Chapter 28

"Your Grace? Your Grace!"

After handing over his hat to Wentworth, Owen ran his hands through his hair. It was a rather windy day out in London.

Though he hadn't meant to go out––nor stay out so long––he hadn't been able to help himself. It had felt like a new day this morning. No, more than that. A new life. Seeing Benedict last night had done something grand to him. That, and his kiss with his wife.

Perhaps she's having tea now. I can go surprise her. Would it be too soon to ask her for a second kiss?

Unable to help himself, Owen had gone out to see Benedict this morning. He had met Florentia again. She was a far cry prettier and more talkative than she had been as a child. And above all, she was truly in love with his cousin.

The two of them could convince even the cruelest man that love is real. Well, almost. I think Uncle would still find a way to spit in their faces just so he could cling to his spite. What an unfortunate coward he is.

"Your Grace!"

Owen had hoped that Florentia and Benedict might be willing to come visit here for the afternoon before their departure. It would have been nice to have them meet Georgiana. He considered making plans to go visit the newlyweds while he turned to see Mrs. Helen.

His housekeeper waved a hand over her head as though they were separated by a crowd instead of the hall. She swiftly made her way to him with flushed cheeks.

"Good afternoon." He gave her a smile. "Why are you hurrying about like this? It's a lovely day, and there's no need to waste our energy."

"Yes, but I wanted to speak with you at once," she panted.

Nodding, Owen decidedly shed his coat as well. The house was a tad warm. He supposed he hadn't needed to ride his horse all the way through town, but he hadn't been able to resist the opportunity. Twice he had nearly lost his hat. He grinned at the memory before fixing his cuffs.

"Well then," he told his anxious housekeeper, "I am all ears. Is it tea time, by chance?"

"Yes. I mean, it was, Your Grace, but––"

"Then Georgiana should be in the library at this hour. I think I shall keep her company. Join me on the walk up the stairs?"

Everything had been going so well. Granted, the encounter with the Viscount had certainly put a damper on the ball last night. But only for a moment. If anything, that situation had only brought him and his wife closer together. Now he had her, and he had his cousin, while his cousin had his own wife.

Owen couldn't recall the last time he had felt this relaxed. He was eager for everything that would come for them next. The day was bright, he had people to care about, and all was well.

I just want to see Georgiana now.

Breathing hard, Mrs. Helen came up to him. "I just came from there, and I'm afraid she didn't wish for tea today. That's what I wanted to talk about. Something happened."

He stopped. "What do you mean?" Furrowing his brow, he glanced at his housekeeper and then toward the library. "Blast it, she didn't fall again?"

"No, Your Grace!"

She surprised them both by snatching his elbow when he made to race up the stairs in search of his injured wife. Or not-injured wife. He stopped. Then he and Mrs. Helen looked at his elbow, where she held him.

"My apologies." She snatched her hand back. "Her Grace did not fall, nor had she been taken ill. But something… Well, I don't quite know how to say it, you see––"

A short laugh of disbelief escaped him. Shaking his head, Owen threw a hand up in the air. "Mrs. Helen, it cannot be so terrible. I was already imagining the worst. If Georgiana is not injured or sick, then she must be well. I shall see to her myself. Did you wish to come with me?"

"No, this is not my business. In truth, I fear I should not even bring this up. It isn't my place, but…"

Something about Mrs. Helen's hesitation finally caught Owen's attention. He stilled to study her face. There was that uncertain furrow in her brow, and a tightness around her mouth. What was it that she both wanted to say and to not say?

All of the pent-up energy within him slowly began to slip away.

"What is it?" he asked her when she didn't continue.

"You must understand, Your Grace. I wasn't spying on Her Grace. I was lost in thought when I went to the library to serve her tea. We didn't get the fish we desired at the market for this week, so we needed to change the menu," she began to explain.

He nodded sharply. "Yes, yes, what is it about the fish?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not about the fish."

Exhaling, Owen asked, "Then what is this about?"

She took another deep breath. "It's about a letter. She was sorting through her mail and found a letter that greatly upset her."

He frowned. While he had seen Georgiana upset, she usually had a good reason for it. What sort of letter could have upset her? Who would write to her? Questions filled his mind, but the answers eluded him.

"What was in the letter?" he demanded. "Who was it from?"

"I didn't see it." Mrs. Helen wrung her hands anxiously. "But I did see how she reacted. Oh, it was terribly sad. She ripped the letter and put it in her pocket. I asked Thomas about it."

Owen paused. He'd passed Thomas that morning with the mail. He'd sorted through the expected invitations, but he didn't remember seeing anything that could have upset his wife. Rubbing his head, he tried to think. Could he have missed something? What had the footman taken to her?

"What did he have to say? Have you spoken to him? We have to find him at once and see who would do such a thing."

"He doesn't know, Your Grace. That's just it. And Her Grace didn't want to talk. I could see it in her eyes how hurt she was. And the way she questioned me after reading it…"

His spine stiffened. "What is it? What did she say?"

After audibly gulping, Mrs. Helen admitted, "She asked about you."

That was when his stomach began to churn. "What do you mean?"

"She was devastated, Your Grace—you must understand. I don't know happened. But she was anxious about where you have been. Today and the other days when you are out and about or when you are in your study. She didn't think we could trust where you had been."

A short laugh escaped him. "How could you not? I have no reason to lie. Is that it?"

"There was one other thing. I fear I shouldn't speak of it, Your Grace."

"Except that you shall. You must, Mrs. Helen. What is going on?"

Mrs. Helen glanced around the hall. They were alone. Wentworth was no longer by the door. It was just Owen and his housekeeper here. But this didn't stop her from speaking in a low voice to explain what else Georgiana had spoken of.

"She talked about your cousin, Your Grace. She, er, believes something about how you knew he loved another woman. The letter was some sort of gossip, I fear, and… well, I don't wish to make assumptions."

Make assumptions about me knowing my cousin. That isn't so awful. Benedict and I are family. Blast it, no. She could even mean that I knew about Florentia––knew about her before the wedding. Nor would she be wrong.

Swearing under his breath, Owen pieced it together.

Georgiana had learned that Benedict had loved another woman before their wedding day. That was bound to upset her, indeed. What she must think of Owen now, and his cousin, could not be very decent.

I should have told her. I should have said something. Why didn't I? Blast it, why couldn't I be honest with my wife?

"Your Grace?"

He turned sharply to Mrs. Helen. There would come no good in thinking about his mistakes and what could or should have been. He couldn't change the past. That was a lesson he had long since learned. All he could do now was make his next choice a little more wisely.

There is no hiding from this––from the past, from myself, from my wife.

"I will speak with her at once," Owen announced.

"Oh, good." Mrs. Helen clasped her hands together in relief. "Thank the heavens. I saw her go to the ballroom, Your Grace."

He thanked her before rushing on. His mind raced even faster, trying to find the right words to say. He owed Georgiana an apology, he accepted that. But there was still the fact of having to reassure her that it was all a misunderstanding that they would be able to sort out together.

Pushing the doors open, Owen spotted her at once. His wife stood in the middle of the closed-up ballroom with her arms wrapped around herself.

"Georgiana." He strode toward her as she turned to face him.

"No." When he hesitated, she added, "Don't come any further. I need to talk to you, Owen."

"And I you. I'll talk about anything you want to," he said. He took another step forward before he caught himself and stopped. "Georgiana, I don't know exactly what you've learned, but––"

She cleared her throat. "I know enough. In fact, I rather believe I know everything." She was close enough for him to see her red-rimmed eyes—she had been crying. But she was too far away for him to hold her. "A very special letter arrived to tell me all that you refused to confess."

Steadying his breathing, Owen nodded slowly. "You're right. I should have told you. I should have shared everything with you."

"Yes, you should have!" Her voice rose several octaves as her self-restraint began to slip. "How could you? I can't believe I ever thought you could come to care for me. All of this has been a lie. All you ever wanted to do was hurt me. How dare you be so cruel, Owen?"

The blood drained from his face as she railed. It was more serious than he had expected. She was even more upset about Benedict than he thought possible. While he didn't know that the situation warranted such rage, he quickly spoke up to try and calm her.

"You're right," he said with a reluctant nod. "Georgiana, I did a cruel thing and kept the truth from you. I am sorry. I mean that, I am sorry. Mrs. Helen told me about the letter, and I only wanted to––"

"Is it true?" Georgiana asked through gritted teeth. She marched up to him, looking him in the eye. "Is it?"

She was still beautiful in her rage. Owen stared at her while wishing he could fix all of this. He could feel the pain radiating from her. Though his hands itched to hold her, he forced himself to stay put.

"Yes. It is," he admitted at last. "But I never expected Benedict would actually run and––"

Georgiana let out a heart-wrenching sob that nearly broke him. Clasping a hand over her mouth, she stepped around him.

He turned around as she cried out, "I can't bear it!"

And then she ran, leaving him behind.