Page 68 of Surrendering to a Fiery Lady

“I raised you as if you were my own,” Gertrude said, looking down upon her. Ophelia held her tongue. She knew it was not the case. Had Gertrude been that loving, then there would have been more than just respect between them. There would have been genuine care and affection, too; yet she knew any such rebuttal would not help her to make amends.

“I wish us to be friends, Gertrude. Maybe you cannot accept what I have done, but I pray in time that you will see I have done what was right for me. You will see as well that your annuity can give you a good life.”

She had barely finished the words before Gertrude tutted and turned her back on her.

“I do not believe this is helping, Your Grace.” Lady Chester spoke coolly. Despite Ophelia’s new position, she did not stand to her feet nor curtsy. Ophelia supposed she should be grateful she hadn’t been thrown out of Lady Chester’s house. “Perhaps you should go.”

Ophelia stepped back, seeing her attempts were getting her nowhere. She feared now what her father would think of all that had passed between her and Gertrude. Would he be ashamed of the distance there? Or perhaps just disappointed?

Feeling as if she had let her father down, Ophelia turned to the door before hesitating and glancing back once at Gertrude.

“I wish us to be friends, Gertrude, I truly do. Know this,” she paused, waiting until Gertrude looked her way, “you can come to me when you wish and we can start again. I am prepared for it if you are.” She curtsied, returning to formality, and walked through the hallway to the front of the house.

When she heard a knock at the door, she wondered briefly if it was Elliot, concerned enough for her to return to the house, but when the butler opened the door, it was not her husband’s face she saw. It was Lord Chester’s.

“Your Grace,” he said, taking down his top hat and practically tossing it at the butler in his eagerness for it to be gone. Ophelia shook her head, embarrassed by his shameful behaviour. “How good to see you again.”

As he bowed to Ophelia, he tried to take her hand, but she moved that hand away from him quickly. “And you,” she answered curtly. “Your mother and aunt are quite upset. They might not do well for visitors at this moment.”

“Then perhaps I should accompany you instead?” He turned to the door as if to walk with her.

“No.” She looked back. “I beg you, no. My husband awaits me across the street.”

Unwilling to let this conversation go on any longer, she looked to the butler and thanked him for his kindness. She wished him well for the future and he smiled, as if touched by her words.

“I wish all the best for you too, Your Grace.”

They shared a moment before Ophelia turned to the door. Once again, Lord Chester tried to keep pace with her, but she glared at him, making him stop in his tracks.

“Do not follow me, my lord. I am returning to my husband’s side.”

“He is your husband,” he whispered quietly. “Yet that is only for the moment.”

“I do not know what fictional world you live in, but I pray you would wake up and see the world as it is.” She stood taller when he seemed to sneer at her, reminded of the cruelty she had seen in him before. “You care naught for me, only for my dowry—and that dowry is gone.”

“Perhaps it is not the dowry I care for at all.” He looked pointedly at her, so intensely that she felt her body curl away from him.

“Do not fool yourself. You simply cannot stand the fact I refused you, my lord. Good day. May this be the last we discuss this matter.”

She did not give him chance to speak again but left the house hurriedly, heading across the street to where Elliot waited for her.

“I would ask how it went, but I fear the way you are taking my hand says it all,” Elliot murmured with a wince. “It went so badly?”

“Very badly. Elliot, I offered her friendship, and she would not take it. I’m beginning to think anything Gertrude and I had is lost forever.”

Chapter 22

“Let us go riding, please?” Grace asked, tugging on Ophelia’s hand and pulling her toward the door that led out to the courtyard near the stable.

“I’m intrigued to see you suddenly so interested in riding, Grace. Last time we went riding, I could have mistaken you for being afraid of the horse!” Ophelia’s jest made Grace laugh at herself.

“That was just nerves. I find I long to go again. If you can spare the time?” Grace asked, glancing behind them and up the staircase. Ophelia knew where her sister-in-law was looking; she was searching for Elliot. Ever since they had returned from Wiltshire, Ophelia and Elliot had spent most of their time together.

“Of course, I can spare the time,” Ophelia assured her with a smile, watching as Grace bobbed on her toes excitedly. When the sound of a horse on the driveway outside of the house caught Ophelia’s attention, she urged Grace on, gesturing to the other door that led out to the courtyard at the rear of the house. “You go to the stables and prepare. I will join you shortly.”

Grace beamed and hurried off, leaving Ophelia to angle her head to see who had arrived. When the door was opened by their butler, she was surprised to see at this early hour it was no messenger, but a woman. The sight of the beauty standing in the doorway made Ophelia stumble on the hall rug.

The woman was of average height, with curves that were accented by her gown and the tightness of her corset. The long dark hair that complemented the darkness of her eyes was gathered at the back of her head, falling in curls.

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