My child? I do not have a child…
What in the name of John the Baptist was going on?
CHAPTER 2
Ophelia woke up and didn’t know where she was.
Her body was sore. Her head throbbed painfully. She was aware of the bed that she lay in. That she was warm and surprisingly comfortable. But it took a few moments for her eyes to slowly open and her last memories to drift back into her conscience…
“Huh…” she groaned as she slowly forced open her eyes. “Where…”
That was when it came back to her.
Her eyes snapped open suddenly and she gasped to find herself in a small room. The ceiling was high. The walls were made of stone. Light from a window to her right poured across her body, signaling the time of day and that the storm had long since passed.
She did not know the room, nor did she have any idea where it might be or how she had gotten there. Another second passed…oh no!
Ophelia patted at her chest and then both sides of the bed as she remembered the baby she’d brought with her. It wasn’t in the bed with her, and she started and sat up quickly in a panic.
“Oh!” Sitting beside her was a young woman, a maid, it looked like. “You’re awake. Oh!” The maid was on her feet and before Ophelia could say or do anything, the maid sprinted from the room.
“No, wait…” Ophelia tried to call after the maid, but her throat was dry, and her words came out in a dull croak. “My head…” She touched her head and grimaced as she tried to will back the painful throbbing.
What happened…
It came in pieces. Memories of last evening. She remembered the promise that she had made, and then fleeing into the night with the baby in her arms. She remembered the storm finding her, and how she had very nearly given up. She remembered Vermont Manor appearing in the darkness, relief felt, then dread as she stumbled to the front door and hammered for all her life was worth.
The dread she had felt was on account of the man who was said to live in the manor. Although she had been ordered to bring the baby to him, she knew too of his reputation. At the time, shewondered if he would even take her in, or if he would cast her back into the night.
He must have taken me in, or I would not be here. But if that is the case, where is the Duke… and where is the child?
One of those questions was answered a moment later when Duke Vermont strode into the small room in a way that reminded her of how the storm had swept in the previous evening.
The Duke’s physical appearance was exactly what Ophelia expected. So tall that he had to tilt his head when he walked under the doorway. So broad of shoulder and thick of back that the room suddenly felt smaller than it had. Dark brown hair, sharp features that were angular and cutting, but light blue eyes that clashed brilliantly with his menacing temperament.
Indeed, it was that temperament that Ophelia both saw and felt.
He stormed into the room with a scowl on his face. Anger poured from his blue eyes. Each step was heavy and brutal. Behind him, the maid quaked as she kept her distance. And where Ophelia had felt surprisingly warm when she’d woken, a chill swept through the small room that attacked her bones so that she started to shake.
If there had been any doubt about the rumors of Duke Vermont and who he was, those were soundly put to bed.
“You’re awake.” His eyes swept over her once as if in accusation. “You may leave us,” he then added.
Ophelia frowned at the comment, thinking it was for her.
“Now,” the Duke barked. Behind him, the maid jumped on the spot, muttered an apology under her breath, and hurried from the room. “The door,” he barked again, to which the maid’s shaking hand took the doorhandle and swung the door closed.
Ophelia jumped as she heard the door click shut.
“You have some explaining to do,” the Duke said, still standing over her, and still looking at her as if she were an enemy whom he was deciding what to do with.
“Harriet…” Ophelia gave her head a shake. “Where is Harriet?”
“Who?”
“The child,” Ophelia said. “Please, tell me that she is –”
“The child is safe,” the Duke cut her off. “So, I say again, you have –”
