Page 31 of The Rogue’s Offer

Constance’s light touch became a painful grip as her fingers dug into Mathias’s arm. Startled, he jerked his head in her direction. Lucien had already stepped forward to support his wife and pressed her into his side as a steadying influence. Hazel eyes glazed over, her expression was transfixed in a way that told Mathias his childhood friend was in the throes of what the Rockwoods called the an dara sealladh. The incident lasted little more than a minute before the spell-bound look disappeared from Constance’s features. Compassion filled her gaze as her grip on his arm slowly relaxed.

“Let go of the past, Mathias.” Her tone gentle, she shook her head slightly. “If you don’t, you could easily miss the opportunity for great happiness.”

Mathias went rigid at Constance’s words. Muscles taut with tension, he met his friend’s gaze with a sinking feeling. Whatever she’d seen, it had been enough to make her see some, if not all, of the secrets he’d never shared with anyone. The silence filling the space between him and his friend only tightened his muscles until every inch of him ached from the strain of it. When he didn’t reply, Constance lightly touched his arm then turned to her husband.

“Lucien, instead of dancing could we take in some fresh air?”

At her quiet request, the earl raised her hand to his lips then pulled her arm through his and led her away without a word. Mathias glanced at Percy who was eying him with concern. He appeared about to say something when Mathias saw Rhea reach for her husband’s hand.

“Percy, dance with me. If you don’t I shall be forced to ask Mathias to risk injuring his feet as you know how often I step on your toes.” Despite Rhea’s request, his friend hesitated, and Mathias forced a smile to his lips.

“As much as I like your wife, Percy, I confess I’d prefer not to limp around the ballroom for the remainder of the evening.” Mathias’s reply made Percy chuckle as he nodded.

“Then we shall catch up with you a little later this evening.”

“Certainly,” Mathias said.

As Percy led his wife away, Mathias clasped his hands behind his back and turned to watch the couple as they reached the floor. His gaze lingered on them for a moment before he looked around the room instinctively searching for Ophelia’s tall, voluptuous figure. When he didn’t see her, Mathias frowned. When he saw Chelmsford with a slight frown on his face looking around the ballroom, a small surge of satisfaction swept through Mathias.

Clearly the earl wasn’t going to find Ophelia as easy a conquest as the man had expected if he didn’t know where she was. Mathias’s gaze continued to sweep the room, but when he failed to see Ophelia’s lushly curved figure, a sense of irritation swept over him. Where the devil was she? No sooner did the thought cross his mind, he saw Ophelia hurry through the open doorway leading out to the gardens. A tall, gaunt man was close on her heels. The man caught Ophelia’s arm as she tried to walk away.

Even from afar, Mathias could see the tension holding Ophelia rigid as she refused to look at the man. Spurred into action, Mathias made his way quickly around the edge of the ballroom, ignoring the greetings that were thrown his way. He was only a few feet away from Ophelia when he heard the man laugh. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.

“You have little choice, Ophelia. We both know you cannot live off of such a pittance of an annual stipend.”

“I would rather go to the workhouse than be beholden to you.” Anger filled her voice, but there was a touch of fear layered beneath her words.

It was clear the man was threatening her, and a fury swept through him at the realization. As if suddenly aware of his presence, Ophelia turned her head in his direction and met Mathias’s gaze. Although her features didn’t reflect any relief, he caught the flash of it in her large brown eyes. He closed the last few feet between them.

“Lady Havenstock. I believe you promised this dance to me.”

Mathias ignored the man at her side as he offered his hand to her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she placed her hand in his. The fact she was trembling and her hand was like ice in his startled Mathias. He directed a cool, polite nod to the man standing close to Ophelia before he led her out onto the dance floor.

She didn’t speak, and her tremors continued to vibrate from her body into his. Something told him talking was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment, and he remained silent as he whirled her around the dance floor. They were more than halfway through the waltz before her trembling slowly disappeared. When she met his gaze there was a haunted look in her eyes.

“Do you want to tell me who that man was?” he asked quietly. She averted her gaze to stare at his shirt.

“George’s son, Edgar.” Her answer didn’t surprise him, but the protective instinct it aroused in him did.

“What did he want?” His question made her jerk her gaze upward to meet his before she quickly looked away.

“He was being unpleasant as always.”

“Why do I think it was more than that?” He narrowed his gaze at her, but she kept her eyes averted.

“I don’t know. Why would you?”

“Because I think the man was threatening you.” At his quiet observation, Ophelia’s mouth thinned with anger.

“Must we continue this discussion? The man is repulsive, and I find it disgusting even thinking about him.”

Ophelia glared up at him, her brown eyes dark with an emotion that troubled him. It was easy to conclude her confrontation with the new Viscount Havenstock had upset her, despite her frail composure. Edgar was apparently cut from the same cloth as his father. It was the only explanation that could account for Ophelia’s obvious distress. They danced in silence until the final chords of the waltz died away. His hand under her elbow, Mathias guided her off the floor.

“Would you care to—” He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence as Chelmsford appeared in front of them.

“I believe this next dance is mine, my lady.” The earl offered Ophelia his arm, and when she hesitated, he smiled. “I promise not to bore you with my predilection for gardening.”

Ophelia released a small laugh as she met Chelmsford’s gaze. His smile broadened as she nodded and slipped her arm through his.

“I don’t mind you discussing your passion, my lord.”

“I am finding that there are other things that I could be passionate about as well.”

There was an earnest expression on Chelmsford’s face that sent a razor-edged blade slicing through Mathias. Christ, the man had been deadly serious about setting his cap for Ophelia. His gaze jumped from Chelmsford’s face to Ophelia’s who smiled at the earl with a bemused expression.

Something deep inside Mathias clawed at him with vicious glee. Ophelia had expressed her distaste for marriage, yet at this moment she appeared completely enthralled by Chelmsford. The anger that had assaulted him earlier, returned anew.

“If you will excuse me, my lady,” he bit out coldly as he bowed to her and then the earl. “Chelmsford.”

As he turned away he thought he saw Ophelia’s hand reach out to him, but he didn’t bother to look in her direction. Instead he simply walked away.