The Misadventures of Lady Ophelia (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 3)

by Christina McKnight

  He was uncertain why, but he needed her to understand the severe consequences if he returned to London empty-handed. “My family has been in turmoil for years—longer than years, decades.” Colin sighed. He’d never spoken of his family’s discord with anyone, least of all a woman he barely knew. “Once he was old enough to know not all families came from small sea towns and accumulated their wealth by means other than inheritance and savvy business investments, my father only spoke ill of Fair Wind. When Molly and my grandpapa decided to send their son for a proper education, he became exactly what my grandparents had fought against becoming when they were bestowed the Earldom by King George.”

  Thankfully, Lady Ophelia remained quiet, allowing him to speak.

  “My father became entitled and condemned Molly and Fair Wind for their less than noble past. He grew bitter and angry when reminded of his own meager upbringing in Kent. Ramsey, my father, erased all traces of the Parnell family past as soon as Fair Wind died. He expelled Molly to the country, banishing her from his home in London.”

  “Poor Molly,” Ophelia whispered. “Your father does not sound like a kind man.”

  “You misunderstand, he is not an unkind man, he is just a lord who embraced his arrogance and his right to his title.” Colin shook his head at his father’s folly. “He thinks of what’s to come but forgets the past. One has no future when there is no history to build on.”

  “And you plan to show him the error of his ways?”

  He couldn’t tell if she meant the question as a jest or asked with seriousness. “No, above all else, I want to end the war within my family.” The struggle seemed insurmountable in that moment. “I want the strife over. Whether Fair Wind was an ally of the king or a mere common smuggler from Kent, I want the truth known. Either way, I am not ashamed.”

  “I think that is most noble of you, Lord Hawke.”

  “Colin. Lord Hawke is too formal,” he said with a smile. He’d never truly realized how alone he felt wedged between his father’s disapproval and Molly’s adamant, never-ending insistence. “And I do not do this thing out of any noble intent, I assure you. It is quite unbearable being placed in the middle of my father and Molly. They are so very similar in many ways: stubborn, determined, and neither is ever wrong.”

  They both laughed at his unplanned jest.

  Colin sober quickly, though. “Molly adores me because I am a mirror image of Fair Wind, and I think my father remains detached from me for the same reason.”

  “That must be hard.” She sighed, picking at the seam of her gown. “However, if people are willing to fight, then does that not mean they care enough about the other to put forth the effort to quarrel?”

  “You are a wise woman, Ophelia.” Her eyes dipped to her lap once more when he used her given name. “Has no one ever praised your intellect?”

  “It is hard for one to notice most of the time.”

  “How so?” he asked. “Every time we speak, I am reminded yet again how brilliantly insightful you are.”

  “My lord. Colin”—she corrected quickly—“that is very kind of you to say.”

  “It is also true.”

  She was still, in many ways, a mystery to him. There was something about her that spoke of heartache and loss, yet she blushed like the innocent debutante she was. She shared astute perspectives on issues a woman of her standing should know naught about.

  The glow from the single candle behind her cast a shadow across her face at the same time her hair surrounded her much like a fiery halo. She appeared the temptress Molly suspected her to be; however, if Lady Ophelia were casting a spell on him, Colin was glad of it.

  Her cerulean eyes lifted to meet his. It was more of a collision than any innocent meeting.

  She pulled him in, and he was desperate to follow wherever she led.

  Straight to Hell? Colin was prepared for the burn.

  To the deep depths of the ocean? Water had never felt so welcoming.

  As high as the clouds above? He would revel in the fall back to solid ground.

  Colin was incapable of moving away, standing, or departing the room—as he bloody well knew he should.

  Walking away was no longer an option. Every instinct told Colin he should run…away from Lady Ophelia, back to London, hell, he should flee to Hawke Manor.

  Instead, he closed the distance between them, bringing their lips within a breath of one another…and he waited. She need only move a fraction of an inch, and their mouths would meet.

  Ophelia had the choice to pull away. Seconds passed, but she didn’t move, her breaths fanning against his heated face as their eyes held. Holding himself back from wrapping her in his arms nearly broke Colin.

  As time continued, and their breathing slowed, something far more intense traveled between them—filling the inch separating them and decreasing the abyss unraveling them. He could almost feel her warm, soft lips against his—their touch, their texture. Could imagine how she’d settle against him in his arms—all womanly curves against his solid body. Colin committed to memory the scent of her—like spring blossoms on a rainy London morning.

  Lady Ophelia was greater than any woman he’d had the pleasure of meeting. She was Heaven on Earth, a beacon of light in a dark fog, and a woman Colin could never hope to make his.

  Just as the night with the coming morn, he would be powerless to grasp hold of her and keep her near.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  They leapt apart when a barrage of fist falls hit their door.

  “Water for ye, m’lord!” a man called.

  She stood, glancing at the dwindling candle on the washstand and then back to him. The blush he expected to see did not creep up her neck, nor did she shrink from him in shame.

  “Enter,” she commanded, her voice raspy, unlike her usual light, melodic tone.

  The inn servant bustled into the room with a large, copper basin. The water steamed and sloshed over the edge onto the wooden floor as he set it close to the washstand.

  Colin barely took his stare off Ophelia to thank the servant as he departed the room.

  “You must be exhausted.” Colin leapt from the bed, his gaze darting about the room. “I will bid you good night, my lady.”

  Her brow pulled low. “Where are you going?”

  “To sleep.”

  “Where?”

  Could it be that she did not want him to leave?

  “I will find my rest in the stables with my men as mentioned.” There was only so far Colin would push the boundaries of propriety. Many would say he already crossed the line when asking Lady Ophelia to travel to Sheerness—alone—with him. However, Colin suspected he’d traversed across long before that…when he’d agreed to Molly’s outlandish plan. Now that they were here, Colin could not, in good conscience, stay in such close proximity to her, especially after what had transpired between them only moments before. He shuddered to think what might have happened had the servant not interrupted them. “It is improper for me to stay here.” With you, he added silently.

  The increased rise and fall of her bosom as she inhaled and exhaled made Colin think Ophelia was also pondering what could have transpired if they hadn’t been disturbed.

  He shook his head, refusing to let the notion gain purchase in his mind.

  Lady Ophelia, while openly seeking an adventure, had not agreed to be ruined.

  Nor did Colin seek to take advantage of her.

  “The room is large enough for us both.” She spread her arms wide as if to convince him that remaining, overnight, in the same private room was in any way a sensible idea. “Please. The journey was long for the both of us. At least stay here where it is warm.”

  He frowned, scrutinizing the room.

  Ophelia took a step toward him. “Come now,” she said, gesturing to the bed. “There are sufficient enough pillows and bedding for you to make a proper sleeping area close to the hearth.”

  He released his held breath in a loud exhale, relieved she hadn’t sugge
sted the actual bed to be large enough for the pair of them.

  “Please.” She clasped her hands before her, turning her widened, imploring stare on him, freezing him in place. “I would never forgive myself if you were made to sleep in the stables, especially knowing you funded the coin for this room.”

  Colin looked from the bed, to the floor, to the closed door.

  No one would know, except for them.

  And he would never breathe a word to anyone.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Under one condition…”

  Her lips turned up in a victorious grin. “Anything.”

  “I will only use one blanket from the bed.” His brow rose as he begged her to argue or deny his condition. It would make everything simpler; however, she nodded with all seriousness. “I will use my coat under my head.”

  “If you wish.” She turned and removed her satchel from the end of the bed, depositing it on the floor before collecting the thickest blanket. “Here you are, my lord.”

  “Good night, Lady Ophelia.”

  “Sleep tight, Lord Hawke.”

  Why did Colin suspect he’d lost some greater battle that had been going on without him noticing?

  With a sigh, he turned his back to her and spread his blanket on the floor—the cold, hard floor.

  The rustle of fabric sounded behind him, and Colin imagined her undressing, slipping into a nightshift before crawling into bed.

  However, when he turned, she was merely removing her cloak and gloves. He hadn’t even noticed she’d worn them throughout their meal and conversation.

  “I will step outside so you can change in private.”

  Her cheeks did blossom with color at that, giving Colin the urge to step close and continue what they’d started earlier.

  “There is no need,” she replied. His breath hitched at her meaning. “I will sleep in my gown for warmth”—they both glanced to the paltry fire in the hearth—“and change into a fresh dress on the morrow.”

  After one final, searching stare, Ophelia looked away and blew out the candle. She pulled the covers down before crawling onto the bed. She snuggled in deep and shifted to face the wall.

  Had he mistaken the longing in her eyes? It was far more likely that it was regret he saw in their blue depths, a churning turmoil that was a result of their combined making.

  It was difficult to ignore the interest she’d taken in him—and his family. And she hadn’t latched on to his words because of their sordid nature or his family’s unsavory past.

  Certainly not. Lady Ophelia had been genuinely concerned and had gone so far as to offer her own words of wisdom on the situation.

  Colin moved his coat and lay on his makeshift bed, the hard, wooden floorboards pressed into his hip. The pain would be worth it to remain close to Ophelia. If he’d retired to the stables, he would have fretted so much over her being alone in the inn he’d have journeyed back and slept outside her door to make certain she remained safe.

  Listening, her breathing became slow and shallow as she found sleep.

  Something Colin envied greatly.

  No measure of relaxation would bring him rest with the fiery-haired temptress so close at hand. Molly held her beliefs that Ophelia’s auburn hair marked her as a sorceress—luring men to their demise—however, the woman asleep in the bed behind him was pure light and goodness, with a caring, compassionate side he’d never seen in another.

  Colin shifted to his back to relieve the ache in his shoulder and hip from the floor, entwining his fingers and placing his hands under his head as he focused on the ceiling. His gaze traced along the planks of wood above him. If he listened intently, another inn guest could be heard snoring from the room next to theirs. He wondered how that man had come to be in Sheerness, and if he sensed the immense change happening so close to where he slept.

  The soft breathing continued, and Colin’s own inhales and exhales aligned with Ophelia’s until they breathed as one.

  Turning, Colin saw she’d also moved to her back, her closed eyes facing the ceiling.

  A lump in his coat pocket pushed at the tender area behind his ear when he removed his hands from behind his head. He slipped his fingers into his jumbled coat and pulled out Molly’s treasured pendant—her one piece of jewelry, and the only item she’d kept on her person as far back as Colin could remember. As a young boy, he remembered toying with the jewel-encrusted piece as Molly read to him at night. When they’d been out by the lake at Tintinhull, the sun had gleamed off the pendant, and Molly had spoken of the keepsake as his grandpapa’s remaining eye on earth.

  Colin held the thing above his head, the chain hanging down inches from his face, but it appeared like any other necklace worn by a woman. His grandmama had told him many times that the power of the piece came from the person who wore it, not the object itself—and perhaps that was true. The thing did not glow or sparkle as it did when it was about Molly’s neck. The stone did not hold the depth of color he’d beheld all these years.

  The treasured pendant had come with Colin as an omen of good luck to be had.

  There was much riding on his journey to Sheerness, and that was without even factoring in the impact it would have on his entire family. Molly would either be vindicated or heartbroken by the information he returned to London with. His father would be forced to make amends with Molly or banish her to Tintinhull in Somerset for as long as she took breath.

  Colin clutched the pendant to his chest as his eyes fluttered shut, heavy with sleep.

  As he drifted into a restless slumber, his mind conjured the most startling image—Lady Ophelia, with his grandmama’s treasured stone securely fastened about her neck.

  Chapter 15

  Ophelia woke with a start—everything wasn’t as it should be. The bed she lay upon was lumpy, the coverlet was coarse where it was gathered by her cheek, and her entire body ached. Unable to move, she raised her head slightly to note that the bedding and her gown had become unbearably tangled during her fitful rest.

  Breathing…someone was breathing soundly very close by.

  The labored inhale and exhale was rhythmic and deep. Part of her prayed the noise would lull her back to sleep.

  Unfortunately, the scent of stale air, smoke, and meat cooking made escape impossible.

  Ophelia pushed the coverlet down and struggled to sit up—blast it all, but she’d been foolish enough to sleep in her riding habit. Not even her dress, but Luci’s low-cut, curve-clinging traveling outfit. No wonder she couldn’t move her legs. The skirting was sturdy and thick to keep her protected from traveling dirt and grime. She hadn’t dreamed it could also be used as a solid means of restraint.

  Glancing over the side of the bed, she saw Colin lying sprawled on the floor, also in his clothes from the day before, his coat securely tucked under his head.

  The high window only allowed a fraction of early morning light to touch her, but it was enough to see the room was as it had been when she’d rolled toward the wall and concentrated on slumber.

  She’d been a fool not to change into her nightshift when he’d offered her privacy the evening before, but she’d been afraid he’d change his mind and not return, departing in favor of a night in the stables. Added to that, Ophelia would not have been able to unfasten and shimmy from Luci’s constricting gown without assistance—and so, she’d spent nearly a day now in a dress that prevented her from gaining a deep breath. She’d more than noticed the way Colin had observed her in the carriage.

  Again, she was in the same precarious position as the evening before.

  How was she to unfasten Luci’s gown without her maid to change into a new one?

  She could request Lord Hawke’s help, but after last night, Ophelia did not trust herself to keep him at arm’s length. She’d barely been able to keep him a breath away the previous night…and she’d had all her clothes firmly fastened, including the buttons on her cloak.

  Would she be able to resist leaning into him if the promise was much m
ore than a kiss?

  Ophelia had fallen asleep with dreams of his lips against hers—demanding, yet tender. He’d guide her as to how to execute a proper kiss, and she would allow him to teach her all. Willingly, she would have accepted his gift without rebuff. Yet, something had held her back as they’d sat on the bed, knees nearly touching with his mouth so close she could almost taste the meal they’d shared.

  If Colin had been disappointed that she hadn’t leaned the final inch toward him to bring their lips together, he hadn’t shown it.

  Ophelia wondered if they’d been given a few more moments, if the servant hadn’t interrupted them, would she have pressed her lips to his?

  She’d been so befuddled by it all, she’d forgotten to wash up with the water the servant had delivered. A quick look at the full water bowl on the washstand confirmed that Colin hadn’t cleaned up after their long day of travel either.

  Could it be that he’d been as taken aback by their moment of intimacy as she? Certainly not. He was a man of wealth and title; surely such things would not affect him. It was more likely he was shocked by her forthright nature and thought her a woman of low morals and no decorum. Add this to her preposterous and imprudent decision to accompany him to Sheerness, and Colin had every right to think poorly of her.

  Even more damning, she’d all but begged him to sleep in the same room as she.

  What had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t been, at least not with her normal, rational mind.

  Luci had been justified in warning Ophelia against looking into Abercorn in her absence. Neither of her friends would be shocked by the muck she’d gotten herself into since they left for the Scottish border.

  Colin shifted, his foot kicking out and knocking against the leg of the small, round table, rattling their dinner dishes.

  She held her breath, waiting for him to rouse.