Page 56 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

They hadn’t been introduced, so they could not have addressed each other. Yet it felt rude to nearly crash into someone on a friend’s stoop and not say anything. Besides, he was obviously a gentleman and quite handsome to boot. He walked with the loose-limbed gait of youth, but he wasn’t a schoolboy. He was dressed as impeccably as a peer.

Turning back to the open door, they were left facing the butler, and behind him, Lady Townes. Ophelia thought she looked anxious. She was frowning and pale. But perhaps that was an illusion brought on by Dessie’s gossip, because in the next moment, she smiled welcomingly. “How lovely to see you. Do come inside. You can meet Julia.”

Lady Townes led them back upstairs to the parlor. There, on the davenport, sat the lady’s daughter. She stood when they walked into the room.

“Julia, this is Lady Lynchford. And her sister, Miss Delancey.”

Julia had remarkable, wide blue eyes that she must have gotten from her father’s side. In short skirts and neat braids, with a shy smile, she appeared charmingly girlish. She curtsied prettily, and they all exchanged “good afternoons.”

They took their seats, with Dessie joining Julia on the davenport. Ophelia, unfortunately, was directed to an armchair, which required her to perch on the edge a bit sideways in order to squash her bustle and voluminous skirts into the chair.

Dessie said, “This is such a delight, Miss Julia. Your mother has been so anxious for your arrival. She told us just yesterday that you were coming down today on the train. How was the ride?”

Julia looked to her mother first. When Lady Townes nodded, Julia said, “I liked it. Miss Colyer says it’s too loud and dirty, but Lord Hayworth brought cards and we played piquet.”

Ophelia noticed Lady Townes’ smile falter. For a moment, she looked vexed. Then her brow smoothed and she smiled again. But it was definitely false.

“Lord Hayworth?” Dessie asked. She turned to Lady Townes.

“The viscount. You passed by him in the entrance.” She shifted in her chair. “He is one of our Dainswick neighbors.”

“I’m not familiar with the name.”

“That’s not surprising. His grandfather was something of a recluse. And Lord Hayworth has been traveling these past few years. He returned after his grandfather died. That was about four or five months ago.” Lady Townes paused, tapping her chin. “I believe it might be worthwhile for Lynch to make his acquaintance. We’ve talked a bit, and his political opinions are not yet set in stone.”

“Good!” Dessie cheered. “I’ll let him know.”

Lady Townes turned her focus to Ophelia. “I imagine you enjoyed the opera last night. The three of you looked rapt.”

“Trentham looked asleep.”

His sister’s practiced smile turned to genuine laughter. “No. He was jiggling his foot to the music. He always closes his eyes during an opera.”

“Does he?” Dessie snorted. “I can’t believe that.”

“And I can’t believe this is still such a source of fascination.” An unmistakable male voice harumphed from the door.

Julia leaped up, crying, “Uncle Robin!”

Startled, Ophelia tried twisting around to see behind her. But her skirts and bustle were so tightly wedged that the chair came up too when she turned, throwing her off balance. And when she whirled back to shake it off, her legs tangled in the fabric and she tumbled down, chair and all.

She heard the crash. And Trentham’s “oof.” Then the world went quiet.

“Ophelia?” Dessie ventured.

Ophelia opened her eyes to see Trentham set down his niece, who had evidently hopped into his embrace. He approached with an air of concern. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve done this before. I’m quite the expert.”

He squatted beside her and began unwinding her skirt and petticoat from the legs of the chair. She admired his deft hands. Gloved, thank goodness, because they brushed her ankles twice, and even gloved, caused a delicious shiver to run up her legs. Imagine if…no, she was not going to imagine anything.

“Sprained or broken?” he asked.

“Just bruised.”

He helped her to stand. “I’m glad you didn’t try this last night.”

“Yes, me too.”

“You might have tumbled right over the balustrade.”