“How is your father faring today?” Abraham asked with a quickness and sincerity that threw her off. “I do hope better than he was last Saturday. You did seem so very worried for him.”
“Um, well,” Ophelia asked, glancing toward her maid.
The poor woman shrugged, as if not knowing how to help. And why would she? Ophelia had never received a suitor before.
“Her father is faring quite well,” John Wexley stated, announcing his presence.
Ophelia’s shoulders lowered with relief as she heard her father’s voice, and turned in time to see him and Mr. Potter walking into the parlor. It still bothered her to see him using a cane now, what with his balance still not quite right- but Ophelia was greatly relieved that he was no longer bed bound.
“Yes, quite well,” she agreed, standing aside so that John could meet Abraham. “Lord Weavington, may I introduce my father, Johnathan Wexley, Viscount Whitebridge? Papa, this is Abraham Blackwood, Viscount of Weavington.”
“An honor to meet you, Lord Whitebridge,” Abraham offered politely, “I have heard splendid things about you.”
“You have?” Ophelia and John asked in surprised unison.
“Oh, yes, your name still circulates in regards to your excellent business acumen,” Abraham replied.
Ophelia and John shared a tense look before John let out a chuckle.
“Well, it is good to hear that I am still being held in such high regard even though I am retired,” John replied.
Ophelia pressed her lips together at the lie. That was what they had been telling society for years now as John attempted torecover his lost fortune with overseas investments. That, and John’s decision to no longer attend social events where he could be questioned, had helped cover their dark secret- that they were cash poor.
“Again, I apologize for the late call,” Abraham offered, “But my plans for the evening were canceled and I thought I would pop in to introduce myself and pay my respects to your lovely daughter. Her presence in society has saved me from many a droll conversations and has earned her a gift.”
A gift?
Ophelia looked around the parlor. Flowers, she assumed were a standard gift, but there were no bouquets in either Abraham’s hands or atop the various table tops.
“Well, that is kind of you, Lord Weaving-”
“Abraham, please,” he interjected.
Ophelia drew on a stiff smile.
“-Abraham, but I assure you a gift is not necessary,” she finished.
“Oh, but I believe it is,” Abraham replied, smirking as he reached into his inner jacket pocket.
Ophelia felt her father grab her wrist as Abraham pulled out a dark blue velvet box the size of his hand from his jacket, and her own heart began to thud wildly in her chest.Surely it would not be a ring?!
She opened her mouth, trying to form her words of protest into a proper sentence, when Abraham opened the box for her. The sight of the thick golden chain with a large gold rose pendant inside made her weak with relief. Not a ring. A necklace. Still overly extravagant- and a bit gaudy compared to Ophelia’s usual taste in jewelry- but not so worrisome as a ring.
“Oh,” she breathed, “How lovely.”
As she said so, flashes of the dress Alistair had bought for her flickered through her mind. She had adored that dress. It was different and daring, but it was stillher.Annoyance sizzled through as she thought of its tattered pieces tucked away in her room. She wasn’t just annoyed that he had ripped her dress. She was annoyed at how little she’d cared when Tristan had done so, and how strangely confused her heart had been after she’d left that evening. How her heart had remained in that state ever since.
She had tried, at Alistair’s party, to be her usual self with Tristan, and she believed that had been fairly successful in showing others that nothing had changed between them. The problem was, though, was that somethinghadchanged. Even if no one else could see so. Even if Tristan did not see such things. She felt it.
“Lovely indeed,” John agreed, pulling Ophelia from her distracting thoughts.
“Again, it is but a small token of my appreciation,” Abraham said, offering the opened box to her.
Though still feeling hesitant, Ophelia eventually reached for the gift being offered, and drew it from the box. Wariness passed through her body as she picked up the heavy piece of jewelry and inspected it. It felt cold in her fingers. Foreboding somehow. She felt a chill pass through her and immediately reprimanded for being so silly. It was a necklace. Not an omen or a cursed object.
“It is beautiful. Thank you,” Ophelia finally said, placing it back into the box.
She did not miss the look of disappointment that passed through Abraham’s eyes as she chose not to put it on, but for some reason, she could not bring herself to put it around her neck. She forced her smile a little wider, hoping that it would ease the man’s bruised feelings.
