Chapter Nineteen

Late the following afternoon, Ophelia jerked from the bed, a happy grin widening her mouth. After ringing the bell, with the help of her lady maid she dressed in a simple yellow day gown and caught up the mass of her hair in a loose chignon. Today she would write letters, one to Kitty and one to Maryann, telling them the news that Devlin Byrne would ask for her hand in marriage in the upcoming days.

It felt important she told her father that she had found Sally Martin and that she had spoken to her. Did she tell him that she had siblings? Two sisters and a brother, all younger and with features so similar to her it was remarkable.

Hurrying down the winding staircase, she became aware of muffled crying emanating from her parents’ drawing room. Her steps faltered, and she frowned. Padding toward the door, she paused upon seeing Cousin Effie exiting the room. “Effie, is all well?”

Her cousin whirled around, pressing a hand over her chest. “You startled me.”

The crying muffled and the distant sound of a man’s voice echoed through the door. An uncomfortable pit formed in Ophelia’s belly. “Is it Mother and Father?”

Effie hesitated, and that filled Ophelia with a greater sense of alarm.

“Yes.”

“Is Mama crying?”

“They received some upsetting news. It is after one in the afternoon. You overslept.”

Ophelia fought back the blush, knowing which wanton activity had seen her exhausted and her muscles achy. Hurrying to the door, she touched the latch. “I must see to Mama.”

“Ophelia,” Effie said gently.

A quick glance at her cousin showed her eyes bright with tears.

“What is it?”

She held out a piece of newssheet. Irritated and frightened, Ophelia grabbed it and scanned the pages.

This author has it from a most credible source that the beautiful wallflower Lady O has been seen in the company of one D.B., a man of dubious character and business practices. Their relationship is of a scandalous nature, and a close source has confirmed that Lady O traveled alone in a carriage with D.B for three days —

—The Daily Gossip.

Unable to read any more, she lowered the sheet, her heart trembling. Whatever reputation she had was shredded in the ton. How could anyone know she sneaked away with Devlin to Derbyshire? She had been in disguise and…

An awful awareness pierced her. Ophelia lowered her hand from the latch and faced Effie. “You are the close source this article mentioned.”

Effie lifted her chin. “I did what needed to be done.”

“How dare you, Effie! You have cast slander upon my reputation!”

“You did that yourself, Ophelia, with your connection to Devlin Byrne. I told you on numerous occasions to end whatever is between you. And you refused to listen. The fact that you left for Derbyshire without me tells me it is because of that man!”

“And this is your way of severing my connection with a friend?” Ophelia demanded, unable to bear the pain creeping into her heart. “You decided to ruin me in the eyes of society.”

“That is not what I did,” she said firmly. “I simply did enough to force you to your senses!”

She stared at her cousin in appalled shock. “My life is my own, Effie. It is not yours to manipulate because I have not fallen in line with how you believe I should behave. How do you dare act in such a manner?”

Ophelia struggled to accept that her cousin would truly take steps to ruin her simply because she wanted to keep her away from Devlin.

“I have also told your parents everything.”

“What?”

“I told them of your close connection to Mr. Byrne and my suspicions that your connection with him is of a scandalous and intimate nature, and that without a doubt you were with him in Derbyshire.”

Of course, revealing her secrets to society would not be enough; Effie had involved her parents, for they were the final authority in bending Ophelia’s will. Sorrow clutched her throat at the choking sounds coming from behind the door. Her mother was sobbing as if her heart was breaking.

“You did not save me, Effie,” she whispered. “I was always careful in my interactions with Devlin. Always. All you’ve done is bring gossip and scandal with your actions and pain to my family…to your family.”

Effie’s chin lifted, and her eyes flashed. “Yes, I did save you from the clutches of a predator. You will eventually thank me! Because I did this for you…and only for you. You would not heed my advice, and this was the only path I saw to sever this obsession you have with that wretched man. He would have been your irrevocable downfall. I saved you.”

“You know the power of scandal…how the pain of airing sensitive matters for public consumption would ravage our family. You are inexcusable. I will not forgive you.”

Walking away from her cousin, Ophelia gently knocked on the door and opened it. She straightened her back as she entered the drawing room to face her parents. Unable to run away from the brewing storm, she knew she must see them. Stifling her cry, she stared at her parents. Her mother sat in her husband’s lap, her head resting on his shoulders, heartbreaking sobs sawing from her throat.

Guilt and pain clawed up inside Ophelia. This scene was so unimaginable, so frightening. A sound of anguish escaped her and settled in the room. Her mother’s head snapped up, and she hurriedly wiped at her tears, standing and smoothing down her gown.

“Ophelia,” she said hoarsely, her eyes red and swollen. “I…my darling…I am sorry…”

With a sense of shock, Ophelia realized her mother found it hard to look into her eyes. “Why do you apologize, Mama?”

Her mother lifted her head with regal pride and took a shuddering breath. “I am so very sorry.”

Her father stood, took his wife’s hand, and placed it atop his.

“We know the truth,” he said quietly. “You did not visit an art gallery in Derbyshire but traveled with that man…Devlin Byrne to find Sally Martin.”

Ophelia sucked in a harsh breath. “How do you know this?”

Instead of answering, her mother said, “I never intended for you to find out in this awful, wretched manner. I…” She waved at the scattered, ripped-to-pieces paper littering the silver-and-blue carpet.

With a jolt, Ophelia recognized pieces of all the letters exchanged between her and Devlin. She met her father’s accusing stare without flinching. “You searched my bedchamber and writing desks.”

“After what Effie brought to our attention, do you think we would not?” her father growled. “That our daughter could act in such a reckless manner is beyond the pale and a grave disappointment.”

They had found that letter with the simple line, I’ve found Sally Martin, and all the other letters with the instructions on how Ophelia should meet him in secrecy.

“Did you…did you find Sally Martin?” her mother whispered, clutching her husband’s hand.

Ophelia was tempted to lie and spare her the pain. But she couldn’t. “Yes. I met her.”

Her mother went chalk white. “How did…how did you know of her, Ophelia? Was it this Devlin Byrne who told you? Effie has accused him of acting most incorrectly and without respect to you.”

She hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. Her father held his wife to his shoulders as she cried, yet still he had not revealed to his wife that her daughter had long known the truth of the whole sordid matter. The faith she held in him, the one that had already cracked, now shattered, the pain so acute silent tears streamed down her face.

“I’ve known for several weeks,” Ophelia said hoarsely.

A profound stillness blanketed the room.

“You knew?”

“Papa told me a few months ago when he…when he was abed, with the thoughts that he would die. He only told me he took me from the arms of Sally Martin when I was a babe. Papa would not tell me any more, so I searched for her.”

“You reckless, willful creature!” her father slung at her with anger. “I told you to leave it alone!”

“I could not know that you stole me from someone…someone you left in the sweat of her tears, someone you left powerless to fight you…someone who possibly mourned the loss of her child daily! I could not sleep, Papa, without knowing who she was or if she lived. Do I look like her? Am I like her in temperament? Do I have another family? She was not just a mistress you discarded. You had the power to tell me. I begged you to let me understand, and you ignored my confusion and fears. Do not blame me for acting. I am your daughter. I am most certain you knew I would not let it alone, given I have heard all my life about my willful and contrary nature!”

Her father’s shoulders pushed back as if he braced for condemnation. His wife did not lash out at him but sank onto the chaise longue, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

“How you must hate me.”

The words were muffled, but Ophelia heard her. “Hate you?” She hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. “Mama…” She was stricken silent. All the pain and guilt and doubt suddenly fell away from her, and she breathed in deeply. It must have been terribly painful for her to lose her child and then the hope for more. Then to live with her husband’s actions. How incredibly strong she must have been to raise Ophelia with such care and love…with such compassion and patience, all with the dread that one day she might uncover it and not love her mother anymore. That awareness stabbed her clean through the heart. Ophelia felt undone. “I love you. You are my mother.”

The marchioness looked up, her eyes searching Ophelia’s face almost wildly. “We stole you and kept you from your real family—”

“Papa took me from her, and it caused her great pain. I cannot fully know what made Papa act in such a callous disregard for someone else, but I cannot dismiss that you provided me with a wonderful life filled with rich happiness. I was well loved by you, Mama. I cannot imagine trading those memories for anything. My rebellious temperament and love of music and singing were not inherited from you, but you taught me so much more. Mama, you taught me temperance…how to be gentle and kind…and how to love. I cannot…I cannot ever regret that you are my mama.”

Her mother surged to her feet, rushed over, and drew Ophelia fiercely in her arms. She hugged her mother for several minutes while she sobbed. Her papa looked on, his face stoic, except his hand gripped the edge of the gilded chaise until his knuckles whitened.

Her mother stepped away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “We will fix this. Our family is powerful, and we will not acknowledge the rumors or pretend there is anything to be ashamed of! We will not confirm them should anyone ask, and we will go about our business as if that dratted scandal sheet spoke of another family. As it stands, many will speculate that Lady O is you, but they cannot know with utmost certainty.”

Walking over to the marquess, she took the handkerchief he held out and delicately dabbed beneath her eyes.

She masked her inner turmoil with deceptive calmness. “Mama…Papa…how have you reconciled taking me away from Miss Martin?”

They stared at her before walking over to sit side by side on a sofa. Ophelia took the seat opposite her parents and clasped her hand before her.

“Your mother is blameless,” her father said gruffly.

She made to protest, and he squeezed her fingers gently.

“I was a young and foolish man whom your mother forgave for his base stupidities. I knew I was in love with her when we married, but I had not ended my liaison with a lady I had taken to be my…my mistress some months prior.”

Her mother trembled so fiercely, Ophelia whispered, “Papa, I know the truth of it. Mama lost her child, and…I replaced that pain.”

Her mother flinched as if struck. “You are my daughter. It took me some time to realize it, but I love you, Ophelia.”

“I know, Mama. I know.”

Her mother took a deep breath and said, “We must discuss this scandal sheet.”

“Cousin Effie is their source,” she said. “She feared my friendship with Mr. Byrne and believed this was the way to sever the connection.”

“That means you have been sneaking from this home to…to meet that man,” her mother said. “All the encounters your cousin told about are the truth.”

She blinked away the tears. “I… He is my friend.” More, so much more. “Mama—”

Her mother lifted up a palm. “No. We do not have time for arguments and recriminations. We must immediately plan how to salvage your reputation and this family’s honor. What I do fear is the rumor will run amok and tear apart your reputation. Should you marry, and marry well, it would do much in protecting you. Marriage will most certainly put the brakes on those wagging tongues and newssheets who will print more of this…rubbish! You must marry, and it must be done quickly.”

Her father’s eyes caught her. “I have sent a note to Lord Langdon that you have accepted his offer. Marriage is to be immediate by special license.”

A most awful sensation pressed against her belly. “I cannot marry Peter,” she said. “I have promised to marry—”

“Do you dare say it?” her father roared, his face darkening with anger. “When you know perfectly well an alliance with that man is most objectionable?”

It took courage to face her parents’ inevitable disappointment, but she lifted her chin and said, “I will only marry Devlin Byrne.”

There. It was out in the air.

“That man is not interested in marrying you, Ophelia,” her mother said with a sigh. “He is interested in your connections.”

She almost laughed at that ridiculous assumption. “Mr. Byrne will call to speak with you, Father—”

“I will never accept that man’s offer. How dare he believe he could even approach me?”

“Papa… I am of age and do not need your permission.”

Her father stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Have your senses taken their leave? The man is nothing but a common thug of uncertain, most certainly filthy origins. You are my daughter. Such a match is unpardonable and will never be condoned by your mother or me. I will only approve a match with the earl or some other suitable gentleman.”

The revelations fell like blows. It did not matter how good or wonderful Devlin was. To her parents, he was unsuitable simply because his blood was not blue.

“He is brilliant,” she said hoarsely. “He is shrewd…ruthless, yes, but it is tempered by his kindness and his honor. He sponsors many children to get an education who would be denied because of their class and opportunities. A proper education that will see them claw themselves from poverty to owning land and property. He helps those who wish to become tradesmen, and he donates thousands to charities that provide proper care to orphans. He is not a man to show disdain but a man to admire…a man to love.”

Her father scoffed. “Do you dare say you love this person?”

A thrill of frightened anticipation touched her spine. “Yes.” Ophelia looked at them. “Is that not what you always wanted for me? For me to love the man I marry, and that he would love me in return? Or did you intend for me to only love and marry a man that has blue blood and a title? Did you mean for me to find a gentleman’s worth in his connections and standing in the ton? Did you mean for me to own a heart filled with prejudice? I cannot believe you mean for me to reserve kindness and love and civility for only a gentleman of consequence and aristocratic blood.”

Her parents were briefly stunned into silence.

Her mother surged to her feet. “Ophelia, darling, you have always lived in the boundaries of society’s acceptance. Can you imagine your life without it? People would stare and whisper and speculate on your life. You would be cut from the invitation list of almost everyone. Society does not accept this man. And if you marry him, they will not accept you, either.”

“Then society will just have to carry on without me in it!”

“And what about us?” her mother said quietly.

“Mama, I would never leave you.”

“And do you think we could accept you calling on us once you are Mrs. Byrne?”

Ophelia recoiled, and her throat ached. “Are you saying I will not be welcome, Mama, should I marry the man…the man I love? That you and Papa would sever all acquaintance with me?”

Her mother paled. “You cannot love him. He is simply an exotic creature who has turned your head for a brief spell. Forget that man, and we will speak of this no more!”

Her parents, united, hand in hand, walked out of the drawing room, leaving Ophelia alone with her crushed hopes and an aching, terrified heart.