Chapter 12
Barnes appeared to be in a foul mood during drinks before supper that evening, but Owen was not feeling all that chipper himself.
After his discussion with Ivy, he had been reassured she felt similarly about the courtship and he did not have to worry she harbored secret ambitions to be a viscountess—and yet he could not shake the feeling that he had said something to upset her.
It had to have been when he told her she was not someone he would ever truly marry, but surely she had known that was a compliment?
Ivy deserved a man who would whisper sweet things that amounted to more than, “You are all right.” She deserved a husband who would reflect her sunshine instead of swallowing it like a black abyss.
She deserved a lover who would treat her gently while kissing her on a bed of roses—or some such nonsense like that.
Owen was none of those things. He was surly and had demanding desires. It would be a shame if someone like Ivy were bound to him. The only woman he would consider taking for a wife, and only far in the future, would be an equally jaded person who knew exactly what she was getting.
His lips tugged as he thought of his former governess’s flushed face when he had ridden upon her and the girls in their “prayer circle.” They had looked flustered and guilty as sin.
Ivy had been quick to answer his inquiries, but the girls did not have the same practice at subterfuge.
They had exchanged obvious glances and had bit back smiles.
Something was afoot, and he was determined to discover what it was.
Owen glanced at Barnes, whose face was a mask of granite as he lounged on the settee in the parlor, a tumbler of whiskey clasped in his hand.
“The governess, my lord?” Millie hissed, appearing at his elbow. Fury flashed in her eyes before she banked it into gentle curiosity. Not for the first time, Owen wondered how his father had been so blind when it came to this woman.
“Do you have a question, my lady?”
“I have given you a few days to come to your senses, but it seems you have not. You must excuse my disbelief that you have fallen for the governess, when there are more appropriate options.” Her gaze drifted briefly to the window, as if she could see the Pithinses’ estate from where she stood.
“You could make an advantageous match, one that would benefit your sisters, and yet you pursue the governess?”
“You seem to be quite upset that Miss Bennett held a governess position for a month. You may rest easy, Lady Brackley. The granddaughter of Marquess Rothford is no longer educating the girls. She and her brother are guests now. My guests.”
The dowager’s lip curled, and she lowered her voice. “You can be honest with me, my lord. I am your mother. Have you compromised her?”
Owen became aware of Barnes’s undivided interest in their conversation.
“You were my father’s wife, never my mother.
” Millie was a year younger than him and did not have a motherly bone in her body, just as his father had not had a fatherly bone in his body.
Perhaps they had been an ideal match after all.
“Let me be crystal clear: Miss Bennett has not been compromised in any way. If she had been, I would be marrying her, not courting her.”
Christ, was it hot in the room? Was his cravat too tight?
“He speaks the truth,” Barnes said coolly. “Lord Brackley’s interest in my sister has extended back years. Did he tell you that he and I went to Harrow together? He had his eyes on her even then.”
Owen met Barnes’s burning gaze and frowned.
He did not recall ever talking about Barnes’s sister—had not even known her name back then.
Why would he have? He would have been eighteen to Ivy’s eleven.
The mere thought was reprehensible, and yet he did not refute the fabricated statement.
The most important thing was keeping Ivy’s reputation pristine so that neither of them ended up bound to the other.
Barnes’s lip curled in disgust at his silence. “With my presence here, it shall be known far and wide that my sister is chaperoned at every moment. Anyone who dares suggest otherwise would be outed as a fool, as I would make it my personal mission to discredit her.”
As far as threats went, it was an effective one, because the dowager paled and pressed a gloved hand to her chest. “You are not suggesting that I would engage in such common behavior as gossip, Mr. Bennett?”
Barnes gave her a placating smile. “No, my lady. I know you would not.”
Ivy chose that moment to appear in the doorway, a vision in a purple silk taffeta dress that accentuated her narrow waist and ample bottom.
Her shoulders were bare, touched only by artfully loose tendrils of hair draping from her pins.
Her cheeks were flushed, as if she had been outdoors, and that made the sprinkle of freckles on them stand out more.
Her honey-colored eyes scanned the room, and she smiled tentatively, that little crescent-moon dimple popping into relief.
Owen wanted to taste that dimple. He wanted to draw his mouth down her smooth, bare neck before he gently closed his palm over her throat.
Angry at where his thoughts had drifted, he turned his back on her, thanking heaven Barnes had risen to greet her and had missed the flash of lust that had no doubt crossed his face.
His unwieldy thoughts were getting out of hand.
It seemed that every time he was near Ivy, he found some new point of desire to contend with.
Distance was what he needed. Aside from the social engagements they must attend together, he would have to find a way to be as scarce as possible. They only had nine weeks before Barnes whisked her away. Surely he could manage to avoid her for a grand total of sixty-three days?
Barnes poured Ivy a drink, and Owen only remembered the dowager’s presence when she gave a low, mocking laugh. “You do not have to court the girl to satiate your appetite, my lord. There are others in a better position to appease it while you search for a proper match.”
“What do you know of my appetite?”
Her dark eyes glittered. “I may have read a letter from Miss Heidi Wagner.”
Owen’s fingers whitened on his glass. “How do you know Miss Wagner?”
“I do not. A letter of hers arrived, and I thought it was mine. My mistake.”
“Yes, I am sure my name on the front was misleading.”
She was unapologetic when she said, “She misses you and has changed her mind about marrying the man her father chose. She wishes to travel to England and mend your relationship. When I received the letter, I had still hoped you would find joy in Miss Pithins’s company, but as it has become apparent you do not, I suggest you consider Miss Wagner’s offer.
It sounds as if you once loved this woman, and she is noble-born, if a foreigner.
She is the wiser choice, not only for your own social standing, but for that of your sisters. ”
Her deception and scheming rankled him, and he had the horrifying realization that Heidi and Millie would get along splendidly. It was enough to make him question just what the hell he had been doing with Heidi in the first place.
“It is not too late,” Millie added slyly. “Courtships end all the time.”
Owen swallowed the amber liquid. He was drinking too much, so he set the glass down and contemplated what to say.
As the mother of his sisters, Millie was always going to be in his life, but he would not tolerate her continued interference.
“I will see to it that the butler keeps a keener eye on the post from now on.” She flushed, but he continued in a steely voice, “Miss Wagner is in my past. Miss Bennett is my future. I do not want to hear anything else about this.”
He didn’t realize he had spoken so loudly, or that the room had grown quiet, until Millie turned her shoulder and spun away, leaving Barnes staring at him with a stitched brow.
The butler opened the door and intoned, “Miss Diane Wixby.”
A woman with shocking red hair whirled into the room like a compact and exuberant cyclone.
She wore an outrageously bright traveling gown, and she gave the butler such an impish smile that he visibly faltered and closed the door quickly, as if he feared he might accidentally become the center of her attention.
The woman’s gray eyes scanned the gathering, skimming past Barnes and then darting back to him for a moment before she cried, “Ives! I have come as requested, and now that I know Barnes is here to insert his signature awkwardness into every situation, I see why you wrote for me.”
Ivy’s face split into a grin. “Diane!”
For heaven’s sake. This was the new governess?
Forget sobering. Owen lifted his drink again when Barnes practically snarled at the new arrival.
All Owen wanted was a bit of peace to work with his horses, and now he was courting his former governess in order to help her marry someone else, the man who hated him most in the world was living down the corridor, and with the arrival of her governess friend, whom Barnes clearly despised, Ivy had just thrown a match into their already precarious powder keg.