Page 28 of The Rogue’s Offer

“I’ve been besotted only once in my life, ma’am, and that was a mistake, just as becoming besotted with Lady Havenstock would also be a mistake.” Mathias managed to keep his voice light-hearted and even as he looked back at the older woman. The duchess’s light brown eyes darkened with sympathy, and she shook her head.

“Whoever she was, the woman who hurt you clearly didn’t see the goodness in you.” This time it was Mathias’s turn to laugh at the woman’s words, but with cynicism not amusement.

“I can assure you, ma’am, I’ve proved my lack of gentlemanly conduct on more than one occasion.”

He picked up his wine glass to study the claret as he remembered his treatment of Ophelia the night they’d first met. She’d thought he was Charles, and he’d allowed her to abase herself before he’d revealed his identity. His behavior had been reprehensible. That she’d agreed to his counter offer had surprised him a great deal. She’d said she would never marry again, so why would she have accepted the proposal they’d agreed to? Frowning, he took a deep drink of the claret. A gentle touch on his arm made him shift his gaze toward the duchess again as he set his glass down.

“Somehow, I think the lady in question is more than capable of determining that your good qualities far outweigh your irredeemable ones.”

“Since my relationship with Lady Havenstock is one of mutual admiration and nothing more, the point is moot.”

Determined to end their conversation about Ophelia, Mathias returned to his meal ignoring the duchess’s softly muttered comment about the stubbornness of men. For the remainder of the dinner, he divided his attention between Constance and the duchess, ensuring the discussions revolved on safer topics. He also controlled his urge to glance in Ophelia’s direction. By the end of dinner, he was pleased with the results of his efforts. When the women retired to the salon and left the men to their cognac, Chelmsford made his way across the room to Mathias’s side.

“Gilchrist.” The earl nodded his head in quiet greeting. “What do you think of my cognac?”

“It’s excellent, my lord.”

“Tell me, how long have you known, Lady Havenstock?” The question scraped across Mathias’s insides like a jackal gnawing at his insides. Quickly crushing the response, he shrugged slightly.

“Not long.”

“So there is not an understanding between the two of you?”

“No.”

It took every ounce of willpower for Mathias not to snarl the word. What the devil was wrong with him? He should be pleased the earl was asking the question. This was the precise goal he’d intended to achieve. The fact it was happening so quickly was what startled him.

“Then you would not be offended if I were to call upon the lady in question?” Although he’d expected the question, he was unprepared for his reaction to it. Suppressing his sudden desire to pound the man into the ground, Mathias shook his head.

“Not at all. Ophelia is free to indulge in whatever liaison she wishes,” Mathias said with as much indifference as possible. The earl nodded and an odd expression crossed his face as he stared down into his brandy.

“Actually, I can see Lady Havenstock as something much more than a liaison. She’s intelligent, gracious, and warm-hearted. My mother has been parading a host of potential brides in front of me for the past year. None of whom intrigue me quite the way Ophelia does.”

With each word the man spoke, Mathias’s muscles tightened until they were taut as a coiled spring waiting to be released. The earl seemed completely unaware of Mathias’s reaction as the other man eyed the cheroot he rolled in his fingers.

“I should perhaps warn you that Ophelia has indicated she has no intention of marrying again,” Mathias said with a sense of triumph.

“So she said this evening when I remarked I was surprised she’d not remarried after Havenstock’s death.” Chelmsford met Mathias’s eyes and smiled. “She was quite adamant in her reply, but I believe the right man could convince her to risk her heart again.”

“There I will have to disagree.” Mathias smiled with conviction. “Even though our acquaintance has been relatively short, I’ve already learned she can be incredibly stubborn.”

“I enjoy a challenge and can be quite persuasive when I wish to be. Ophelia seems well worth the effort.” The earl pulled out his pocket watch and flipped the gold lid upward. He snapped the watch shut and swallowed the last drop of his cognac. “I believe it’s time we join the ladies. We will need to leave for Markham’s affair within the half-hour.”

Chelmsford offered Mathias a cheerful smile before proceeding to direct his male guests toward the salon. As he watched his host walk away, Mathias slowly set his brandy snifter on the table, and turned toward the door leading out into the main hall. Outside the salon doorway, he inhaled a deep breath as he struggled to understand his reaction to the earl’s observations about Ophelia.

It wasn’t as if they had an understanding. In fact, he was pleased the earl was already infatuated with her. Chelmsford’s attention would give her confidence a much needed boost. She was only willing to accept his reassurances to a certain extent. As several of the men emerged from the dining room, Mathias followed them into the salon. His gaze found Ophelia the moment he entered the room. He was about to go to her side when Chelmsford entered the salon and headed in her direction.

Once again his body tensed with an emotion he didn’t want to feel, and he had the urge to simply leave the house knowing Chelmsford would be more than happy to take over Mathias’s duties as her companion for the evening. Ophelia laughed at something the earl said, and when his attention was suddenly diverted by the Duchess of Trowbridge, Ophelia’s gaze swept across the room to meet Mathias’s. The moment she smiled at him, it was as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

The sensation was one he was fast becoming familiar with where she was concerned. He bowed slightly in response to her smile, which he saw falter slightly before she turned to the duchess and the earl who drew her into their conversation. Mathias turned away from the scene to begin a conversation with the Viscountess Warfield. The topics were inane and forgettable, and when Chelmsford suggested they leave for Markham’s soiree, Mathias breathed a sigh of relief at having to forego another minute in the viscountess’s company.

In the span of a few short moments, he’d assisted Ophelia into his carriage and flung himself into the squabs of his seat. The silence inside the vehicle stretched between them as if a fissure in the ground had opened up. Tension held his muscles tight, and his entire body ached.

“You look decidedly grim, Mathias.” The sound of his name rolling off her lips made his mouth go dry. He jerked at the observation before meeting her gaze.

“Do I?” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Yes, I’ve not seen you smile once this evening.” Puzzlement furrowed her brow as she eyed him intently.