The Devil Who Tamed Her (7 page)

A
T FIRST
O
PHELIA DIDN
’
T EVEN
notice Raphael in the parlor, though she’d been looking for him and he was sitting right there on the sofa. But the drapes were open on a long bank of windows on the front of the house. She smiled to see that it was still snowing quite hard.

“Feeling better?” Raphael asked.

She located him on the sofa. Her smile left her. He was just setting down a book he’d been reading. He’d removed his jacket, probably because the fire was roaring in the fireplace. Esmerelda was there as well on another sofa. The room was large, with three sofas plus an assortment of comfortable chairs. The older woman glanced over the rim of her own book to give Ophelia a nod.

“Morning, gel. Or is it still morning? Actually, it must be later than that, since I’m getting rather hungry. I don’t eat breakfast, you know. But skipping it just means I can’t wait too long for luncheon.”

Ophelia’s smile returned for Raphael’s aunt. “They’re making a racket in the kitchen, so it probably won’t be long, Lady Esme.”

“Eh?” Esmerelda said, not quite hearing her. “I’ll just go hurry them along then and wait in the dining room. Join me?”

“In a moment,” Ophelia said a bit louder, trying not to shout. “I’m just going to have a few words with your nephew first.”

“Why did that sound ominous?” Raphael asked as soon as his aunt left the room.

“You jest, Lord Locke, when nothing about this situation is remotely humorous.”

“No jest a’tall, since you’ve done nothing but shout, rant, and complain since we got here.”

“All with good reason, or did you really think I’d say thank you for holding me prisoner?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, which she was sure was quite contrived. “Come and sit down. And do call me Rafe. All my friends do.” She stared at him pointedly, causing him to chuckle and add, “Even my enemies do. No, really they do. And I’ll call you Pheli if you don’t mind. Less formality between us will—”

“I do mind.”

“Too bad. But as I was saying before you rudely interrupted, less—”

“I really do mind,” she cut in again. While she could care less that it appeared she was annoying him, this was something she wasn’t going to give ground on, so she decided to explain. “It was a childhood name my friends gave me. When I thought they were my friends, it didn’t bother me in the least, but I found out they weren’t. So it’s a name I associate with lies and deceit, and every time I hear it, it reminds me of that betrayal.”

She didn’t expect to shock him into silence, but he had nothing to say to that, and the look he was giving her was a mixture of confusion and—pity? He better not pity her. She wouldn’t tolerate it.

He recovered enough to ask, “Was your childhood really so—unusual?”

“Don’t go there,” she warned. “I mean it.”

He shrugged. “Well, this won’t do a’tall. The name Ophelia is much too standoffish, and as I
was
saying, twice as you’ll recall, we’ll get a lot more accomplished, and much quicker, with less formality. How about Phelia then? No, I have it! Phil. A bit mannish, but—”

“Fine!” she snapped. “Phelia will do.”

“Thought so.” He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes on him. He looked back at her innocently. His tactics were deplorable, but at least they were obvious. He wasn’t really trying to trick her into compliance, just putting his jaunty affectation to good use.

He stood up, since she hadn’t taken the seat he’d offered, and asked, “Was there something specific you wanted to discuss, as you implied to my aunt?”

“Yes, but—can we step into the foyer? I don’t know how you tolerate this heat.”

“Because I enjoy my aunt’s company. She needs a little more warmth than we do.”

“I know. It’s why I turned the brazier up in the coach. But, well, never mind. I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“So you
can
make concessions?” he said with exaggerated surprise. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. I told you, I like older people. But listen here,
Rafe
. If you are sincere, which I still doubt, mind you, but if you
are
sincere in wanting to deal with me for a specific goal, you’d do well to stop making me furious with your insults every time we converse.”

He put a finger to his lip in brief speculation. “You don’t look furious,” he concluded.

“Give me a moment.”

He laughed. “You’re going to have to stop being so witty, Phelia. It’s not one of the things you’re known for.”

“Of course it isn’t. But then I’m not presently among friends where I need to guard every word I say.”

“I agree we aren’t friends, but I think you have that backwards. When you’re among friends you don’t need to be guarded.”

“No, I stated it correctly.”

“Ahh, I see,” he guessed. “ ‘Friends’ as in not really friends?”

“How astute of you. Now
I’m
impressed.”

He laughed again, even harder. Well, devil it, she wasn’t trying to amuse him. She turned about to stare out the window, which reminded her of what she had come to warn him about. She was looking forward to a brief outing in the snow and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t ruin it by stopping her because he thought she was trying to escape.

“If this snow keeps up, I’ll be going out for a walk in it tomorrow. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

She turned again to watch his reaction. There was the remote possibility that he’d try to keep her from leaving the house, which was why she was telling him she planned to go out. But he merely looked curious.

“Why ever would you want to do that? I assumed most women were like my sister, who refuses to go anywhere if it’s snowing. She swears she’ll melt.”

“I didn’t mean if it’s still snowing,” she corrected him. “I’d wait until it stops. I just didn’t want you to think I was going anywhere other than for a walk.”

“So you like fresh snow, do you? Didn’t think anyone enjoyed it as much as I do. As it happens, I was thinking about taking a walk in it m’self.”

“No, don’t disturb it until—”

“You do?” he cut in.

She grinned. She couldn’t help it. “Yes,” she said, not realizing that she was blushing.

L
UNCHEON WITH
O
PHELIA AND HIS
aunt was surprisingly pleasant. Raphael was actually able to relax and for a short while not think about the monumental chore he’d set for himself. He didn’t need to keep the conversation flowing. He was, for the most part, excluded from it!

But then Ophelia was in her element, talking about London. And as soon as she found out that Esmeralda had only been to the city twice in her life, once for her come-out, and once to visit her brother’s solicitor when her husband died, Ophelia took it upon herself to give the older woman a verbal tour of the London she knew best. Bond Street! Good God, when two women started talking about shopping, a man might as well not be present. But she described the city’s parks as well, the Seasonal social events, the theaters, even the palace, since Ophelia had toured it when she was a child.

He realized, over dessert, that the conversation hadn’t once revolved around Ophelia. Hadn’t that been one of Mavis’s allegations, that the beauty wasn’t happy unless she was the center of attention, that she made sure everything revolved around her? And yet Ophelia hadn’t talked about herself at all, had merely made an effort to entertain his aunt by chatting about things she was familiar with.

She’d even laughed and got his aunt to hoot a few times as well. One of the stories she related was about her mother.

“She’d taken me shopping for hats, to match the new wardrobe I’d just ordered for this Season. We’d brought along samples of the materials, and this one haberdashery had quite a good selection to choose from, already made. The owner was sure he had exactly what I needed in blue velvet in his back room, so he invited us to follow him. But it was an old shop. The doors weren’t very wide. My mother actually got stuck in the doorway!”

“You’re pulling my leg, gel,” Esmeralda replied doubtfully. “Admit it!”

“No, really. She has a sweet tooth that she’s indulged over the years to the point that she’s now quite wide of girth. She’d never gotten stuck in a door before though, since she usually steps through them sideways, just to be safe, mind you. But that day she was distracted and was simply following me, and unfortunately, finding the door too tight a squeeze, she
thought
she could merely push her way through it.”

“And made sure she was good and stuck?”

“Exactly!” Ophelia chuckled. “And the poor shopkeeper panicked. There was no other way out of that back room, you see.”

Esmeralda was laughing uproariously at this point. “And how was the situation rectified?”

“Well, with no one else coming along to help, the owner and I made a combined effort to push my mother back out the way she’d come in.”

“And that worked?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Then what did?”

“My mother finally belched.”

“Oh, good God,” Esmeralda said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “She was that full of hot air?”

Ophelia laughed again. “We’d stopped for lunch before going to the haberdashery, you see. She simply hadn’t had enough time to digest it!”

What an amazing experience, hearing Ophelia laugh! It put a twinkle in her blue eyes and softened all of her hard edges. A lock of her white-blonde hair had come loose while she was laughing. Somehow he’d imagined her running off to find the nearest mirror to fix it, but she merely flicked it out of the way with the back of her fingers and seemed not to give it another thought.

He was shocked, though she didn’t notice, since she’d pretty much forgotten that he was even there. But it made him realize that he’d never seen her enjoy herself before, as she did today in his dining room. Then again, he’d never heard the ice queen laugh in genuine pleasure before either. No, after today, he couldn’t very well call her that anymore.

Those damned doubts were showing up again. He had a feeling he was seeing a side of Ophelia that no one else ever saw. He’d thought the same thing in the parlor when she’d made him laugh. And when she’d admitted that she enjoyed one of life’s little pleasures—leaving fresh footprints in newly fallen snow—she’d nearly bowled him over with her bashful smile. Why did she keep the vivacious, amusing woman under wraps, for no one else to appreciate?

It was just as well that Esmerelda’s footman arrived with Sabrina’s letter late that afternoon. Sabrina had to be busy planning her wedding to Duncan by now, and yet she’d taken the time to answer him right away. And that letter definitely erased those pesky doubts he’d been having.

He waited until after dinner. He probably shouldn’t have. His sobering mood put a damper on the meal, which made it quite different from the lively luncheon they’d shared earlier. Esmerelda went upstairs as soon as she could, the silence making her uncomfortable. Ophelia tried to do the same, but he wasn’t about to let her escape.

“Join me in the parlor for a nightcap?” he suggested when she rose from the table to follow his aunt out of the dining room.

“I’d rather not,” Ophelia replied. “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been nothing of the sort. And join me anyway. You’ve had time to settle in. Now it’s time to begin—”

“What?” she cut in, her tone turning sharply defensive. “Dissecting me?”

“I prefer to think of it as examining motives.” He extended an arm toward the door. “Shall we?”

She preceded him into the parlor, her back stiff. She took a seat on the first sofa she came to, just as stiffly. Raphael moved to the rolltop desk off to the side where he’d stocked liquors during his last visit. He poured two shots of brandy and joined Ophelia on the sofa before he offered her one. She waved it aside.

“Just as well,” he said with a shrug, and downed one of the shots. “I have a feeling I’ll need it more’n you.”

“Humph.”

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “if you take this defensive attitude, we aren’t going to get anywhere. I assumed you’d like to get back to London sooner than later.”

“I would. But this whole charade is your idea, not mine, so just get it over with.”

“Very well. I have a list of your transgressions, Phelia. I’m not going to lay them all on the table at once or we’d be here all night, but we are going to pick them apart, one by one. Tonight let’s begin with one of the main charges against you, as I and most others see it, your propensity for spreading harmful rumors.”

“Ah, yes, I’m such a rumormonger,” she said drily. “You’ve mentioned it more’n once now. But in fact, I’ve only ever spread one rumor.”

“Three,” he corrected.

She gasped. “Three? What other rumors do you think I’ve started?”

“Patience, m’dear. Remember? Tonight we’re just going to deal with the rumor you admit to starting, which, I assume, was your slandering of Duncan.”

“Who was hurt by the rumor that he was a barbarian?” she demanded. “He certainly wasn’t.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Nonsense. People only had to meet him to see that it was mere speculation, that there’s nothing
really
barbaric about him.”

“Did that give you the right to blacken his name?”

“How did I do that? By calling him a barbarian? He was from the Highlands! Everyone, well, except for my father, knows Highlanders are barely civilized.”

He stared at her without replying. After a few moments she sighed. “Very well, so it’s just a myth. Obviously, Highlanders can be quite civilized. I’ll admit that if I weren’t so desperate I could barely think what to do, I never would have done that.”

“How were you desperate?”

She mumbled something so low he didn’t catch it and had to ask, “What?”

“I
said
I was afraid he really was going to be a barbarian. I’m not the only one who believed that myth about Highlanders, you know.”

“So your excuse was fear? Fear is almost understandable.”

“No.”

He was incredulous. She’d just given him a somewhat acceptable reason for what she’d done and now she was denying it? “No?”

“It wasn’t just fear. I was also furious, too. I didn’t spread that rumor to hurt Duncan. I started the rumor for my father’s benefit. I didn’t want to marry a man I’d never even met. There was the fear of
who
he was, but besides that, I wasn’t even asked if I wanted to be engaged to him! I was furious with my father because he wouldn’t listen to reason. So I wanted him to hear the rumors and get me out of that damned engagement.”

“Which didn’t happen, so I assume he never heard the rumor?”

“Oh, I’m sure he did, he just didn’t care,” she said in a low voice.

“Did it never occur to you to simply tell Duncan how you felt instead of taking matters into your own hands and insulting him so he’d break it off?”

She laughed bitterly. “Duncan asked me that too, but I feared once he saw me, I’d never get rid of him.”

“Because of your beauty? I hate to say it, m’dear, but some men actually value goodness and honesty over a pretty face.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can see why you and Duncan are such good friends. You even think alike.”

“How so?”

“He said nearly the same thing, though he called them sterling qualities that men prefer. But I’ll tell you what I told him. I’ve had hundreds of marriage proposals, which proves what most men prefer. Many of those proposals were from men who barely knew me. What did you call them? ‘A stream of idiots’? I quite agree.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “In defense of men in general, I’m going to suggest that most of them were smitten with you, and with good reason. And because of your popularity, they would see a need for haste, in order to outrun the competition. I believe that’s why the men proposed before they had a chance to get to know you.”

“Oh, of course, and by your contention, once those men got to know me, they’d despise me the way you and Duncan do. Though Duncan did admit he would have tried to win me over if I hadn’t insulted him when we met. He was delighted to be engaged to me after he clapped eyes on me. You’re the only man I’ve ever met who wasn’t smitten by this face at first sight.”

She seemed surprised by her own words. She even gave him a thoughtful look that made him quite uncomfortable.

“No need to go off on a guessing tangent,” he warned her. “I simply have no intention of getting married in this century.”

“So never?”

“An exaggeration,” he said with a sigh. “Just not for another ten years at least. My father is very understanding in that regard, probably because he didn’t marry early himself. So he’s not pushing me onto the marriage mart yet.”

“Was that really why you left England? Because every mama in London had you earmarked for her daughter?”

“You make it sound worse than it was, but yes, I was hounded more’n I cared to deal with. It seemed as if I couldn’t turn around without some young chit being shoved in my face. I simply got fed up with it. And I hadn’t done the grand tour yet, so decided that would be a good time to escape, as it were. But let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“Certainly,” she replied tartly. “I just love being raked over the coals. Let’s do get back to that.”

He frowned. “You’re not taking this seriously, Phelia.”

“Aren’t I? Perhaps because I see no reason to belabor it when I’ve already admitted that I never would have started that rumor if not for the mixture of fear and rage I was beset with at the time. But here’s another confession for you. Flaw number two is my temper. I can’t help it and I’m rarely able to control it once it snaps.”

“No surprise there, m’dear,” he said drily. “I’ve already figured that out, indeed I have.”

“Really? Then you’ve gone out of your way to provoke my temper deliberately?”

“Not a’tall. You’re just too touchy about your own flaws.”

“Because I hate them, every one of them!”

Thrown out there as it was in a burst of heat, they stared at each other for a long moment, until he finally asked quietly, “Then why are you fighting tooth and nail my effort to help you get rid of them?”

“Have I refused to talk to you? Have I told you to go to hell—lately?”

He burst out laughing. “No, not lately. Then you’re saying you’re going to cooperate? For your own benefit at least?”

“For my own benefit, no. To get me out of here sooner, yes.”

He sighed. “Not exactly the attitude I’d hoped for, but better than no cooperation at all. Let me ask you this. If you had it to do over again, would you have handled breaking your engagement to Duncan any differently?”

“Why don’t you ask me instead if I felt I had any other choice? I didn’t, you know. What part of
desperate
didn’t you understand?”

“So you don’t regret any of it?”

“Of course I do. There was no spite or malice involved as you seem to think. I wasn’t
trying
to hurt him, I was just trying to get rid of him! I even concluded later that he’d do well enough. At least his title would have delighted my father.”

“But not you?”

“There’s only one thing I’d like in a husband, and, no, it’s not a title. That’s my father’s criterion for a son-in-law, not mine.”