Chapter Nineteen #2
“The earl is here. Well, not here in the house right now. He is off on an errand. But he is here in Wales. And the letter I wrote to tell him about the baby didn’t make it into the post before he returned.
I believe he is angry with me about it, but he’s being very odd.
He has not yelled or criticized me. Instead he is just… well, ignoring me.”
“You’ve shocked him.”
“Yes, and I’ve apologized several times. But I fear he may not forgive me.”
“But you want him to.”
“Yes. I regret not telling him about the baby more than I regret anything I’ve ever done in my life. I was so happy when he arrived home. I’ve missed him. But now that he’s here, he barely looks at me. Which perhaps I deserve. But I want to fix it.”
“You must speak with him. Confess how you feel. Grovel a little. He may come around.”
Grace wasn’t sure he would.
“You are actually fond of your husband,” Catrin said. It wasn’t a question.
“I am. We’ve been exchanging letters for months. He’s clever and passionate about his work. That was why I put off telling him about Dafydd. I didn’t want to take him away from his responsibilities. What he was doing seemed important.”
But was that really true? Grace had been telling herself that for months. But she also had to admit that she wanted her independence. And if Owen came back because of the baby, that would change.
After all, she’d been the one who insisted on moving to Wales and staying here, she was the one who wanted to live in the country and have independence. She’d wanted to make her pottery, she’d wanted to leave London. That had been the plan, the reason she’d agreed to marry Owen.
Only none of this had gone the way she’d expected.
She’d become used to being alone when she still lived with her parents.
Her sister was much younger than she was and they barely interacted.
Her father was never home and Grace thanked God daily that her mother considered herself too aristocratic to bother spending time with her children.
Grace had assumed that being alone was what she wanted, in part because it was what she’d always known.
But spending time in Wales had corrected that misunderstanding. She had friends here, a surrogate family, people who checked on her to make sure she was all right, who kept her company when she was struggling and brought her treats and made her laugh just because she they were friends.
On top of that, she’d grown to actually like Owen. And the more they corresponded, the more she missed him and wanted him to be here in Wales with her.
That was the opposite of what they’d agreed to.
He’d told her that he felt the same way. Maybe she’d have to remind him why he liked her to begin with.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Grace asked.
“Anything, dear.”
“How long after you had each of your children did you wait before you…had marital relations again.”
“Using your feminine wiles, eh?” Catrin winked.
“I am considering it.” Not that Grace thought it would solve the problem, but she did want to lie with Owen again and she thought it might help bring them closer together. Assuming he ever spoke to her again.
“About a month, I believe. But in your case? You should wait until you feel fully healed. The births of my children were not nearly so…violent. If I were you, I would ask your doctor.”
Grace’s face flooded with heat. “I could not possibly tell my doctor I want to…you know…with my husband.”
“Why not? Is not the purpose of marriage to make heirs, especially if one has a title to pass on? The doctor will understand. He knows what married people do.”
Grace let out a breath. This was bothersome.
She did not think she could broach the topic of…
marital relations…with the doctor, nor did she feel fully healed.
She wasn’t sore anymore, but she still felt weak and fragile, something she absolutely loathed.
One of the things she liked about her independence was that no one ever treated her like she was stupid or breakable.
The people she surrounded herself with here in Wales all treated her like a peer, like someone who was strong and knew her own mind, and Grace appreciated that.
But for the last few months, Grace had felt not at all like herself, and she didn’t know how to get her strength back.
Catrin frowned at her. “I know this situation with your husband troubles you, but it is also worth considering… That is, I have heard of cases in which women who have just had babies feel unbearably sad or fretful. I believe it is quite normal.”
Grace shook her head. She wasn’t sad, exactly, just…not herself. “Did you experience that?”
“No, but that does not mean there is anything wrong with you if you do.”
Grace took a deep breath. “I love my son. He makes me happy. I think once I make things right with my husband, I will feel a lot better. I just need to figure out how to do that.”
Catrin nodded. “Have a frank conversation. Apologize.”
“Yes.”
Grace changed the subject to pottery, and Catrin told a story about something one of her sons got into the other day, but Grace was only half listening.
Then Owen came home.
Grace could hear the commotion when Owen entered the house, and his voice drifted down the hall as he spoke with Driscoll or whoever had greeted him at the door. Driscoll must have directed him down the hall, because suddenly Owen was in the doorway.
Catrin shot to her feet, so Grace stood as well.
Formally, she said, “My lord, let me present my friend, Catrin Davies. Catrin, may I introduce you to my husband, the Earl of Caernarfon.”
Owen strode into the room. “We need not be so formal. I usually go by Caernarfon or Owen.”
“I go by Catrin, if that was not clear.”
As he was clearly trained, he took Catrin’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “It is nice to finally meet you. Grace has spoken of you a great deal.”
“All good things, I hope.”
“Yes, of course. She speaks highly of you. I appreciate that you’ve been a friend to her while I’ve been London.”
“It has been my pleasure.”
“Well. I merely wanted to drop in to say hello. I have some things to attend to. I shall leave you ladies to your tea. Are you staying for dinner, Catrin?”
“No, I must attend to my own brood.”
“Of course. Well, I’ll be off. Enjoy yourselves.”
“Thank you, Owen,” said Grace.
He nodded and left.
Grace sat back down and took a fortifying sip of tea.
“Well,” said Catrin, retaking her own seat. “I can certainly see why you’d want to resume marital relations.”
“Catrin!”
“He’s very handsome, your husband. He has some charm.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I suppose I expected someone older. I met the previous earl a time or two, and he was elderly when he passed, so I assumed his son would be older, but he is not much older than you are.”
“No.”
“Men do tend to take their time getting ready for marriage, whereas we ladies are often pushed out of our homes before we turn twenty.”
“Yes, well. I was a bit on the shelf because of a betrothal that was never going to end in marriage.”
“Yes, you’ve told me this story. And look where you are now!”
“With a husband who can barely stand to look at me.”
“I think he will come around. Give him some time.”
“You just met him. You cannot possibly know how this will go.”
Catrin shrugged. “I have a good feeling about him.”
After Catrin left, Grace climbed the stairs to check on Dafydd. She was surprised to find the door to her bedchamber open ajar. She opened it slightly farther so she could see what was happening.
Owen sat on the bed with Dafydd in his lap. The two of them were looking intently at each other, and Owen was speaking so softly, Grace couldn’t hear him.
She felt her heart squeeze. Here was Owen interacting with his son, which most aristocratic fathers would not have done.
Grace was moved that Owen would take the time.
Tears stung her eyes, as they had so often since Dafydd’s birth.
Her midwife had told her to expect this, but she still hated how little control she had over her emotions.
She must have made a sound, because Owen’s head suddenly jerked toward her.
“Grace,” he said softly.
“Sorry, I did not mean to interrupt. Catrin just left and I wanted to check on Dafydd.”
“I was just—”
“There’s no need to explain.” She walked into the room. “You should spend time with him. Talk to him. I love that you are doing that.”
Owen’s expression softened. “Are you crying?”
She wiped at her eyes. “I do a lot of crying these days. I feel sometimes like my body is not my own again yet.”
Owen cradled the baby in his arms. “I cannot imagine what that must have been like.” He looked down at Dafydd. “He is a good-looking little man, I can say that much.”
“He must feel safe with you.” She gestured at Dafydd’s face. He was struggling to keep his eyes open as he snuggled against his father’s chest.
“I want him to feel safe with me. I was trying to get him used to the sound of my voice. I do not know how much babies understand.”
“I likely know little more about babies than you do. A lot of the time, I am just guessing. But I think familiarity probably helps. If he recognizes your face and understands you will not harm him, he will learn to trust you. But I am just guessing.”
“But you had three weeks more than I did. You should give yourself more credit. You likely understand more than you think”
There was no animosity in his voice, but Grace knew he was still upset.
“We should talk,” she said.
“Yes, but not right now. Let us not disturb him.”
She nodded and sat next to Owen on the bed.
She wanted to tell him everything. How much she regretted not being completely honest with him.
How much the distance he put between them was killing her.
How much she wanted the magic of their honeymoon back, the promise of that kiss he had given her when he’d first arrived home.
She wanted to give him time to decide how he felt about everything, but she wanted him back, too.
But not right now.
“I think I may need to lay down for a little before dinner,” she said, standing back up. “He’s asleep now. If you leave him in the crib, I will hear him if he wakes up.”
“All right. I’ll put him in there in a few minutes. I just want to hold him a little longer.”
“Take your time.” Grace smiled at him. She was suddenly very tired. She left the room before she started crying again.