Page 47 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“Darling.”
“I heard you made out like a thief last night.”
Somerdale chuckled. “Lady Luck did seem to be with me. I look forward to another invite into the sacred lair.”
Ignoring the subtle request for an immediate offer, Drake asked, “How is your sister? Heard from her since she went to your uncle’s?”
“Not a word.”
“Are you certain she arrived safely?”
Somerdale scowled. “I should think I’d have heard if she hadn’t.”
“No letter from her informing you of her arrival, to lessen your worry?”
He chuckled lightly. “Ophelia has never been one for writing or caring about my worry.”
Yes, he could see that, too clearly in fact. “When do you think she’ll return to London?”
“When Auntie Berta either improves or dies, I suspect.”
“How ill is your aunt?”
“Fairly ill, based on Uncle’s assessment.”
“I can’t imagine Lady Ophelia missing even a few balls of the Season to comfort another.”
Somerdale tilted his head to the side, reminding Drake of a dog trying to determine if a bird was nested in a tree. “Are you interested in courting her?”
“What? No. Absolutely not. I simply find it difficult to believe she would give up this Season when both she and Grace were so set on finding a match.”
He shrugged. “She’s very close to Auntie. Spent a good many summers with her when she was younger, especially after Mother passed, as Auntie Berta is mother’s younger sister.”
“But Lady Ophelia could find herself on the shelf, in spite of her substantial dowry.”
“I’m quite surprised you would care.”
“It’s not that I care, I simply ...” Damnation. Did he care? Of course not. He was striving to ferret out information in order to determine what Somerdale might know. “I simply find it odd is all. Unselfishness is not at all like the Lady Ophelia I know.”
“Perhaps you don’t know her as well as you think. Regardless, she’s had quite a number of suitors, although she hasn’t expressed much interest in any of them. I’m not sure what she’s searching for exactly in a chap, but her dowry ensures she’ll be fine if she’s not here for the entire Season. She won’t be overlooked next. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the tables, see if my luck from last night continues.”
Drake watched him go. He didn’t sound like a man who would wish his sister ill. But then neither did he appear to care a great deal if she were happy. Fine? She would be fine? She deserved to be more than fine.
He growled. No, she didn’t. She deserved to marry a toad. As a wife, she’d be a shrew. Her dowry was what drew men to her, not her temperament. He’d never understood what Grace saw in her.
Although he had been surprised to discover she was a stubborn little minx, continuing to carry up buckets of warm water even after her skin split. He would have thought she’d have set the bucket down as soon as she realized how heavy it was. That she would have knocked on his door and ordered him tofetchthe buckets. Not to mention she’d been willing to wash his back again. He cursed the buckets for denying him that pleasure. He could still feel her fingers outlining each aspect of the dragon, up and down, curving—
“Imitating a statue, hoping not to be noticed?” Avendale asked.
Drake schooled his reaction not to reveal that he’d very nearly leaped out of his skin at the unexpected deep voice at his back. Calmly he turned. “Simply observing, pondering, contemplating. Why aren’t you enjoying some cards?”
Avendale shrugged. “They seem rather boring of late. Damn, but I miss Lovingdon. Can scarcely wait for his return. There’s little enjoyment in going in search of sin on one’s own.”
Drake laughed low. “I would wager his days of sin are behind him.”
“Yes, I’ve no doubt Grace will have him chained at her side.”
“It’s a chain he willingly wears.”
