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you.”
    “Excellent. Do appreciate it,” Esmerelda said, then added to the butler standing off to the side, “Hold the fort, William. I have a feeling I won’t be gone long.”
    “Of course, m’lady,” the butler replied as Esmerelda marched outside.
    Ophelia noticed Raphael’s wince over his aunt’s remarks. If she didn’t detest the fellow, she would have assured him that she understood how the infirmities of old age could and did make some people quite disagreeable. But apparently she was mistaken about the source of his discomfort because he held her back from following Esmerelda, his grip on her arm quite firm. This wasn’t the man who usually had a jaunty air about him even when he was being his most sardonic. This was the serious Locke, the devil she’d met twice before when anger had removed all semblance of civility from him.
    “What in the bloody hell was that about?” he demanded, adding in the same breath, “Don’t think you can use my aunt for any of your machinations. I won’t tolerate it.”
    She blinked, then she understood. He thought the worst of her, after all. Seeing her being nice to his aunt must have shocked him, she thought derisively.
    “What an amusing idea. I hate to correct you, Lord Locke, really I do, but I happen to like older people. They’re the only ones who don’t try to compete with me or otherwise take advantage of an acquaintance with me. So your aunt and I will get along just fine, I do assure you. You needn’t be concerned that I’ll turn my viperous tongue on her. You on the other hand—”
    “I got the point, no need to belabor it,” he cut in, not nearly so sharply now. “Just get in the coach. The sooner we get this over with can’t be soon enough for me.”
    “How odd that we agree perfectly,” she retorted on her way out the door.

Chapter Seven
    O PHELIA HAD THE ANNOYING HABIT of having to get the last word in. Of course he enjoyed the same habit, which was why he found hers so annoying.
    Raphael was beginning to have reservations. Well, he’d already had quite a few, but damn, watching the woman interact with his aunt had been quite a surprise. Ophelia, being nice, was such a bloody contradiction of everything he knew about her. And his aunt had noted it too, even remarked on it for his benefit when she told William she was sure she wouldn’t be gone long.
    Ophelia’s explanation had sounded quite reasonable, too reasonable. It had given him doubts that he shouldn’t be having, when he knew what a schemer she was. He just didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell if she was being honest or lying. But come to think of it, she had to be an expert liar or she wouldn’t have been able to get away with half the transgressions laid at her door.
    He’d sent a letter off to Sabrina late last night, getting his aunt’s permission to use her one footman to deliver it and then bring him the reply. Sabrina knew Ophelia much better than he did, having stayed with the Reids when she’d gone to London for her own come-out. Someone had mentioned that Sabrina’s aunt and Ophelia’s mother had been childhood friends. But in either case, she was sure to have a much longer list of Ophelia’s misdeeds than he did, and he wanted to know it all before he began his campaign to turn her about. Hopefully, Sabrina wouldn’t take too long to reply.
    They spent another long day on the road traveling through Durham and deep into Northumberland to his grandfather’s retreat. It was a bad time of the year to come so far north. Actually, it was just a bad time of the year for him to take up coach driving.
    He’d had Esmerelda pack a basket of food for the ladies, so he wouldn’t have to stop for luncheon. She’d given him some food as well, though he had a hard time eating it with his gloves on. But he was wishing he’d stopped at that last hostelry he’d passed around midmorning, if just to get warm for a while. The farther north they went, the more patches