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

by Christina McKnight

  “Go back to your friends, have them return you home safely.” His stare pleaded with her to understand, but every part of her knew she needed to be in that room, she’d just been given the opportunity to question Abercorn about Tilda. “This is a private family matter. You understand, do you not?”

  Ophelia felt her head nodding, but truly, she didn’t understand at all.

  Lord Coventry’s voice rose as he commanded everyone to take a seat.

  “Please, go home. I will call on you tomorrow.” With one final look, he closed the door, shutting her out for a second time in the same day.

  She wanted to slam her fist against the door. Scream that she be allowed entrance. Demand Abercorn answer her questions about the night of Tilda’s murder.

  She was uncertain how long she stood outside the study door, or when Matheson had appeared at her elbow, but instead of doing what she longed to do, she allowed the butler to escort her to the front door.

  What was happening in the Coventry study was a family matter, and Ophelia, despite how close she and Colin had become during their travels, was not his family.

  Chapter 22

  Colin leaned his forehead against the closed study door, wishing with every breath he took that Ophelia could be by his side in the study. No part of him had wanted to shut her out and close the door in her face. He exhaled sharply, waiting to hear her receding footsteps as she fled his family’s home.

  But he heard nothing.

  Not so much as an inhale—and mercifully, not a sob.

  If he had, Colin would have ripped the door from its hinges and taken her into his arms, his family and their dubious past be damned.

  He no longer wanted her by his side, safe and protected—he needed her there.

  This, his family’s sordid past now coming back to haunt them, was something she shouldn’t have to bear witness to. She deserved a man who was above reproach, a gentleman who’d never cast a shadow over her reputation, and a love that would not tarnish her future.

  Colin could guarantee her none of that.

  His character was forever blemished by his family’s past.

  While Ophelia was nothing but goodness, compassion, and caring. She’d sacrificed her future to accompany him to Sheerness, and why? Because Molly, his sometimes addlebrained grandmama, had demanded it?

  Colin was more to blame than anyone. He’d allowed it all to happen; their journey, their shared private quarters, and their kiss.

  Bloody hell, but he would never regret that.

  The feeling of Ophelia wrapped in his arms, held tightly against him…his body surged with heat at the thought.

  “Colin?” his father barked. “You may go.”

  He pushed away from the door, and his shoulders stiffened. “This matter has as much to do with me as it does you, Father. I will stay.”

  “Bollock and toads!” Molly slapped her knee as Colin moved into the room and took the seat next to his grandmama and across the low table from Abercorn and Lady Sissy. “Lad, these filthy scavengers think ta steal your land—twist’n your father’s arm the entire time. I not be let’n ‘em get the best of me then, and I sure as a rainstorm on a breezy Somerset night won’t be consent’n ta them have’n what belongs ta ye now.”

  “What is all this about?” Colin looked at his father, who paced before the hearth. “And why is my estate involved?”

  “That was my dowry, young man,” Lady Sissy seethed, leaning across the table toward Molly. Abercorn cast a restraining arm between the women and pushed Sissy back. “Because of your grandfather—that common free trader—it was taken from my family and given to yours.”

  “You were stripped of your family lands?” Colin felt a measure of sorrow for the woman.

  “That is not exactly how everything happened,” the earl grumbled. “The owner was heavily in debt, and a note had been placed on the property with three different gaming hells. The king confiscated the land when the men brought legal action against Abercorn’s father. It ended the dispute. He gifted the property, with the title, to the first Earl of Coventry for his unborn son—me. The letters from King George II cannot be disputed.”

  Lady Sissy shot to her feet. “They can be, and I am!”

  “Oh, stuff a roast bird in ye mouth and pipe down, ye—“

  “Molly!” Lord Coventry warned. “Lord Abercorn came to talk, nothing more.”

  Colin eyed the man, remembering all that Ophelia had said—and all she hadn’t said. The duke was responsible for Miss Tilda Guthton’s death. He had wed the young woman, and she’d faced a tragic fall on what should have been the first night of her wedded life. Ophelia hadn’t shared Abercorn’s name the night she’d told him of her friend’s passing, but there was no doubt this was the man whom she’d spoken of.

  “I want my land, or“—Lady Sissy held her handbag before her and riffled around before pulling out a handful of paper—“I will take these directly to the Gazette or The Post and have them published in tomorrow’s edition.”

  Colin didn’t need to see the script on the pages to know they were the missing pages from Porter’s book. They’d been stored for safekeeping in his and Molly’s rooms above the blacksmith’s shop in Sheerness.

  His father rubbed the back of his neck. “It will not lead to the return of Hawke Manor, I can assure you, Lady Sissy.”

  The woman sneered, her lips rising to reveal uneven, yellowed teeth. “Perhaps not, but the truth of your family’s past will be revealed. The lot of you are nothing but the descendants of a bar wench and a smuggler.”

  “My father and his vessel were commissioned by the king himself, and Porter Parnell was ultimately awarded the title of earl and given land and fortune.” Coventry halted and turned his penetrating stare on Lady Sissy. “I am proud of my heritage and the sacrifices my father made to assure his family’s future.”

  Colin shook his head softly, making certain he’d heard his father correctly. Ramsey Parnell, the second Earl of Coventry, was proud of his father? After all these years of denial, arguments, and ill will toward Molly and Porter, his father admitted this?

  “Now, I think it best if the pair of you depart before I collect Molly’s cane and allow her at you!”

  “Whack ‘em both over their empty, pea-shaped heads, I will,” Molly said with a triumphant smile.

  “Lord Coventry, I do believe this has all been a misunderstanding—“

  “There has been no misunderstanding.” Coventry stepped around the lounge, closer to Abercorn with each word. “You will leave this house and never, ever threaten my family again.”

  Lady Sissy waved the pages in the air before her. “I’m taking these directly to The Post, I assure you.”

  “You will do what you must, Lady Sissy.” The earl waved his hand in dismissal. “I have faith that my family will survive—no, better yet, we shall thrive.”

  Lady Sissy shoved the pages back into her handbag and clutched it to her chest as if she feared Molly would rip them from her grasp, yet Molly hadn’t so much as moved a muscle since Ramsey’s proclamation.

  “Matheson!” The butler opened the door a breath after the earl’s summons. “See Lord Abercorn and Lady Sissy out, please. Do make certain the entire staff knows they are not welcome on Coventry property—any Coventry property, including Colin’s estate.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Matheson said, gesturing with his arm for the pair to proceed him out of the study. “This way, please.”

  Abercorn bustled from the room with Lady Sissy following a bit more hesitantly, keeping a close eye on Molly until she’d crossed the threshold into the hall.

  Colin watched his father all but collapse onto the lounge next to Molly.

  “Father, I—“

  “Close the door, Colin,” he commanded, though his voice held none of the steel from a few moments before. When he did as instructed, his father continued. “Sit.”

  He took the seat across from his father and grandmama in the chair Abercorn had vacated.
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  His father rested his arm around Molly’s shoulders, pulling her in tight. It was the first time Colin had ever witnessed any sense of physical love between mother and son. Colin was struck again by how similar the pair looked, in complexion and demeanor.

  “Damn it all, but that felt good,” the earl whispered.

  “Admitting your pride in Fair Wind?” Colin asked.

  “No.” His father shook his head. “Finally putting that woman in her place. She’s been holding our family’s past over my head since I inherited the title. Threatening to expose us to the ton—all these years. I should have dealt with her ages ago, but I did not want you growing up under a shadow of sordid gossip and scandal.”

  “You did this for me?” Colin asked, his eyes round in surprise.

  “And your mother,” Ramsey admitted. “She wed me not knowing our family’s past. I couldn’t allow her to be ridiculed by society because I was too much of a coward to admit and embrace the Parnell family history.”

  Colin looked to his side, reaching out, but his hand met with only empty space. Ophelia should be next to him. She’d had a right to witness the culmination of their adventure—or misadventure, as it were—but he’d thrown her from the room.

  “Why were you so against us finding the book?”

  “Because then I’d be forced to admit everything—and I was uncertain I could protect you, Molly, and your mother from society’s anger.”

  “Never cared a whit about those insufferable nobs anyhow,” Molly grumbled.

  “I know, Mother.” Ramsey leaned over and placed a kiss to Molly’s forehead. “But I spent so many years denying everything, that I was uncertain how to go about fixing things.”

  “You could have trusted me with the information.” Colin had been a fool, gallivanting about England in search of something his father had never needed. Something his father was very aware existed. The one thing his sire had hoped would never be found. “I could have helped you sort through it all.”

  “Yes, well, when your grandmama came to me and begged me to allow you to search in Sheerness, I could not deny her request.”

  “Wait. You knew—“ Colin looked between the pair. “You knew I went to Sheerness?”

  “Of course. Molly said the trip was important and would very likely determine the future of the Coventry line.”

  Colin returned his focus to Molly, noting the grin she made no attempt to hide…the same smile she’d had just before begging him to travel to Sheerness with Lady Ophelia as she’d entrusted him with her pendant for good luck.

  “Molly?”

  “Yes, lad.” The satisfied smirk only intensified.

  “What do you know of this?” He wanted to know, but at the same time, he didn’t want to hear her say the words.

  “How else was I ta get ye and that fiery-haired siren alone?” She cocked her head to one side.

  “Why would you want us alone in the first place?”

  She laughed until she doubled over in a coughing fit. “Why? You think’n I didn’t see the way ye stepped between us in the drive that day? Ye wanted ta protect her, even if that meant me cane bash’n your skull, lad.”

  “I would have done the same for anyone,” he insisted.

  She shook her head vehemently. “Oh no, Colin, you were protect’n her. Any other time, ye woulda stepped in ta protect me.”

  Colin clamped his mouth shut, stalling his retort as he pondered her accusation. He’d spent his entire life defending and protecting Molly—from anything and everything that would harm her. He’d spent months each year with her at Tintinhull Court so she wouldn’t succumb to loneliness and sorrow. Since her arrival in London, he’d barely left her side—except to travel to Sheerness, which he hadn’t thought twice about doing.

  “See, Ramsey, the lad is in love, sure as the fish swim in the dark.” Molly swatted at his father’s arm. “Where did she run off ta?”

  “I sent Lady Ophelia home,” Colin mumbled.

  “Oh, ye foolish lad, ye best be goin’ after her before she finds—”

  Colin didn’t wait for Molly to finish as he sprang from the chair and fled the room. His grandmama was correct, as always. Colin had been wrong to send Ophelia away. His boots thundered down the corridor as he shouted for Matheson to have the stable lad bring around his horse. He only hoped that when he found Ophelia, she’d forgive him.

  “Lord Hawke?”

  Colin slowed his pace, turning toward the voice coming from an alcove nestled below the grand stairs—the Duke of Abercorn sat on the single bench seat. He didn’t appear the sturdy, haughty lord from his father’s study, but rather a man who’d lived a long life and was…exhausted.

  His chin dipped toward his chest, and at some point, he’d untied his cravat as it hung loosely down the front of his jacket.

  “May I have a word with you before my sister and I depart?”

  Ophelia stalked in the shadows outside Colin’s family townhouse, avoiding the torches lighting the driveway. It would be highly satisfying to hear the stomp of her kid boots; unfortunately, they made barely any sound. She didn’t want Luci and Edith to notice her and demand they deliver her home. Colin was in there, and she needed to secure a way to see him—or she’d wait here in the darkness all night long if she had to.

  She settled on biding her time until Abercorn and Lady Sissy departed before demanding to speak with Colin. Truly, she had no urge to remain in a room with Abercorn, to sit across from him and act as if her blood did not boil every time she caught sight of the man. Even surrounded by Colin and his family, she’d be vulnerable.

  No, Ophelia would bide her time, and then demand answers from Colin.

  Why had he all but ignored her after finding Fair Wind’s letter?

  Why had he insisted on riding with Montrose and Torrington back to London?

  And most importantly, why had he pushed her from the study and closed the door in her face as if she meant nothing to him, and him nothing to her?

  If their intimate conversation at the inn and their kiss at the docks had meant nothing to him, then he should have said as much, and she would not pester him again. He owed her nothing. Nothing but the truth behind his actions. After that, they could return to their normal lives; she to the London ballrooms, and he to…whatever he did on a usual day.

  Her steps faltered, the toe of her boot catching on a slightly elevated cobblestone, and she nearly tumbled to the ground. Pacing in the dark was far too risky. Thankfully, Ophelia caught herself and settled for tapping the toe of her boot, her arms crossed. She kept her narrowed stare on the door, pushing the many colliding thoughts from her mind. They created a din of noise louder than the racket from a hundred carriages. This might very well be her last chance to speak with Colin—she needs must have her wits about her if she meant to gain the many answers she sought.

  There wasn’t even time to think about Abercorn and his connection to Colin and his family.

  Since when was exposing Abercorn not her main priority?

  A jolt of guilt coursed through her. Tilda, and bringing down the man responsible for her death, had been Ophelia’s main focus since that tragic night. It should still be of the utmost import to her—yet, standing here, in the Coventry drive, she longed only to speak with Colin.

  Perhaps she should risk it all and knock on the door. Matheson was a kind enough butler, and would certainly not turn her away. If she could only implore him to fetch Colin for her—they would speak, and she could return home, knowing she’d done all in her power to help him, even if her assistance was no longer required or wanted.

  Closure. It was about seeing their situation through to the end.

  She and her friends had yet to gain closure with regards to Tilda’s death, but Ophelia’s situation with Colin was not completely out of her control. Yes, she had been curtly dismissed and escorted from his home, but she would not believe it was what he wanted. Not until he looked her in the eyes and told her to go, to leave and never return
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  Ophelia yelped when the door opened, and Lady Sissy exited—alone.

  The older woman glanced at her carriage parked close to the end of the circular drive. Molly obviously hadn’t gotten to the woman with her cane as her hair was still perfectly pinned, and her gown without so much as a wrinkle. The torches positioned on either side of the front door cast enough light to see the woman clearly. She was certainly older than Abercorn by many years, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Her hair had turned from brown to coarse grey, and her skin was sallow. Except for at Oliver’s Book Shoppe, Ophelia had never seen the woman in public. She didn’t remember noticing Lady Sissy at Tilda’s wedding or the following celebrations. If she’d been present, she’d kept to herself and away from the guests.

  Yet, she was the daughter of a duke, just as Ophelia was. Why hadn’t she wed in her youth, started a family, and created her own home?

  As if sensing Ophelia’s scrutiny, Lady Sissy turned toward her, spotting her in the shadows.

  “Lady Ophelia Fletcher.” Her lip turned up in a sneer as she joined Ophelia in the shadows. Unease drained every ounce of anger from her as Ophelia watched the woman move slowly toward her as if she viewed Ophelia as her prey. “I thought you’d hurried home after being dismissed by Lord Hawke.” When Ophelia didn’t immediately respond, Lady Sissy’s brow rose. “Oh, has a cat escaped with your tongue? I had heard you were prone to fainting.”

  Ophelia suppressed the tightening in her chest. The woman was only baiting her, trying to stir up a reaction because she had pent-up rage.

  “Lady Sissy. I can assure you, I am not on the cusp of fain—“

  “Pity…” She pressed her finger to her chin and looked Ophelia over from head to toe.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Lady Sissy sneered, taking a step closer to Ophelia. “You and your friends seem to pop up and stick your nose in business that doesn’t concern you.”

  Ophelia glanced over Lady Sissy’s shoulder as Luci and Edith exited their carriage that had been waiting on the opposite side of the circular drive from the Abercorn town coach. Satisfaction coursed through Ophelia knowing that Lady Sissy would be irked all the more to see the full trio of women popping up yet again.