But still, Sissy would recognize the woman anywhere.
What had surprised her was the gentleman Ophelia was seated across from.
Lord Hawke, Colin Parnell—the dowager’s grandson.
Had he found the location of his grandfather’s private belongings, too?
She’d rushed poor Franny out the side door of the establishment, convincing him it would cut down on the walking distance to the building she’d learned belonged to Porter Parnell—which, in turn, would have Francis back in London in time to attend a ball or some such other societal engagement.
“Do tell me again what these papers have to do with gaining back my property in Somerset,” Francis inquired, still huffing from climbing the flight of stairs to locate the small living quarters.
My property, Sissy thought.
“…and I must insist again, no one will care a whit about the Coventry family’s past. We had a notorious gambler and rakehell for a father—certainly, a free trader is not all that scandalous.”
But there was so much more—oh, so much more!—to the matter. Things the dowager’s son, Ramsey Parnell, didn’t want those in London to discover.
“Don’t you fret about anything, Franny,” Sissy crowed. Coventry was unworthy, even her own brother could use a proper dressing down for his part in Sissy being made to wait so many years to reclaim her home. “With these”—she waved the pages in the air between them nearly swiping at his nose—“I have what I need to return what is mine to our family.”
“It only seemed a grand hassle for something so insignificant.” He meandered about the dusty room, a bleak expression overtaking his normally jovial demeanor. “And if what you plan to do when we return to London is any indication, the disturbance to our lives will only increase.”
It irritated her that Francis thought securing his sister’s future was so burdensome—an unnecessary disruption to his daily life. “I am doing this for us. This is our family’s due, and it is our responsibility to see it returned to us.”
“The land—and the manor house—are likely worth little after all these years.” He scoffed. “Why go to such lengths to see it returned to us when we have our townhouse in London, home in Bath, and our country estate?”
He had a London townhouse, a home in Bath, and a country estate—Sissy did not.
And when Francis wed again, all of it would belong to the new Duchess of Abercorn. And the woman would very likely label Sissy an irritation, a relation not worth supporting…and then where would Sissy go?
Sissy was growing older, and she was tired of fighting every day to have something to call hers. The day was fast approaching when she might not be able to handle the next possessive woman who entered her brother’s life with her sights set on being a duchess.
“This is something that is all mine and cannot be taken from me.” Sissy stuffed the pages into her handbag and pushed past Franny toward the exit. “Now, can we be away from here? This filth is likely to ruin the hem of my gown.”
With a smirk of satisfaction, Sissy listened as her brother’s footsteps treaded behind her as he was forced into the position of following her from the room and down the staircase.
A shiver of anticipation traveled down Ophelia’s back as she watched Edith’s and Luci’s mirrored expressions of shock transform into knowing sideways glances as they noticed the large necklace nestled between Ophelia’s breasts and the way she held Colin’s arm as if she’d cease to exist if she let him go. Her chest filled with pride—in herself and the man at her side. Edith and Lucianna hadn’t thought Ophelia had been in any real danger, but had needed to feign concern to gain Torrington and Montrose’s support in following her to Sheerness. Essentially, they’d duped their betrotheds into making the mad dash to Kent.
Ophelia’s only question was: why.
“How can we help?” Montrose asked, glancing at Luci. “I assume we will not be journeying back to London until Lady Ophelia and Lord Hawke have found what they came for.”
“You assume right, my love,” Luci chimed in. “I don’t care what Torrington says about you…you are the brightest man I know.”
Montrose threw a narrowed glare at Torrington, who only laughed and slammed him on the back again.
At first, Ophelia had the urge to turn away their help and send them back to London; however, both Edith and Luci turned expectant stares on her. They were her friends. They loved Ophelia, and their journeying all the way to Sheerness only convinced her that she’d been too hard on them. Especially Luci during her stay with Ophelia after her father had cast her out.
“We have discovered nothing of great significance as yet,” Colin said, making the decision to accept their help. “We have one last place to visit, and then we will be reduced to questioning the townsfolk about a man who hasn’t lived in Sheerness for many years.”
“Lead the way.” Montrose motioned for Colin to take the lead.
“My grandpapa and Molly rented rooms above the blacksmith’s shop,” Colin said.
“Oh, we passed the place when we drove through town.” Edith smiled, always one to make note of certain things that did not appear important but nevertheless always seemed to be useful. “It was only three doors down from the inn we stopped at.”
“You stopped at the inn?” Ophelia gulped.
Luci winked, letting Ophelia know they’d discovered that she and Colin had shared quarters the previous night. “The proprietor pointed us in the direction of the docks. It appears an auburn-haired beauty is difficult to miss in such a small town.”
Ophelia’s cheeks heated as a blush crept up her neck. She looked up at Colin, but he appeared unaware of her embarrassment or the fact that her friends had discovered their scandalous sleeping arrangements.
Instead, he started off, everyone following behind her and Colin as they made their way back toward the inn and the blacksmith’s shop beyond.
It should be an invasion of her privacy, the act of her friends swooping in to take over her adventure, except they trailed her—they didn’t push her aside or demand she follow their lead. Colin, with her on his arm, was in charge. The ladies were here because they genuinely wanted to help, and were desperate to learn more about the man Ophelia had fled London with. There had been a time, not many months ago, that Ophelia had been similarly curious about Torrington and Montrose.
They reached the inn quickly, the duke’s carriage following them at a distance, and hurried on toward the blacksmith’s shop.
“Molly says this building still belongs to her family and no one has lived up top since she and my grandpapa moved to London after accepting his Earldom from the king.” Colin spoke aloud, even though Ophelia assumed he was working everything out in his mind. “If there is anything to be found here, it will be the room they shared for the first five years of their marriage.”
Ophelia glanced over her shoulder, and Edith’s brow rose in question. They hadn’t the time to explain everything now. It was a long story, one that could be imparted on their journey back to London.
The blacksmith’s shop was deserted, the doors wide open, and the forge lit with various tools lying discarded about the large room. Whoever worked within mustn’t be far.
“Hello?” Ophelia called into the dim interior. They all waited just outside the doors, not wanting to shock the blacksmith if he were inside. “Anyone here?”
“Doesn’t appear to be anyone about.” Colin stepped back, releasing her arm to survey the stairs leading up the side of the building to a landing above. “That must be their rooms up there.”
He started to climb the steps, and Ophelia leapt into action behind him, keeping close pace as they climbed. She held her skirt high to avoid tripping and tumbling back down the steep steps. They appeared clean of dirt and well swept.
A pounding in her chest had her placing a hand over the area as she fought to catch her breath as she climbed. It was not her heart beating erratically, but the pendant swinging and thumping her bosom. Ophelia wrapp
ed the precious stone in her hand and was immediately filled with a sense of comfort. Was it Porter “Fair Wind” Parnell reaching out to her from somewhere beyond her meager existence? The question needed more pondering…but now wasn’t the time, nor the place. Or maybe it was the exact place for such consideration.
Making the landing, Colin paused and waited for her to reach his side before he grasped the latch and pushed the door open.
Ophelia sucked in a breath. She’d imagined the door would be locked to avoid trespassers, but they stepped over the threshold without anyone coming to stop them. The room was empty except for two cloth-covered pieces of furniture; one being a table, and the other a large shelf. The hearth was also bare and swept clean of debris.
Colin walked farther into the room, his footsteps kicking up dust from the floor and causing Ophelia to sneeze.
No one followed them, and no footfalls sounded on the stairs outside.
Lady Edith and the others must have remained below.
The windows were shrouded in heavy, brown fabric, reducing the light in the room to a hazy, patchy glow, casting shadows into the far corners not reached by the light streaming in from the open door.
“There doesn’t appear to be anyone living here,” she mumbled, needing to say something to break the silence. “There is an inch of dust on every surface.”
Colin’s stare scanned the room once more and settled on the mantel above the open hearth.
A tiny wooden box rested there, devoid of the years of dirt and grime covering the rest of the room. The pieces of a broken lock had been placed atop it, and the latch was sprung.
“Someone has been here”—he paused, scanning the room once more—“and very recently.”
“But who?”
He didn’t answer, and she hadn’t expected him to. As everything else surrounding Fair Wind and his past, it would likely remain a mystery.
Colin approached the hearth—and the tiny box—with caution.
Ophelia could not blame him for his hesitation. Whatever the box held, it was certain to change his life—for good or bad. If it was empty, they’d accomplished nothing in Sheerness. If it held the missing pages, Colin would be forced to return to them Molly and cause more friction between his father and grandmama. Ophelia suspected it would not be so simple to cast aside all his father had believed for his entire life.
Setting the broken lock aside, Colin picked up the tiny wooden box and returned to her side.
“My great-grandpapa, Fair Wind’s father, was a master carver.” Colin smiled, and Ophelia knew he was in another time, another place. “He lived here, in Sheerness, crafting trunks, boxes, and even furniture for the many sailing vessels.”
Colin turned the box over in his hands and held it out for her to see.
In perfect script on the underside of the box was Parnell.
“The box could have been crafted yesterday.” Ophelia reached out and traced the word with her fingertip. “It is beautiful. Your family has much to be proud of.”
“And many secrets to keep hidden, it appears.”
She set her hand on his shoulder in comfort but he winced, stepping away from her.
“Shall I wait outside?” she asked. This should be a private moment for him. If it were Ophelia on such a cusp of discovery, she’d need space and time to process everything. “I will join the others downstairs.”
She made to turn, but Colin reached out, grasped her gloved hand, and tugged her back to face him. He said not a word, only raised her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on her open palm. It was an invitation—no, a demand—that she stay.
Here. With him.
No matter what they discovered about his family’s past, they would return to London together. She wanted to tell him that she’d be at his side through it all. Whether they returned with good news or no news, she’d be there.
For him.
“Go on, open it,” she coaxed in a whisper. “Let us see what adventure lies in such a tiny box.”
He released her hand and focused on the box once more.
For the first time since leaving London, Ophelia was overwhelmed. Her head spun, her vision blurring. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, calming breath, and begged her mind to remain in control of her body. She would not faint…not here, not now. She gulped down another deep inhale and allowed her eyes to flutter open.
“You are beautiful,” Colin breathed, taking a step closer to her, the box between them. “Have I told you that today?”
“You’ve…you’ve…you’ve never told me that,” she stammered, unable to collect her thoughts with him so close.
“Ah, rest assured, I’ve been thinking it since the moment I rescued you from Molly’s wrath in the Atholl drive.”
“Perhaps it is my sorceress spell,” she teased. “Beelzebub come to drag you to the Underworld.”
“Or, perhaps”—he leaned in so close their lips nearly met—“it is only you and your inner light that has captured me so completely.”
“My lord, I must say that sounds far more likely than Molly’s accusations of the devil’s mark.”
This time, it was Colin who moved the final inch and captured her mouth.
Unlike their previous kiss, this time, their mouths met and danced in a light, undemanding cadence. Neither deepening the kiss nor parting their lips. It was a promise of intimate times to come, the assurance that no matter what they found in the box, they’d still have one another. Their time together would not cease once they returned to London. Ophelia wholeheartedly believed that.
She would never be able to walk away from him and not look back.
He’d been burned into her mind. His composed confidence and determination etched there.
Colin was not the arrogant and domineering gentleman Torrington and Montrose appeared to be. He was not the shrewd businessman Luci’s father was. He was not the cunning, manipulative lord Abercorn certainly was.
He was something altogether different…and that fact made him all the more special to Ophelia. He’d allowed her this journey, this adventure, never questioning her motives yet believing in her ability to assist him.
“Are you ready?” he said on a soft exhale. She could only nod, not trusting herself to speak.
Clutching the box in one hand, Colin lifted the lid with the other, and they both peeked inside.
Nestled in the emerald green fabric lining the box was an envelope with one simple word written on it.
Molly.
The sure, solid print was unmistakable to Ophelia. She’d read nearly all of Fair Wind’s travel log and his bits about Molly and his home. Porter Parnell had addressed the envelope to his wife, the woman he’d loved above all else.
Whoever had broken the lock hadn’t taken the letter. She wondered if something else had been housed in the box at some time.
The envelope was too thin to hold all the torn pages from Fair Wind’s book.
Ophelia glanced up at Colin to see a single tear slide down his cheek. He’d been so strong and unaffected since their arrival in Sheerness, despite their many setbacks, but it appeared the letter was too much.
She reached in and grasped the envelope. The paper had yellowed with age, and the ink had faded with time.
“It is addressed to your grandmother. Should we take it back to London?”
Colin shook his head firmly, his lips pressed into a frown. “No, we open it here. There is perhaps information we need inside.”
Handing the note to him, Ophelia collected the box and returned it to the mantel while Colin studied the letter, pacing from one end of the room to the other. He stared at the note with all seriousness, and Ophelia noticed for the first time how exhausted he appeared. His strong posture had receded, and his eyes were glazed over with fatigue. He’d never given up; however, it was as if he needed a month’s worth of rest now that he held something concrete in his hands.
If Ophelia could make this all easier for him, she would. She’d do anything to les
sen the burden on Colin’s shoulders.
This was where her adventure ended, and Colin’s real-life struggles took over.
Chapter 20
Colin had in his hand the one thing he’d been searching for, and he wanted nothing more than to return it to its box on the mantel and run—return to London, tell Molly they’d found nothing, and continue as he had since childhood. Forever in the middle of his family’s strife. Would that be preferable to knowing the truth of his family’s past? At present, Colin was seriously pondering that exact question.
Until he glanced up at Ophelia.
Going back and forgetting all that had transpired in Sheerness would also mean erasing Ophelia from his life. Forgetting the feel of her soft lips. Putting from his mind the long, silky, auburn locks that even now hung with wild abandon about her shoulders. Most of all, erasing her tenacity and determination to help him in such a selfless manner. She’d risked everything to accompany him—at first, he’d believed she was bored and in need of distraction, but it was so much more than that. Over the last day, he’d discovered a deep-seated, undaunted determination within the woman that he’d come to admire greatly.
Bloody hell, but he more than admired her.
He couldn’t imagine returning to London, and his life, without her.
Molly had been correct. Ophelia had cast a spell over him, and he never wanted it lifted.
But he needed—they needed—to finish here in Sheerness before talks of the future were possible.
Colin smiled, knowing it did not reach his eyes and slipped his finger under the seal holding the letter closed.
When the flap opened, he removed the single sheet of paper and was instantly reminded of the note Molly had sent with her list. Had she known Colin would find himself so enamored with Ophelia? Had she foreseen that the adventure would bring Colin close to Ophelia, closer than he’d ever been to another person?
He shook his head to banish the thought.
Unfolding the note, he read:
The Misadventures of Lady Ophelia (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 3) Page 17
