Page 46 of The Rogue’s Offer

Chapter 11

Mathias stepped through the door of Brooks, and with a curt nod at the clerk behind the desk made his way through the club toward the Common Room. He couldn’t remember ever having been in such a foul mood. He’d spent the last week sending a daily note to Ophelia asking to see her, but she’d not replied to a single one. Her refusal to respond emphasized the depth of her outrage.

He didn’t know what irritated him the most, his error in having ignored her wishes or her refusal to accept his remorse at injuring her. Not even Miriam had ever been able to arouse such an intense frustration in him. Perhaps worst of all was the sense of desperation beginning to take hold of him. It was an emotion he’d never experienced with any woman, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

The entire situation was wearing on him to the point even Charles had noticed how brusque his manner had become. His friends had learned more quickly how to avoid the topic of Ophelia. Despite their silence, the amusement on their faces, especially those who were married, was another trial he’d been forced to endure.

Of all his friends, Percy and Constance had restrained their amusement the most. The Rockwood siblings had even discretely informed him when they knew of an event Ophelia would be attending. Last night, he’d specifically attended the Beaumont event after Percy had mentioned Ophelia would be present.

When she’d arrived on the arm of Chelmsford last night, Mathias’s reaction had not been one he enjoyed. As he’d watched the earl’s attentive, almost possessive manner with Ophelia, a raw fury had assaulted him. Every time the earl had pulled her away from the numerous suitors gathering around her, Mathias’s anger had grown. Percy and Rhea had been at the affair, and Percy had quietly urged him to approach her.

When he’d finally taken his friend’s advice, the result had been a humiliating one. The moment her gaze had met his, the look of icy contempt on her face had made him turn and walk away. As if his humiliation wasn’t enough, the incident had resulted in his insides being twisted into painful knots. It was as if a sparring partner had knocked him to the mat with a sharp jab to his stomach.

Tonight he’d tried once more to have a moment alone with her, but Chelmsford had made every effort to occupy her attention whenever the man saw him approach Ophelia. He was convinced she’d enlisted the earl’s help in keeping him at bay. When an opportunity finally did open for him to ask her to dance, Ophelia’s cold gaze had barely met his before she simply turned her back on him.

This time his humiliation had been observed by several members of the Set, and it had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life. Not because others had witnessed Ophelia’s snub, but because her reaction had filled him with a level of despair he’d never known before.

Until now, he’d thought it would simply be a matter of days before he could heal the breach between them. After tonight, he was no longer so optimistic. His actions had done more damage than he’d ever thought possible. He’d not been thinking at all when he’d paid the balance of Ophelia’s bill. Now he was suffering the fires of hell because of his arrogance and refusal to heed Ophelia’s wishes.

His suffering was made even worse whenever he saw Ophelia smiling up at Chelmsford. The man was working hard to win her. The fact wasn’t lost on him that the earl might succeed in his quest before Mathias could convince Ophelia to forgive him. The knowledge deepened his dark mood this evening. The woman would no doubt take pleasure in knowing he was pining after her. At the thought, Mathias drew up short and came to an abrupt halt. Damnation. He wasn’t pining for the woman. He was lusting after her. It wasn’t anything more than that.

A cackling laugh echoed in the back of his head, and he exhaled a loud breath of air at the thoughts trying to push their way forward into his consciousness. Ignoring the whispers deep in the back of his mind, he continued along the hall toward the Common Room. He’d failed to have Baxter order a bottle of his favorite cognac at Thornbury House and had been forced to come to the club for a snifter.

As he approached the billiards room, loud laughter spilled out into the hall. He glanced into the room as he passed the door, but didn’t stop. His cursory glance didn’t fully sink in until he was several steps further down the hall and drew up short. A member who had been following him nodded a silent greeting as Mathias retraced his steps to the door of the billiards room.

Four men were gathered around the green worst-covered billiard table good-naturedly taunting a man lining up to take a shot. His gaze settled on one man who was standing slightly back from the other men. What the devil was Havenstock doing at Brooks? He knew the man wasn’t a member, as he’d checked several days ago in his effort to seek the man out.

Baron Lansdale leaned his head backward slightly to say something to Havenstock who laughed at whatever the baron had said. Mathias narrowed his gaze at the two men. Lansdale wasn’t known for being all that bright when it came to the company he kept, and tonight made that obvious. Until now, Mathias had been unable to find Havenstock in a somewhat secluded venue short of going to the man’s home. He’d wanted to ensure several people were around as witnesses to any exchange in the event the viscount tried to cause trouble.

The clack of a billiard ball being hit echoed in the room, and the man who’d taken the shot straightened upright. Mathias immediately recognized Viscount Beaumont. The man had visited Thornbury House on numerous occasions to discuss legislation with Charles that was being proposed in Parliament. Slowly entering the room, he saw Beaumont glance his way then looked back with a grin of welcome on his face.

“Gilchrist, how are you? Have you come to see Harrows here put my skills to shame at billiards?”

At the friendly greeting, Mathias moved around the table to shake Beaumont’s hand in greeting. Beside the man, Viscount Barrows, smiled his greeting as he extended his hand.

“Hello, Gilchrist. It’s been a while.” As Lord Barrows shook his hand, Mathias nodded.

“Do you know everyone here, Gilchrist?” Beaumont asked as he waved his hand in the direction of the other men. “Timothy Longwood, a finer solicitor you’ll not find in the city. Lord Lansdale and Lord Havenstock.”

All three men stepped forward to shake his hand. Havenstock was the last to extend his hand, but Mathias ignored it as he tilted his head to look at the wound on the viscount’s head.

“That’s quite a nasty bruise you have there,” Mathias said as he nodded toward the man’s head. “How did it happen?”

His hand still extended, Havenstock flushed slightly when Mathias continued to ignore his offer of greeting. The man’s lips thinned with anger and glared at Mathias.

“I had a slight accident.”

“It must have been quite a fall. It’s almost a week old, isn’t it?” Slowly moving his gaze from Havenstock’s injury to meet the man’s gaze, Mathias eyed the man coldly. The jovial atmosphere in the room had changed dramatically as the small group shifted uncomfortable at his open antipathy for Havenstock.

“It was.”

“As I understand it, the Dowager Viscountess Havenstock used a clock to administer the blow.” At the sardonic amusement in his voice, the viscount’s face darkened with anger.

“What lies has that woman been spreading?”

“I’m unaware of any lies the lady in question has been sharing.”

“Clearly she has or you wouldn’t have insulted me.”