Page 83 of Love, the Duke
CHAPTER25
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
You will know when you’ve caught him.
Ophelia paced in her bedchamber. It had been over an hour since the vicar and elders left. She’d hurriedly changed into her white sleeveless night rail and brushed out her hair, thinking Hurst would come into her room shortly as he had on their wedding night. But tonight, he hadn’t. The more time that passed, the more worried she became that he didn’t want to be with her.
They had both been quiet on the short but mad dash as they sped along the streets from Lord Gagingcliffe’s house to theirs. She hadn’t minded, understanding he was upset with her for going to the baron’s house. But he had gone too, and before she had. Since all had worked out for the best concerning the chalice’s return to the safety of the church and the magistrate’s arrival to take charge of overseeing the baron’s circumstances and what would happen to him, Ophelia was feeling better than she had in months. All she wanted was to be held in Hurst’s arms.
And he hadn’t come to her.
He had said such lovely things about her and Maman while the vicar was there. She’d hoped that meanthe at least understood if he had not completely forgiven her and all was well between them again. But apparently there was mending left to do. Perhaps he was waiting for her to ask for his forgiveness, and she would if it wasn’t too late.
Forcing down her fear of rejection and swallowing her pride, she bolstered her courage as best she could and picked up the box she had placed on the bed. When she got to the adjoining door, she wavered but quickly knocked before she could talk herself out of it.
Hurst opened the door looking splendid in his relaxed state of only trousers, open-necked shirt, bare feet, and tousled hair.
“May I come in?”
He stepped aside and she entered.
“This is for you.” She extended the box toward him.
His expression turned curious. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to open it to find out,” she answered softly.
He took the box, lifted the lid, and stared down at the men’s clothing she’d worn to his house.
Looking into her eyes with what she thought could be a hint of amusement, he said, “I don’t think these will fit me.”
She wanted to smile, but because he hadn’t, she refrained. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to give them away rather than have them burned.”
“No man will wear these.”
Ophelia’s heart felt as if it plunged to her feet.
He bent his head and held the box near his nose as he breathed in deeply and loudly before raising his head and saying, “They smell of your perfume. You must have them washed first. Have your maid’s brother give them to someone who needs them.”
Relief sailed through her. “Thank you. I will.”
“And tell her when he has finished his apprenticeship and is ready to open his own shop to come see me.”
That was far more than she’d expected to hear, and her heart warmed even more toward him. “You will do that for him?”
“No.” He placed the box on a table and turned back to her. “I will do it for you, Ophelia.” He twitched a smile. “Besides, he does excellent work.”
She swallowed down a lump of thankfulness for his kindness. She knew how he disliked her wearing the clothing, and though she would never be sorry for what she had done, she now no longer needed it.
“They will both be pleased. I expected you to ask me for the clothing before we married so you could burn it. Why didn’t you?”
“I knew you’d give the clothing to me when you were ready to trust me with everything.”
“I do trust you, Hurst,” she answered earnestly, feeling the intimacy and honesty of their discussion. “I’m sorry I was so late in trusting you in all things.”
He remained quiet, only looking at her, so she added, “I owe you such a debt of gratitude for everything you have done for me. My family.”
