Lettuce shook her head but said, “What do you suggest.”
Ophelia sat straighter. “Foresight is key. We must consider every possibility for defeat that may come our way and form a strategy to overcome it. Time is slipping away, but I’m certain we can—”
“What is going on in here?”
The sudden, sharp question startled Ophelia and the Marlowe sisters, but Ophelia was even more surprised to find Lady Malvis marching into the room rather than Lord Marlowe, or even Lord Cunningham or Mr. Pigge.
“Lady Malvis,” Ophelia said, rising. “This is a private matter. I would humbly ask that you leave us in peace.”
“Why?” Lady Malvis said, crossing her arms and tilting her head up in suspicion. “I know precisely what your little cabal is plotting.”
Ophelia caught her breath, anxiety spilling down her spine. Behind her, Alice wailed quietly and Imogen’s weeping increased.
“You are devising ways to snag the few remaining eligible gentlemen at this miserable party,” Lady Malvis went on.
Ophelia could have sung in relief. “I can assure you, Lady Malvis, that is not the topic of our conversation this evening.”
“You would say that.” Lady Malvis approached her, arms still crossed, narrowing her eyes. “I saw the way you were flirting with Lord Ainsley this morning. If I had not come along when I did, you would have fallen all over him and made a spectacle of yourself.”
The accusation was so startling that Ophelia blinked, pressing a hand to her chest. Her gesture drew Lady Malvis’s eyes to the key she still wore around her neck.
“I can assure you, I have no such designs on Lord Ainsley,” she said.
“Lies,” Lady Malvis scoffed, dropping her arms at last. “He is a marquess. His lands and fortunes are vast. And you are captivated by his plans to travel to the Caribbean.”
Ophelia blinked. It was all she could do. It was clear that Lady Malvis only hurled the accusations because she herself was interested in Lord Ainsley and his journeys. “What can I say or do to prove to you that my interests are not in Lord Ainsley, that I encourage you to pursue him yourself?”
Lady Malvis stared hard at her, giving Ophelia the impression she didn’t believe a word. Sure enough, before Ophelia could react, she lashed out, grabbing the key at Ophelia’s neck and wrenching the ribbon up over her head with such force that it sent pins flying from her hairstyle.
As soon as Ophelia saw her precious key in Lady Malvis’s grip, she gasped, “Give that back.”
“No,” Lady Malvis said firmly. “It’s obviously something precious to you. You’ve been wearing it through the entire party. What is it? What does it unlock?”
“I don’t even know,” Ophelia said, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she did know.
She’d been so overwhelmed with the drama of the Marlowe sisters—not to mention horrified at being discovered naked with Saif by a maid—that the rose-carved cabinet in the unoccupied bedroom she and Saif had made love in had slipped her mind. The key had fit perfectly in the cabinet’s lock. That was what it unlocked. She was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt. The only reason she hadn’t found the cabinet before was because it was in a bedroom—a bedroom that could have been occupied by another guest, for all she knew.
“Give it back,” she pleaded, sick at the thought of bowing to Lady Malvis’s pressure.
“I will not,” Lady Malvis snapped. Her thin lips spread into a devilish grin as she studied the key in her hand. She must have known she had something Ophelia prized. “I will not give this foolish trinket back until you prove to me that you have no intention of sinking your pitiful claws into Lord Ainsley.”
It was so ridiculous that Ophelia laughed. “I swear to you, I have no intention whatsoever of going near Lord Ainsley, let alone engaging myself to him.”
“I don’t believe you,” Lady Malvis said.
Behind Ophelia, Lettuce rose from the settee. “Malvis,” she said, stepping forward with her eyes narrowed. “From the Latin ‘mal’ meaning bad or ugly and ‘vis’ meaning face, correct?”
“No…that is…what a horrible…that’s not even the correct translation,” Lady Malvis sputtered.
“Ugly face,” Lettuce repeated.
“How dare you insult me in that manner, you…you…you pitiful…creature.” Lady Malvis deflated as she failed to come up with an equally sharp insult for Lettuce. “You vegetable,” she finished at last.
Ophelia felt the situation deteriorating swiftly. Lady Malvis was horrible, but she had the key. “Tell me what I can do to prove I have no interest in Lord Ainsley,” she said.
As she spoke, Saif appeared in the doorway, looking as though he had been searching. His face lit up at the sight of Ophelia, and he started into the room.
“I have no interest in Lord Ainsley because my heart belongs to no man but Mr. Khan,” Ophelia blurted. The truth was inconvenient, but if it would help her reclaim her key and get rid of Lady Malvis, she would use it. She even rushed to Saif’s side and clasped his arm.
Lady Malvis laughed at the gesture. “I don’t care if you’re rutting with that colonial in the servants’ hall. You’ll never be allowed to marry him.”
Ophelia felt her face heat and knew she had turned scarlet, partially out of anger and insult, but mostly because Lady Malvis had hit upon the truth.
“We both know the way of things,” Lady Malvis went on. “You will have your silly key back when I am happily engaged to Lord Ainsley.” She nodded for good measure and started toward the door. “Good day to you,” she snapped before marching into the hall and disappearing around the corner.
“But—”
Ophelia tried to start after her, but Saif stopped her.
“Let her go,” he said. “What does a little key matter anyhow?”
Ophelia glanced up at him with an offended frown. “It was the only thing of my own, the only mystery of my own, that I have ever had.”
Saif instantly looked contrite. “I am sorry,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping. “If there is anything I can do to contribute to satisfying that harpy’s demands, I will do it.”
“Thank you,” Ophelia said, softening a bit herself.
“If it helps,” Saif went on with a smirk, “Ainsley is at the point where he’ll marry anything in a skirt that doesn’t roll its eyes and walk away from him.”
It was a comfort. Ophelia agreed that it wouldn’t take much to convince Lord Ainsley to propose to Lady Malvis. But her soul ached with exhaustion at the way everything kept falling apart just when it looked as though she might be triumphant for a change.
Saif seemed to sense her upset. “All that is needed is for us to lay out the problems in front of us and devise solutions for each one,” he said, slipping his hand to the small of her back and crossing the room to where Alice and Imogen sat. Lettuce followed them.
“There’s no use,” Imogen sniffled. “We will not be able to escape Father’s plans for us.”
Saif exchanged a glance with Ophelia as if questioning how effective any argument he might make would be. Ophelia shrugged slightly. Saif arched one eyebrow, cleared his throat, and said, “Our first problem is ensuring your escape.”
“Do you think it is still possible?” Lettuce asked.
“I do,” Saif said. He glanced to Alice. “Though to be honest, Lady Alice, I have just had a conversation with Count Camoni and I do not believe the situation with him is as bad as you might perceive it to be.”
“Did he say he would call off the engagement?” Alice asked, brightening.
“No, he—”
Ophelia squeezed Saif’s arm to stop him. She could sense he was going to defend Count Camoni, which would only have turned the sisters against him.
“Are you suggesting they try to slip away to London again?” she asked.
He met her eyes and studied them for a moment. It was hard to tell whether he understood what she was trying to tell him, but he let out a breath and went on.
“That’s what Ophelia said,” Lettuce agreed.
“Our second problem,” Saif went on, “is retrieving your key from Lady Malvis.”
“It was so rude of her to take it,” Imogen said, indignant on Ophelia’s behalf which, under the circumstances, was touching.
“Lady Malvis wants Lord Ainsley,” Ophelia said, exhaustion pressing down on her. “That’s the only way she’ll give it back.”
“That shouldn’t be hard,” Saif said. “No harder than making sure you ladies can escape your father’s clutches.” He nodded to the Marlowe sisters.
“And do you have a plan for how we can accomplish all this?” Lettuce asked.
“As a matter of fact,” Saif grinned, “I do.”
Chapter 7
His plan had to work. Saif entered the ballroom the day after his encounter with Ophelia and the Marlowe sisters just as the orchestra began the first dance of the night. His plan to retrieve Ophelia’s key from Lady Malvis and to foil Marlowe’s plans for Lady Lettuce and Lady Imogen was complex, but he was determined to make every moving part of the grand contraption flow like clockwork. He couldn’t say why exactly it was so important to help the Marlowe sisters flee, except that doing so would win Ophelia’s heart forever. And he would need her undying devotion if the two of them were to face the challenges to any potential marriage that he saw coming.
“Is everything prepared?” Ophelia asked as he moved to stand beside her without actually facing her. Lady Millicent was only yards away and keeping a sharp eye on her niece.
“It’s as prepared as possible,” Saif murmured over his shoulder. “All we need to do now is spring the trap, cause the distraction, and let our little birds free.”
“Mr. Khan,” Lady Millicent snapped. “Are you conversing with my niece when I have expressly forbid you to?”
Inwardly, Saif winced. Outwardly, he put on an expression of startled innocence and turned to face Ophelia, her aunt, and the small circle of older women with them.
“Please forgive me, my lady.” He bowed to Lady Millicent. “I did not see you or your niece standing there.”
“A likely story,” Lady Millicent grumbled.
“Forgive me,” Saif repeated, adding a second bow for good measure. “I shall prove my trustworthiness by departing this instant.”
He followed his words with actions, leaving before Lady Millicent could beat him around the head. He sent Ophelia a final, reassuring look before striding deeper into the room.
His target for the first phase of his plan was waiting near one of the room’s fireplaces, wearing Ophelia’s key around her neck, and posing as though she were a fashion plate, though the truth couldn’t have been further from that.
“Lady Malvis,” Saif said, approaching with an ingratiating smile. “I do believe you are the most beautiful woman at tonight’s ball. You are, as the English saying goes, a diamond of the first water.”
“Oh?” Lady Malvis’s stunned look did nothing to approve her sour appearance. She narrowed her eyes, studying Saif sharply. Perhaps it was a change of heart on her part, or perhaps it was the enormous diamond pin surrounded by rubies that he wore in his cravat, but her pinched look softened into a cautious smile.
Saif’s smile widened. He had her off-balance, which was the perfect start. He sketched a gentlemanly bow and extended his hand. “Would you care to join this dance?”
Lady Malvis managed to pry her eyes away from his diamond long enough to look over her shoulder at the set that was forming for the next dance. “I…oh….” She turned back to him, studying his diamond more intently. “I do not know if I should, Mr. Khan.”
“Please,” Saif said, inching closer to her. “Though I do not bandy it about much, my correct title is Prince.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his and her jaws dropped. “Prince?” she asked in a strangled squeak.
“Yes. My father is Raja Wakas Khan of Sandhustan, though he has left our kingdom in the hands of my uncle Imran so that he might be of service to the East India Company in London. And to chaperone me while I attended Oxford so that I might rule more effectively when I ascend to the throne.”
He spoke his mouthful of information as quickly as possible, then watched as Lady Malvis drank it all in. By the time he reached the word “throne”, her eyes shone with calculation.
“Why yes, Your Royal Highness. I would be delighted to dance with you,” she said as though trying not to giggle like a maniac.
Saif took her hand, keeping his smile in place while rolling his eyes inwardly. There was no point in explaining how small and relatively unimportant Sandhustan was, or how close they were to losing the entire kingdom to the British in their relentless pursuit of allies on the subcontinent. All that mattered was that Lady Malvis was hooked.
They took their positions among the other couples for the dance, and as they waited for the orchestra to play the music for the first steps, Lady Malvis said, “I do hope you can forgive me for not recognizing your royal status earlier, Your Highness.”
Her statement drew looks of surprise from the couples standing on either side of them, though Lord Farrow glanced across to his partner and said, “You didn’t know? I attended university with Mr. Khan—he told me not to bother with the Highness nonsense—and we all knew.”
Saif sent his acquaintance a brief smile before returning his attention to Lady Malvis. “I find it more useful not to parade my status when in company in England.”
“Oh.” Lady Malvis touched a hand to her chest, looking more impressed than ever.
The orchestra played a quick trill, and the dance began in earnest. It was one of the more fiddly dances he’d learned while in London, and it took far more concentration than Saif wanted to give to get the steps right. It was also the sort of dance that involved far more steps with the couple beside them and more promenading than he needed. But at last, they entered a section of steps that brought him and Lady Malvis close together in a way that enabled him to talk.
“My lady, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I have admired you from afar these last few weeks,” he began, trying not to laugh at the patent absurdity in his statement.
“You?” Lady Malvis squeaked. “Admire me?”
“How could I not?” Saif went on, all too aware of how little time he had to set this portion of the trap. “Your grace and beauty are renowned. You are charm itself.”
She laughed. “Prince Saif, are you flirting with me?”
The steps in the dance started to change. Within seconds, Saif would be separated from her once more.
“We must speak more, but we cannot here.” They executed a twirl, and he rushed on with, “Meet me in the room adjacent to the Spanish parlor ten minutes after this dance is completed.”
“Meet you? Alone?” Her eyes shone with triumph.
“Yes.”
It was all he had time to say before the dance split them apart, ending the conversation.
Finishing the dance was a unique sort of torture, but Saif managed to keep his smile in place and feel satisfied knowing that he had at least set the first bit of the trap. As soon as the music ended and he bowed to Lady Malvis, she gave him a flirtatious look. Within seconds of him escorting her back to the fireplace where he’d found her, she skipped off, sailing out of the room on some pretense of needing to use the retiring room.
With Lady Malvis taken care of and the clock started, Saif turned and scanned the ballroom as fast as he could. He located his second target in the corner nearest the door and marched straight across the room.
“Lord Ainsley,” he said, nodding to the man in greeting.
“Mr. Khan.” Ainsley returned his bow and his smile. “What a delightful dance partner you have just had. I was thinking of asking her myself, but Pigge here prevented me. We’ve been discussing our forthcoming trip across
the Atlantic. Pigge is, of course, continuing on to America, but our ship sails for Antigua first. It will be the jolliest expedition—”
“Ainsley, would you kindly shut up,” Pigge said with an impatient sniff.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Ainsley laughed. “I do tend to prattle on. I have ever since I was a small boy.”
Pigge made a sound and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “This voyage will be a disaster.”
Saif wanted to laugh, but he had no time to stop and indulge in Ainsley and his antics.
“I’ve come with a message for you, sir,” he said.
“What? A message for me?” Ainsley blinked rapidly, as though no one had ever sent him anything before.
“Let’s hear it, man,” Pigge said in a grinding, suspicious voice, crossing his arms.
A sliver of doubt about the plan began to itch beneath Saif’s skin, but he went on with, “I’ve been instructed to inform you that a certain young lady wishes to speak with you. In private.”
“Good Lord. A young lady wishes to speak to me.” Ainsley smiled, his mouth opened. He turned to Pigge, though Saif couldn’t tell whether it was to gloat or to ask for advice.
Pigge crossed his arms. “Which young lady?”
Saif hesitated. Would Pigge believe him if he said? Would he prevent Ainsley from going? There was little chance he would be able to retrieve Ophelia’s key if Lady Mavis wasn’t made perfectly happy immediately.
Then again, as swiftly as she’d shifted her affections from Ainsley to him at one sight of his diamond pin, she might be equally as eager to shift those affections once more to a wealthy merchant on the verge of building a trading empire.
He leaned closer to the two men. “A lady of refinement,” he said, hoping suspense would get either or both men moving. “She did not wish her identity to be revealed, but she is most eager to speak with you. Alone.”
“Well, then,” Ainsley said, letting out a breath. “I must go.” He turned and made for the door immediately.
“I’ll go with you,” Pigge said in a suspicious voice. He narrowed his eyes, then followed Ainsley out of the ballroom.
The Charming Jezebel Page 6
