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“Yes, there is but again, it only has a few rooms. And even with the small number of travelers, it’s likely to be full on a night like tonight.” He pointed toward the window to the front of the house.
Rain soaked the panes making it difficult to see, but beyond that, a heavy downpour pummeled the ground and the ocean’s waves crashed into the rocks. Normally he hated looking at the ocean in a storm, but he was safe enough here in this house sitting up high above the beach. “Whoever built this house was smart to set it up on this hill.”
“It was our great grandfather, The Earl of Seabridge,” one of the women answered. “Made from heavy stone, it was meant to withstand cannon fire, wind, water, basically anything England or its invaders could throw at it.”
“Quite right, Cordelia,” Mr. Moorish said. “My grandfather was very smart in his holdings and made sure to provide for all his children and grandchildren after them.”
A younger, very pretty blonde spoke up next. “And you’ll do the same for us, right Papa?”
“That I will, Adrianna.” He reached for his daughter’s hand just as a tray of snacks was carried in by a footman. “Now, let’s allow our guest to eat.”
Ophelia rose and began pouring steaming cups of tea. “How do you like yours, Your Grace?”
His women or his tea? He supposed the answer was the same. Steaming hot and very sweet, he thought to himself and then clenched his teeth together. “Milk and one lump of sugar, please.”
Ophelia did as he requested and then carefully handed him the delicate china. His hands were large but he’d a lifetime of practice balancing delicate cups in his long fingers. Still, he inadvertently brushed hers as he took the cup.
Every muscle in his body tensed with a longing he hadn’t thought possible. She leaned over slightly, smiling down at him and he wanted to pull her into his lap and worship that mouth. Maybe he needed to attend that party after all, considering how he lusted after an innocent woman right now.
* * *
Ophelia held her breath as the final notes of Cordelia’s piece on the pianoforte echoed about the room. The haunting song had been magnificent and suited to the weather outside. She clapped with pride as Cordelia finished.
“That was just marvelous,” she gushed, looking over at the duke who sat next to her on the settee. “Don’t you think?”
They’d passed the evening pleasantly with a lovely meal and had retired to the music room afterward.
“I think a sister who supports her sibling so enthusiastically is quite marvelous too.”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, looking at the floor. He’d peppered her with compliments like that all evening. He’d given a few to her sisters too, of course. But her entire family had noticed the attention he’d paid her and they stared at the two of them now. “Do you have any siblings, Your Grace?”
“No,” he answered, sitting back a bit. “I had a brother but he died when I was very young.”
She frowned, wishing she could touch him in support. Something in the tension in those broad shoulders, the angle of his chin told her that he hurt from the loss. “I’m so sorry. My sisters are my world. I can’t imagine not having them.” She meant every word. Turning toward him, she very lightly brushed her hand against his as Cordelia began another song. “Do you have other family?”
He shook his head and subtly grasped her fingers, hiding the touch behind her skirts. “I do have one rather annoying cousin who pesters me often. The Marquess of Hartwell. He also has a younger sister whom I adore.”
“Pesters you?” She raised her eyebrows, trying to keep up with the conversation though she was completely distracted by his touch. It was exactly as she’d pictured romance to begin.
He gave a tiny wink. “All right. You’ve caught me. He keeps me sane and grounded most times. Though, he did caution me against this leg of the trip.”
“Why is that?” Ophelia leaned closer, her shoulder just brushing his. Nervous flutters erupted over her skin. This sort of flirting was exactly what she’d always hoped for and she tried to etch every touch into her memory.
She felt his muscles tense against hers. “I’m to attend a house party but the guests aren’t the most savory members of society. Lord Hartwell and Lady Charlotte stopped just south of here, but I continued on to join the merriment.”
That made her lean back to look at him, study the tight lines in his face. “Unsavory company near here?” The village, her father often jested, was the most wholesome spot in all of England. Everyone knew everyone, people were kind and nurturing. Of course, she’d known every man here for most of her life, which had made finding a husband rather difficult, but overall it was a lovely place to live.
The duke lifted a shoulder, looking down at his lap. “A day’s ride. Closer to Ipswich.”
“Ah,” she nodded. “Were you summering by the sea?”
He shook his head. “I came from London.”
Passing through here to get to Ipswich? “I don’t quite understand how you arrived here. This is the rather long way to reach your destination.”
He glanced up at her again. “I suppose it is. I was using the journey as a bit of time to think…” His fingers squeezed hers. “Away from all the pressures in the city.” He winked then. “And my cousin has a property just south of Seabridge Gate. It’s his favorite so we’re there often.”
