Lady Wild by Máire Claremont Page B

to give up this time with her mother, and yet, she knew she couldn’t lie down and die alongside her beautiful mama. To do such a thing would have been an insult to her mother’s love. Wouldn’t it?
    Her heart, her terrified heart, screamed, No . It desired to do nothing but climb into bed, cradle her mother and hold on until there was no one left to hold on to. But such actions were the actions of madness. Still. . . “Mama, I don’t think—”
    “Clearly, you haven’t thought,” her mother said abruptly. “Mrs. Rourke, please come here.”
    The older woman strode forward calmly, her lavender skirts rustling. “Yes, me lady?” The soft Irish roll of her words rippled through the room, as warm and comforting as a hot apple tart.
    “We must convince my daughter that, above anything, I wish to see her happy before. . .” A sheen glimmered in Lady Darlington’s gaze, and she blinked rapidly. “Before I go. I must see her settled.”
    Ophelia gripped her mother’s hand a trifle harder and quickly closed her eyes lest her own tears slide down her cheeks. The burn of her throat was almost unbearable at the attempt.
    “Look at me, Ophelia,” her mother said gently.
    It took great effort not to run away from this moment, but Ophelia drew in a soft breath, then opened her eyes. Her mother, her face determined and urgent, stared up at her. “Yes, Mama?”
    “I will not see you shrink. You must embrace this life despite your fears. And I? I wish to see you fully seize your future before I must leave you.” The calmness around her mother felt almost unreal, a moment out of time, as she said, “You know I am going. And soon.”
    Ophelia desperately wished to shake her head, to deny it. “Mama—”
    “Soon. I feel it in my body. I know that my God is calling me to your father.” A soft smile tilted her mama’s lips, and an elusive contentment warmed her face. “He needs me now. But I desire a last gift from you.”
    Ophelia bit down on her lower lip, finally unable to stop the tears slipping down her cheeks.
    Her mother stroked her hand, a butterfly-light gesture. “It pains me to see you grieve, and yet I am glad. At last, I am glad to see you cry, my darling girl.”
    “W-Why?” Ophelia was taken aback by the peace she saw in her mother’s eyes. Yes. That’s what it was. Peace. And even though she shouldn’t, she hated seeing it. Because peace meant her mother was almost ready to leave her.
    “Because it means you are feeling. And what do we have in this life but our feelings? The only thing which could ever break my heart would be to see you sleep-walk your way through this life, unfeeling, unmoved. Promise me that you will live . Let me see you seize this life, despite the fear that is in every heart.”
    Ophelia nodded, half-tempted to throw herself on the bed and hold her mother through the night rather than venture out. But the world was not ending with her mother’s life, though that was what her heart told her. Her soul, on the other hand. . . It told her something very different. That her mother was right. That she could give her mother this one last gift. She would live. She would live as no other woman had lived before. “I promise you, Mama. I promise.”

CHAPTER TEN
    Being bold can be hard work.
    Be bold anyway.
    -Ophelia’s Notebook
     
    Ophelia’s heart pounded with sheer glee as she swept across the ballroom filled with the lords and ladies of the glittering ton in Lord Stark’s arms. He pressed one gloved hand firmly into her back, the other cupped her fingertips, and they whirled to a Strauss waltz.
    Who would have believed that just a week ago she’d been tucked away in a tiny cottage at the ends of England, barely ever speaking to another soul besides her mother?
    It was all she could do to hold in her joyous laughter.
    She smiled. She couldn’t help herself. It was so tempting to close her eyes and savor the delicious spinning sensation.
    Stark waltzed so masterfully,