Page 25 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
He looked into her eyes.
She stared back at him, those lovely blue depths neither angry nor sad nor resentful. They weren’t entirely empty anymore, either, though what their expression was, he couldn’t identify. They were wide and imploring, but not with the tension at the edges that suggested fear. Or not really.
He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers.
Soft, sweet and warm, they made him want to gasp with longing.
Then, abruptly, he pulled upright and turned to face the congregation, heart hammering like horses’ hoofbeats on a wet road.
“My congratulations,” the reverend murmured.
Owen stood where he was, hearing Lord Walden come forward to congratulate them, and then Lady Walden, and then Leonard and the young woman whose name he didn’t know were both there too, but he couldn’t really hear what they were saying. His brain was too full of the strange, confusing, remarkable thing that had just happened.
He was going home with Miss Worthington, who was, instead of Miss Worthington, now Lady Ivystone.
He had no idea at all what to expect when he got there.
Chapter 10
Ophelia sat straight in the coach. It rattled over the road, and she intertwined her fingers on her lap, making herself sit straight in the seat despite the jolts and bumps of the road below them. She looked straight ahead, neither looking out of the window nor gazing at the man who sat opposite in the navy-blue jacket and top hat with a stern, cold expression on his face.
I don’t want him to do or say anything to me.
She bit her lip and looked straight ahead. She didn’t want to talk—whatever she said would give him a chance to scorn her.
He found it so hard to talk to me when we danced,she thought bitterly.I am sure he doesn’t want to talk to me now.
She was sure he didn’t want to talk to her, and she was sure she didn’t want to talk to him, either. He had done this to her; forced this on her with no thought for her feelings or desires, and she couldn’t make herself be polite. All she could do was to ignore him. She looked at the padded interior of the coach with its faded yellow-gold silk lining with a pattern of little wavy lines. The bumping and rattling were starting to hurt her head and it occurred to her to wonder how regularly Lord Ivystone had his coach maintained.
Our coach is never this unstable.
She felt her lip lift at the corner, just a little amused, and glanced sideways, not wanting to show even that much of an expression. He had been so cold and disinterested when they danced, she was sure he’d seize on any small anomaly to pick on her.
That was what her father would do, and the two of them—he and this man—had done this. She didn’t trust either of them, not at all.
She looked out of the window, watching the green leaves and tall trees moving past. The countryside was really not that far from London—it always felt, when she was there, as though she was imprisoned in the city, but they’d only been in the coach for ten minutes and they were already rolling past fields and farmland.
“You like London?”
Ophelia jumped at the sound of a voice. She’d got so used to the silence in the coach and she had not thought Lord Ivystone would speak.
“Yes. I mean, no. Not really.” She swallowed hard, cheeks burning.
Now she was absolutely sure he’d think she was foolish.
“No. Me neither. It’s too crowded.” His tone was neutral, and Ophelia blinked in surprise.
He didn’t sound amused or mocking. She had expected both, but this was, if not friendly, then not hostile either.
“I agree,” she said softly.
The coach rattled on. It gained speed as they passed through dark green woodlands, the trees flashing past as the horses ran onward. A team of four pulled the coach and it went fast despite the bumps on the road.
Ophelia found herself frowning, trying to think of something to say. She’d thought he’d prefer silence, but it seemed he wanted to talk. She needed a topic that wasn’t going to annoy him.
“Is your Manor far from London?” she began. She coughed to clear her throat. A lump blocked it—a lump of fear and tension.
“No. About two miles. We’ll get there soon,” Lord Ilverham replied. Again, his voice sounded perfectly ordinary, as though they were at the refreshments table near the dance floor, exchanging light pleasantries.
