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She's always wanted to date a gentleman - so why does she find herself falling for a rogue?
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Ophelia Prescott is a hopeless romantic, and she's determined to find her own Mr. Darcy during her s...
Ophelia waited until dinner had been replaced with fresh fruit and little honeyed cakes, and then she smiled at Digby sweetly.
"Will you get me a cake, please?"
"Of course."
She didn't miss the way Digby's gaze dipped down to her chest. Andrew's expression was black as a thundercloud, and he was gripping his knife in a way that suggested he may use it. Eleanora wasn't much better.
"I never eat dessert," she announced. "Far too many calories."
"What a shame," Ophelia said dryly. "But how nice for the rest of us, since we'll get to enjoy your cake, Eleanora."
Digby's jacket brushed her bare skin as he placed the honeyed cake on her small white plate. Ignoring her dessert fork, Ophelia picked up the cake, biting into it. Eleanora's irritation morphed into horror.
"You're eating it with your hands?"
"Of course." Ophelia smiled sweetly. "We don't have forks in Canada, you see."
She met Andrew's dark eyes. Slowly, Ophelia raised her fingers to her lips. She could feel a strange adrenaline filling her — the same kind that came before she played the winning hand in cards — and she didn't look away as she licked her fingers, sucking the honey off of them.
"Nothing better than cake," Ophelia said innocently.
Andrew swallowed hard.
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They moved to the parlor after dinner.
To nobody's surprise, Millie insisted on charades, and it wasn't long before they were all gathered around the fireplace, sipping on a pitcher of vodka and soda as they acted out words and phrases. James currently stood at the front, doing a sort of bizarre jumping motion.
"Bunny!" Millie cried.
Her husband shook his head, raising two fingers.
"Oh." Millie's face fell. "It's two words?" James nodded, and she pursed her lips. "Energizer bunny?"
"For god's sake, Mils," James sighed. "I'm not a rabbit."
"You can't talk!" Henry protested. "Everyone knows that's against the rules." He crossed one ankle over his leg. "Anyways, James is obviously a grasshopper; that's why he keeps pointing to the lawn."
Millie frowned. "But that's one word."
"Is it?" James collapsed on to a sofa, looking relieved. "Nobody told me that." He winced, massaging his ankle. "Good god, jumping up and down takes it out of you, doesn't it? I have no idea how our children do it, darling."
Millie sighed. "We're just old now, James."
"Too true."
Ophelia jumped slightly as a hand landed on her leg. Digby smiled lazily at her, his warm hand enveloping her kneecap. "You really do look beautiful tonight," he murmured. "I mean, it Dickens. You're pretty as a painting."
