“I do not think he would run away from you.”
“I fear he would. He cannot face guilt.” She looked at Althea. “Did your husband change you so you could be with him?”
Althea blushed lightly. “I did it to save him. My story is rather complicated—”
“Please tell it to me. I would love to know . . . unless it is private.”
“Not private from a dear friend, and I believe you will be a very dear friend of mine. Though I do have to admit something to you, and I am not sure if you will be too shocked to like me after you know.”
Ophelia swallowed hard—her new friend was a vampire, and she suspected the confession must be something to do with that. “I used to kill people by touching them. I would not judge you.”
“Not even if I revealed I actually have two husbands?”
She gasped. Then realized she’d misunderstood. “You mean you had a husband before Lord Brookshire—”
“No, I mean that I live in a ménage a trois with Lord Brookshire and his brother, Mr. de Wynter,” Althea said, utterly naturally. “I feel in love with both of them, and they were both cursed to die. It was the power of a love shared between three that saved them. I cannot believe love will not prevail between Ravenhunt and you. We must make him see sense.”
Her wits still reeled from Althea’s explanation. “How?”
“The best method is seduction.”
“I think I could seduce him for eternity and never change his mind,” Ophelia sighed.
“Nonsense. We just have to find the one delicious fantasy for you to offer him that is so tempting he can’t resist it. That will put him in the right frame of mind to understand he has no reason to feel guilty to turn you when it is your choice.”
“Do I ask him about his fantasies?”
“No, we must be more subtle. At my house, we will find the solution.”
Ophelia hoped so. Raven was stubborn, and he had spent his life, after his fiancée had died, living in guilt. It was his prison, and it would be much harder than she’d thought to break him free.
“First, though, you should go to Harry,” Althea said. “He hasn’t seen you for years, and I know he wishes to be with you.”
Ophelia found her brother in the portrait gallery of the Brookshire home, wandering back and forth, his fingers pressed against his forehead.
“What is wrong?” Her heart plummeted, and she forced out the question, “Has something happened to Ravenhunt?”
“Ravenhunt?” Harry jerked his head up, making his blond waves tumble over his brow. “Haven’t seen him. Got to talk to you, Ophelia. I don’t know how to do this.”
There was something terribly wrong. Was it about her? Did he not believe she was now normal? If he couldn’t accept that, he would never accept her as a vampire.
Was it to be a choice between Raven and her family?
She approached Harry. Her hand hovered near his shoulder. She could touch him. It was all right.
But she was afraid to. It had been years since she’d seen him. Her disappearance had wounded him. They had raced to save Frederica and Raven, and she had touched him then, without even thinking about it. But now, in the aftermath, would he want her touch?
“What do you think is wrong?” Harry moaned like a petulant boy. He clasped her hand. Now she had her answer. Now she knew hesitation was foolish. She had to simply do things. Stop holding back and hiding.
She squeezed his hand with reassurance. “What is it you have to do?”
“Propose marriage,” Harry muttered. Then he winced. “How to do it? I know I go down on one knee. I have a ring. I fetched it from home. What do I say to her? Women want something beautiful.”
She smiled. Relief and happiness burst in her heart. “Tell her the truth,” she urged, her voice filled with delight. “Tell her that you love her. What could be more beautiful?”
But Harry didn’t look reassured. Deep lines crossed his brow. “I’ve known men who have proposed. Was never as simple as that. Half of them were turned down.” His face blanched. “What if she says no?”
“She will not say no.”
He grinned, and he didn’t look quite so ashen. “Sisterly prejudice.”
Those words deeply touched her heart. She wanted Raven to have this much happiness.
She looked squarely into her brother’s eyes. “I would say yes, if a gentleman I loved told me he felt the same way.”
“Does she love me? How does a bloke know?”
“She must love you,” Ophelia declared.
“I have to impress her. Should I bring roses? Orchids? What about an orchestra? I should have an orchestra play a waltz. Or I should have a trio of violinists. I should write poetry.” He smacked his forehead. “I write execrable poetry.”
“She doesn’t want any of those things, I assure you.”
“Ladies do.”
“Not all ladies. Any woman who is not satisfied by a gentleman’s honest and humble proposal is not worthy of him.” She hugged him. “I promise you she will not say no. How could any lady?”
“All right, but what if she does?”
“If she does, then I will eat my bonnet.”
Suddenly, his expression was wary. And worried. “You don’t. Do you?”
“What?”
“Eat bonnets.”
“Of course not.” But her earlier buoyant feeling receded like a swift moving tide. “Ask her,” she said softly. “Please. I want you to be happy.”
He embraced her. “Would you have a word with her first?”
“I would, but you do not need it. You came to her rescue, you saved her. Honestly Harry, you don’t need more than that. Any woman loves the man who came to her rescue.”
She watched her brother run down the corridor to propose marriage, and her heart soared for him and ached for Raven with her every breath.
“He looks like a very happy man,” a deep voice spoke behind her.
She whirled. Mr. de Wynter stood behind her. Apparently he had just come from his bath. He wore breeches and boots, but a loose shirt open at the neck, and his hair was damp, and hung past his shoulders. He gave her a playful bow. “Forgive me for listening in, but I was deeply touched by how you lifted his confidence. Very sage advice, Lady Ophelia.”
She blushed. She kept thinking this man was Althea’s lover, along with her husband.
He looked stricken. “My most sincere apologies. I’ve embarrassed you, when I am the one completely in the wrong.”
She shook her head. “You are not in the wrong at all. I was just—” She felt the heat leave her cheeks. Strangely, it didn’t seem that shocking anymore that Althea should have two husbands. This world of vampires was beginning to feel more natural to her. “You did not embarrass me.”
“Actually I came in search of you, Lady Ophelia. Before he left us, Ravenhunt warned us to protect you from rogue members of the Royal Society. I think he did not entirely trust Brookshire and me, because we are long-standing members of the Society, but he does trust your brother. He told us there was rot in our organization, and that members of it want to hurt you. I believe his plan is to hunt them down, make them pay for taking your prisoner.”
She could not believe it. In everything that had happened, she’d forgotten that threat. “Hunt them down? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Extremely.”
She credited de Wynter with being blunt. “They wanted my power and that was why they kidnapped me. But I don’t have any power now. It is over, isn’t it?” She could understand he wanted revenge, but he must just forget about it. It was done with.
“They should pay for what they did to you—and what they attempted to do.”
“Why? It’s done with! Why should he risk his life for that?”