Page 20 of Love, the Duke
She collected all the sketching materials and made her way to the drawing room, eager to show the crests and share the good news with her mother when she came belowstairs. In the meantime, Ophelia would look around for something to keep the sketches in.
The small leased house was well equipped with almost anything they needed. She hoped to find an empty packet or portfolio, or perhaps a large folder, where she could keep the sheets safely together. It would be too exhausting to replicate them.
To her disappointment, every drawer in the desk was empty. Ophelia then started looking in the chests, cabinets, and side tables placed around the perimeter. The last chest to be inspected had been placed in front of a window between two chairs on the back wall. It wasn’t a tall or wide cabinet, so she bent down, opened the double doors, and spread them wide. Peering inside, she quickly saw it was as bare as all the others, but something seemed a little peculiar about it. The rear panel appeared buckled. She wondered if perhaps time or water had warped it. Her curiosity piqued, she took out the shelving and looked carefully, realizing it had a false back that hadn’t been properly secured. How clever. She had heard of such things but had never actually seen one.
She pondered if someone had accidentally left anything in the hiding place. Perhaps it was still there. The possibility made her smile and heightened her interest.
Lifting the hem of her skirt, she knelt on both knees in front of it and reached inside. She couldn’t quite touch the back panel but was too engrossed to give up, so she stuck her head inside and wiggled one shoulder and then the other a little at a time into the chest until she could reach the panel. She hammered at the corners with the bottom of her fist and one of the top corners popped loose.
Delighted she was making progress, she pushed, pulled, and tugged at the board trying to remove it. Obviously, there was a trick to doing it the proper way, and she was determined to find it. With the heel of her hand, she banged it dead center, and the panel popped loose, almost falling on top of her head. It was a secret compartment, but it was as empty as all the others.
“Miss Stowe,” she heard Mrs. Turner squeal from behind her. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I should be doing that for you.”
“No. I am fine,” she answered from inside the cabinet, doing her best to pop the backing on the same wayit had come off. “I don’t need your help. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”
“I wanted to tell you the Duke of Hurstbourne is here and asked if you wanted to receive him, but he followed me in here.”
Clunk!
Merciful heavens!
Ophelia knocked her head on the inside top of the chest and conked an elbow on the side in a hurry to try to get out.
In the name of all the saints living and dead, what was the duke doing at her house? And of all times! Her head was stuck in the cabinet and her derriere was sticking out of it.
What nerve the man had to come into her drawing room without an invitation. All her decorous upbringing was for naught in the face of her predicament. A sense of dismay swamped her. How could she ever live down how she presented herself right now?
There was no uncomplicated way out. She started trying to back out on her knees but in her haste couldn’t get both shoulders out of the chest at the same time. Going in was definitely easier.
But then Ophelia sensed the duke kneeling beside her. She felt his warmth at what she assumed was his knee grazing against her upper thigh before resting on the floor so close to her. From his movements, the air stirred with the smell of his woodsy shaving soap scent and she trembled when hearing his low husky chuckle.
“What kind of pickle have you gotten yourself into, Miss Stowe?” he asked lightly.
“Nothing that I can’t get out of, Your Grace,” she answered defensively, hoping her voice didn’t reveal just how flustered she was. “If you would be so kind as toexcuse yourself from the room.” Then, unable to help herself, she managed to reach behind her and swat him, feeling her hand connected somewhere on his face.
The duke grunted. “Hold still and I will help you.” He reached into the chest and cupped the back of her head at the very moment she lifted it and heard his knuckles crack against the edge of the opening. She heard another sound from him.
The duke muttered an impatient oath. Obviously, he wasn’t thrilled she hadn’t acquiesced to his demand. “You can’t do this on your own, Miss Stowe. Relax, and I will get you out.”
“No, I need you to go away,” she responded in a confident but muffled voice, refusing to give in to his offer of help and only wanting him to leave so she could find a way out of her predicament.
“I can’t do that. You’re moving but not getting anywhere,” he argued exasperatedly.
“Sweet mercy, Your Grace, I know that,” she whispered, unable to believe what was happening, but then she felt his palms press on the back of her shoulders. His fingers came around the tops of her arms and gently squeezed. She felt his strength, his command of her situation, and realized how vulnerable she was to him. Not because she was captured by the chest, but the way his touch gave her delicious feelings inside.
Weary, and somehow comforted too, she had no choice but to give in to his help. She wormed from side to side as he pushed down on first one shoulder with his gentle strength and then the other, helping to work her out of the chest.
“Don’t rush, Miss Stowe,” he said in a soothing tone that made her know his lips were just above her ear. “Take your time or you will be black-and-blue with bruises.”
There was something reassuring about what he was doing, the way he was handling her with tenderness, and how softly he was speaking so that she felt compelled to obey and offer no further opposition. The trembling inside her subsided.
Just when she thought she had cleared the offending cabinet, the crown of her hair caught in the center hinge that held the double doors together at the top and she was once again snared.
Ophelia stretched up to untangle her hair at the same time the duke reached to help. It was their fingers that caught and wove together. A tantalizing shiver of more tingles washed up and down her spine. His warm breath fanned closer to her temple.
“Should I get Mrs. Stowe to help?” Mrs. Turner asked excitedly from behind them.
“No,” they said in unison.
