Chapter 32
Owen made his way back as quickly as he could, and with each passing moment he thought of every mistake he had ever made.
He should not have done what he did. He should have been honest with Beatrice, and he should not have kept her away when he so badly wanted the opposite. He had nobody to blame for her leaving but himself, and it tore him to pieces inside.
But, in spite of everything, he forced himself to remain optimistic. He knew there were only so many places that she could be, and he would go to each and every one until he found her. He would do whatever was necessary to bring her home again.
The first place he tried was her family’s home. The Jennings were home, and he was led into the parlor room while he waited for them. He did not want to see them, and he hoped that she had not decided to go there, for he had not liked them.
“Ah, good afternoon, Your Grace,” Lady Jennings greeted. “This is quite the surprise.”
“I do not plan to take up too much of your time. I was wondering if Beatrice was here.”
Her mother’s face told him in an instant that she did not know a thing about her disappearance, and his happiness about that quickly turned to apprehension, for her mother would undoubtedly wish to know why she was not home.
“She is not. Is she not with you?”
“She… she is not, no.”
“Oh, Heavens,” she gasped, slowly sitting down.
Lord Jennings appeared at that moment, causing his wife to become hysterical.
“Beatrice has disappeared!” she cried.
“Has she left you, then, Your Grace?”
“Not exactly,” he explained. “We exchanged words, and she left. I have come to bring her home.”
“I do not know why you are bothering to do so,” he chuckled. “I was pleased to see her gone, personally, and I will not blame you for feeling the same.”
Owen’s blood turned hot in an instant, and his instinct told him to turn and leave without another word, but he could not do it. He hated the smarmy look on her father’s face, and he wanted to remove it by any means necessary.
“Tell me, Lord Jennings. Why do you hate your daughter?”
The man turned pale at once.
“I do not know what you mean, Your Grace.”
“Yes, you do. You have been cruel the entire time I have known you. With the way you act, one would expect Beatrice to be a vicious young lady, a wanton or a bluestocking who did everything in her power to bring shame upon her family, but she has been nothing but an outstanding duchess. The village adores her, her staff would gladly do anything for her, and she puts you to shame not because she is disgraceful but because she is so lovely that people are left wondering how she could possibly have come from you.”
It all spilled out of him, but he did not regret a single word of it. He assumed that Lord Jennings had never once been spoken to that way and thought it was perhaps late it was better that he heard it at last than died a man that thought he was perfect.
“How dare you?” he asked. “You have come into my home, having lost my daughter, and you deem it acceptable to speak to me in such a manner?”
“I will talk to you as I please, given that you seem to speak of my wife that way. Looking at you, I can see why my wife is so scared, and why she runs away when faced with difficulty. If I thought that everyone was going to treat me the way you did, I would never have spoken at all. It is a miracle that she is even half of the brilliant woman I know her to be.”
“And why do you think she is that way?”
“Not because of you. I can tell you that with absolute certainty.”
Lord Jennings’ eyes narrowed, his lips curling.
“Get out,” he commanded.
“I will gladly leave, and I shall never set foot in this household again, nor will my wife.”
“No, if you ever find her.”
He left before he said anything he could not take back.
He took deep breaths once he was outside, trying in vain to steady himself. He had meant what he said; Beatrice would never see that man again, no matter what happened.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
It was a familiar voice, and when Owen turned around, he was surprised to see Lord Stanton. Thankfully, his friend always appeared when Owen needed him.
“I am looking for Beatrice,” he explained.
“I was hoping that would be the case, but why have you let it get this far? I told you to be honest with her.”
“And I could not. I did not know how, but now I– what do you mean you were hoping that would be the case? Nobody knows what has happened.”
“I know everything, when will you accept that?” he asked, grinning.
“How did you learn of this?”
“I saw Beatrice yesterday. I know who she is staying with, and that she is safe, and that she is desperate to mend things with you. I cannot believe that you have let it get as bad as this, Owen.”
“I do not know why you are so surprised. You know how stubborn I can be, and especially with all of this I cannot simply let go.”
“Even if it means losing her.”
“No,” he said gently. “Not her. That is why I am here. I cannot lose her. I refuse to. I must find her and tell her how I feel.”
“Then it is just as well that I know where she is, but it is not going to come easily. I expect you to do everything that you can to find her still.”
“Well, if she is not with her parents, then she is with a friend. She has to be with one of the three other duchesses, and so if you do not want to tell me, I will do it myself.”
He gave Lord Stanton a serious look, sterner than he had ever been with him. He meant what he said he would find his wife with or without his help. Lord Stanton understood that at once and turned on his heel and began to walk.
“She is this way,” he explained. “Come along.”
“So, you will not test me?”
“You have come from the north just to search for her. I will consider that your trial. However, I expect you to tell her the truth, in its entirety this time. I also have one more thing to ask of you.”
“Yes?”
“When she tells you that it was not your fault, for the first time in your life can you believe it?”
He agreed, but he did not believe it completely. He remembered the day Lydia died so clearly, the frightened expression permanently on her face, and her pale skin covered in cuts from the debris in the water. It had always gripped him with fear, and it had killed him knowing that he had caused it.
“It should have been me instead,” he muttered as they made their way.
“Do not say that to her. I cannot believe that you still think so lowly of yourself. Why can you not see that it was a terrible accident and nothing more?”
“Because that was not how she was supposed to go! She was such a powerful girl, one that could not be stopped by anything. She was meant to live a full life, a good one that gave her everything she could possibly have wanted. She did not deserve what happened to her.”
“She also did not deserve to have her legacy hidden away as if she were never there. If you want to honor your sister, do what she could not. Fall in love, have a family, and live a full and good life. Otherwise, you might as well both have died that day.”
That was how he had always felt, until the day he met Beatrice.
She was warm, someone that made him laugh and see the good in life after so many years of thinking everything good was gone.
That was what scared him; that he could lose her and go through it all again.
He could not allow himself to risk that, for the first time had been enough. A second would have killed him.
When they arrived at the household, Owen knew precisely where they were. They were at the home of the Duke and Duchess of Urkinshire, and when Owen went to exit the carriage, Lord Stanton followed him.
“I can do this alone,” he assured him.
“No, you shall need my company. You will see why.”
Owen did not quite understand, but they went to the door regardless.
The Duchess greeted them in the hallway, confusion on her face. Owen wondered why that was and was prepared for her to pretend she had not seen Beatrice as punishment.
“Beatrice is not here,” she said softly when they explained what had happened. “Is she alright?”
“She is,” Lord Stanton replied.
“But you said she was here,” Owen reminded him.
“Oh, no, I never said that. I said that I would take you to her, and I will, but first I thought we might bring some people for her. Your Grace, would you care to join us?”
The Duchess joined them without hesitation, and they made their way to the home of the Duke and Duchess of Pridefield.
Knowing what his friend planned to do, there was a sense of embarrassment roiling inside of Owen’s heart, but of course the Duchess of Pridefield was more than happy to join them too.
“She will hate this,” the Duchess of Urkinshire laughed. “She has never liked an audience.”
“And yet,” the Duchess of Pridefield considered, “this is exactly what she needs. A grand declaration, one that proves once and for all that she is loved.”
Lord Stanton nodded in acknowledgment. That had been his plan, Owen realized, and now he would have to declare his affection in front of them all. It was meant to humiliate him, his punishment for what he had done.
And yet, that was not how he felt. He wanted her to hear it, and to see that he was proud of her and everything that she did.
She was the most incredible lady he had ever met, and it was only when he lost her that he realized that.
He did not want to live without her, and he was going to make that known to her whether there was one person or a thousand watching.
He simply hoped that she would listen and come home with him.