Page 36 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“You do, my lady. It’s upstairs, near the study.” Mrs. Crane’seyes sparkled. “You’ve not been in there?”
“No, I haven’t,” Ophelia commented. She felt a smile at the corner of her mouth. “I do wonder what they do in there. I mean, play billiards; certainly. But I don’t know anything about it.”
Mrs. Crane laughed. “Want to come up and spy on them?” she inquired. Her dark eyes were bright with warmth.
“I couldn’t,” Ophelia said instantly, but she was grinning, the idea making her feel a warm tingling sensation all over.
“I’m going to take this upstairs,” Mrs. Crane said with a grin. “You can come with me. If you want to peer through the keyhole a bit, who’s going to say you can’t? Certainly not me. I think it could be good fun.”
“Mrs. Crane!”
They were both laughing as they went into the hallway together.
Ophelia felt her cheeks redden as she followed the housekeeper up some darkened stairs. She was the daughter of Baron Walden, and a countess now too...what would her parents think if they knew what she was doing? The thought made her feel ill with shame. They would be horrified that she was befriending a servant and spying on Owen...that would scandalize anyone.
She straightened her back. What did it matter what they thought? They didn’t even know her. Why should she live her life trying to please people who could sell her off, more or less, for elevation in their society?
I don’t care what they think,she told herself firmly. It felt good, strengthening her.
She walked up the stairs with the housekeeper.
They reached a door and Mrs. Crane knocked on it. Ophelia hid behind a curtain, feeling her cheeks going red. She wanted to chuckle, a bubble of laughter rising inside her even as her heart thudded hard in her chest.
I really am doing this.
The door opened. She was concealed behind the velvet drape, but she heard Owen’s voice.
“Mrs. Crane. Thank you.” He paused. “Leonard had to hurry home early—solicitor's meeting in town tomorrow. I...Oh! Ophelia! I didn’t see you there.”
“I...” Ophelia stammered. She had stepped forward to try and hear his words, and she must have stepped into the light of the lamp. Her cheeks went red with shame. It felt as though he could see into her thoughts and knew that she’d planned to spy on them.
“Were you looking for me?” Owen asked gently. Mrs. Crane, who was still holding the bottle, didn’t say anything and Owen’s gaze was fixed on Ophelia. She felt herself step from one foot to the other, a nervous habit.
“I was,” Ophelia said carefully. “I didn’t know where the billiards room was, and Mrs. Crane said she’d show me, and...” She trailed off, going red. That was the truth, and as she said it, she realized it wasn’t that scandalous after all.
“Oh.” Owen smiled. “Well, it was remiss of me not to show you around. Since Leonard’s not here, would you like to come in? Thank you, Mrs. Crane,” he added, turning to the housekeeper. “That will be all.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Ophelia stood in place, feeling awkward. She had not imagined that she’d actually be invited to see the billiards room. She stared up at Owen. He smiled a little shyly.
“I’ve never even thought of showing a lady around here,” he said, sounding discomforted. “But if you want, you can come in.”
“Thank you,” Ophelia breathed.
She followed him inside. It was dark with just two lamps burning, and the hearth glowed warmly. The scent of leather hit her, and the smell of tobacco. She looked at Owen, wonderingif he smoked, but she’d never seen him touch a pipe and she thought it was unlikely. She glanced around.
A big table with a green felt cover stood in the middle of the room. Little spheres slightly smaller than hen’s eggs were arranged on it, painted different colors. A fire glowed, spreading warm light on everything.
“So,” Owen said shyly. “This is it. This is the billiards table, where we play billiards. And that’s for sitting on,” he added, pointing to a leather-covered divan along the back of the room near a window.
“I see.”
Owen chuckled. “I suppose it’s all a bit silly, really. You ladies spend your hours in productive pursuits like sewing and reading. We come in here and play games.” His cheeks were red, despite his smile, and she smiled up at him.
“I don’t know...it looks like an interesting game to me. What do you do?” She studied the green felt-covered table thoughtfully. It didn’t look like any game she’d ever seen before.
“What do you do?” Owen asked, sounding surprised. “Well...you take this stick, here...” he reached behind him to where two long thin sticks were leaning on the wall. “It’s called a cue. You take this, and you use it to try and knock the balls, there, into those holes.” He gestured to the edge of the table. Ophelia went and looked and, sure enough, found holes there. She looked at him, one brow lifted.
