Chapter Eleven

S he knew it sounded sudden and capricious. But it was far, very far from it.

For the last few days, since Ophelia discovered she was with child, nagging thoughts crossed her mind. First, there lay their blasted agreement. If she came to term, it would set the initial instalment of an heir and a spare. As she saw it, she needed to make the children her priority, as they would carry on the name of one of the most traditional families in the land. And that she would make sure she did.

Second, Leonard had been stepping on every boundary Ophelia had set from day one. In that long-ago country chapel, he never failed to mark her as the Countess along with all the trappings it entailed. They travelled to their seat and returned to receive the royals from India. Then he convinced her to live in this townhouse when she'd suggested she stay in hers.

He revealed to be a rather tender husband and an eager father-to-be. She would give him that. Ophelia, however, did not wish to become attached to him. Or any other man, for that matter. With his absence, she learned to be independent and live her life as she saw fit. She did not plan to lose the ground she clawed inch by gruesome inch to gain.

That the Ramsgate line required an heir was a given. But that did not mean she had to buy into it without careful consideration. It'd been hard to adapt to life without a husband in a place like the ton . But the years and her new maturity had shown her a freedom she'd not envisioned, were it not for those circumstances. Also, why risk becoming attached when he might go on another mission for the Foreign Office at any time? Considering his linguistic and cross-cultural skills, the probability did not sit far from reality.

Her mind had rambled and rambled all these days with those frets. In her conception, when the Earl and Countess accomplished their agreement, she could go back to living her life, caring for her children and kittens with no further worries. It seemed to be the best plan ever; she harboured no doubts about it.

"What is this all about?" His dark voice wrenched her out of her musings.

His unmoving gaze clasped to hers when she lifted her head. It made her feel like he'd cut her open to peer at her tiniest secrets. Her heart skipped a beat and tension strummed her nerves. She drew a deep breath to avoid stammering. "I am with child as per our contract." A slight shrug moved one shoulder. "There is no point in living together until I give birth."

"That is where you are wrong." She detected the contained lividity in his tone. "It is my right to follow your progress and ensure your good health."

"The doctor and Mrs Slater can send you reports upon visiting me." She succeeded in making this come with a casual ring. She was not proposing anything alien to the ton . Several couples lived apart after the wives went into confinement. For the lords, it would be business as usual: clubs, horse races, gambling, and the like.

His large hands joined on the tablecloth as his falcon eyes burned into hers. "I happen not to agree with this."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I do not remember asking for your permission or anything."

"Our law is based on the Roman Law system of Pater Familias , the right of the father." His rebuttal came as no surprise. With little change, the British code practically paraphrased the two-millennia-old one where the husband held the power of life and death over the wife, children, and even menagerie.

"This law needs some dusting," she challenged with a tilt of her head. She congratulated herself for paying attention to her flawless evening dress and careful hairstyle. For this duel, she could not be over-prepared.

"Let us stick with reality, shall we?" The fact that the courts would favour him without a blink. Being a man and a lord on top of it gave him an unfair advantage.

"Certainly," she quipped. "We signed the paperwork reviewed by both our solicitors." Her brows arched as though she'd won a checkmate, confirmed by his thunderous expression. "In it, I claim the right to decide where I wish to live at any point after I get with child." And when they secured an heir and the spare, too.

"Every woman I know prefers to enjoy the protection of her husband in such circumstances." As he said that, she understood he appealed to her common sense.

"Protection from whom, I wonder." Her lips pursed to one side.

"From anyone who means you harm." He answered that as though he spoke to a child.

A faint scoff escaped her mouth. "Meaning other men, I suppose." He did not look like he appreciated the view that men were the problem.

Stillness reigned for long minutes before he spoke again. "I bid you to reconsider."

As though she'd not done that a million times already. "I have." She paused. "And I come to the same conclusion each time." She picked up the napkin and placed it beside her half-full plate. "Which leads me to leave first thing." With the elegance beaten into her since early childhood, she stood up and faked a curtsy. "My lord." She brushed past him as she headed to the exit.

Right then.

Leonard mocked himself as he watched his wife leave the room. He'd not counted on her taking this decisive step so soon. It'd been foolish to accept this part of the bargain in writing. Probably, he assumed she would not want to go it alone without the available resources of a husband. He missed an important detail, however. His wife possessed all the necessary resources, making him redundant in that. What an arrogant cad he'd been!

And the result? He raised his arms to encompass the empty table. The woman bested him in a game he's always mastered.

Something swirled in his chest and its entanglement felt too complicated for him to sort it with any precision. So he did not even try. His long fingers retrieved his pocket watch as he checked the time. Watch back in place, he stood up with single-minded intent. The club would offer a much-needed distraction.

Hours later, Leonard staggered up the front steps of the townhouse. His foot caught, and he lost his balance just as Knott opened the front door. Goddamnit! Who put an extra step here? His feet lost the battle, and he fairly flew inside, crashing into the marble floor of his foyer. The world danced all around him and he almost spread the contents of his stomach on the shiny surface. He swallowed hard and breathed in heavy puffs.

Last night at the club, he'd drunk with his peers with liberal abandon. About to leave for home while he could still walk with a dash of dignity, someone suggested the lords continue the night in a public house where they sang the bawdiest songs and served the crudest whisky. Infected by the merry atmosphere, Leonard indulged in both. When the stars were already disappearing, he made a zigzag, several if truth be told, towards his carriage. He would have crawled inside if it were not for Cornell who helped, or else carried, him to the seat.

He opened his eyes to fight his way to his feet. His soused gaze clashed with four delicate boots. But they were too similar. He shook his head and concluded there were only two. His unfocused inspection followed them up and saw a dress, accompanied by a bodice. And then his foggy eyes met his wife's. His wife's reproaching stare, that is.

"My lord." If her eyes were reproachful, her voice dripped in condemnation. "You have been in your cups."

"Woife moine!" he slurred. His mind struggled for a neat answer. "I endeavour to enjoy my newfound freedom." And offered her a sotted grin.

"It shows." Came her prim retort.

"You are too early for a walk in the park," he jested. His unreliable mind registered the morning light glowing on her skin. Of late, she looked even more mesmerising than usual.

Her nostrils flared. "I am moving out, remember?"

Only now did he notice a portmanteau on the floor by her side. "How could I forget?" He did not mean to be so obvious. Disclosing his emotions did not figure in his to-do list for the day.

"Knott," she called without minding his words. "Please, send for the footmen and Collins to tend to the Earl." His valet had seen his lord worse for wear, so he cared not. But not this drunk. The man had been pivotal in Leonard's years in India.

"At once, my lady." And disappeared inside.

Her eyes lowered to him again as her hands bracketed her as-yet-slim waist. With a huff, she bent to him. "Come, I will help you up."

He did not have the luxury of refusing. Better that the servants did not find him slouched on the marble. She held his upper arm, and he used all the strength remaining in him. Both their efforts bore fruit when he managed to crawl to a nearby chair and sat in a heavy motion. Feeling more like himself, he lifted his head to her.

"Do not go, I beg you." He should shut it! An Earl of the realm did not beg, for pity's sake. Even less to his wife. But his whisky-drenched brain refused to obey his command. "Let us walk this path as a team."

Her eyelids tightened closed, and they took long seconds to reopen. "We will share the parenting. Of that, I will make sure."

"No!" he shook his head. A dire mistake as the dizziness intensified. He breathed some more to regain control. "We must do it together, like most of the others."

"And who can guarantee that you will not disappear again for years on end?"

He shrugged, his elbows leaning on his knees. "No one." He scoffed. "Not even Prinny can vouch for the Foreign Office."

"Well, then." Her head tilted. "I refuse to go there again." She referred to him on another mission.

Approaching steps echoed on the polished floor. In a blink, the servants appeared, making it impossible for him to say anything.

Gloved hands picked the portmanteau up. "I will be in touch," she promised; and turned to the entrance where the carriage she'd requested awaited.

As the conveyance drove off, the footmen did their job of carrying him upstairs. The movement got Leonard sick at last, and he rushed to the basin to cast out his accounts.

"That will make you feel better, my lord," Collins materialised by his side with a cloth.

"Goodness!" Leonard exclaimed. "I am not about to imbibe like this ever again." He used the cloth to wipe his mouth. "Hot bath, Collins."

"Yes, my lord." And went to do the lord's bidding.

"And Collins," the valet twisted to Leonard. "Make some of that spice mixture, will you?" One that the valet learned in their eight years of hospitable prison and settled a hangover like a charm.

"Cousin!" Matilda greeted with a note of surprise as the butler led her into the cosy drawing room in the Countess's townhouse a few days later. "I went looking for you at Ramsgate House and they directed me here."

Ophelia stood up from where she wrote a few letters to greet the Duchess. "There was, say, a slight change of plan."

"Have you left your husband?" Matilda had been in on everything about Ophelia's plight over the years since the Countess hid nothing from her beloved cousin.

"Not as yet," she answered as she put a stray blonde strand behind her ear. Ann had to tie her corset a bit looser even if it did not interfere with the simple morning dress she picked for today. It signalled that she would need a new wardrobe soon enough. "I chose to stay here during my confinement." Due in a couple of months.

The Duchess observed her with undiluted attention. "Are you certain of that?" Her delicate brows pleated in confusion. "I mean, it is a vulnerable time for a woman, and it is one of the few uses we have for a husband." A mischievous glint came to her tea-coloured eyes.

Ophelia released a laugh. "I have lived eight years without one, remember?" And that made up for her entire adult life until recently. She joined her hands on her lap. "I learned to prise my independence. That is all."

An expression of expectancy came to the Duchess's face. "Hm, the ton will be abuzz with this succulent gossip."

Ophelia knew that Matilda would never start such gossip, but word always got out one way or another. "And I will make sure to be there to see it happening." The years of enduring society's malice made her defiant of it, to say the least.

As a matter of course, the opportunity presented itself sooner than expected. Knott redirected her mail to her townhouse; in it, she received an invitation for a dinner party at the Countess of Thornton's house.

Even with the challenge of dressing in a frock that still fit, Ophelia felt glad for the social function. She'd been spending her days at home with her kittens, books, and needlework, which made her content. She did not mind mingling with other people on occasion, though.

So, it was with a genuine smile and light mood that she descended from her carriage, all wrapped in burgundy satin and pewter-coloured lace trimmings that brought out her smooth skin and hazel eyes.

"Otilia." She greeted with enthusiasm as the butler opened the drawing room for her to meet her host.

"My dear, I am so happy you made it!" Both countesses had formed an attachment through their encounters at the functions. "You must tell me everything about the recent addition to your family." And directed Ophelia with a fond grin.

"I feel fortunate even if a little apprehensive," she confided.

"It is all worth it." A dreamy expression blanketed her perfect face. "But I would not exchange my boy Daniel for anything in my life."

Hers and the Earl had been a love match for the ages, and they treasured the heir they made together.

Otilia excused herself to go receive another guest as the Countess of Ramsgate spotted the Duchess of Brunswick and headed in her direction.

In that same second, the butler entered the room to announce the newcomer. "The Earl of Ramsgate."

Ophelia's heart skipped a beat at the same time a hot wave washed over her body with the predictable speeding of her heartbeats.

What in the blazes?

The man cared not for dinner parties!

She froze in her tracks, spine snapping to a ramrod straight tension. Her starved lungs concentrated on taking in a good gulp of air to make it possible to complete her beeline towards the Duchess of Brunswick.

"My darling, you look stunning," the Duchess complimented by way of greeting.

"Thank you," she blurted, forcing herself not to twist her head to the door. "As do you." The women hugged each other.

"Childbearing becomes you, I will say," Philippa added as they sat on the settee.

Meanwhile, the Marchioness of Worcester and her dear Matilda joined them upon arrival with their husbands.

Ophelia's hands clutched one another on her lap as she pretended to listen to the latest society news that the Duchess was imparting, smiling, and mumbling responses at the right points. As she accepted a glass of lemonade from the footman, she took a hefty sip to moisten her parched mouth. She might be concentrating too much on keeping a bland appearance because she did not notice her husband's approach.

"My lady," his deep voice startled her out of her very skin. Her eyes flew to him, dressed in charcoal finery. The colour suited him, rubbing off a dark sensuality on him that made the blood rush in her veins. "My apologies. I lost track of time at the club and ended up being late for our dinner appointment."

So far, no one had got a whiff of their new living arrangements. And the man seemed to be taking advantage of it by implying they still shared a house, the scoundrel.

Despite her annoyance at his strategy, she offered him a sugar cube of a smile. "Think nothing of it, my lord. My lady friends have been taking good care of me since my arrival."

A crooked grin split his sensuous mouth. "So, they will not mind if you walk with me for a bit, I hope." This, the Earl addressed her group with a smile that would charm a snake.

"Oh, never mind us, my lord!" Hester, the Marchioness of Worcester chimed. "And congratulations on the news regarding your family, by the way."

Leonard's jaw jerked down in a sign of acknowledgement as he extended his hand to his wife. Ophelia's sweet smile died a swift death as her gaze snapped to his gloved palm and then to his eyes with fulminating precision. After what seemed an eternity, she deigned to place her lacy gloved hand on his, careful not to create more ripples to feed the ton 's hunger for gossip. Not when the man did the devoted husband act.

With her natural grace, she stood, careful not to spill her lemonade, and took the arm her husband offered. When they reached the confines of the room, she spoke. "Why are you doing this?" Her murmur came as she maintained a light expression on her front.

"Doing what?" he asked, his tone the very definition of innocence. As they passed the other guests, he nodded in a show of casual conversation.

"Picture yourself as a husband who cares." A lint of disdain entered her answer.

His other hand came to cover hers on his forearm, seeping even more warmth into hers through the layers of clothing. "You should know by now that I do care."

"Oh, yes." She did not hide her sarcasm from the retort. "For your lineage, no doubt." In the form of the possible heir her body nurtured.

"You are saying it, not me." His thumb doodled over her lace glove, sending waves of sensation through her.

"If you want me to believe it is not my womb you are interested in when the first thing you did upon your reappearance was to demand an heir, you are failing miserably."

"I do not think that either of us cared much for wombs while we were doing the deed." He delivered that with a voice gone an octave lower, intensifying the rush in her veins.

A veritable storm of heat invaded her cheeks at the mention of those explosive moments that preceded her recent condition. Her mind clogged up and her voice was nowhere to be found.

At her silence, he resumed his speech. "I would not mind repeating it until it ran its course."

That he did not camouflage the temporary nature of his expectations should be enough for her to disentangle from him and leave him standing in the middle of the drawing room with nothing to show for. Run its course, indeed! But she was too well-bred for that. He would have endured the shame for it, but she would be the one blamed for causing it, like every woman everywhere, past or present. So, she abstained from following her impetus, choosing a quip instead.

"It will give you something to look forward to when round two comes about." The Countess imprinted as much coldness in that as she could. That it lay almost a year in the future would test even her tenuous endurance. Pity, but it would have to be so.

He had no time to reply to that as the butler entered to announce that dinner was ready. The agonising crumple to his rugged face reflected her feelings on the matter, however.

After that, Ophelia enjoyed herself in the convivial atmosphere of dinner as she avoided direct talk with the Earl.

The evening looked up when the ladies returned to the drawing room for tea and a cheerful chat. And congratulated herself as she pleaded indisposition to leave before the lords joined the ladies. Call it a strategic retreat, but she did not feel obliged to cater for the Earl's whims. A content sigh filled the air as she entered her townhouse and indulged in a restorative night's sleep.

Leonard awoke the next morning with a vague sense of frustration. His wife had got the best of him again by eluding him after dinner. He'd had a mind of luring her to his carriage as he drove her to her house, extracting a few moments alone with his Countess. But, alas, she beat him at his game and denied him the luxury.

Not that he prided himself on baiting her time and again. He seemed unable not to bring up their remarkable intimacy for the simple reason he missed it more than he wished to admit. Not only that, he missed her presence, her witty conversation. He missed even the kittens, for pity's sake.

And what did he intend to do about it?

Hours later, he knocked on his wife's townhouse. As the butler opened, he announced, "Please, tell Lady Ramsgate that I brought Doctor Darren Archer to check on her." Leonard made it sound like an order, taking advantage of the husband's prerogative.

The butler allowed them into the foyer while he disappeared into the house. The Earl engaged in a surreptitious inspection of the residence, registering fine furniture and the homely quality of the place. His wife proved to have good taste in it.

"Did you send word of our visit?" Archer inquired.

"I had no time." His apologetic tone said it all. It was not a lie, per se. But he did not want to give her a chance to elude him again.

"But I did not call the doctor." Ophelia's nearing voice and steps put Leonard on alert. As she entered the foyer, followed by the butler, her bewildered gaze matched her tone. "Doctor Archer." She sent a mere glance his way before returning her attention to the other man. "To what do I owe your visit?"

"I called him to check on you." The Earl interposed.

Her brows pleated at him. "Mrs Slater did that thoroughly, thank you." And moved to return to wherever she'd been before coming here.

"I am aware, my lady." No one would miss Doctor Archer's conciliatory tone. "But having more than one opinion is never too much, don't you agree?"

His wife sent her husband a glare before answering the other man. "Of course, please, come with me."

"I will wait outside your chambers," Leonard declared his self-assigned task.

She gave him her back without the benefit of a reply. The impression of ample rooms filled with sunlight hit him as he walked inside. Good that this was not a mediaeval castle, or his wife might find an old sword to run him with. An inner laugh spread through him, with a note of self-consciousness. He had an obvious notion that he should not have intruded on her privacy, but how else could he care for her if not trespassing a little?

Leonard leaned on the hallway's flowery wallpaper for a long time, trying to discern the muffled voices inside her chambers. When the doctor exited, at last, the Earl pushed from the wall.

"The Countess is in exceeding good health." He confirmed.

"Thank you, Archer." Leonard peered inside through the ajar door. "Please, talk to my solicitor to collect your fees."

"My lord." The doctor's head bent as he gained his way out.

Once again, Leonard's eyes sought the light coming from inside the room as he neared the door and gave a slight knock.

"Come," she allowed.

His hand splayed on the wooden panel to open it. He found her on the counterpane, leaning on the headboard; Winter and Autumn rolled up by her side.

Stillness prevailed as Leonard took in the frilly four-poster, the top-quality drapes framing the windows, the tiny bookshelf with its delicate niches to one corner and the chest of drawers to another. His falcon eyes wandered in aimless appreciation until they found hers watching every reaction to her private space.

His mind went about searching for what to say, empty of a sudden. "Did they adapt well here?" His jaw pointed at the two fur balls decorating the bed.

She took some time to answer as her gaze tracked his. "Cats rarely get along with changes, but these dearies took it in stride." A soft smile of fondness emerged on her lips as she looked at them.

"They are smart creatures." Food and a warm bed could be quite convincing.

Her expression morphed into a sharp one. "So…you found your way into my inner sanctum, did you?"

Her straightforward manner threatened to breed awkwardness in him, which he fought back into the recesses of his mind. "You can choose to live in a separate place, but this child is still ours." He hung his gloveless fingers on his hips for good measure.

"You saw for yourself that we are alright, you can go about your business." Her brows arched as though it was a given.

"If you for a minute imagine going it alone, you have another—" a faint mew came from the bookshelf. His head swivelled to it to see a black cat jumping from one niche. It sashayed to him, sniffing his Hessians and breeches. "You adopted another one." More than a question, his tone marvelled at the shiny fur and vivid green eyes.

"That is Midnight. He was already here when I bought the house."

Having ascertained that the intruder did not pose a threat, Midnight lost interest and hopped on Ophelia's lap, earning a stroke behind the ears.

"As I was saying." Leonard resumed. "I will not allow you to have it only your way."

"You mean you are reneging on your word?" She lanced him a look from under her lashes.

She referred to the blasting contract for sure. "Certainly not!" he disputed. "I just think—" From a drawer in the bedside table, another feline emerged. Not fully grown, it displayed light-grey fur on its back and snow-white on its belly and legs. "Rescued from the streets, I suppose," he commented, observing the cat stretch with languid grace.

"Oh, Drizzle?" The little pest leapt on the mattress. "No." It bumped its head on her arm, and she caressed its back. "He used to come for an occasional meal but thought it better to invite himself in as a new tenant." She directed the newcomer with a fond gaze.

In a flash of energy, Leonard strode to the window to search behind the drapes. Then he walked to the bookshelf and examined every niche. As he neared the chest of drawers, his wife interrupted him.

"What are you doing?" Her voice pitched with a quizzical note.

"Checking if there are any more beasts intent on interrupting our conversation." His fingers hooked on the bail handle, ready to pull.

An amused grin bloomed on her face as she answered. "We are having no conversation to interrupt." He swivelled to her; wooden chest forgotten. "And they are not beasts, poor things."

His fingers raked his hair as he inhaled with audible depth. "Is this how it is going to be, then?"

"Me here and you at your house?" she asked, and he nodded. "Yes."

He sent her an exasperated look that she seemed not to take notice of. "Promise me that you will send for me if you need anything." There was no other option than to give in to her wishes.

"Of course I will."

He searched her face with a single-minded purpose. After a long heartbeat, a curt nod moved his head, and he turned to leave.