“Perhaps,” Chase pulled her a touch closer, “the house party just isn’t in your future.”

“Is it in yours?” Crestwood stepped a bit closer.

“No,” Chase bit back, hostility that Ophelia didn’t quite understand crackling in the air.

But Juliet gave the tiniest giggle behind her. “Oh. This is delicious. You lucky thing, you.”

What did that mean? She glanced over her shoulder at her sister. Then back at the three men before them. All three were assessing her with various degrees of interest. Their eyes roved her body, her face, her basket.

“If not the party then where will you go?” Crestwood asked, running a hand through his wavy blond hair and flashing her a bright smile.

“Back to London,” Chase grit out.

“Really,” Crestwood shifted. “You won’t stay here?”

Chase’s fingers tightened on her elbow. “That’s none of your business.”

“I disagree.” Crestwood said before his gaze flipped to her again. “Miss Moorish. You mentioned that you could introduce us to your father. Could we trouble you to do so now?”

Chase gave a rumble in his chest that sounded near like a growl. The sound, rather than frightening, however, seemed to settle deep in her belly and cause little tendrils of pleasure to go dancing in her most private of areas. Oh dear. What was she going to do now?

Chapter Eight

Chase wanted to bash Crestwood’s head with his fist. If he were lucky, blood would squirt from the man’s perfectly straight nose. He gave a mean grin at the thought. He could see Crestwood sizing up Ophelia. He’d be interested in her anyhow. She was stunning and her body… He clenched his teeth together. But with Chase having laid claim, well, he’d piqued the man’s interest further. Chase was sure of it.

Drawing in a deep breath, Chase attempted to calm the surge of jealous rage that had risen up, making it difficult to even think. He’d never responded like this before, the feeling was almost primal.

Ophelia gave a delicate cough. “I can try, my lord. It’s half tide, which means he’s likely doing rounds on all the ships getting ready to leave the harbor.”

Craven gave a grumble. “If we don’t find him that means we can’t board a boat until at least tomorrow.”

Crestwood wiggled his brows. “We’ll have to find somewhere to stay then, besides the inn. Does anyone have any ideas?”

“Oh,” Juliet called from the back

. “I’m sure we can help you.”

Chase looked back at Juliet, he hoped his face properly portrayed how much he wanted her to cease talking. She caught his glare and took a half step back, her lips pressing together as her eyes widened.

“We’ll see if there is a house in the village where you can stay,” Chase pushed out between gritted teeth. “In fact, since we’re unlikely to find Mr. Moorish, perhaps we should secure lodging for our fine friends first.”

“Fine friends?” Crestwood repeated. “I thought so in the carriage, but now I’m beginning to wonder.”

That was fair, Chase supposed. In his defense, he’d actually said little. “Miss Moorish,” he looked down into Ophelia’s kind, chocolate-brown stare. Everything about her eyes warmed him on the inside. “Do we know where these men might be able to stay?”

Ophelia’s nose twitched, just a bit, as she considered his question. “There is an empty cottage at the back of the square that my father owns. I’m sure he’d allow them to stay there.”

Chase gave a tight nod. He’d prefer to get these men on a boat and out of Seabridge Gate as quickly as he could but at least they weren’t staying at the manor with the family.

“And you must come for dinner,” Juliet called again.

“Excellent idea,” Crestwood answered. “Tonight?”

Ophelia shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I doubt it. With high tide so late, my father isn’t likely to be home this evening until very late.”

“Tomorrow then.” Juliet actually put her hand on his shoulder to lift up and see the other men better. He didn’t have any strong feelings about any of Ophelia’s sisters but if she spoke one more word, he might have to stuff his cravat in her mouth.

“They are trying to get to Ipswich, Miss Moorish,” Chase said, giving her the eye again. Why wasn’t she getting the hint to stop? These men were the worst sort of rakes and they needed to leave this sleepy village at once.

Tags: Tammy Andresen Romancing the Rake Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net