Page 10

She cast a glance in his direction, trying not to admire his handsome profile. “Why should you think I don’t take time for myself otherwise?”

He spoke to her familiarly, as if he knew her. And yet, she was masked. He had never hinted at being able to see through her disguise. She knew he had no reason to believe she would ever attend a house party of such a scandalous nature.

“I have a sister,” he said easily. “I am well acquainted with the sacrifices of the fairer sex.”

Aphrodite was forever putting everyone in her family before herself, particularly her mother. Ophelia had witnessed her friend’s generosity and selflessness on far too many occasions to count. But the candid regard and admiration in Prestwick’s voice when he spoke of his sister filled Ophelia with an unexpected rush of warmth.

“How unlike a man to not only take note of them, but to appreciate them,” she said softly.

“If a man neglects to do so, then he is failing both the women of his life and his duties as a gentleman as well.”

They stopped before a well-tended rosebush, the blossoms lush and full. Ophelia very much didn’t think these were practiced, polished words uttered with seduction in mind. Prestwick had spoken them with far too much quiet conviction. It made her wonder, and not for the first time, if there was more to him than the aimless rakehell his reputation would have polite society believe him to be. If there were layers and mysteries to Prestwick, like a still lake that appeared beautiful but ornamental, whilst it secretly held untold depths.

“Unfortunately, most husbands and brothers don’t share that opinion,” she said, unable to keep a note of sadness from her voice as she thought of Corbett.

Corbett had never commented upon any sacrifice Ophelia had made for him or their children. He had simply accepted all as his due. She had not—it occurred to her for the first time—ever once felt appreciated. Nor had she felt seen.

“Pray do not believe us all selfish scoundrels,” he said. “Unless you’re thinking of the chap who aided you at the breakfast table this morning. He’s definitely the sort who would fail you.”

“I shall have to keep that in mind,” she told him. “Thank you for the warning.”

He nodded, grinning, and there were his dimples again, threatening to make her do something foolish, like press her lips to his. “I am a very helpful fellow when it comes to all such matters.”

The sky darkened further, casting shadows over them.

“I do believe it’s going to rain on us,” he observed wryly.

A glance overhead confirmed they were indeed about to become caught in a deluge.

“The clouds appear quite ominous,” Ophelia agreed. “We should return to the main house before we are soaked to the bone.”

“We can get into the orangery from here,” Prestwick suggested. “It will be our quickest shelter from the storm.”

“You certainly do know your way around Wingfield Hall,” she pointed out before she could hold her tongue.

And not without a hint of bitterness as she thought of the reason. He attended these wicked house parties often. No doubt he had taken many a conquest into the orangery to keep his lady of the moment dry from an impending storm.

She was not jealous of those ladies.

She had no right to be.

Blessed angels’ sakes, what was she thinking? Prestwick still didn’t even know who she was. If she had her way, he never would. She had no claim on him.

“I have participated in house parties in the past,” he acknowledged, his jaw tightening. “Have you?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly.

Too quickly.

She ought to have lied and pretended that she was a regular attendee. She was coming dangerously close to giving herself away.

“That is to say, not often,” she amended hastily.

And then, as if to call her a liar, the sky opened. Fat droplets of rain began to fall, landing on her hat and shoulders, speckling her silk bodice and skirts. She hadn’t worn a wrap on account of the pleasant temperature, but now she rather wished she had, for there was no protection from the weather.

She let out an unladylike squeak as rain spattered her nose.

Prestwick acted quickly, taking off his coat and draping it around her shoulders. “Here, my lady. Wrap it around yourself.”