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“Well, I understand how these things are.” Ophelia stood to her feet and turned away. The distance between them across the room made Elliot lean forward, nearly stepping off the bed. “Dukes and other men of titles usually have mistresses, do they not?”
She didn’t look at him as she spoke but seemed to be busying herself with arranging the few things that she had brought with her from her house on the vanity table.
“I do not understand,” Elliot said slowly.
“It is a marriage of convenience, I know.” Ophelia looked at him. “If you are trying to tell me that you wish to keep seeing her, then I know I have no right to stop you.”
Elliot blinked a few times. The nonchalance with which she spoke and the way she avoided his gaze made that pain continue in his gut. He had just told her he no longer wished to see his mistress, because ofher,yet the knowledge of a mistress didn’t seem to bother her at all.
I wonder if my new wife cares for me at all.
The question had Elliot staring at her, realising just what had taken place in the short time he had known Ophelia. There was attraction there, yes, spark and excitement, but there was something else, too. He liked her, and he had the capacity to care for her, but he was faced with the possibility now that maybe she did not desire to care for him in the same way.
“I should leave you for the night.” Elliot stood to his feet, ready to depart. When Ophelia’s eyes turned on him, there was sadness there, and it made hope peak for a second before she nodded.
“As you wish.” The fact that she didn’t persuade him to stay made his stomach tighten all the more.
This is not how I pictured this night.
Elliot moved slowly toward the door that separated their chambers, finding despite his determination to leave her, he wasn’t in a hurry to do so.
“Wait,” Ophelia called to him as his hand rested on the door handle. He did as she asked, waiting as she crossed the room toward him. She placed a hand to his arm, urging him to turn round to face her another time. “Goodnight, Elliot.” Then, she reached up to kiss him.
Unlike their other kisses, full of passion and heat, this one was slow and tender. The chaste kiss had Elliot leaning toward her, trying to maintain the connection for as long as possible. When they parted, they both stood there for a minute, eyes closed and leaning toward one another.
“You will come again soon, will you not?” she whispered.
“I will,” Elliot promised, then he left, closing the door behind him. Once the door was shut, he leaned upon it, racking his brain to understand what had just taken place.
Does my wife want me or not?
***
“Is all well, Your Grace?” Mrs Mouser’s words brought Ophelia back to the moment.
“Yes, perfectly well,” she lied and wet her dry mouth with the teacup in front of her. The lie came uneasily, for she had been restless most of the night and quite lost in her thoughts that morning.
She had longed to spend the night before with Elliot, yet when he had told her of his mistress, she couldn’t help feeling jealous. That stab of envy had been so sudden, so all-encompassing, that she had been embarrassed for it.
What right do I have to be jealous of a mistress he has? Ours is a marriage of convenience, I know that.
Yet she was bitter. No matter how many times she tried to deny it, the feeling remained. In the end, she had retreated from him, in the hope that he would not see that jealousy.
“What did you think of the last one, Your Grace?” Mrs Mouser asked. “Miss Eleanor Turnball.”
“Yes, she could make a good kitchen maid.” Ophelia tried to return her thoughts to the matter at hand. She and Mrs Mouser were looking at arranging more staff for the house and were sat together on the one bench that was still in the house, a low dumbwaiter table beside them with a tray of tea on top. Nearby, the withdrawing room door was open, revealing the music room beyond where Grace was practicing.
When Grace struck the broken string, they all winced.
“Ooh, it’s getting worse,” Mrs Mouser whispered.
“Sorry!” Grace called through to them.
“Do not worry, Grace,” Ophelia assured her. “We’ll have to see about getting you a new piano soon.”
“Really?” Grace asked excitedly and stood to her feet. “That is all I long for! I am so glad you came to this house, Ophelia.” Then she returned to her playing, sitting back down on the stool. Ophelia laughed at her sister-in-law’s reaction.
“She is excitable,” Ophelia whispered to Mrs Mouser as they looked through a list of possible servants. “How old is she?”
