“Looking a bit down there, mate,” Tristan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Too much wine?”
If only it was a hangover making him feel this way. “Must be.”
“We are going out for a walk before meeting up with everyone for dinner.” Mrs. Bridewell said, pulling on her gloves.
Julian grimaced, trying to think of an excuse he might give that he wouldn’t be invited on a walk, but nothing came. “As am I.”
“You should join us!” Tristan put his arm around Julian and steered him towards the door.
There was no resisting the man without seeming unpleasant, so he acquiesced, knowing that it would give him no opportunity to think. Would he accidentally blurt out his problem to Ophelia’s brother? He didn’t think so, as long as he could keep himself partitioned. To keep himself to the man he was two days ago, and not the man he’d become when Ophelia announced her desire for him. Which had changed him completely.
*
There was aknock at the door. Or rather, a rhythm that Justine pounded on every surface and this was no exception. Ophelia lay in her bed, clean but clad only in her underthings. She didn’t want to get up and go anywhere. The world was too much, and she was too little.
“Come in,” Ophelia called, muffled by an over-stuffed pillow, because moving was impossible.
Justine popped in, and Ophelia could feel her happiness emanate from her. Good for her, but Ophelia couldn’t stand it. Not right now.
“Oh. It’s this, then.” Justine kicked off her slippers and crawled into bed next to Ophelia. Her wide brown eyes stared down the pillow until Ophelia clapped it down to peer at her. How was it that Justine could see through the pillow and Ophelia could still feel her eyes on her?
“It’s nothing,” Ophelia said into the pillow, letting the fluff rise back up.
“What did he say?”
“Who?”
Justine pushed the pillow down so she could look Ophelia in the face. Justine already knew, so why did Ophelia have to say it aloud? “If this isn’t about Sir Julian, you are a terrible best friend and you need to update me right now.”
Ophelia sighed. “It is.” If she thought about it more, she might start crying, and that was unacceptable. She was angry, wasn’t she?
“What happened last night after we all went to bed?” Justine asked, but as soon as she finished speaking her eyes went wide and she gasped. “You hussy! Tell me everything.”
Ophelia flipped over onto her back, and gave a pleading look to Justine. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
“Eleanor, Prudence, Karl, and then they’ll tell their husbands, which includes mybrother—”
Justine shrugged. “Fine. I won’t tell. So. What happened? Did you go to him? Oh, I bet you did.”
Ophelia groaned. She was so foolish. And Justine knew her too well. “Yes. And he tried to turn me away.”
“Good man, he has manners.” Justine clucked and rearranged the folds of the blanket around her.
“But then I told him that I wanted him to kiss me, and so he did.”
“Good man, he has eyeballs.”
“Why does that make him a good man?” Ophelia demanded.
“Because if he hadn’t kissed you, you would have been exactly like this but with absolutely nothing to show for it.”
“What do I have to show for it now?” Ophelia asked.
Justine waved her hand all around, as if there were an entire swarm of bees on her. “You’re different now, are you not?”
“I don’t know. I just feel miserable, so I suppose that’s different.” Ophelia covered her eyes with her hand. “I am so stupid.”
