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“No?”

“No.” Her tone was adamant and firm. “I never met him before this house party.”

The lie felt heavy as a stone on her heart, but she couldn’t risk the very real possibility that Theodora would somehow uncover her own identity the same way she had Prestwick’s. That would be disastrous. Ophelia mostly kept to herself, largely abstaining from polite society. She had thought the odds of anyone realizing who she truly was had been quite small. Now, she wasn’t so certain.

“Then I feel relieved to know there is no understanding between you,” Theodora said, keeping her voice low to prevent it from traveling. “Because I went swimming with him in the grotto earlier.”

Now Ophelia’s lungs felt too frozen to move, as if a breath, or even half a one, would break her chest open. So that was where Prestwick had been when she’d told herself not to look for him and yet couldn’t help herself. He had been nowhere in sight.

“You…went swimming with him?” she repeated numbly.

“Well, if you wish to call it that.” Theodora laughed. “It was more like I watched him swim so that I could drink in my fill of the sight of him, all gloriously wet. He does have the most splendid musculature, my dear.”

At the head of the ballroom, the curtain was drawn tightly closed, the sound of movements rising behind the scenes as the actors and actresses assembled into the next position.

Prestwick did have splendid muscles; Ophelia could attest to that, thanks to his stint as a model for their naughty portrait entertainment. She closed her eyes at night and saw the banded slabs of muscle, the sinew, the barely leashed strength of him. Saw anew how masculine he was, how different his body was from Corbett’s, so much sturdier and stronger.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed swimming,” she said, forcing a nonchalance she didn’t feel into her words.

“I don’t. I can’t swim. But Prestwick was an excellent tutor.” Theodora smiled, looking smugly pleased, even with her half mask on. “In all ways.”

The jealousy rising within Ophelia like a tide was utterly ridiculous. She had no right to feel it. She had no claims upon Prestwick, and she could never indulge in any attraction she felt for him. Keeping her reputation above reproach was paramount. But it hurt to breathe.

Why would he seduce Theodora after he had warned Ophelia about her? If he didn’t trust her, why would he entertain her in the grotto?

Ophelia’s smile felt as if it would crack. “How lovely.”

“It was.” Theodora turned her attention to the still-closed curtain at the head of the room. “I cannot say I’m pleased to see Mrs. Gilpin here, however. And so scantily clad. The woman has no shame. The displays she has been engaging in on the Continent are positively depraved. I can only hope Prestwick stays far away from her.”

Ophelia’s sickening jealousy was twofold, eclipsed only by a soaring sense of her own foolishness. Had she believed a young, beautiful man like the Duke of Prestwick would ever want a woman like herself, an older widow with children and debts and the duties that inevitably followed them? If so, she had been wrong.

Her gaze strayed across the chamber to where he sat. She had known the moment he’d entered the room. The very air had changed. And although she had done everything in her power to keep from gazing at him directly, she had been intensely aware of him. His profile put his strong, slashing jaw on display, his shoulders stiff. He was one of the tallest men in the room. Taller even than the friend standing to his left.

If the presence of Mrs. Gilpin affected Prestwick, Ophelia couldn’t tell. But his attention was upon the curtain as it slid open again, and the hushed voices in the audience silenced as the next vignette was revealed. And there at the center of it all stood the lovely Mrs. Gilpin again, bare-breasted as Venus emerging from the water.

Whilst the actress held herself still, doing an admirable impression of a statue once more, Ophelia didn’t miss the way Mrs. Gilpin’s eyes traveled into the audience, finding Prestwick and lingering there. And Ophelia couldn’t control the lurch her heart gave at the sight.

Mrs. Gilpin was an undeniable beauty.

Between Theodora and the actress, not to mention the other ladies in attendance who had been eyeing Prestwick since his nude portrait sitting, the duke had his choice of female companionship. And that, Ophelia told herself firmly, was entirely for the best.

“Damn it, what the devil is she doing here?” Mal grumbled to Apollo as they mingled with their fellow houseguests following the tableau vivants.

“Doing what she does best, I should expect,” he answered. “Seducing men out of all good sense and reason.”

Apollo’s shock at seeing Helene at Wingfield Hall had not yet worn off.

The last he’d heard, she had been on the Continent, plying her trade and earning the adulation and ceaseless devotion of legions of gentlemen. That had been some time after he’d seen her on her knees with his former friend’s cock in her mouth. The theater she had invested in had caught fire and burned to ash, and she’d gone abroad afterward.

Mal, who had also been close chums with Inwood as well, knew the full, sordid story of all that had happened. They had both fallen out with Inwood over the betrayal.

“I can see how she accomplishes it,” Mal said ruefully, rubbing at his jaw. “She is still as lovely as she was nine years ago.”

It was true. The years had been kind to Helene. He was relieved to see it, for her sake. Although he had been devastated by her defection, as he’d told Ophelia, Helene had done him a favor. Helene had only professed her love for him to get what she wanted, and when she’d received the funds from Inwood first, her affections had simply gone to where they would most benefit her. And as for Apollo, he had come to realize that what he’d felt for her had been mostly fueled by lust. She had been older, worldly, experienced in a way that had thrilled him. She had opened his eyes to a new world he hadn’t realized existed.

And then, just as quickly, she had slammed that door in his face.

“She is a talented actress,” Apollo agreed, meaning those words to his core. “I will grant her that.”