Page 41 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“Oh.” Ophelia’s heart thudded and she felt a little queasy and nervous. Lady Haredale was Owen’s aunt, and Ophelia knew so little of her. She didn’t know if she felt ready to meet her, but Owen was busy, and she couldn’t really refuse to allow his aunt indoors. She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes. Please send her up. I’ll be in the drawing room directly. And please have tea sent up for us.”
“At once, my lady.”
The man retreated, bowing low, and Ophelia stood up hastily, checking her reflection. The chignon she wore looked more elaborate than yesterday, and she was grateful for that, since the red dress was not something she’d have chosen when she was entertaining guests for Owen. It was more informal and bolder, a little daring, and she felt her cheeks flush. She looked in the looking glass again, then shrugged and hurried onwards. Owen would like the dress, so maybe it didn’t matter so much.
She was halfway to the drawing room when she realized how foreign that thought was to her mind. Her parents would have fussed endlessly about her choice of dress for entertaining a guest, but she found that she didn’t care all that much.
She hadn’t even a moment to check the drawing room was tidy when she heard footsteps, and Lady Haredale appeared in the doorway. Ophelia looked up, flustered, to find her gaze on her.
“My lady,” Ophelia greeted, curtseying swiftly.
“My dear Lady Ivystone,” Lady Haredale greeted, eyes sparkling. “No need to be so formal. Let us use our first names. I am Julia.”
Ophelia flushed, feeling surprised and awkward. “Of course, you may call me Ophelia.” She felt her flush deepen. She barely knew the lady, and the intimacy felt odd. “Please, come and sit down.”
She went into the drawing room. She looked up from studying the hearthrug to find Julia’s gaze on her. Her dark eyes were intense and intelligent. Ophelia could see she was thinking.
“Well, Ophelia. I’m delighted to see you here. I hope you are finding the manor to your liking.”
“It is very commodious, lady...Julia,” she said swiftly.
Julia smiled, noticing the slip, and evidently deciding to ignore it. “I am glad you find it so. My nephew is so often onbusiness nowadays and I scarcely know when I will find him at home.”
Ophelia inclined her head. “He is often out, that is true,” she agreed. She wished she knew more about what he was doing, away so long, and she wondered if she could ask Julia about it. Despite the fact that she barely knew the woman, she couldn’t help feeling a sense of warmth towards her. Those dark eyes were intelligent and perhaps also compassionate. Ophelia studied her subtly as she continued.
“Well, I trust that he keeps you company,” Julia stated firmly. “It can be tiresome out here at Ivystone—there are no neighbours for a mile and nothing entertaining to do.”
“I find it suits me well,” Ophelia said before she had a chance to think, and she lifted a hand to her lips, but Julia was laughing.
“I think you are a kindred soul. I, too, would avoid the rush and bustle of London, and the prying eyes.”
Ophelia stared at her in surprise. She hadn’t expected that. She had thought she’d offended Julia, but instead it seemed the woman understood her rather more than she’d expected. She felt her heart twist with a feeling of relief so intense it was like physical pain. It felt good to be understood.
“London is oppressive,” she agreed.
“Yes. And the eyes of theTonare always on one, checking that one does what they would wish,” Julia agreed, smiling.
Ophelia nodded briskly. “Quite so,” she agreed. She had rarely had the chance to talk with someone who understood so well.
Julia chuckled. “You know, I felt that there was some likeness between us when I saw you first,” she told her slowly. “And I am pleased to see that I am right. I hope that I am also right that you are happy here.”
“I...” Ophelia stammered. Julia’s comment stunned her. Her ladyship had seemed so formal, so distant, when first they met,that she would never have guessed she approved of her, or even that she really noticed her. Ophelia was so accustomed to people talking with her because of her father and his wealth, that it hadn’t even entered her head that Julia might notice her as a person, not just as a means to get to know him. “I am honoured you think so. And yes, I think I am happy here.”
“You think?” Julia asked gently. “I trust my nephew keeps you company.”
“He does,” Ophelia said haltingly. “I just...” she paused. She didn’t know if she could confide in Julia, if she could ask her to help her understand the confusing matters in life here. She saw the older woman’s head tilt thoughtfully and decided to risk it. “I just feel as though I barely know him. He is here so seldom, and when he is, I sometimes think he likes me, and other times that he barely notices that I am here.” She sat down heavily, chest rising as she breathed deeply, exhausted after talking so openly.
Julia nodded slowly. “That is Owen, all right,” she said with a smile. “He can be quite maddeningly quiet.” She chuckled. “But trust yourself, my dear. You do understand. Trust your instincts. Do you think you can do that?”
Ophelia swallowed hard. It was wild advice—nobody in her life had ever told her that before. She had been taught to follow societal codes, never to rely on what she thought or felt. The complete opposite of what Julia had just said. She gazed at Julia wonderingly.
“I can try.”
“Good.” The older woman’s voice was warm. “I trust you. And I know that if anyone can melt the ice around Owen, it’s you. You have a good heart. I saw that from the first moment I saw you at the ball. You’re a sensitive soul, even if you try and hide it. I know that if you follow your instincts, you will make your own life a happy one. And Owen’s too.”
“You do?”
“I know it,” she said softly.
