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

by Christina McKnight

  When his breathing continued, unperturbed, she relaxed once more, taking advantage of the time to inspect him without his notice as he’d done when he thought her asleep in the carriage.

  It should strike her as an invasion of his privacy; however, this seemed less personal than reading Fair Wind’s book. She wasn’t merely an outsider delving into his past any longer.

  In a way, Ophelia was now part of Fair Wind’s legacy, be it good or bad.

  Colin had said he resembled his grandfather with his fair hair and sun-kissed complexion. This morning, a lock of silky blond hair lay across his face, tousled from sleep. One hand was balled into a tight fist at his chest, and the other was at his side. She could imagine him at the helm of a ship, the waves crashing against the portside bow as he commanded his men. He was reserved, though she suspected he took charge when the time called for it.

  Lord Hawke’s compassion and caring for Molly and her wishes spoke volumes about the man he was. He was not concerned about tarnishing his family name if he did find proof that Fair Wind was merely a smuggler with a jaded past.

  Even now, he seemed at ease sprawled on the floor, a confidence about him Ophelia was hard-pressed to understand. It wasn’t arrogance or entitlement, but more of an understanding of one’s self and an acceptance that was far more than just skin-deep.

  She trusted him enough to flee London by his side without knowing so much as a single detail about their plan, except the town they were headed to. She’d never been one to blindly follow another without cause. Certainly, her faith in Luci and Edith was grounded in years of unconditional friendship, only solidified by Tilda’s tragic death, but what had Colin done to gain such unquestioned trust?

  Ophelia had no answer for that.

  Far more startling was why he’d trusted her on this journey.

  There was no doubt that Ophelia knew far more about Colin than he did about her—and still, he hadn’t hesitated, beyond a brief moment, to include her in everything. His excuse—her being the rightful owner of Fair Wind’s book—had been a ruse. One only need half a brain to see that much. She’d offered to return the book, but he’d turned her away.

  The heady aroma of frying meat, fresh bread, and coffee filtered into the room from the tavern below. Boots sounded in the hallway as other guests roused and went in search of a meal to break their fast. Voices floating up from the gathering crowd below finally had Colin stirring.

  “Good morn,” she called from above as his eyes opened, and he smiled. “Sleep well?”

  He pushed to sit as something tumbled from his chest into his lap. The small amount of sun entering the room gleamed off the object, reflecting an array of dancing colors and light across the far wall.

  “Is that Molly’s pendant?”

  Colin cleared his throat and grasped the necklace, holding it high for her to see. “Good morning, and yes, it is.” His voice was deep and raspy from sleep, but he rubbed his eyes with his free hand and slipped the pendant into the pocket of his wrinkled coat. “Have you been awake long?”

  At least an hour, she thought, but her words betrayed her with a fib. “Only a few moments, my lord.”

  “Very well.” He pushed to his bare feet and stretched, his hands nearly touching the low ceiling. “I am famished. Shall we dress and break our fast?”

  Ophelia was hungry, that much was true, but a meal was not the most prevalent thing on her mind at the moment. There was little doubt she could have attained all the nourishment she’d need if only she were allowed to observe the confident, handsome Lord Hawke for another hour or so.

  Chapter 16

  Colin paced at the bottom of the stairs, awaiting Lady Ophelia so they could find their meal and be on their way. He looked into the tavern once more to see the crowd had further thinned as guests ate and departed. The room had been teeming with people when he’d first arrived downstairs.

  What was taking her so dreadfully long?

  He’d given her privacy to dress, but now he wondered if that had been a mistake and something had gone wrong above stairs. Colin wasn’t versed in women’s attire; however, it should not take this bloody long to change one’s gown.

  Convinced there was something keeping her, Colin started up the steps toward their shared room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end in warning. He passed an older couple as he hurried down the hall toward their closed door.

  “Good day,” he said by way of greeting as he slipped past them.

  Coming to a halt outside their room, he raised his hand to open the door but thought better of it. She could possibly be indecent on the other side. Instead of reaching for the latch, he knocked.

  “Lady Ophelia?” he called, but no answer came.

  He placed his ear to the door, hoping to block out the sound of the people in the tavern below. He heard the rustling of fabric and a low curse. She was inside, but then why not answer his knock?

  “Lady Ophelia, it is Lord Hawke—“ Bloody hell, she knew damn well who he was. “May I come in?”

  There was a flurry of sounds; more footfalls, the scraping of the chair, and finally, the sagging of the bed ties.”

  “Do answer me, or I will be forced to enter in fear you are in danger, my lady.”

  “Come in,” she said in a trembling voice that barely penetrated the wood.

  Colin took hold of the handle, uncertain what he’d find on the other side of the door when he entered.

  He pushed the portal wide, the interior of the room lit only by the light coming in through the small window and the single candle from the night before. Their empty dishes still sat on the table, and the blanket he’d used was folded neatly on the end of the bed with Lady Ophelia’s satchel on top.

  She sat beside her traveling bag, her head in her hands, partially gowned in a dark blue dress with one side hanging loosely down her arm. Her shoulders shook, and she did not look up when he entered, closing the door behind him.

  “Ophelia?” He took the three steps to her and kneeled, lightly pulling her hands from her face. “What is wrong?”

  She glanced up at that moment, and his heart plummeted from his chest as tears pooled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. The blue was no longer the color of the ocean several feet off shore, but the deep cobalt of a growing storm.

  A quiet sob escaped her on a hiccup.

  “Shhhh,” Colin murmured. His leg weakened beneath him as he continued to crouch. “Do not cry.”

  Never would anyone consider Molly a woman prone to fits of tears—and not on one occasion had Colin witnessed his mother in any state as vulnerable as Ophelia appeared at present.

  “Please, allow me to fix whatever has upset you.” His attempt to soothe her was met by yet another sob, this one not as quiet. “Do you wish to return to London? We can leave now, this very moment.” When she only shook her head in refusal, he continued, “Did someone come to your door after I left?”

  He shouldn’t have left her alone, no matter how secure and protected the inn had felt to him.

  “No, no one,” she stammered. “I—I—I—”

  “What, Lady Ophelia?” he demanded softly. “Tell me what has upset you, and I will do my best to fix it.”

  Her lower lip trembled as he searched her face for any sort of answer as to what could have possible transpired while he’d waited at the bottom of the main stairs.

  “I—I cannot—I cannot fasten my gown.” Though her words were shaky, Ophelia lifted her chin and stared him directly in the eyes as if she were imparting her only grave flaw or admitting a serious transgression. “Can you assist me, my lord?”

  Colin pushed to his feet and held his hand out to her. “Come, my lady. I would be honored to offer my skills as a lady’s maid.”

  Her chin tilted up as she met his stare, a small smile touched her lips, and she placed her hand in his…her blessedly bare hand. Wrapping his fingers around hers tightly, he helped her to her feet, and she turned to face away from him. Her corset was still
tied and her undergarments in place—it was only the back of her gown that remained unfastened, a long row of pearl beads serving as buttons.

  “Do not chastise me if I am not overly adept at fastenings, Lady Ophelia.” He reached forward, starting with the bottom button and began the arduous task. It was little wonder women were in need of maids. Colin was able to adequately dress himself and tie a cravat without his valet’s assistance, but these…these tiny, nearly ungraspable buttons would prove him worthless if he were not a determined man. She shifted slightly, her hands wringing before her. “I am nearly halfway done. I promise not to miss a single one.”

  “Thank you, Colin.”

  His aching fingers faltered, stumbling over the next button before he could focus and continue.

  An eternity later, that also struck him as only a few hurried moments, he pushed the final pearl button into the top hole, allowing his hand to graze the back of her neck where her hair was already secured in place with several metal pins.

  “Finished.” He stepped back and admired the long row of pearls, each slipped into the correct slot. There must have been fifty of them in total. “Are you ready to depart? The public room was nearly empty below. We should be able to eat quickly and be on our way.”

  “I will collect my things.” Taking hold of her satchel, Ophelia turned.

  No longer were her eyes moist with tears, nor did her chin tremble.

  He now faced the woman who’d climbed into his carriage the day before; reserved, poised, and with an almost undetectable glow in her stare.

  The midnight blue gown hugged her body in a more modest fit than the low-cut habit from the previous day—and Colin had to admit, at least to himself, it suited her far better. This was the woman he’d saved from Molly’s uplifted cane. This was the proper miss who’d thought to do him a kindness by returning his grandpapa’s book. It was this demure, serene female nervously worrying her hands and standing before him who he’d happened upon in the Atholl gardens the day before.

  She needn’t attire herself in risqué gowns to capture Colin’s unwavering attention.

  No, Lady Ophelia need only concentrate on presenting herself to others.

  They left the room and made their way down to the public area; all the while, Colin kept her pulled close to his side.

  Several stares turned in their direction when they entered the room and selected an empty table. There was little doubt every eye was focused on Ophelia, and not Colin with his rumpled coat and unpolished Hessians.

  Bloody hell if Colin didn’t stand a bit taller as he escorted her to their table. A servant hurried over, pulled their chairs, and assisted Lady Ophelia to her seat.

  “The meal be boiled eggs, bread, cheese, and ham…coffee or ale ta drink.” The servant didn’t waste any time scurrying back toward the kitchen and returning with heaping plates.

  Their meal was eaten in silence, giving Colin time to think through where they’d begin their search. Molly had been kind enough to send him with a list of places she thought they’d find things left by his grandpapa. He’d nearly forgotten that he’d slipped the envelope into his coat’s inside pocket for safekeeping.

  He retrieved the paper and broke the seal while Ophelia’s head remained lowered over her plate. She ate slowly, her table manners everything he’d expect from a woman of elevated refinement. Her movements as she sliced an egg in half, speared a section, and brought it to her lips fascinated him in an unfamiliar way. He dined across the table from many people—beautiful, intelligent, and witty women included—but something about Ophelia’s delicate nature had him disregarding their purpose in Sheerness and the limited time they possessed to achieve it before departing for the return trip to London.

  “What have you there?” she asked, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

  Glancing down, he realized he’d been clutching the slip of paper in his hand.

  Colin pushed his plate to the side and smoothed the letter on the table between them, reading it for the first time. “It is a list of places Molly suggested we visit for information.”

  Ophelia’s brow rose in question, but she made no move to ask anything further as she took her last bite, giving Colin a moment to inspect the list. The places appeared easy enough to find if he spoke with the innkeeper and collected directions. Sheerness was not a large town and was inhabited by mostly seafaring men and their families. If Fair Wind had chosen to call the town home, even decades after taking his place in London, then the people here must be as kind as he.

  A man chuckled at a nearby table, and Colin looked over to see it was the lord and lady from upstairs, also having their morning meal. The gentleman appeared oddly familiar, but there was little chance Colin would be acquainted with another person in Sheerness.

  Colin turned back to the note before him, folding it to slip it back into the envelope as Ophelia continued watching the pair at the next table. When he made to return the paper to the envelope, it caught on something and would not slip farther in. Turning the envelope upside down, Colin shook it and another paper fell out, as small as a calling card, but with his grandmama’s hurried script across the front. He flipped the page over, and the back was blank.

  Strangely peculiar.

  It must be something that hadn’t fit on the other paper—or perhaps an afterthought Molly had added after jotting down her list.

  Colin, me dear lad.

  I had no option but ta send ye where it all began for

  Porter and meself. I hope ye find what ye seek, just as we did.

  Take care of Lady Ophelia.

  Molly

  He blinked a few times, thinking he must have read the note incorrectly before glancing around the room. Colin sensed that all eyes were on him—that Molly had somehow tricked him and would, at any moment, leap from her hiding spot with her cane held high and a thunderous laugh.

  But no one paid him any mind, even Lady Ophelia continued to scrutinize the older pair at the table across the room.

  Molly was no doubt up to something, and it had naught to do with Fair Wind.

  Hastily, he returned her note to the envelope, but kept Molly’s list at the ready. He would ask the innkeeper where they could find their first location.

  If they hurried, they could be on their way before the sun crested.

  Colin remained silent when he noted Ophelia’s lips pressed into a grimace and her frozen appearance. She hadn’t moved, but still kept watch on the couple.

  “Are you acquainted with the pair?” he asked. A chill ran down his back at the thought that Lady Ophelia would be ruined long before they returned to London if they encountered someone she knew.

  Instead of answering, she pushed back her chair and stood. “Shall we be off? An adventure awaits, my lord.”

  Her posture was straight, and her chin held high, but her smile wavered slightly, belying her eagerness. For not the first time since they had departed London, he wondered what she hid from him. Though, if Colin pushed her for answers, she’d likely ask him questions he was uncomfortable with answering, as well.

  Tucking the envelope with Molly’s note into his pocket beside the pendant, he stood. “I think it is time our day began. I have Molly’s list ready and thought the best place to start would be to ask the proprietor for directions.”

  He searched the dim, public room, but the innkeeper was nowhere in sight. The space was nearly vacant at this hour, most travelers having departed with the rising sun and the fare more than the local community could afford.

  “If you will wait here, I will find directions and have my driver prepare the carriage.”

  She hurried around the table, setting her hand at his arm. “I think I will join you. Sheerness cannot be so large that we will need the carriage.”

  “I think you are correct, my lady.” Colin scanned Molly’s list once more. “Shall we start at the beginning?”

  Stepping into the open inn yard, the sun cast a shadow, and the cool ocean breeze ble
w about them, ruffling Colin’s neckcloth and billowing Ophelia’s skirts about her ankles. Two carriages pulled from the inn yard, one heavy with trunks, and the other a well-adorned traveling coach, its wheels throwing dust into the air.

  A stable boy trotted up to them, a lopsided grin on his face, his clothes a size too big but clean. “Can I fetch ye coach, m’lord?”

  “That will not be necessary.” He glanced at Ophelia to confirm their decision, and she nodded. “We will take in Sheerness on foot.”

  “Fine notion, m’lord.” The boy’s head bobbed up and down.

  “You would not happen to know where we can find a tree where people carve their names?” Colin held the list high, reading Molly’s words. “The Tower Tree.”

  The servant’s jovial, helpful nature subsided, and he shook his head from side to side.

  “You do not know that place?” Ophelia asked. “Mayhap we should—“

  “No, m’lady. I be remember’n that tree. Me pa used Ma’s fish knife ta cut their names.”

  “Can you tell us where to find it?”

  “Well, in the inn.” The boy pointed toward the public room they’d just exited. “Ol’ Bosworth cut the tree down and made tables for the tap room.”

  They cut down the tree?

  Colin swallowed hard, his shoulders slumping as the news sank in.

  There was no hallowed tree for them to search. Molly’s carefully collected places had been reduced from four to three, and they hadn’t so much as left the inn yard.

  Lady Ophelia placed her hand on his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze before plucking the list from his hand. She shielded her eyes and inspected the next place.

  “Oh, this should be simple enough to find,” she mumbled. “Thank you—“

  “I be Owen, m’lady,” the boy chimed in when Ophelia paused.

  “Well, Owen.” She shook the paper before her. “Thank you for your assistance. We are off to the docks.”

  Colin couldn’t help but admire her optimism as they set off toward the water’s edge, which could be seen down a long, wide lane from the inn. They passed dock workers and a lady pushing a cart filled with fresh sea fare for the market. The salty sea odor increased the closer they journeyed to the water lapping against the wooden docks and the tiny fishing vessels dotting the coast. It appeared any merchant ships were either not in the port at present or had taken their business elsewhere.