Page 44 of The Rogue’s Offer

“Yes my lady. I’ll gladly see to it.”

A soft groan rose up from the floor, and Ophelia pressed her hand into her stomach in a fruitless attempt to calm her fears. Taggert immediately slipped his hands under the man’s arms to drag him out into the hall. When Edgar was out of sight, Ophelia stumbled to a nearby chair.

Grateful for something steady to support her, she sank down into the stiff, oval-backed seat. Her fingers gripped the chair’s wooden arm as she leaned over it in an effort to end the dizziness assaulting her. She’d drawn blood, and it wasn’t something Edgar would forgive or forget. The man would make her pay a steep price, and she was convinced it wouldn’t be with demands for her to share his bed. Her stepson excelled in spreading gossip.

While she doubted it would affect Lizzie’s future happiness, her own humiliation would be excruciating. Mathias had lied to her. He’d said Madame Sabine was a friend and would reduce her bill for the dresses. Instead, he’d underhandedly paid the balance despite her insistence she wouldn’t allow him to treat her as he would a mistress.

She’d been a fool. She’d known the dressmaker’s bill was far too low and hadn’t questioned it. Even now she was forced to admit how quickly she’d allowed herself to believe the woman’s generosity was simply a matter of friendship with Mathias. A friendship she’d always known had more to do with the bedchamber than anything else.

The realization twisted something inside her so painful she gasped from the strength of it. A small voice offered up an explanation for the pain, but she refused to listen or accept what it was telling her.

“Ophelia.”

Mathias’s voice echoed from the foyer into the parlor, and she jerked up right in her chair. When he appeared in the doorway, the fear and pain assaulting her became a blistering anger that raced through her veins. He’d lied to her, and in doing so, he’d given Edgar the ammunition with which to humiliate her anew.

§ § §

Mathias stared at Taggert and another man as they lifted Viscount Havenstock into the carriage. The man had a healthy gash on his temple, and had apparently been knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. Instantly his insides tightened with fear. Had the bastard hurt Ophelia?

“Taggert?”

“Her ladyship is all right, sir. Shaken, but unharmed.” At the man’s reassurances, Mathias ran up the steps into the townhouse.

“Ophelia.”

Even to his ears, the fear and panic in his cry was evident. He covered the short distance into the parlor in two long strides. The sight of her slumped over the side of a chair made his heart crash viciously into his chest before anger beat a steady drum in his head. If Havenstock hurt her, he would beat the man to within an inch of his worthless life.

Ophelia looked up as he charged into the room and quickly sprang to her feet. He took two steps toward her before she waved her hand at him to stop. The pallor of her complexion worried him, and he took another step toward her.

“He tried to force himself on you, didn’t he?” he bit out through clenched teeth.

The sharp nod of her head was her only answer. It sent a dark rage speeding through his body. He’d see to it the bastard would never touch her again. He ached to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but the fragility of her demeanor warned him not to. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I am uninjured.”

“The same cannot be said for Havenstock.” Mathias allowed a small smile of vicious satisfaction touch his lips as he remembered the viscount being lifted into his carriage. She clearly had the heart of a lion to fight the man off and win.

“Why are you here, Mathias?”

“We’d agreed I would take you to Rules for lunch, but given—”

“That is out of the question.” The curt, abrupt statement as she interrupted him made Mathias frown.

“I understand, which is why I was about to say we’d have our lunch here.”

“No. I won’t eat lunch or do anything else in your company.” There was a harsh finality in her words that made his heart slam into his chest. A jolt of fear knotted his stomach.

“Might I ask why?”

“You said yourself last night that our agreement is at a end, and I completely agree.”

“I see. And what prompted this sudden decision?”

Mathias eyed her calmly despite the dread slithering its way through his body. Something had happened in the hours since she’d left him. The differences between the woman in front of him and the woman he’d kissed goodbye just a few short hours ago were subtle, but they were there.

He’d known she’d been embarrassed this morning when she’d stolen so quietly out of his room, but he’d thought he’d reassured her that last night had been more than a brief interlude and exchange of pleasure. In fact, every moment he’d spent in her company emphasized he’d be unable to part with her for a long time to come.

“Suffice it to say I have no desire to be associated with a liar.”