The queen followed his stare and cleared her throat. “Lady Ophelia is a pleasure. I do not regret her staying, and not just for Priscilla’s sake. She brings such brightness to whatever room she enters.”
He flinched at the use of the term. Yes, brightness was what she brought. Blinding at times. “Hoydens always do,” he muttered, and wished he had a drink. Several drinks.
Giabella nudged him gently. “And yet you cannot take your eyes off of her. Not now and not when you were dancing earlier.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he managed through clenched teeth. “Pardon me, Mama. I believe I could use some air.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but stepped away, hands clenching with every step he took. God’s teeth, he had spent his entire life having it driven into him that a man of his position could not reveal his emotions, for good or for bad. That his mother was able to make this observation was all the more reason to simply avoid Ophelia for the remainder of her stay here.
And perhaps it was also best to avoid everyone else, too. He certainly had a great deal to do.
CHAPTER 3
“Your Majesty?”
Grantham looked up from his paperwork and found the Duke of Gilmore standing in the doorway. He stood immediately and came around the desk, hand outstretched. “Gilmore. I didn’t expect to see you so early.”
Gilmore shook the offered hand. “It is not so very early, Your Majesty.” He motioned his head to the clock on Grantham’s mantel and he followed the movement. His eyes went wide as he noted the hour.
“Ah, I have lost track of the time. The guests must be readying to head to the docks. I must come join the family for all the farewells.”
“Yes, a few moments more, I think. I actually slipped up here early in the hopes we might have a moment to talk alone before the departure and whatever formalities will accompany it.”
Grantham nodded and motioned to the chairs before the fire. “Is something troubling you? Have Priscilla’s parents been difficult?”
Both men frowned. Priscilla’s parents had shown up to the island a few days before, uninvited and unwanted. They’d caused a scene and even threatened Priscilla. They’d been put in their places, of course. And it had worked itself out, after all, because it had forced Remi to admit his feelings for the woman.
Grantham would never forget the look on his often-wayward brother’s face when he realized what he could lose. He had never seen such a thing. Such certainty, such deep and abiding love. And now they would marry and all signs pointed to them being very happy.
Meanwhile Gilmore had taken on the task of seeing the wretched parents back to London, with a great deal of pressure on them so that they would never cause Priscilla pain again.
“They are dreadful people,” Gilmore answered. “But I can handle them. If I don’t, they shall not like the way my wife does it.”
“Throw them into the North Sea?” Grantham asked mildly.
“I honestly wouldn’t put it past her,” Gilmore laughed. “When she is protective of another person, she will do anything to see them safe. It is quite something to experience that kind of fierce loyalty.”
Grantham bent his head. “I assume so. But if not our uninvited guests, what do you wish to discuss with me, Your Grace?”
Gilmore shifted. “Ophelia.”
Swallowing hard, Grantham fought to keep his expression neutral. “What about her?”
“I appreciate the invitation for her to stay here a while longer,” Gilmore said. “She is so close to Priscilla, I know she will love being a part of the wedding and having a little more time before they are parted for far longer than they are accustomed to experiencing. And yet…I worry about her.”
“How so?”
Gilmore’s brow wrinkled. “She…is very good at letting her brilliant personality shine through, but she has had a few difficult years. By herself, with her friend distracted by her own happiness, I only fear she might lose herself a little in memories.”
Grantham drew back slightly. He made a study of Ophelia, almost against his own will. And he had guessed on some small level that she used her brightness to blind as much as to warm or to comfort. A rather clever instinct of self-protection, really, if opposite of his own. But now her brother was confirming this, and it made him wonder what exactly had hurt her in the past.
“What would you like me to do?” he asked since Gilmore seemed to expect a response.
“I realize you are very busy with your own work,” Gilmore said with a shake of his head. “I would never expect you to trouble yourself with her, but…”
“I will make sure there is someone aware of Lady Ophelia,” Grantham said softly. “Her welfare will be carefully monitored, I assure you. She will be safe and as happy as one can be during her time in Athawick without your watchful eye.”
“Good.” The relief on Gilmore’s face was plain. “Very good.” He pushed to his feet. “I should go down and say my private goodbyes to her. Abigail was doing so when I came up here and I didn’t wish to interrupt.”
“I will go downstairs with you,” Grantham said as he motioned to the door. “I’m sure the family will gather soon for the farewells to the party at large.”
They moved together, but at the door, Grantham stopped. “I did want to say to you how happy I am that you and Her Grace attended the wedding.”
The duke glanced at him in what seemed like pleasure. “Thank you. It was a wonderful time.”
“I do not have many…friends,” Grantham continued, and hated how awkward it made him feel. “But I hope I can count you as one.”
Gilmore smiled. “Indeed. You may with my great delight.”
Grantham cleared his throat, seeking to be gruff once more because the more vulnerable emotion felt so odd and raw. “Off we go then.”
The two men walked together, talking of nothing important as they did so. It was somewhat frustrating to Grantham. He couldn’t pry. Not to Ophelia’s brother, not without being far too obvious in his attraction to her. But he wanted to know what had inspired such concern for her. What had happened in her life that made Gilmore worry so about her?
And how could Grantham find out?
They reached the bottom of the stairs and, indeed, the family was already gathered. He shook Gilmore’s hand again and stepped into the line, watching as Gilmore moved into a parlor.
“Lady Ophelia is already in there with the Duchess of Gilmore,” his mother explained in a whisper. “They are such a close family, it’s lovely to see, but I think Lady Ophelia is suffering a little to think of being parted from them for a few weeks.”
Grantham grunted his response but leaned forward slightly. From this angle he could see just into the parlor and caught a glimpse of a woman’s skirt. Ophelia’s or the duchess’s, he could not say. He leaned a little more but there was nothing else within his sightline.
At last, the Gilmore party stepped into the hall, and Grantham noted that the duke and duchess both had red eyes, as if the farewell had been emotional. Ophelia followed them, and when they stepped aside he finally got a good look at her. She, too, was wiping away tears. Seeing them he felt a swell of desire to…comfort her somehow. Such an odd feeling for someone who could be so entirely frustrating.