Chapter 28
Owen could not look at either lady in the eye.
He could not look at his wife, for every time that he did he was reminded of his failings. Beatrice did not deserve to be pushed away like he continuously did, but he did not know how else to be.
And that, he knew, was partly because of Lady Helena. He could not look at his host either, for every time he did, he remembered the worst time of his life, the very time that he was trying to run from.
“It is so nice to see you, Your Grace,” she greeted. “George is in the study, but he will be joining us promptly. He has found work, you see, and he must keep on top of it all.”
“That is excellent news,” Beatrice replied as they made their way to the drawing room. “I have been thinking of you both a lot.”
They took tea, and Owen looked around the room. It was the smallest of his properties, but also his favorite. He liked it so much because of its size, as it had been the perfect place to hide away. That was why he had offered it to his friend.
“I cannot thank you enough,” Lady Helena said softly. “It is the loveliest home, and though we hope to have our own one day–”
“It is yours as long as you need it,” he assured her. “There is no need for you to hastily find your own.”
Beatrice nodded, and Owen was pleased that his wife was not selfish about it.
“Now,” Beatrice said, her eyes flashing, “why is it that you have chosen to invite us here? Were you not supposed to marry first?”
“Well… as it transpires, George and I visited Gretna Green, and we thought we would make the most of our holiday.”
She showed her ring finger, which wore a small golden band. She seemed almost ashamed, but Beatrice embraced her tightly and congratulated her, which helped.
“Are you not furious?” she asked. “I did not invite you to the wedding.”
“All that I care about is that you are happy, and that you are protected. I am so pleased to see that you have what you wanted.”
“It is everything I could have hoped for and more. My husband, on the other hand… I cannot say that he is particularly at ease.”
“Why not?” Owen asked. “He has found work, and you are living here. If there is anything more that we can do for you, we would be more than happy to.”
“In truth, I believe the best that you can do is talk to him. I do not know what is troubling him, but it is beginning to concern me too. That is why I asked you both to visit. I believe he needs to speak with a man, rather than his wife.”
Owen did not need convincing. It was for the best, he thought, that he left the ladies to talk while he found the man. It also meant that he could avoid looking them in the eye for a while longer.
“I shall return soon, then,” he said with a nod, making his way to the study.
As he wandered the halls, he was taken back to his childhood when he did not walk them alone. It was comforting, but there was also sadness in it. He missed the way things were, and he wished that everything was different, but there was no changing what had happened.
There was no changing what he had done.
He knocked on the study door, and he heard a voice on the other side telling him to enter. He walked in to see George, dark hair covering his face as he read.
“I thought I would come and see you,” Owen explained.
“Your Grace! My apologies, I did not realize that you were here. I shall come down now.”
“Do not worry, our wives are talking to one another, so they are more than entertained.”
He took a seat across from him and peered at the book. It was filled with law terms that he did not quite understand, and it was no surprise to him that George had been looking at them so intently if he was trying to make sense of them himself.
“I have been given work as a ledger,” he explained. “In the meantime, I am studying law. It is my hope that I will become a solicitor, as they make enough money to support a family.”
“I have already told your wife that if the two of you need assistance, you need only ask.”
“And that is very kind of you, Your Grace, but I cannot accept it. Helena and I know that we need help, but I cannot let you do too much for us. As it is, you have done more than I could have asked for.”
“There is no shame in needing help.”
“Perhaps not, but there is shame in not being able to support my family. I am supposed to be the man, the one that cares for my wife and our child, and yet we are relying on the charity of another man. She almost married you because of our circumstances, and though I know she was doing what she thought was best, it stings knowing that I am not enough.”
Owen knew the feeling all too well; yes, he had the funds to support his wife, but he could not give her what she deserved, and it was killing him inside.
“And yet, she chose you,” he replied. “George, I know how it feels to think yourself undeserving of a lady, but Lady Helena is not a fool. She wished to marry me, yes, but it was with the understanding that she loved you and would not spend much time with me at all. She did not want anything to do with me, and I cannot blame her for that.”
The man’s eyes widened for a moment, as if he did not know about that.
“But she said that the two of you are friends, and that you had saved her.”
“I did what was right. Any good man in my position would have seen her situation and understood that she needed protection. I will never claim that it was ever anything more than that.”
“Then, if I may ask, why her? There are plenty of young ladies who would have liked to marry you, your wife for example. Why was it Helena that you chose?”
Owen sat back, looking the man in the eye. He had never told anyone the real reason, partly because it would have meant admitting it to himself.
“She reminded me of someone I know,” he explained. “I could not help the other young lady, so when Lady Helena came to me in need of assistance, I could not turn her away.”
“Even though you were not obligated to?”
“She was honest with me. She told me her situation, and she was clear that she would never love me. I could not refuse, not when she had no duplicity in her motives.”
George nodded, eyes sliding away.
“I want to take care of her,” he repeated. “I want to be the man that she deserves, and I cannot stand that I am incapable of being the man she needs.”
“But you already are. You love her, and that is all she wants. She would have been happy anywhere with you. I was the one that insisted upon all of this, not only for her sake but for yours too. I want both of you to be happy, George.”
“Is love enough?”
“I would say so.”
But, if that were the case, he would have given into his feelings for Beatrice by now.
There was no denying his attraction to her, nor the innate need he felt to protect her, but every time he felt himself coming close to giving in to her, he pulled back again.
He had lost everyone he had loved, and he could not bear the thought of losing her too.
“Then I suppose I ought to relax,” George sighed. “I have a beautiful wife, and a child on the way, and a lovely home. I ought to be grateful for that.”
“Indeed. Come, let us see our lovely wives and ruin their time together.”
The man chuckled, and they made their way to the drawing room. Owen felt that same lump in his throat that had been there since the night of the ball, when he had pushed Beatrice away again. She had done nothing to deserve his actions, and he knew that, but he could not change.
When they entered the room, Owen could tell that his wife had been crying, but it was not the time to mention it. He knew that they would have time alone that night, and he would ask her what had happened then.
He simply hoped that he was not the cause of it.
“Hello, ladies,” George greeted. “I do hope that we are not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Lady Helena replied with a soft smile. “We were actually talking about the two of you.”
“All good things, I do hope.”
Once again, Owen’s eyes fell on his wife. She was now smiling, and all traces of unhappiness had vanished, but he knew what he had seen.
“Of course,” she replied. “You say that as though either of you have given us cause to feel otherwise.”
George laughed, sitting beside his wife and taking her hand. Owen did the same, but it was stiff, like a performance. Suddenly, he had an urge to make Beatrice feel different than she clearly did.
When they went to bed that night, Owen found Beatrice outside her room. He had not wanted to talk about her crying in front of others, and that had meant waiting. In that time, he saw that her sadness had turned into something else, something more closely resembling anger.
“Are you all right?” he asked, albeit rather sheepishly.
“You ask me as though you are deeply concerned.”
“I am. You know that I am.”
“Do I?” she asked. “Tell me, Your Grace, when have you ever made it known to me that you care?”
“In many ways. I married you, did I not?”
“As if you had a choice. I shall rephrase. When did you choose to show me how much you care?”
Owen could not deny that her questioning offended him greatly. Everything that he had done had been for her sake, and for her to dismiss it all was proof that she was ungrateful for it. He rolled his eyes, and in spite of the dim candlelight she saw him, and her own eyes flashed.
“That is precisely what I am saying!” she snapped. “Do you know how humiliating it was to sit across from my friend, and listen to her tell me all about her doting husband who adores her and would do anything for her, and know that I shall never have the same?”
“You knew that when you married me. I was clear about it. You cannot blame me because you expected more from me than what I could give.”
“And yet, you forget that this, all of it, is proof that you can love.”
She gestured around them, and Owen knew precisely what she was referring to. He had opened a home to someone who was not his wife and done everything that he could to care for her, while Beatrice was given what was left.
“It may seem unfair, but–”
“Do you love her?” she asked.
“What?”
“Do you love Helena?”