“What were you doing talking with Drake Darling?” Somerdale asked as the carriage rolled through the quiet streets.
The ball would no doubt continue on until dawn, but Ophelia had been more than ready to leave after her encounter with Darling in the alcove. It appeared their little tryst had gone unnoticed, thank God. She’d lost all her enthusiasm for dancing, and had asked her brother to escort her home. He had gladly accommodated her request, no doubt because he was equally anxious to be off to his club.
Looking across the way at him, Ophelia couldn’t read his expression yet his voice hinted at his disapproval. “I was thirsty. I asked him to fetch me something to drink.”
“You would have been better served giving your attentions to a lord. Father placed an ungodly sum in a trust for you so that you would possess a dowry to entice the most influential lords. You need to set your sights on someone like Avendale. He’s a duke for God’s sake.”
“With no plans to take a wife. He was only in attendance tonight because of his friendship with Lovingdon. And you need not worry. I have no interest in Darling as a suitor.”
“See that you don’t. I like the fellow well enough, but Father would roll over in his grave. He entrusted me with ensuring that you married well. I intend to see to that duty.”
“Would you not be better served by seeing to your duty of marrying an heiress?”
It had been two years since their father’s death and she knew the coffers were not as flush as they’d once been.
Somerdale glanced out the window. “I’d hoped for Grace. Now I must begin my search anew. It is a bothersome task.”
Somerdale marrying Grace would have been a disaster. He needed someone not quite so rebellious.
“You don’t think I find the search for a husband equally bothersome?”
“Bothersome it might be but it is a condition of your trust. Pity you can’t gain access to it before you marry. We could have some jolly fun with the money.” He turned his attention back to her. “But your husband will take it over once you’re wed, and that will be the end of it.”
“The funds become mine if I don’t marry by my thirtieth birthday.” Which was her plan. Much like Avendale, she had no wish to tie the marital knot. Oh, she made noises about it, even had both Grace and Minerva believing she wanted to marry for love, but the truth was that she wanted to be a spinster, never accountable to a man. No man would ever love her enough to forgive her for what she’d once done, and it was a secret she could not forever keep from a husband.
“If you want gowns for next Season you’d best marry during this one,” Somerdale said, cutting into her thoughts.
Her heart gave a little start. “Are things truly that dire?”
He shrugged. “Investments haven’t turned out as I’d hoped. I considered taking a loan from your trust to see me through until my situation improves, had my solicitor look over the details, but your funds are locked up tighter than a drum. Only your marrying a commoner or your death would release them into my hands.”
A shiver went through her. She was disconcerted to know he’d been searching for a way into her trust fund. That money was hers, her dowry, the key to her future, her freedom. Her father wanted her to have it. Somerdale would simply have to find a way to make do. “I most certainly am not going to marry a commoner. I doubt I’ll marry anyone at all. And I certainly don’t intend to die anytime soon.”
“If you want to have pin money before you’re thirty, you will marry some lord, even if he’s on his deathbed. Honestly, Ophelia, I’m in quite the pickle here.”
“That’s why you were interested in Grace, because she had such a large dowry.”
“Well, yes, of course.”
He said it as though she were an idiot to think otherwise. “She wanted to marry for love.”
“I assure you that if a woman puts coins in my coffers, I shall love her very much indeed.”
“That’s not the sort of love Grace wanted,” she told her brother. “I’m ever so glad she didn’t take your suit seriously.”
“Well, I’m not glad at all. Lovingdon didn’t need her fortune. He’s got a bloody fortune of his own. It’s not fair.”
She could certainly enlighten him about things that weren’t fair. But surely he was exaggerating concerning his financial state. “How dire are things really?” she asked.
“Just don’t purchase any new gowns,” he said wearily.
“I don’t see that I should be inconvenienced because you’ve mismanaged things.” The carriage pulled to a stop in front of their residence. “Besides, I’m sure something will turn up.”
Surely an heiress somewhere would take his suit seriously.
Somerdale chuckled low. “It had best happen quickly as creditors will soon be knocking. And you’re quite right, sister, we wouldn’t want you inconvenienced, now would we?”
Before she could respond, the footman opened the door and handed her down. Her brother followed.
“Aren’t you going to the club?” she asked as they walked up the steps.
“Our conversation dimmed my desire to make merry. I think I’ll simply drink myself into oblivion.”
He opened the door and they entered the foyer.
“It won’t make your troubles go away,” she pointed out.
“But it will make me forget them for a time.” Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, Ophelia.”
He’d taken two steps before she called out, “Somerdale?”
Stopping, he glanced back over his shoulder.
She released a long put-upon sigh. “I shan’t purchase any new gowns, but I won’t be happy about it.”
He gave her a small smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to be. And I’m quite sure you’re right. Something will turn up. I simply need to give some thought to it.”
She watched him head down the hallway. For a mere second she considered going after him, but she had her own troubles. Uppermost was how to make Drake Darling pay for the kiss he’d stolen. When next their paths crossed, she would give him a proper set-down. She would publicly snub him. She would tell Grace exactly what sort of rogue he was. Perhaps her family would boot him out, the scoundrel.
She made her way upstairs, and it wasn’t until she reached the top that she realized she’d been searching for any lingering taste of him on her lips. How could someone so sinful taste so utterly delicious? Had he kissed others tonight? Probably. She hated the thought of it, of him in a shadowed corner with another lady, thrusting his fingers into her hair, taking possession of her mouth as though he would die without it.
Marching into her bedchamber, she decided she would need a bath tonight to get the scent of him off her. After jerking on the bellpull to summon her maid, she paced. She wasn’t in the mood for a bath, yet it had to be done. Otherwise she would carry his aroma into her dreams. The last thing she wanted was to have him visiting her in sleep.
Turning at the sound of footsteps, she scowled at her maid. “Why must you dally? Assist me with my clothing. I feel a headache coming on. I’ll want some warm milk before retiring.”
“Yes, my lady.”
It was nearly an hour later before Ophelia was in her nightclothes and curled on the settee, staring into the flames of a low fire. Colleen was having the warm milk prepared. Why was it taking so long? Staff moved as slow as honey around here. She would have to speak with the housekeeper about the matter again. Honestly, since her father’s death the staff had gone to ruin. Somerdale really needed to be a bit more forceful, more along the lines of Darling.
She doubted Darling’s servants lollygagged. If he even had servants. She doubted that he did or ever would. He no longer resided with Grace’s family. From what she understood he lived in that gaming hell that he managed. She wondered if that was where he entertained ladies. She shook her head. She was not going to think about him entertaining.
Where was her warm milk? She came to her feet just as Colleen entered the room—empty-handed. “What the devil, Colleen? Do you not value your position here?”
“My apologies, my lady, but His Lordship sent me up to begin packing your things. He says you’ll be leaving within the hour.”
“It’s half past eleven. I’m not going anywhere.”
Colleen appeared terribly apologetic when she murmured, “He seems to think you are.”
“Well, we shall certainly see about that.”
Ophelia fairly flew down the stairs. Her brother was no doubt in a drunken stupor. Traveling this time of night made no sense at all. Even if he were in some sort of trouble with the creditors that resulted in a hasty departure, it could wait until a decent hour. And why should it involve her? She wasn’t the one in a spot of difficulty.
As she neared the library, a footman opened the door. She stormed through—
Staggered to a stop as fear fissured through her. The door softly snicked behind her, closing her in with her worst nightmare.