Chapter 18
Owen quickly realized that the three dukes who were visiting had known one another for a long time.
He thought it might make him feel like an outsider, but instead he was able to listen to them in conversation at their club without feeling that he had to carry the discussion for them.
Unfortunately, they were discussing their wives and children, which Owen could not do in the way they did.
He liked his wife, and was at risk of falling in love with her, but he did not have the extensive marriages that they did, nor the children.
The thought had crossed his mind that he would need an heir, but they were not at that point yet, and he was in no rush to make it so.
“We ought to stop this,” Leonard chuckled. “Our new friend seems pale.”
“My word,” Morgan replied. “We may require a physician!”
“I am perfectly content to listen,” Owen explained. “The thing is, my match is very different to yours, and–”
“It is precisely the same,” Levi said firmly. “Do you truly believe that all three of us were madly in love with our wives after knowing them as long as the two of you have?”
“Well, I had assumed so. You speak of them as though you were.”
“We are now,” Leonard explained, “but that is not how it began. Why, Levi’s wife could not stand the sight of him for the longest time. My wife was my friend, but I had never considered her as anything else. She hated men, you know.”
“And you were the exception,” Levi groaned, “because of your incredible personality and broad shoulders. You have told us all of this a thousand times.”
“And all so that you may finish the sentence for me,” he quipped. “But, Owen, you need not feel as though you must compete with us. Not only that, but you do not have to resign to the fate of a man that will not know love.”
It was strange for gentlemen to speak of love the way they did.
Men usually spoke of their wives as a companion, but even five minutes after meeting them Owen knew that they each adored theirs.
It was not that he did not admire Beatrice, but he did not know her as well as he wished he did.
He had already begun to desire more of a connection, but seeing how content they all were made him feel more envy than he ever would have expected.
“Do you want to be loved?” Leonard asked. “Or are you one of those stoic gentlemen that think they are above it?”
“I am not opposed to it, but do you not fear it? You give so much of yourself to another person, and it would be easy for them to cast you aside.”
“Indeed, but it is worth the risk, would you not say?”
Another round was ordered, and Owen thought about it. It was not as though Beatrice would turn him away; she was too kind to do anything as cruel as that, but kindness did not equate to reciprocation, and the thought of falling for her only for her not to feel the same way was too much to think of.
When they returned to the household, they could hear the ladies laughing brightly in the drawing room. It was the first time Owen heard his wife truly laugh, and it lifted him entirely. There was also, however, a pang of sadness that he did not make her laugh like that.
They joined the ladies, who had been sitting with the children.
One of them (Owen could not tell for the life of him who it was) fell into his lap, giggling and clapping.
He chuckled, lifting him up and sitting him by his side.
The little boy was happy about it, but as Owen turned away, he thought of the only other child he had known.
Her face flashed in his mind, pale and cold, and for a moment Owen thought he might be sick.
Wordlessly, he rose to his feet and left the room.
He wanted to explain his sudden absence, and to tell them he would return momentarily, but he could not.
Instead, he walked out into the hallway and continued until he was outside.
His palms were damp, and his breaths came out in ragged chokes.
“Owen?” Beatrice called.
He thought she would be furious and admonish him for leaving her friends so abruptly. What she did, however, was stand by his side, and help him lower himself so he was crouching, his head against the cool brick wall.
“What happened?” she asked.
“My apologies. I did not mean to leave so suddenly.”
“That is not what I asked. We do not mind that you needed a moment. All that I care about is how you are feeling.”
“Well, I feel fine enough. I only–”
It was the right time to tell her about what he had done, and what he was responsible for. It was the best way to talk about his fear of becoming a father, and having to always guard a child, and why she had seen so many different versions of young girls dying on his estate.
And yet, when she looked at him, nothing would come. He could not tell her something so awful, not when they were supposed to be enjoying themselves.
“I understand,” she said softly when he did not continue. “We all have things that we hide, and things that cause us pain. I will not force you to tell me what is wrong if it makes you unhappy.”
“I do want to tell you,” he confessed, “but if you knew, you would not look at me the same way. I cannot bear the thought of your displeasure.”
“I can assure you that I know more about people than you might think. Did you know, for example, that Cecilia was a celebrated author for years?”
“But that is a good thing. People ought to know about that accomplishment.”
“And what if I told you that she made a fortune pretending she was a man, and writing about the failings of fellow men? That is not something that she should have taken pride in, according to some, and yet her husband could not be prouder of her.”
He agreed, but his secret was objectively shameful. There was no success in what he had done.
“I will tell you when I am ready,” he promised, his hand taking and covering hers without thinking.
“Very well. I will be waiting, in that case.”
They returned to the others, and as they approached the door, Beatrice squeezed his hand. He stiffened, and though he did not pull away he wondered why she had done such a thing and how she had known he needed that sort of comfort.
Had her conversation with her friends been similar to the one he’d ventured into with the other Dukes?
Had she longed for a closer bond to grow between them?
What if she wanted to be closer to him, all the while he was keeping her at arms’ length?
He did not want to hurt her, which was precisely why he was doing what he could to keep her at a distance.
Unfortunately, he had not considered the possibility that she might want to have him near her, and he did not know what to do with that.
When they reentered the room, they continued as though nothing had happened, but Owen noticed that they kept the children away from him.
He had not said a word, and they knew that something was wrong and acted accordingly.
He appreciated their discretion, and was pleased that his wife had such good friends.
He also felt fortunate that she was so willing to share them with him.
As they prepared for bed, he crossed Beatrice in the hallway again. She was smiling to herself, and she studied him quickly before opening her mouth to speak.
“You seem happier.”
“I feel it. I apologize for what happened. It was all very intense, I must say.”
“We can be a difficult group to join. We ladies have known one another for years, and our husbands have joined one by one. They are harmless though, as I am certain you have seen.”
“They are splendid.”
They remained side by side for a moment, not moving and not talking, and then he cleared his throat.
“I did not have any friends as a young man,” he explained. “I knew that anyone who spoke to me only had an interest in my title, and not who I was. It made for a difficult youth, and an even harder time as an adult.”
“I could never understand that, but you should know that I was rather lonely as a child,” she replied.
“It made my father furious. The adults thought that I was lovely, but the children… they were cruel. I was a larger girl, and I did not like the same things as them, and they saw it as a reason to dislike me.”
Owen blinked, incapable of understanding what she had said.
They had not met under the best circumstances, but even he knew that she had acted on behalf of her friend in a most heroic nature.
She had been doing the best thing she could, and though it proved difficult to manage, he still had to see her sense of loyalty as a likable quality.
“I cannot imagine anyone finding something about you to dislike,” he said honestly. “You are kind, and you are so terribly gentle if one looks past your habit of ruining weddings.”
“I only did that once!”
“Once was all that was needed,” he chuckled. “And you should know that I have forgiven you for that.”
“I do. I suppose…”
“What is it?”
“It is rather ridiculous, I suppose, and nothing particularly worth saying.”
“If it is bothering you, then I would rather know.”
She took a deep breath, brushing her palms against her skirts.
“I have never been seen as desirable.”
He raised an eyebrow, and when she saw him, she laughed nervously.
“What I mean is, I have only ever been complimented on my kindness, or how quiet I am. Ladies are expected to be gentle, and I know that, but when my friends are spoken of, they are called beautiful and bold and intelligent, and I… I am Beatrice. I am so very nice, and nothing more.”
Owen rather thought that generosity and gentleness of spirit were the best traits a person could have, but he could see that such labels tormented his wife.
She had spent her entire life being perceived as kind, and she had clearly taken that to mean plain, even if that was the last thing he thought of her.
“Could I change that?” he offered. “Is there something you always wish you could have been called?”
“Anything other than what I was,” she sighed. “Anything at all.”
He knew what he was going to say in an instant, but he thought she might think there was no real meaning in it if he simply blurted it out.
Therefore, he decided to walk around her in a circle, studying her intently.
He watched her melt under his gaze, and there was a brief satisfaction in it before he decided to tell her just what he thought.
“Simply put, I think you are brilliant. You can do things with sweets that I would never have thought possible, and when you love something, you do so with everything you have. I shall thank you not to insult my wife by calling her plain.”
He tilted her chin up to him, and her breath hitched. They were perilously close, and he craved closing the gap entirely, but it was not the time. He did not want her to think he was taking advantage of her vulnerable moment.
“I do not like it when people are unkind to my duchess.”
“Very well,” she whispered. “I shall ensure that no harsh words pass these lips again.”