a kindness and loveliness about her that seemed to draw people.
Once she let it be known she and her daughter, Ophelia, were in Town and accepting callers, invitations to parties, balls, and dinners started flowing in. Her mother’s easy acceptance couldn’t have worked better for Ophelia’s new plan.
With no forthcoming aid from the stubborn Duke of Hurstbourne to investigate book rooms, Ophelia was left to search for the thief on her own. Knowing the best way to gain entrance into the homes of titled gentlemen was to be invited. And the best way to accomplish that was to make friends, which led to accepting Miss Georgina Bristol’s mother’s gracious invitation to meet all the young ladies making their debut. That had opened the door for Roberta’s and Ophelia’s attendance tonight and to other parties that had been scheduled for the Season.
Glad to see her maman seemed to be handling the evening well, Ophelia smiled again. Her mother’s countenance remained peaceful as usual. That was asking alot of her given the circumstances of what she knew her daughter would be doing tonight.
After Ophelia’s attempt to gain the duke’s help failed, despite her repeated appeals, she had no choice but to elicit her mother’s aid in her scheme. Maman had no problem with her daughter entering Society and the social Season but took to her sickbed over Ophelia’s desire to search for the chalice in book rooms of the titled men’s homes where they would be welcomed as guests. Roberta was adamantly against that. At first.
Granted, her maman had some valid arguments for thinking neither the bishop nor anyone else would think Winston had a hand in the disappearance of the sacrament. Ophelia had clicked them off in her mind many times:Everyone in the parish knew Winston was dedicated to the church and had never shown any leanings toward wanting earthly treasures. What would Winston do with the priceless vessel if he had stolen it? What would he do with the money if he had sold it?
Ophelia answered them all withWhat if they did think he was responsible?He would forever be labeled a thief. There was also the possibility the bishop, church elders, or others might think that Winston’s illness of fevers had affected his mind with some sort of disillusionment and that had made him steal from the church.
After many conversations and plenty of persuasive discussions, Roberta had acquiesced to what her daughter must do to save Winston’s legacy. Ophelia’s only goal was to find the chalice and return it to the sacraments room before her brother was accused of stealing it.
“What do you think, Ophelia?”
Startled out of her thoughts, Ophelia struggled to quickly clear her mind of her troubles and focus her attention back on the conversation at hand. She smiled andsaid, “Pardon me, Miss Bristol, but the music is so loud and the room so crowded it feels as if everyone is talking into my ear at the same time. I didn’t hear what you said.”
The brown-eyed beauty who had been given a priority of attention from gentlemen during the evening gave Ophelia an understanding expression and leaned in toward her. “Please call me Georgina. We are friends now. And it’s Lord Gagingcliffe we’re talking about. Do you think he is much too old for me to consider making a match with him?”
“Oh, I suppose not really,” she answered honestly, trying to remember the man she met earlier in the evening. “I don’t think age matters so much unless it involves many years. It’s how you feel about him and whether he appeals to you in a romantic way. Didn’t you say he was dashing and divinely handsome?”
“No, no. You are thinking about Mr. Wilbur Sawyer.” She placed her closed fan over her heart. “I could swoon every time I see him, but he hasn’t a title so my parents are reluctant to entertain him. Lord Gagingcliffe is only modestly handsome, older, and the man Papa has great hope for a match between us. He is a baron, so I would be a lady.” She sighed wistfully. “Yet, I don’t think I could possibly agree to marry him.”
Obviously, there were too many men interested in the beautiful Miss Georgina Bristol for Ophelia to keep up with their names.
“I felt the same way when I was introduced to the man my father wants me to marry,” Miss Katherine Walker offered, along with a proud sniff and a glance around the ballroom. “Not a blink of affection or attraction passed between us the entire time we spoke to each other.” Shelooked at Ophelia and sighed. “Do call me Katherine. As Georgina said, we’re all friends now.”
“Yes, of course,” Ophelia agreed.
“You consider the man. You would be a viscountess if you married him,” Georgina reminded Katherine, flickering the hand-painted fan under her sharp chin.
“An unhappy one,” Katherine countered quickly. “And I want to marry a man who makes my breaths flutter and knees go weak every time I look at him.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Georgina sighed. “That’s the way I felt when I looked into the dreamy eyes of the Duke of Hurstbourne when presented to him at the grand ball last night. I’m sure he saw stars in my eyes.”
“I felt the same way when I was introduced to him,” Katherine added, seeming surprised Georgina had a similar reaction. “But my mama says he’s never looked seriously at any lady and to set my bonnet for a man who is interested so that I won’t lose the opportunity for matrimony my first Season.”
Apparently, the duke appealed to all the young ladies—including Ophelia.
