Was he angry about that? Irritated that she’d led him into something far more momentous than a quick tumble with another willing house guest at a country party?
No. The truth struck him with resounding force, sending tendrils of heat through him. He wasn’t angry at all. In fact, he was glad she’d failed to mention such an important detail, glad she’d trapped him as surely as Marlowe planned to have his cronies trap his daughters. Years of his carefree lust and abandonment of all responsibility were over. The surprise was how good it felt. He wanted to become an honest man and make an even more honest woman of Ophelia. He wanted to cleave to her as his own in ways that his younger, irresponsible self could never have dreamed of.
But the feeling of growth was so new—like itchy skin over a healing wound—that he pushed it aside and focused on the way Ophelia’s body stretched and heated as he touched her. He brushed his fingers over her belly, causing her to suck in a breath and shiver, before moving up to cup her breast.
“Does it frighten you that I desire you so much, even after having you?” he asked, bringing his mouth down to nibble on her neck and shoulder.
“Not at all,” she sighed. “This feels magnificent.”
He grinned against her skin, moving his hand away from her breast and down into the curls between her legs. “How does this feel?” he asked in a low rumble, finding and circling her clitoris with slow, teasing strokes.
She made a sound that didn’t form into words, then followed that by restless panting and mewling as he continued his sweet ministrations. Within a minute, she burst into an orgasm. He slipped his fingers into her sex to feel it more fully. He was amazed by how sensual she was, in spite of never knowing a man’s touch. It stirred him even deeper, causing a vital part of him to vow that she would be his, forever, no matter what rules he had to break in order to have her.
They spent a few more moments simply lying there in the strange bed, listening to the rain drum against the windows. Saif started to doze off again before a nagging voice at the back of his head warned him against lingering too long in a place where they could easily be discovered and Ophelia’s reputation compromised.
“We need to get up and return to the rest of the party,” he whispered to her, regretting every word.
“Must we?” she sighed, already moving to climb out of the bed.
“I’m afraid so.”
Saif stood, walking around the bed and picking up their clothing.
“There must be a washbasin in this room somewhere,” Ophelia said, making a quick survey of the room.
She was naked but for the tiny key she still wore on a ribbon around her neck. He had forgotten about that entirely in their afternoon’s activities, but it stood out now as it rested between her breasts. He grinned, remembering what he had told her about the key belonging to his heart. He had been righter than he knew.
“Perhaps there’s something in here,” she said, making her way across the room to a cabinet carved with roses and hearts.
It was the most ridiculous thing Saif had ever seen, but it was the right size to hold a washbasin and pitcher. Ophelia tried the handle but found it locked.
“Oh,” she said with a slight frown, then repeated, “Oh!” drawing the single syllable out. She studied the cabinet, then clasped the key around her neck. “It must be,” she said, removing the ribbon and fitting the key to the cabinet’s lock.
It fit perfectly, like he had fit perfectly inside of her. But before she could turn it, the lock on the bedroom door clicked and the door opened suddenly.
A maid wearing a curious frown stepped into the room. She and Ophelia both gasped in shock as they saw each other. Ophelia and Saif were both still completely naked, and Saif was certain the maid wasn’t stupid enough not to guess what was going on by the state of the bed and the clothes that were still strewn around the room.
“I’m sorry,” the poor girl gasped before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
Ophelia yanked away from the cabinet before she could turn the key and open it, her face flushed a deep red. “We have to dress and rejoin the rest of the party as quickly as possible,” she said in an embarrassed squeak.
Saif helped her dress so that the task could be done as quickly as possible. Their clothes were still damp from the rain, and he would have preferred a full bath, or even just a quick wash with a sponge, before donning all of his finery. He was certain Ophelia would have as well. Time suddenly seemed to be of the essence, though, and they rushed through fixing themselves up and making themselves presentable for company once more.
They didn’t see the startled maid as they left the room and wound their way downstairs to the grand parlor, where everyone seemed to be assembled once more. Saif prepared himself to make it look as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but within seconds, he could see that something else had already captured the attention and imagination of all the house party guests.
“Where have you been?” Lady Millicent demanded, marching toward Ophelia the moment they entered the room. “I have been searching for you everywhere.”
“Oh, Aunt Millicent, I….” Ophelia blushed up a storm as she struggled to answer her aunt.
When she peeked at Saif for help, he answered, “We were searching for the sardines, of course,” with a smile. “Hadnall Heath is a large place with a wealth of hiding places.”
Lady Millicent glared at Saif. “I have forbidden you from knowing my niece, sir,” she said.
In fact, she had not expressly forbid it, but Saif decided it would help no one to point that out.
“You are unsuitable in every way,” Lady Millicent went on. “It is imperative that my niece spend her time engaging gentlemen she may actually be able to win over into a marriage alliance.” She turned back to Ophelia, still frowning. “When I did not immediately find you, I feared you had attempted to run off, like the Marlowe girls.”
A knot instantly formed in Saif’s gut. It was made even worse when Ophelia snapped to look up at him with a terrified look, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open.
“I beg your pardon?” Saif asked Lady Millicent when he saw Ophelia was incapable of speech.
“Those Marlowe girls,” Lady Millicent said, her expression hardening. “They were apprehended attempting to leave Hadnall Heath not more than an hour ago.”
Ophelia clutched a hand to her heart, looking as though she might burst into tears.
“How were they apprehended?” Saif asked, needing to get to the bottom of things.
Lady Marlowe shrugged and shook her head. “They were stopped before they reached the gate. Lord Marlowe was advised that his daughters had made a run for it, and he and several of the footmen rushed out to turn the carriage they’d stolen around and to bring it back.”
Saif’s frown deepened at the story. The Marlowe sisters hadn’t stolen the carriage. They would have had to have stolen Rufus’s driver as well. The footmen might not have known of the escape plans and were likely confused about where their duty lay. He couldn’t fault them. All he could think, in fact, was that they had planned the escape far too poorly.
“Where are the Marlowe sisters now?” Ophelia finally asked in a small, shaky voice.
“Over there.” Lady Millicent nodded to the far end of the grand parlor.
Sure enough, Lord Marlowe seemed to be holding court in some way. Ladies Lettuce and Imogen stood to one side, soaked with rain. They looked like two cats that had nearly been drowned, miserable and clinging to each other for dear life. But it was Lady Alice who commanded the attention of the throng that surrounded them. Lady Alice and Count Camoni. The two of them stood side by side, Alice’s arm looped tightly through Camoni’s. Camoni smiled away as though having the brightest day of his life. Marlowe looked far too well-pleased as he stood, puffed up with pride, at the count’s side.
“Lord Marlowe has just announced the engagement of Lady Alice to Count Camoni,” Lady Millicent said with a smile that was eq
ual parts pleased and jealous. She let out a sigh and turned to Ophelia. “You would do well to follow your friend’s example and engage yourself to one of the remaining available gentlemen here.”
“I’ve failed,” Ophelia murmured, lowering her head.
“You most certainly have and will continue to do so until it is your engagement being announced,” Lady Millicent said, missing the point of Ophelia’s sadness entirely. She grabbed Ophelia’s wrist and tugged her toward the door. “Come along, now. I can tell by a whiff that you need to bathe before dressing for supper. Why Lady Caroline has allowed her guests to rush madly about, exerting themselves to the point of untidiness, is beyond me.”
Ophelia glanced ruefully at Saif as her aunt tugged her toward the door. Saif gave her as reassuring a nod as he could manage, signaling for her to go without an argument. Ophelia nodded slightly and continued with her aunt, out of the room and out of sight.
Once she was gone, he turned his attention back toward the so-called happy couple, a frown creasing his brow. Camoni appeared far too smug for his liking, far too smug for a man who had just engaged himself to a woman against her will. Saif waited until the initial congratulations died down, pacing the far end of the room like a tiger waiting to pounce. As soon as Lord Marlowe dragged his daughters out of the room—to see to their comfort, Saif hoped, though he didn’t trust Marlowe to care for anything as tender as his daughters’ comfort—and Camoni stepped aside to fetch a cup of tea from the table on one side of the room, Saif launched into motion.
“What kind of a coward betroths himself to an unfortunate girl who cannot speak up to defend herself,” he demanded in a quiet voice when he cornered Camoni at the far end of the tea table.
Camoni had his teacup raised to his lips but lowered it with a startled blink. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, genuinely startled.
The tiniest pinch of doubt flickered in Saif, but he pursued his course. “You heard me. What kind of a blackguard engages himself to a woman against her will?”
Camoni gaped at him for a moment. He set his teacup and saucer on the table beside them, cleared his throat, then stood straight and tall. “I fear you may have formed an incorrect assumption, sir,” he said.
Saif shook his head. “I have been privy to Lady Alice’s thoughts. She does not wish to be married.”
Camoni frowned. “With all due respect, sir, I do believe you are wrong.”
Saif opened his mouth to refute the man, but found he didn’t have a ready answer to the count’s generally good nature and sympathetic expression.
“I will allow that Lord Marlowe has been uncommonly aggressive in negotiating the marriage deal,” Camoni went on, “but I can assure you that I do not see this match as a cold and heartless one.”
“You do not?” Saif asked, his uncertainty growing.
“Not at all,” Camoni answered. “I have been captivated by Lady Alice from the moment I first saw her. She is sweet and artless, which I find refreshing. Too many young ladies—and not-so-young ladies—have been dazzled by my fame as a garden designer and as a foreign aristocrat of late. They have pursued the fame relentlessly while ignoring the man behind it.”
“They have?” The wind went out of Saif’s sails.
“But not Lady Alice,” Camoni confirmed with a nod. “We were paired together during that silly treasure hunt. I found her to be, well, delightful in every way. I was well aware that Lord Marlowe has been seeking to marry off his daughters to the wealthiest and most renown men at this party. Everyone is aware of it, I’m afraid. Perhaps I am a cad for taking advantage of his aggression and my fame to win Lady Alice’s hand, but believe me, I have not sought to do so for nefarious purposes.” A smile spread across his face. “I believe I could make her happy.”
Every last bit of Saif’s ire drained away, only to be replaced by questions he was uncomfortable answering. Was Count Camoni the best match for Lady Alice after all? Was he a man that would cherish the poor young woman and free her from her father’s clutches?
“I need to marry,” Camoni went on in a more personal tone. “My family has endured so much, thanks to Bonaparte. My homeland was in his clutches for too long. His officers claimed my hereditary estate and lands. I have been told they are on the verge of being returned to me, which is why I must act now. I need a wife, children, a family. I crave those things. I dream of restoring the Camoni name and dynasty, helping my homeland recover from the ravages of war, and helping the citizens to flourish.”
More so than his promise to love and cherish Lady Alice, those words struck a chord deep in Saif’s chest. Family. Duty. Country. They were all the things he’d tossed aside and neglected by coming to Britain. Far away, across oceans and continents, he had a homeland, a family, and a duty to his kingdom. Hadn’t his father been hounding him for the past year to return to Sandhustan so that he might rule in his place, a prince educated in England dealing directly with the English with the hopes of securing the best outcome for his people?
He took a half step back from Camoni, lessening the aggression of his stance. “Forgive me, sir,” he said with a small, respectful bow. “I inaccurately believed that your intentions toward Lady Alice were as wicked as Lord Cunningham’s and Mr. Pigge’s are to her sisters.”
A wary look came into Camoni’s eyes. “Yes, I worry about Lady Lettuce and Lady Imogen myself. But it is my hope that by securing Lady Alice, I might be able to assist the other two in some way, no matter what happens.”
“Then I apologize for interfering,” Saif said, truly meaning it.
Camoni smiled and thumped him on the shoulder. “Love makes fools of us all, does it not?”
So the man could see that he had tender feelings for Ophelia. No, he was in love with Ophelia. The time for mere tender feelings had passed.
“Please excuse me, sir.” Saif bowed to Camoni once more. “I need to find my lady love and reassure her that all is well with Lady Alice.”
“Please convey my best wishes,” Camoni said, returning the bow. He grinned and went on with, “And if you need an ally in your own love battle, I do hope you will consider me.”
“I will,” Saif said, meaning it more than he would have thought.
He turned to leave, surprised to find that he wanted to speak more with Camoni, to get to know him better. He was one of the few men Saif had met in England who knew what it was like to be a foreign prince, miles away from the kingdom that needed him. But that would have to wait. His immediate concern was to find Ophelia and to plan the next step for the remaining two Marlowe sisters.
Chapter 6
Ophelia washed and changed her dress as quickly as she could. She fussed impatiently as the maid Aunt Millicent had sent worked to style her hair back into something presentable, but as soon as the women had finished, she tore away from her bedroom and scurried back downstairs in search of the Marlowe sisters.
She had so many questions about what had happened, how they had failed to escape when everything seemed to be going so well. The moment she located the sisters—huddled together in an out of the way parlor by themselves—she burst into the room, saying, “What has happened?”
Lettuce, who sat by a weeping Alice’s side, rubbing her back, glanced gloomily up. “We made it as far as the garden before Imogen begged us to turn back.”
“It was only supposed to be for a moment,” Imogen sniffed, dabbing a damp handkerchief at her eyes. “In all the rush, I forgot to leave word for Thaddeus as to what our plans were.”
Lettuce frowned at her. Ophelia wasn’t certain whether to feel sympathetic or not. If she had taken flight only to remember that she’d failed to inform Saif of her plan, she might have turned back as well. The fact that Imogen addressed Lord Thaddeus by his Christian name only was as sure a sign as Ophelia needed of Imogen’s regard for him.
“She found a passing maid and begged her to take word to Lord Thaddeus,” Lettuce continued the explanation. “We departed for a second time within minutes.”
“But we didn’t make it beyond the kitchen courtyard,” Alice wailed, her nose stuffy from crying, making her sound as pathetic as was possible. “And now we’re all doomed.”
Lettuce pursed her lips and let out a breath through her nose. She studied her sisters for a moment before turning to Ophelia. “Father spotted us climbing back into the carriage from a window that looked out over the courtyard. He charged out to catch us. He was already searching for us, or rather, searching for Alice. It seems he’d come to an agreement with Count Camoni for Alice’s hand a short time before and was searching for her to share the good news.” From the way she spoke it was clear she didn’t find it to be good news at all.
“I refused to leave the carriage,” Alice continued the story in her squishy voice. “But he grabbed me and dragged me out. He shouted at me about duty and the prestige and money he would gain by my marrying a famous garden designer and an Aegerian count.” She sniffled again. “I did not know that Count Camoni’s mother was recently remarried. To a duke at that. Father would never pass up the opportunity to align himself with a duke. I am ruined.”
Alice burst into tears once more. Ophelia’s heart broke for her. She rushed to the settee, wedging herself between the sisters so that she could hug Alice for all she was worth.
“This is a fine mess, but we cannot give up so easily,” she said.
“But it’s hopeless,” Alice wailed.
“Utterly hopeless,” Imogen agreed, bursting into tears along with Alice.
Lettuce merely looked defeated. “I don’t see what options we have in the face of Father’s iron will. If he wishes to betroth us to men of his choosing, whether we will it or not, it will be.”
“I refuse to succumb to that notion,” Ophelia said. “Our fault in this morning’s escape attempt is that we did not plan well. It stands to reason that if we organize ourselves better and lay more of a foundation for escape you will be able to flee.”
The Charming Jezebel Page 5