Page 57 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

“That wouldn’t have been half so amusing,” Dessie said. Then giggled. “Here, Ophelia. Come squish beside me on the davenport. I’ll hold your hand, so you don’t fall off.”

Trentham set the chair back on its legs, then shooed Ophelia away. “I’ll take this one.” He turned to Julia. “I’m glad to see you are dressed sensibly.”

“Mama won’t let me wear bustles,” she said, pouting. “Not even in London.”

“I’d say especially not in London. The chairs here are carnivorous.”

Julia frowned, and Ophelia suspected she wanted to protest that it was not the fault of the bustle or the chairs, but she was too polite. Ophelia settled onto the davenport and slapped away Dessie’s hand.

Trentham said, “I’m very glad you’ve come, Julia. I set aside the whole day tomorrow. What do you want to see?”

“Madame Tussaud’s,” she answered without a moment’s hesitation.

Lady Townes groaned in protest, but she looked amused. It was such a sweet family tableau that Ophelia nearly forgot that Trentham had just come from paying court to Lady Elizabeth. They’d managed to avoid him there, only to cross paths with him here. Here, he seemed lovable. Yet Dessie’s plan was to paint him to Lady Elizabeth as an incurable libertine. He couldn’t be. Not with those kind, intelligent eyes. That generous, smiling mouth. He was warm, and she’d always thought libertines were supposed to be chilling.

“That can be arranged. And Gunther’s, I suppose. And a ride in the park?”

“Don’t spoil her,” Lady Townes said.

“I most certainly will—”

A commotion sounded from below. A man yelling and doors slamming. Julia’s expression went from adoring to fearful, and Lady Townes’ was not much different. Trentham scowled. Bootsteps clomped up the stairs. Lady Townes rose and went to meet the intruder, but he caught her just outside the door. He grabbed her by the upper arm and shoved her back inside. He was a craggy-faced brute, yet he retained a faded handsomeness that was echoed in Julia’s visage. Was this Sir George?

“The cur is here?” he demanded. “You brought him here?”

“We have guests,” she said quietly, her voice taut. His grip on her arm appeared vise-like.

He cast a scornful eye around the room, lingering for a moment on Ophelia. His heated leer made her shudder. Next, his attention jerked to Trentham.

Trentham had risen. His hands were clenched into fists, and he held himself so stiffly he seemed to shake. His neck had reddened. She’d heard the expression “contorted by rage” but had never envisioned what that looked like until now. His countenance was so fiercely furious he looked—he looked the very devil. “Let go of her,” he said through clenched teeth.

Sir George pinched Lady Townes, twisting skin, then shoved her away. “He is not welcome in this house.”

Ophelia gasped at the cruelty. The terrifying violence. Her feet shifted in place, but she had no idea whether she wanted to run away or to go slap Sir George.

“He is my brother and will always be welcome!” Lady Townes protested, rubbing at what certainly would be an ugly bruise.

“It is my house. Get out!” He ordered Trentham, then returned his focus to his wife. “And if the cur comes sniffing around again—”

“For God’s sake, George. Julia is here.”

He didn’t bother to look for her, but said, “Go to your bedchamber, Julia.”

It broke Ophelia’s heart to see the poor crying child bolt up and scurry from the room. Then Sir George stomped closer to Trentham. Closer to them all. The smell of gin hit Ophelia like a gust of wind.

“You are not permitted in my house, near my wife, or to see my daughter. Is that understood?”

Trentham made no answer.

“Is that understood!” Sir George shouted.

Trentham spat in his eye. Then he spun about and strode from the room.

Sir George pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat and wiped his face. In a low growl, he said, “Send your guests away, Felicity.”

Lady Townes gestured to them to go. Dessie clutched Ophelia’s hand and drew herself up as though to argue. Ophelia squeezed back in agreement. They wouldn’t leave their friend alone with this madman. But Lady Townes said, “Go on. Please. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Chapter Twenty