Page 64 of The Rogue’s Offer

“No.” Lizzie shook her head vehemently. “I know we have no money for any of those things. I’m quite content to be Paul’s wife. We can go home to Marymont and have Vicar Blackburn marry us.”

“There are more than enough funds for a lovely wedding and your trousseau, Lizzie.”

“I know better, Ophelia. We barely have enough to scrape two pots against, let alone everything that comes with a wedding.”

“Money is no longer an object for us,” she said with a smile.

“I don’t understand.” Puzzlement furrowed Lizzie’s brow.

“Edgar returned control of my funds to me.”

“What?” A gasp parted Lizzie’s lips as she stared at Ophelia in shock. “He gave you control of the monies George left to you?”

“Yes.” She smiled and nodded at her sister. “It happened a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain the monies were mine to do with as I wished.”

“What did you say to Edgar to make him relinquish control?” Lizzie stared at her in wide-eyed amazement.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Ophelia’s throat tightened as she remembered the last time she’d seen her stepson. Even when he’d been carried out of the house after his assault, she’d thought for certain he would be back. She knew he wouldn’t let her action of self-defense go unanswered. He was too much like his father, and George had never allowed her to go unpunished for even the smallest offense. The knowledge made Edgar’s change of heart astounding. His absence even more so. If not for the bank’s confirmation that all funds and investments had been safely transferred into her name, she would have found it impossible to believe.

“But surely he must have given a reason for his sudden change of heart.”

“The solicitor gave me no reason for his decision to return control to me, and I have no desire to seek Edgar out to ask why.” Ophelia pressed a hand into her stomach. She never wanted to see the man ever again, not even from a distance.

“I still find it quite remarkable, but I am so glad you no longer have to worry about finances.”

“None of us will, and you’re not to say a word to Father about our good fortune. Is that understood?”

“I understand. He’ll only gamble more freely.” Her sister sighed with resignation, and Ophelia released a breath of relief.

“Thank you. It’s been difficult enough preventing him from discovering I’m the one paying his debts.”

“And it was Lord Chelmsford who paid father’s debts in your stead?” There was a troubled note in her sister’s voice and Ophelia eyed her in puzzlement.

“The earl was kind enough to make it appear he was the one responsible for seeing to Father’s debts, but he did so with my money.”

“Then what they’re saying is true?”

“That I’m going to marry Lord Chelmsford? No, I am not going to marry Gideon.”

At the reply, Lizzie bit down on her lip and bent her head. Confused by her sister’s reaction, Ophelia glanced at her future brother-in-law who quickly looked away from her, and she returned her gaze to her sister.

“What exactly are people saying, Lizzie?”

“Nothing,” her sister said too hastily as the silence in the room became uncomfortable. Ophelia stared at Lizzie for a long moment before she gasped in horror.

“They think Gideon is paying Papa’s debts because they think I’m…?”

Unable to complete the sentence, Ophelia stared at the couple in horror. Their distraught expressions made her press one hand into her stomach in an effort to stop it from churning as bile rose in her throat.

Dear God, what would Mathias think? The moment the question filled her head, she declared herself a fool for even thinking about Mathias and his reaction. Had Gideon heard the rumors? Was that why he’d proposed again this afternoon? She swayed slightly, and Lizzie quickly stepped forward to steady her.

“It’s only gossip, Ophelia. People talk. It’s of no consequence.” When Ophelia didn’t reply, Lizzie squeezed her arm. “He couldn’t possibly think ill of you, Ophelia.”

“Who?” she rasped. “Gideon?”

“No. Mr. Gilchrist. Isn’t that who you were …” At Lizzie’s reply, Ophelia froze as she met her sister’s look of sympathy and concern. Although it took every bit of will power and perseverance she possessed, she straightened her spine and eyed her sister sternly.

“Mr. Gilchrist’s opinion of me is of no consequence, and I have no wish to discuss him, now or in the future. Is that clear?”

Ophelia’s sharp words made Lizzie stare at her in amazement before she nodded her agreement to obey Ophelia’s command. Eager to flee the room and avoid any other potentially dangerous questions, she forced a smile to her lips.

“If the two of you will forgive me, I have things I must attend to.” She looked at her sister’s fiancé and lightly touched his arm. “I truly am delighted to welcome you into the family, Paul. My sister is a lucky woman.”

“Thank you, my—Ophelia. But I’m the lucky one. I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy and to keep her out of trouble.”

The final words of the young man’s declaration made Lizzie sputter with indignation as Paul smiled cheerfully at the sound. As her sister began to protest, Ophelia quietly walked around the couple and left the parlor. At the foot of the stairs she braced herself with one hand on the wall in an attempt to will away the nausea swirling in her stomach. Eyes closed, she fought to hold back the bile rising in her throat.

Tongues had been wagging for the past month as to what had happened between her and Mathias. He’d not openly declared his contempt for her, but it was easily discernible by others. It was evident in the way he’d politely excused himself and walked away before being forced to greet her. His scorn was difficult enough to bear, but how much of his contempt was due to the gossip about her and Gideon?

Tears began to blur her sight, and she stumbled her way upstairs. When she reached the safe haven of her room she locked the door behind her. A quiet sob escaped her as she sank to the floor, and her body shuddered with heartfelt anguish.

Ophelia didn’t know how long she sat there crying, but as her sobs slowly ebbed away, she rubbed her cheeks dry. Her back pressed into the door behind her, she closed her eyes. She’d never been so weary in her entire life. But she couldn’t rest, at least not until she was home at Marymont.

Whether the repairs at Marymont were complete or not, she would insist they return home as quickly as their affairs could be settled here in town. She would take Lizzie to be fitted for a trousseau tomorrow. Everything could be delivered to Marymont. If things went smoothly, she could be home in less than a week. The thought gave her the strength to rise to her feet. It was impossible to change the past, and she needed to focus on the future. In time her heart would mend, and she would be happy again. In the back of her mind, she heard a cry of despair, but she chose to ignore the sound and its meaning.