“But,” Trent said, his voice grim.
“She wept frequently,” Leonora said sadly. “And her beautiful hair began to fall out. She complained to her mother that the medications they were giving her made her ill. Until finally Aunt Sibyl convinced Uncle Harold that they should remove her from the clinic altogether and take her away to the Continent for treatment.”
“So they took her to Italy,” Ophelia said.
“They did,” Leonora confirmed. “And slowly but surely she began to regain her health. And before long she even met a young man there on holiday, who fell in love with her. Who had a fortune of his own, so my aunt and uncle trusted him. And soon after they married.”
“So Dr. Hayes’s treatment made her ill,” Trent said. “As indictments go that’s not particularly damning.”
“There is one thing I failed to mention, however,” Leonora said, her mouth tight with anger. “When my cousin and her new husband returned from the Continent, they brought someone with them.”
“Who?” Mainwaring asked, eyes narrowed.
But Ophelia already knew. “A child,” she said softly. “A child that her new husband claimed was his own.”
“Precisely,” Leonora said. “But the timing was all wrong—at least I knew that from my aunt’s letters. No one else is aware of it as far as I know.”
“So, you think she was with someone at the Hayes Clinic?” Trent asked. “Or is it worse than that? You think she was raped?”
“I cannot know,” Leonora said with a shake of her head. “The thing is that Daisy was very persuadable. It’s why her parents were so concerned about her. She fell in love at the drop of a hat. And I can quite easily imagine her allowing one of those young fortune hunters to make love to her. But she was at the clinic for months without any sign of pregnancy. I know because I visited her there. It had to have happened after she went into the clinic and before she left for Italy. Remember, she complained that the medication was making her ill. It’s equally possible she was suffering from morning sickness.”
“Is it possible that someone at the Hayes Clinic is preying on vulnerable patients?” Ophelia asked thoughtfully, her mind teeming with images that made her skin crawl. “And then, what, when the victims become pregnant sending them to Daniel Swinton’s home for unwed mothers?”
“It’s a possibility, certainly,” Trent agreed. “And a logical reason for Maggie to have both the Hayes Clinic and Swinton in her notes.”
“I should like to speak to Daisy,” Ophelia said to Leonora. “Do you think she would feel comfortable answering some questions? I don’t wish to upset her. And I know she’s been through a great deal.”
“She’ll be at the Kinston ball tonight,” Leonora replied. “She doesn’t like to talk about her time in the Hayes Clinic, but I suspect she will wish to help you as much as she’s able. I’ll see you two are introduced tonight.”
“I promise to be gentle with her,” Ophelia said gratefully. “And discreet. I have no wish to intrude upon her newfound happiness.”
“Don’t tell me you mean to attend a ball after the drama of the past couple of days,” Trent said with a frown. “You suffered quite a serious blow to the head yesterday.”
Ophelia frowned at his high-handed tone. Just because they were working together did not mean he had the right to make decisions for her.
“And now I am feeling much better,” she said coolly. “Besides which, my sister is betrothed to the Marquess of Kinston so my mother is expecting me to attend whether I feel up to it or not. And I most certainly do feel up to it.”
He looked as if he would like to say more, but perhaps seeing the mulish set of her jaw, he kept silent.
“I can promise to look after her.” Leonora exchanged a sly look with her husband, who winked. “Unless, of course, you mean to attend too, Trent.”
“He must attend,” Freddy said guilelessly. “For I mean to keep you busy dancing, my dear. You will have no time to watch over Ophelia.”
“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Ophelia said, rolling her eyes. “And I have no need of a keeper. At least not the last time I checked.”
Trent muttered something under his breath, but when she scowled at him, he shrugged as if to say, “Who, me?”
Annoyed with all of them, she stood. “I believe I’ll walk home. It is a fair enough afternoon and my house is only a few streets away.”
“Of course I’ll take you,” Trent said, looking offended. “As I said, you’ve had an eventful couple of days. And as I am going in that direction anyway it will be no inconvenience.”
It would serve him right if she refused, Ophelia thought stubbornly. But it was true that she was tired. And if she were going to attend a ball that evening she’d do better to conserve her energy. “Very well,” she said.
“We’ll see you there tonight,” Hermione said as she and Leonora ushered their friend into the hallway and toward the front entrance.
* * *
Trent made to follow Ophelia, but was stayed by Freddy’s hand on his arm.
“What’s going on here?” his friend asked with a speaking look in the direction of the departing ladies. “I was unaware that you and Ophelia were more than speaking acquaintances.”
“Certainly not close enough to ride about town together in your curricle for two days in a row,” Mainwaring added, his eyes bright with mischief.
“Don’t be daft,” Trent said with a frown. “We are only working together to find her friend because George Grayson is a member of the Lords of Anarchy. Nothing more than that.”
“But it would be easy enough for you to look for Maggie Grayson on your own, surely?” Freddy asked, pinning him with his blue gaze. “Especially considering that you don’t know what’s in store when you find her. Shouldn’t you leave Ophelia to her own devices for safety’s sake if nothing else?”
At the suggestion he was endangering Ophelia in some way, Trent stiffened. “Now see here, Lisle,” he said with a voice that sounded threatening even to his own ears. “I am doing my utmost to see that she remains safe. If I were to leave her to her own devices as you so helpfully suggest, then she would be God knows where poking her nose into the devil knows what. That lady is as stubborn as a mule and the only reason she is still safe is because I’ve ensured that she doesn’t take the sort of risks she’d doubtless undertake if she were allowed to go about unchecked.”
There was an eerie silence in the hallway for a moment as Trent realized his mistake.
Damn. Double damn.
“That was some speech, old fellow,” Mainwaring said, diffidently picking a bit of lint from his sleeve. “I believe you’ve made our point.”
“You are both asses,” Trent said, turning his back on his oldest friends and stalking down the stairs toward the entry hall.
“You don’t suppose I was too hard on him?” he heard Freddy say from above. “I sometimes can go a bit too far.”
“Not a bit of it,” Mainwaring replied. “How else were we to learn the truth of things? It’s not as if he’ll tell us he’s head over ears on his own.”
Grateful that Ophelia and her married friends were already outside, Trent collected his hat and coat and stomped out the door.
Eleven
“Remember, you promised to dance at least two sets with Lord Goring,” Mrs. Dauntry reminded Ophelia as they rode, along with Mr. Dauntry and Mariah, to the Kinston ball that evening. Though in many households it would be unusual for the elder daughter to remain unmatched while the younger was betrothed, in this case, Mrs. Dauntry had tolerated the situation because she considered Ophelia and Lord Goring all but betrothed already.
Mr. Dauntry, however, had other ideas. “Why are you encouraging her to dance with that milksop?” he demanded of his wife. Though they’d doubtless discussed the matter any number of times, Ophelia suspected he pretended to forget about her mother’s plans for Lord Goring out of sheer dislike for the man and a wish to needle his wife. “She’s got more spirit in
her little finger than that fellow has in his entire body.”
“You know very well, Mr. Dauntry,” her mother said stiffly, “that Ophelia has been promised to Lord Goring for some time now. It’s just a matter of his asking the question. And I will not have you speak of him in that way. He is the son of my dearest friend, as you well know.”
“How is that being promised?” he demanded, his dark brows contrasting with his white hair. “Sounds to me like something you and Lady Goring cooked up between you two without consulting Ophelia or her supposed suitor.”
Though she knew it was wrong to take pleasure in her mother’s discomfort, Ophelia could not help but appreciate her father’s championship. Especially since she was no more eager to marry Lord Goring than her father was to call the man son-in-law.
“It would be better for Ophelia to simply accept the match with good grace,” Mariah interjected with the insufferably smug air she’d adopted since she’d accepted Kinston’s proposal. “It’s not as if she has any other prospects. And this way, she will avoid being the butt of jokes as the unmarried elder sister.”
“There’s no possibility of a match if the fellow doesn’t ask me,” Mr. Dauntry reminded Mariah archly. “And even if he did I wouldn’t give my consent. Bad enough we’re allowing a bacon brain like Kinston into the family. I don’t think we can stand to add someone like Goring.”
Fortunately for Mr. Dauntry’s continued health, his wife and Mariah were diverted from their ire at his statement by the halt of the carriage before the Kinstons’ town house.
Ophelia allowed her mother and sister to disembark first, and was rewarded with a grin from her father as he handed her down. “Find yourself some other man with a bit of sense tonight, my girl,” he said, chucking her under the cheek. “I should hate to see your spirit broken by a match with that milksop. Son or no son of your mama’s dearest friend, he’s not good enough for you.”
Though he was, at times, gruff and distant, Ophelia loved her father for these times when he stood up for her. Her mother loved her, she knew, but it always seemed as if she’d love her more if she’d only do this or that. Her papa loved her as she was.
“I shall try, Papa,” she replied as he handed her down. “Though it will make Mama quite cross.”
“You let me handle your mama,” he said with a wink. “I should hate to be saddled with two addlepated sons-in-law. One will be bad enough.”
The line of guests snaking its way up to the receiving line was longer than Ophelia had anticipated, but the parties before and behind theirs were merry enough, and when they finally reached where Lord Kinston and his mother were waiting, she was in a better mood than she had been on the drive over.
“I am delighted to welcome you to Weatherford House, Mr. and Mrs. Dauntry, Miss Mariah, and Miss Dauntry,” said the marquess as they reached where he stood in the glittering candlelight of his entry hall. “I do hope you will enjoy yourselves.”
He really was a pleasant man, Ophelia thought with relief for her sister. She might be a nuisance at times, but Ophelia loved her and was pleased to know she’d have an amiable husband at the very least.
Once she’d made it through the receiving line, Ophelia excused herself to her parents and Mariah—but not without an admonishment from her mother to save dances for Lord Goring—and stepped a little bit away, scanning the ballroom for her friends. Finally she spied Leonora and Freddie on the opposite side of the room in conversation with one of Freddy’s multiple brothers.
Before she could step away, however, a familiar voice sent a frisson of awareness through her.
“Miss Dauntry,” said the Duke of Trent, his eyes intense as he stepped before her and bowed over her hand. “You’re looking well. I trust you are recovered from your accident yesterday.”
Though she’d known him for almost a year, Ophelia was struck with a sudden breathlessness on hearing his voice. What a difference one little kiss could make.
Even so, she might be forgiven for her response if one were to actually take a good look at the Duke of Trent this evening. If he’d been impressive in his shirtsleeves with a sheen of sweat, Trent in evening finery was truly a sight to behold. Following the fashion set by Brummel years ago, he wore a perfectly tailored black coat over a silver-threaded waistcoat of deep blue that matched his eyes. The blue was also echoed by a sapphire pin winking amid the folds of his simply knotted cravat.
“Your grace,” she said as she curtsied deeply, well aware of the blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you, I am quite well. I hope you are enjoying your evening.”
Feeling his eyes upon her, Ophelia was quite glad she’d chosen to wear her new deep green gown. Once upon a time she’d allowed her mother to choose the design of her gowns, and the result had been a disaster. As a taller-than-average lady, Ophelia ran the risk of looking rather like an overly festooned Christmas mantel when her gowns were covered in ribbons and tucks and decorations. But after one too many balls spent watching everyone else dance from the isolation of the chaperones’ seats, she had put her foot down. She would choose her own gowns and the result was nothing short of miraculous. Whereas before she’d drawn attention for all the wrong reasons, now she was, if not a diamond of the first water, at least pretty and presentable in her simple evening silk with its puffed sleeves and deep neckline.
“I am now,” he said with an appreciative scan of her figure and a wide grin that made his usually austere countenance almost boyish. Then, offering her his arm, he added, “I believe I see Lord Frederick and Mrs. Lisle over near the refreshment table. Shall I escort you there?”
Taking his arm, Ophelia was pleased that he’d singled her out. Because it would mean avoiding Lord Goring, she told herself firmly. And as they walked, she saw more than one young lady glance at her in envy as they passed through the throng of guests along the perimeter of the dance floor.
“I hope you will save a waltz for me,” Trent said as they neared their friends. “And perhaps the supper dance?”
Her heart skipped a little at the invitation. At any other evening entertainment his request for saved dances would have been unremarkable. But in the context of their time spent together yesterday and today, coupled with the kiss, it was evident that the Duke of Trent was feeling a level of interest in her that went beyond mere friendship.
But her excitement was dampened when he continued. “We can use the time to discuss all we’ve learned today about the Hayes Clinic. And perhaps talk about what we should do next.”
Ah. How foolish of her to think he might be asking her for personal reasons. Of course it was because he wished to discuss Dr. Hayes. He was after all trying to clear the name of the Lords of Anarchy. And prove his friend had had no hand in Maggie’s disappearance. He likely kissed any number of ladies over the course of a week. He was a highly sought-after duke, after all.
“Of course,” she said, careful not to let her disappointment show. “We have much to discuss.”
They had reached Freddy and Leonora by then, and she was grateful for the distraction.
“You should always wear that shade of green,” Leonora said with a bright smile as she gave Ophelia a hard hug. “It goes so nicely with your black hair. Just lovely.”
“I have to agree,” Freddy said, kissing her on the cheek. “If I didn’t know better I’d never have guessed you’re the same lady who fought against a pair of brutes yesterday.”
“That’s me,” Ophelia said with a dry grin, “the ladies’ counterpart to Gentleman Jackson.”
“Just the same,” Trent said with a frown, “it would be much better if you tried not to do so in the future, Miss Dauntry. You were lucky yesterday, but that might not be the case next time.”
“Tut-tut, Trent,” Freddy scolded his friend. “I sincerely doubt Miss Dauntry goes out of her way to court danger. I’ve always found her to be a sensible lady.”
“I said nothing about her sense or lack thereof,” Trent said defensively, “only that it is not always
going to end as well as it did yesterday.”
“I believe you have made your point, your grace,” said Ophelia, disappointed in his lack of faith in her.
Changing the subject, she turned to Leonora and asked, “Have you seen your cousin Daisy?”
Blinking as she looked from Ophelia to Trent then back again, Leonora said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. She is dancing the current set with Lord Kimball.” Gesturing to a red-haired lady who was dancing the steps of the Sir Roger de Coverley with a handsome young man on the other side of the dance floor.
“She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” Ophelia asked in a low voice as she watched the other lady dance.
“Indeed,” said Leonora gravely. “I suspect that might have been as much a source of her trouble as anything else. I somehow think being that beautiful is a double-edged sword in that way. You are both assumed to be better than you are, and infinitely worse than you are.”
“True enough,” Ophelia agreed. Though she herself hadn’t dealt with such an affliction, she did suppose the attention such beauty would bring with it could make life difficult.
“As soon as this set is over I will take you over to her,” Leonora said with a nod.
But before Ophelia could respond, the sound of her mother’s voice intruded. Turning, she saw Mrs. Dauntry approaching with Lord Goring by her side.
It was really too bad for Goring that she happened to be standing with two of the most handsome men in the room when he approached. Whereas Freddy bore the sleek and fine-boned good looks of all the Lisle family, and Trent was darkly handsome with a military bearing, Goring seemed callow by comparison. Thin, almost bony, with unremarkable features and light brown hair, he was sadly overshadowed by the other two men.
Still, Mrs. Dauntry pulled him along into the circle of Ophelia and her friends.
“Here she is, Lord Goring,” Mrs. Dauntry trilled, in a tone that made Ophelia cringe in embarrassment. Even with the noise of the ballroom she was sure everyone was able to hear her. “My dear daughter, did you forget that we were to meet Lord Goring and his dear mama when we arrived? I’m sure I reminded you on the drive here. Did I not?”
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