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A warm glow swept through her, but she ruthlessly tamped it down.

“I am here at the house party to act as hostess, not to further my own romantic ambitions,” she said crisply, directing her attention to her cooling breakfast.

“But did you not see how very strong and well-made he is?” Theodora sighed. “Like a Roman god descended from the heavens to grace us mere, humble mortals with his presence.”

Prestwick was indeed that glorious. Ophelia couldn’t deny it.

“He has a fair enough form,” she allowed, slicing into her Bayonne ham quite ruthlessly.

The muscles in his thighs and the rigid slabs of his abdomen were emblazoned upon her mind. She’d had no notion the male body could be so deliciously hewn, as if sculpted in marble. Corbett, too, had been lean, but he had been soft in a way that Prestwick wasn’t. He hadn’t been much of a horseman, and he most certainly had never played at cricket, and as for rowing…well, Corbett’s chief concerns had been gambling, spirits, and not much else.

“You weren’t at all tempted?” Theodora pressed, disbelief lacing her voice.

“Not even a bit,” she lied, and then stuffed a bite of ham into her mouth to keep from saying anything further.

Theodora heaved a small sigh. “You are stronger than I am, dear friend. Since you aren’t interested in pursuing him… No, I dare not ask. I should not ask. Pray forget I ever spoke of it.”

Ophelia’s stomach curdled. “Continue. What is it you wish to ask me?”

Theodora smiled, her entire demeanor far more friendly now that she perceived she didn’t have a rival for Prestwick’s affections, as she had no doubt feared. “If you don’t want to bed him yourself, then would you mind terribly if I threw my cap at him, dearest?”

Ophelia sliced her ham with enough force that her knife made an impolite screech on the plate. “Of course I don’t mind. You are a woman grown. You needn’t have my permission.”

The other woman’s smile grew. “You see, dearest? I knew you were the sister of my heart.”

Ophelia’s expression felt as if it had been stitched to her face with a dull needle. “You are quite welcome, my friend.”

Then she unceremoniously shoveled another bite of ham into her mouth—one that was injudiciously large, so she was required to chew for a long time.

Silence settled between them, punctuated only by the clink of cutlery and Ophelia’s own grim thoughts. Because she had to admit that Theodora was a beautiful woman. The half mask couldn’t hide her loveliness. And although Prestwick had proclaimed her a lioness, Ophelia was sure that the attentions of a lovely woman would be enough to sway him. Likely, Theodora would warm his bed this very evening.

The notion made the bite of ham in Ophelia’s mouth taste as appealing as hot ash. She relinquished her utensils and rose to her feet. “If you will excuse me, I have some pressing duties awaiting me.”

She didn’t wait for Theodora’s response before she quit the breakfast room at full sail. Such was her haste that she nearly collided with three ladies who were about to enter. She apologized and continued on, running from the prospect of Theodora seducing Prestwick before she grew ill.

Apollo carved his way through the water in the grotto for what must have been the tenth time. He was restless, and the sole cure for what ailed him was a lush widow he had yet to kiss. So, instead, he was swimming. He was finally beginning to grow a bit weary, but it seemed that no amount of movement would successfully excise the aching need for Ophelia that boiled in his blood.

As he reached the end of the pool yet again, he stopped, planting his feet on the bottom, and caught his breath.

That was when he realized he wasn’t alone.

A woman hovered over him, half mask firmly in place. The wrong woman, he saw instantly. Her shape was different, her hair was dark, and her mouth was curved in a smug, feline smile.

“I thought I might find you here,” Theodora drawled.

Likely because she had been following him or because she had inquired with the domestics about where he had gone, he thought bitterly. A woman like Theodora didn’t do anything without careful, deliberate intent and a clear plan of how it would benefit her.

“You were correct,” he said coolly. “However, I’m presently swimming, so unless you are inclined to soak that gown of yours, I’m afraid I shan’t be much company.”

Thank God he had worn a bathing costume instead of swimming in the nude.

“I’ll wait and watch,” she said, indicating a grouping of chairs that had been placed in the grotto for just such a purpose.

“I cannot think watching me swim would be of sufficient interest to keep you here, away from the merriments our hostess is so kindly providing,” he countered.

“The merriments are deadly dull.” Theodora’s lips pursed. “I simply don’t think our hostess is suited to the task.”

There she was, claws emerging. Likely followed by horns and fangs.