The Devil Who Tamed Her (28 page)

“Y
OUR FIRST BALL CAN
’
T BE
too grand. If you’re going to be the premier hostess every Season, you don’t want to start at the top because how will you be able to work your way up from there? You’d be leaving yourself no room for improvement.”

Ophelia glanced at her husband. They were snuggled on a sofa, his arm around her shoulders, she curled against his side. He was such an affectionate man. He couldn’t be near her without touching her somewhere or kissing her or just hugging her. She loved that about him, that and, well, she didn’t think there was anything she
didn’t
love about this man.

“A ball, eh?” she asked.

“One per Season. I draw the line at more’n that.”

“I hate to disappoint you, love, but I think I’m going to be too busy raising our daughter to even think about giving balls for a while.”

“She is a handful, isn’t she?”

The golden-haired child was sitting on a fluffy blanket on the floor in front of them, examining the toys around her, unable to make up her mind which one to pounce on. She’d discovered how to crawl only a few weeks ago and quite excelled at it already, and, oh, my, it was amazing that she was sitting still for even a few minutes.

Ophelia hadn’t lost her child as she’d thought. Her relief and joy, when that nasty nausea returned and lasted for several bloody months, had been tremendous. The trauma of the accident had merely given her a brief reprieve from it.

Rafe had been delighted when she’d told him. He didn’t want too many children. Just a handful, he’d told her! But she was in complete agreement. Having borne her first, and being in awe of this child, she was quite ready for more.

They had settled down in London and had moved into the bigger house that Rafe had bought for Ophelia. Slowly, she had redecorated it. She entertained, but not often. There had been one grand party though, to belatedly celebrate their marriage. It had been Rafe’s idea, and he’d asked her mother to arrange it. Even Mavis had been invited, but then it hadn’t taken long for the two old friends to become close again—closer than ever. Jealousies had no place in Ophelia’s life now.

Rafe kissed the top of her brow, then her imperfect cheek. She moved a little so he could reach her lips. He didn’t need more of an invitation than that. It was a tender kiss, filled with all the love they shared. If they had been in any other room in the house, that kiss would quite quickly have progressed to something else. But not in the nursery!

The squeal drew their eyes back to their daughter, who was crawling toward them for her share of attention, a big grin on her cherubic face. She wasn’t going to be the most beautiful girl ever to grace a London Season. Oh, no. She was going to be the most beautiful girl in the world, the smartest girl in the world, and the sweetest girl in the world. Her doting parents had no doubt.