Chapter 26

"Your Grace?"

Owen glanced over his shoulder, slowing down, to see his valet stepping out of his bedchamber with a confused look on his face.

"I'll be there soon." Owen paused. "If all is set up, then you may retire for the evening. There is something outside that I must attend to."

His valet hesitated before nodding. "Yes, Your Grace. I'll be available should you need me."

Owen nodded and then resumed his trek toward the front hall. He had motioned earlier while removing his hat for the man to stay there. Wentworth didn't appear particularly happy, but he helped Owen put on his cloak and then opened the door for him.

Fortunately, the drizzle had yet to become anything more. Owen didn't bother with his hat. He walked down the steps and started toward the carriage.

No one had gone outside to find out who was sitting in that carriage, not without his explicit permission. He was grateful for that tonight. There was no reason for someone to be sitting on his property at this late hour, and he intended to see what was going on. If this was someone who wanted to speak with him, the least he could do was tell them to visit at a more reasonable hour.

I have better things to do with my time. Sleeping, for example. It's been a long day and a longer evening. After Georgiana…

He couldn't think back to the ball without the fury returning. But that memory was pushed aside for something more recent.

Owen listened to the thumping of his heart. He hadn't heard a single beat when he kissed Georgiana. That had not been intended, the kiss, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not one part of him regretted marrying the woman. She was a proud and fierce lady who did him proud. As for kissing her…

Maybe he would do it again. Soon, too, if he could manage it.

Warmth crept up his cheeks when he realized he was thinking about such an intimate moment. Even with his wife. He was not the sort of man to embrace anything beyond a friendly relationship. There was hardly a memory in his life of embracing anything or anyone. He had rarely ever hugged anyone after his parents died. It felt strange to be close to others.

There I go again. I can't stop thinking about Georgiana. Perhaps I shouldn't have kissed her.

The thought evaporated the moment he had it. He was unable to regret that moment with her in the near dark. He swore he could still taste her on his lips.

Shaking his head, Owen told himself to focus. There were other matters to attend to now. Like this carriage.

He squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze on the dark vehicle up ahead. The horses were still tethered. They shifted lazily, as if they had no reason to expect to be moved just yet. It was only when he stepped closer that he even noticed there had been a driver hunched in the front seat all this time.

The man arose to climb down from his bench. He moved toward the door as though to alert whomever he had brought here. Owen paused, watching to see what might happen next. His heart skipped a beat. There wasn't any reason for anyone to come out here at this hour, he reminded himself again. No one would care to see him.

After he took two more steps, the door swung open. The driver moved back, so Owen could see movement from within. It was only more shadows until, finally, someone emerged from the compartment.

His steps faltered, and he could only stare in disbelief at the sight in front of him.

"Owen!" Benedict clambered out of the carriage with a broad grin on his face, as if he hadn't been missing from town all this time.

Stunned, all Owen could do was gape at his cousin. He had been willing to send every Bow Street Runner out in search of the man if his aunt would have let him. A few men had accepted payment to begin looking for Benedict. Owen had sent them all over the country. A futile search, apparently, seeing as his cousin was standing before him now.

He looked Benedict up and down while his cousin walked over to him. The man was smiling happily without a care in the world. It didn't seem that he even noticed the rain.

"Benedict…" Owen tried to find something more to say when his cousin drew closer.

Every garment appeared to be intact. While Benedict appeared a tad underdressed in simpler garb, this was still him. To be certain, Owen reached out to clasp his cousin's shoulder. The familiar thickness was enough to tell him that it really was him.

But then the surprise quickly faded away. Owen gave his head a shake.

"Where the devil have you been?" he demanded, tightening his hold on Benedict.

He couldn't bear to let go. He thought of how quickly and easily his cousin had disappeared. If they weren't careful, he might just do it again.

Benedict beamed up at him, their height difference suddenly feeling as wide as a river instead of only a finger span. "It is good to see you."

"It is, but you must tell me everything. How did you come to be here? Where have you been all this time? Why haven't you responded to any of my letters? I expect you have gone to see your mother. She's worried about you," Owen added.

The mention of Lady Carlisle made Benedict's smile falter. "Yes, I'm sorry about that. I had hoped she would be well. I wrote her a letter not to worry."

Owen couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice when he dropped his arm back to his side and said, "It would have never worked. You didn't think she would really stop wondering what happened to you, did you? She is your mother, Benedict."

His cousin had the good decency to look embarrassed. Glancing away, he nodded. "Yes, you are right. I should have told her something. Or visited her."

"You haven't been to see her?" Owen pressed.

"Owen."

His name was drawn out like a whine. But he said nothing as Benedict collected himself.

The younger man glanced back at the house before giving him a lopsided grin. "It really is good to see you again."

Though he felt very much the same, Owen couldn't just stand there any longer without knowing what had happened. His skin itched in anticipation. He fidgeted before forcing himself to relax. "Yes, yes, very well. Now, answer my questions."

"Oh, yes! Yes, I can do that. Certainly, Cousin. I'm here to see you."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Well, I wasn't certain I should come home just yet. I know my disappearance hasn't exactly taken London by storm, but I wouldn't want my return to do that. I only came back because I've been to Gretna Green."

Gretna Green. Of course. But how did the men I hired never find him? Never mind that. I should only feel relieved that he is safe and clearly very well.

Exhaling loudly, Owen nodded. "And now you're back to stay?"

"Yes." Benedict hesitated. He smiled, rocking on his heels. "You must know why I was there. Aren't you going to ask?"

But Owen's mind had gone blank. Gretna Green was in Scotland. The land was filled with marshes and heather. A beautiful, wild land but few rare plants, in his opinion. Besides, their lives were here. Benedict had never gone beyond his country estate, as far as Owen knew.

"Go on, ask!"

"Fine. Yes, well, why were you… Blast it!"

He finally made the connection and took a step back to stare at his cousin in astonishment. He had forgotten all about the possible reasons why Benedict had left. Yes, his cousin hadn't wanteded to marry Georgiana.

But that is only because he loves someone else. How did I miss that? I should have reached out to the young woman's family. They are poor if I recall correctly, or at least lack the resources I have. If only I had pieced it together sooner, I would have found Benedict weeks ago.

"You got married," Owen said, uncertain how he felt about this.

"I did!" Benedict beamed up at him with bright eyes.

It reminded Owen of the day they'd escaped into the gardens as boys on a summer morning and pretended to look for pirate treasure. Benedict had found a particularly fine stone and thought it must be worth something. They'd been so young back then, young and filled with hope.

Owen felt his throat close up. He tried to find something to say. He was glad for his cousin. He was, wasn't he? Benedict deserved happiness after everything he had endured at home.

"That is… very good. And she is well?" Owen asked while he tried to gather his thoughts.

"Yes, indeed." Benedict glanced back at the carriage. "Florentia fell asleep just as we arrived in the city. I don't know how she does it, sleeping in there. Otherwise, I'd have introduced you to your new cousin. It would be nice for you to meet again."

Nodding, Owen glanced at the carriage as well before turning toward his cousin.

Happiness. Joy. Eagerness. Benedict was practically glowing with glee. He had always been optimistic, but this was new. Owen tilted his head, studying his cousin curiously. The man was positively happy. He was in love. Though Owen had long since given up on that notion, he could see it clear as day on his cousin's face.

"Good," he said at last. "That is very good."

Benedict's smile only grew. "I'm very glad you feel that way. Say, Owen, I left in such a rush. Only made it halfway to Scotland before realizing I left my note for you in my pocket. I'm awfully sorry for the position I put you in." He hesitated. "You won't hold it against me, will you?"

"Certainly not. Nor will your mother. She's been worried sick about you, Benedict. I'm sure she is… You haven't been back to your house, have you?"

Benedict's face fell.

"Benedict, really."

"We only just returned tonight. I wanted to do the right thing and beg for your forgiveness before we went any further," Benedict explained.

There was something else that was left unsaid. Neither of them had mentioned the Marquess of Carlisle, who would be furious. Most likely, the man would demand an annulment if that could be bought. If it couldn't be, Owen wondered what might happen. He wouldn't be surprised if his uncle barred Benedict from the house until he finally died.

"Benedict… I can lend you some money," Owen offered, careful not to hurt his cousin's pride. "Perhaps if you want to stay away a little longer? Or you can stay at my country house. I've been here all this time and may not be there for a few more months."

Shaking his head, Benedict said, "No. I'll manage this. We have a little bit of savings and purchased a cottage by the shore. Just to give Father some time to… you know. There's an extra room for Mother, should she like to come."

"I think she would like that," Owen agreed.

"Right, yes. Well… We shall stay the night in town. I've rented rooms at the Blue Crown for us." Benedict glanced around, as if he wasn't quite ready to leave. "I read the papers this morning. The rumors don't quite let up, do they?"

"No, they don't. They never do. It's best to ignore them, I find."

"Ehm. Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. Just didn't think anyone would be interested in where I've gone…"

Owen shook his head. "They'll lose interest soon. Your father has most likely been silencing everyone. They only mention you occasionally, since you used to make quite a splash at some large events."

"Right. And the wedding…" Benedict sucked in a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. "I know I was supposed to marry Lady Georgiana. We had a legally binding contract. I've worried about you all this time, Owen. When I saw in the papers today that you had married her… well, I didn't know what to think."

Owen stiffened. "You needn't worry about that."

"But I do," his cousin insisted. "I knew how much you disliked the thought of marriage. It should have been something I considered before fleeing the way I did. I should have come back with my letter, at least. You never meant to marry, we both know that. The only reason you are married now is because of me. I'm awfully sorry for that, Owen."

Even while he spoke, Owen was shaking his head. There was no apology needed.

He didn't regret his marriage. While Georgiana certainly challenged him and forced change into his life, he couldn't find it in himself to begrudge her. The feelings he had denied for so long were simmering to the surface. Even now, he had to suppress a smile as he thought of the way the candlelight caressed her soft features.

"Owen, you do forgive me for that, don't you?"

"Yes. Georgiana and I… we get along well enough."

He didn't know how to put his feelings into words. So, instead, he nodded. Maybe someday he could tell Benedict. Maybe even thank him.

As Benedict's eyes widened, he smiled in relief. "I'm very glad of it. She's a fine lady, from what I've heard and in the short time I spent with her. The two of you deserve happiness. Perhaps you'll eventually find the joy I have with Florentia."

The two of them looked back at the black carriage. Beside it were the horses and the driver. Sprinkling rain continued to fall on them, soft and light enough to be nearly forgotten. The night was quiet.

So much had happened, Owen realized, in the last couple of hours. He was surprised to find himself at peace as exhaustion slowly crept into his bones.

"I won't keep you if that's all you came here to say," he said.

Turning back to him, Benedict nodded. "I wanted to do the right thing. Thank you, Owen, for everything. Once we're settled, I'll send you my address. Come see me in the morning, if you like."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Florentia wants to see her father. That's the real reason we came back here. I'm sure he'll come to visit us as well when he can. And I'll send another letter to Mother, but… you won't mention any of this to Father, will you?"

"No." Owen paused. "But he will know, eventually. You must know that."

"I do." Standing tall, Benedict didn't look any part the anxious child once scared of the dark. "But he's not my biggest concern any longer. He can do as he likes, but he won't touch me or Florentia. Ever."

The young man had grown up faster than Owen had realized. He studied his cousin and nodded, feeling pride welling up in his chest. No longer would their lives be ruled and ruined by that odious man they were forced to call family.

"Write to me soon. I should like to visit come summer," Owen requested.

"Good. Florentia wants a garden," Benedict added lightly. "I'm sure you two will have much to discuss."

"Then I am looking forward to it. Travel safely, Benedict. And… thank you."

The words were simple. Too simple. They meant more than his cousin could understand. But Benedict nodded all the same as he walked back to his carriage. The two of them waved to each other before he disappeared inside.

Owen stayed put until the carriage pulled off his drive and disappeared down the street.

His soul was warm. The day was over. His wife was safe in her bed, and his cousin was safe in the city. His cloak had offered him fair protection from the rain, but he could still tell his garments were soaked through. Yet, he hardly felt chilled as he turned toward his house, ready to retire to his chambers and sleep for what he hoped would be a very long time.

And, come morning, he thought of all the good things to come.