Page 26 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
Except, she thought wildly, we never had the option. They had only once had time to talk to each other. And that was for twenty minutes at a ball.
The thought stunned her, the sheer wildness of what she had done, and she stared out of the window. As she did so, she caught sight of a stone wall and then a hedge and she stared out at it as the coach was slowing.
“Here it is,” Lord Ivystone said softly. He sounded almost shy. “The Manor is on your left.”
“I see.”
Ophelia stared out of the window. The coach had slowed to walking speed and they were turning a corner. She saw a wrought-iron gate appear slowly, and then they were moving through low, tangled trees and past a lawn that was rank with grass. She stared around, heart thumping.
Is this his home? Can it be? This can’t be the manor...it’s an awful mess.
They rolled on down the drive, the sound of gravel under the wheels carrying to her ears. She stared through the window. As they got closer, trees hanging low overhead, leaves rustling down the path as the coach blew them along, her horror shifted. She was feeling a strange tingle in her stomach. For all that it seemed certain now that this ruinous place was their destination, she wasn’t afraid, or repulsed. The tingle she felt was because she was excited.
This was different. This was a challenge. She’d never really had one before.
She gazed out at the house as they drew to a halt. It was tall, and it looked as though it was built of stone. She heard the coachman jump down, his boots crunching on gravel stones. Then the door of the coach opened, and Lord Ivystone jumped down.
“I’ll help you down,” he said, reaching forward to take herhand.
“Thank you, my lord,” Ophelia replied swiftly. His hand was warm on hers and a strange tingling sensation raced briefly up her arm. She blushed, looking away as she recalled the kiss in the private chapel. It had felt so strange to have his lips on hers. She’d thought it would be cold and repellent. It was warm and had not repelled her...in fact, she had not entirely wanted him to withdraw the touch of his lips from hers. Her flush deepened and she looked away, looking up at the manor-house.
“This is Ivystone,” he murmured. She glanced up at him, frowning. He spoke the name of the place with real feeling. “And please, if you would, call me Owen?”
She swallowed hard.
“Yes. Yes...Owen.”
She felt the heat in her cheeks grow and she was sure they were bright red. Saying his name felt easily as intimate as kissing him. She kept her gaze on the building.
There were two floors she could see, though the high, tiled roof suggested there was an attic up there as well. The front wall showed some French windows—two on the lower floor, two on the upper—and the rest of the building seemed to be entirely covered in clambering ivy. She glanced up at Lord Ivystone. Owen, she reminded herself. She had agreed to call him Owen.
He was looking at the building, his gaze distant. She frowned. He looked sad and it was hard to guess why.
“I have had the rooms in the west wing made up for you,” he said softly. “Should you wish to rest, you may do so there.”
“Thank you.”
She gazed up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. She turned and looked at the door, feeling her heart twist. He was being so quiet, so diffident. It was confusing.
His kiss didn’t feel like he was repelled by me.
The thought was even more confusing, not less, so shepushed it away and focused on the house. It was tall and loomed over her and she shivered, drawing the white silk-lined cloak closer. It was imposing and a little frightening, and she felt some of her fear returning, displacing her excitement.
Maybe,she thought sadly,I should have invited Alice to stay, since she did say she would if I asked her to.
She recalled the anger she’d seen in Alice’s eyes when she met her outside the chapel.
“I’ll help you, Ophelia,” she’d whispered. “I can’t believe they did this.”
Ophelia’s heart had twisted painfully. She knew Alice was angry with her parents, but it felt like it was her fault.
“I’m sorry, Alice,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“No! No...you’re not to blame,” Alice said quietly, and drew her into an embrace. “It’s all their fault.” She glared at Lord and Lady Walden where they stood across the lawn, talking to Lord Alford.
Ophelia felt a small smile lift her lips at that. At least someone was angry with her parents. She was almost too shocked to be angry.
“I know,” she said softly. “But now...well...being angry doesn’t help,” she’d murmured to Alice as Lord Ivystone came to join them.
