Page 21 of The Rogue’s Offer

“Rhea, Louisa, we should return to our box.” Percy said as he turned toward them.

He smiled at the three of them before meeting his wife’s gaze. The adoration on his handsome features caused a rosy blush to fill Rhea’s cheeks as she stepped forward to entwine her arm with Percy’s.

The special look that passed between the couple spoke volumes as to their feelings for one another. Percy had married for love, and Ophelia was happy for her childhood friend. But deep inside she experienced a twinge of envy.

The warning bell rang a second time, and in a flurry of goodbyes the Rockwoods left the box. With a reluctant twist of her lips, Ophelia took her seat again, all too aware of Mathias as he sat down next to her.

“Percy tells me Louisa intends to return to Scotland this week. Alone.” The troubled note in his voice made her glance in his direction. He was staring at the dark red carpet beneath their feet with an expression of deep concern.

“I think she realizes it’s time to rejoin the living, and she wants to say goodbye to Devin in her own way.”

“Percy said essentially the same thing, but he’s worried about her, as am I.” The frown creasing his brow made Ophelia wince slightly. What would it be like to have someone worried about her as Mathias was Louisa? Irritated that she’d even considered the thought, Ophelia stiffened in her seat.

“Louisa, like most women, is not a delicate flower that needs constant tending.” It hadn’t been her intention to speak so sharply, but her words caused Mathias to jerk his head up to look at her in surprise. She quickly averted her gaze. “What I mean is that Louisa is not a child. She’s quite capable of managing her life without anyone’s help.”

Music signaling the start of the next act rose up from the orchestra pit, and Ophelia deliberately pretended to give her full attention to the stage below to avoid any further conversation. As the musical entertainment progressed, Ophelia found her gaze drifting around the theater to observe the guests. In the far curve of the opera house’s balcony, she caught sight of a familiar face.

Antipathy swept through her as she recognized her stepson. The title was a ludicrous one given the fact she was only five years older than Edgar was. His head was bent toward the woman at his side who was smiling at him. George’s son shifted in his chair, and Ophelia jerked her gaze away from the man. She had no intention of being caught even acknowledging his presence. Although she seldom encountered Edgar in public, whenever she did, she made every possible effort to avoid him. The man had always made her uncomfortable, but George’s death had made him unbearable.

At the reading of George’s will, she’d been stunned to learn the bulk of her husband’s estate had been placed in Edgar’s hands to manage, while she’d been given a small annual stipend. Even the house had fallen under Edgar’s purview. Throughout the mourning period, her stepson had been an almost daily caller, unlike when his father had been alive. When he’d delivered the ultimatum that she become his mistress or leave the house, Ophelia had packed the few possessions she owned and returned to Marymont. Far from pleased, Edgar had threatened to reduce her stipend, but the solicitor had informed him the monies were solely in Ophelia’s control.

Raucous laughter on the stage penetrated her morose thoughts. Her attention returned to the stage that had been transformed into a small café. Although she knew very little Italian, the music itself was passionate and compelling. Without realizing it, she leaned forward in her seat to watch the performance. With each passing moment the music drew her into the story until by the end of the opera she was blinking away tears at Mimi’s death. A handkerchief was suddenly waved in front of her, but she rejected the offer with a shake of her head.

“No, thank you. It’s unnecessary.”

“You’re a stubborn woman, Lady Havenstock,” Mathias growled with amused, almost tender, exasperation. Ophelia blinked the remainder of her tears away as she turned her head toward him.

“And you, Mr. Gilchrist can be quite annoying.”

Her words sparked a glint of laughter in his eyes that said he agreed with her. But his only response was a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Rising to his feet, he waited for her to stand then ushered her out into the crowded corridor.

“I thought perhaps we’d have supper at Rules.”

“I’d like that,” she said with a smile. “I’ve not eaten since breakfast.”

“Is it your habit to starve yourself like other women I know?” The question created an image of Mathias flirting with other women in her head. The moment the picture popped in her head a sharp, strange sensation streaked through her. Her heart sank. She could ill afford to become enamored with this man. It would be disastrous to her heart and soul. Ophelia forced a smile to her lips.

“I was simply too busy to find the time to eat. I can assure you my appetite is far more robust than deemed respectable.”

When they reached the sidewalk outside the Opera house, Mathias cupped her elbow with his hand and guided her toward the Strand. They’d almost reached the end of the city block when she saw Mathias’s driver waiting patiently for them beside the carriage. As Mathias sank down into the seat opposite her, Ophelia turned her head to study the heavy carriage traffic that was the result of the opera’s conclusion.

“Despite what you led me to believe, I think you enjoyed Puccini’s work.” The light-hearted teasing made her sniff with irritation at his words.

“If you expect me to say the evening was intolerable, I shall have to disappoint you.”

“Then you didn’t find my company without its charm.”

“Actually, I was thinking about the last half of the performance. I found it quite pleasing.” Not about to admit how much she enjoyed his company she shook her head.

“You’re forgetting lesson number two, Ophelia. A man likes to know he’s the reason you’re finding the evening so enjoyable.”

“But you’re simply my tutor. I’m not supposed to seduce you,” she said with a smile. A low growl rolled out of him before he laughed.

“You enjoyed putting me in my place, didn’t you?”

“I did.” She laughed and nodded with satisfaction. “I must take my small triumphs where I can.”

“Again you underestimate yourself, Ophelia. Have you forgotten Margate and Merrick are already at your feet? And I’m certain Chelmsford will follow in relatively short order.”