He was not known to be a conversationalist. He was certainly not known to be one who smiled and laughed when others were doing so. But even for him, the mood that he brought from the meeting with Ophelia’s father was like a storm sweeping across a sunny day and causing terror.
“… I would like to see the little angel,” her father chuckled as he sipped his tea. “I know, I know, she is not mine. But I have always had an affinity for children.”
“Since when?” Ophelia laughed.
“Always!”
She scoffed. “That is not how I remember it. Although maybe you would make a good grandfather? No responsibility, only required for affection.”
“Obviously, that is what I mean,” her father chuckled. “What of you, Your Grace?” He turned to the Duke. “Do you have a way with children?”
“No,” the Duke said.
Her father laughed awkwardly. “Maybe you do, and you just don’t know it.”
“I doubt it,” the Duke said.
“But how can you –”
“Father,” Ophelia cut him off. “Behave yourself.”
“What did I say?!”
The Duke sat across the table and while the day was a sunny one, somehow, he had managed to find the only patch of shade. Although it was more like a shadow that refused to leave him, as if to signal for all those who could not see it themselves how bad his mood was.
He scowled as he watched Ophelia and her father chat. He sat stiffly and awkwardly. The tea on the table in front of him remained untouched, and Ophelia had no doubt that he was just waiting for the moment he could demand that they go home without it being taken as a rudeness.
He is clearly uncomfortable too, as if he does not understand what he is seeing.
The longer that the morning stretched on, the more certain Ophelia became that this was the true cause of the Duke’s mood. Whenever they laughed, he winced. Whenever she made a joke, the Duke frowned. His blue eyes flicked between them constantly, and the confusion behind them was telling.
Until that moment, Ophelia had been able to resign herself to her marriage. It was not something that she wanted but something that she had no choice in. Not that she could refuse, but if she did, it would surely ruin her name further than it had already been ruined, and from that there would be no coming back.
It is the only way, and I must be grateful that the Duke offered it.
Now, however, she started to look to the future, just as she started to wonder what this marriage might look like.
There would be no warmth in the marriage. There would be no love. And if she did not miss her guess, it was sure to be a lonely thing indeed. It might have been nice to have pretended that she and the Duke could learn to live together in peace and harmony, but they were just so different… complete opposites in every way… and she doubted that would change.
Her only hope was that there might be more to the Duke than she knew. After all, it was not as if she knew him. It was not as ifshe had really spoken to him. Was there a chance that there was another side to the man? And that if she were to find it, then he might…might what? That he might laugh and joke and dare to show happiness as most would do?That, she knew, was highly unlikely.
And as the morning wore on, as the Duke continued to scowl, and as Ophelia continued to watch him, she came to admit that this was the man to whom she was married, and nothing would change him.
CHAPTER 5
“Would you like for me to hold the child, my lady?” Mr. Watley asked as he held out his arms.
Ophelia hesitated.
She knew that she needed to free her arms so that she might concentrate on what she was currently doing. And she knew that there was no reason to distrust Mr. Watley with Harriet. Indeed, since she arrived just last week, the entire staff had taken to Harriet as if she was their own, and none had been more attentive than the aged steward.
Only, Ophelia could not escape the feeling that she needed to keep the baby close to her. Harriet did not belong to her. When they found out who her father was, he would surely take her. But she felt a kinship with the baby, a need to watch over it and make sure that nothing happened.
How is it going to be when I must say goodbye…
“No,” she said, making sure to smile. “I can hold her a while longer.”
“No, you cannot,” the seamstress said sharply. She was on her knees by Ophelia’s legs; in her hands were a dozen pins, as well as numerous pieces of cloth. “This is hard enough without you moving about as you are.”
