Page 21 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“Good morning.” The baron grinned. “I forget my manners. Come in! Here...we can meet here.” The baron indicated a smallwaiting-room downstairs, and Owen went inside and then the baron shut the door behind them.
Owen drew a deep breath.
“My lord,” he said, and his throat was tight, so that he had to fight to speak the words. “I considered your suggestion yesterday, and I accept. I would like to ask you if I might wed your daughter.”
“We’d have to get a special license,” the baron said swiftly, as if he had expected Owen to agree. “You’re in mourning, so we’d have to request some of the formalities be suspended.”
“Um...um...” Owen blinked. He was staggered...he had not expected such an instant quiescence. He had thought he’d have to persuade the fellow, to argue his case, to make him see his point. But instead, it seemed like the baron was all too ready for him to wed his daughter.
“Well, then,” the baron said with a smile. “That’s that, then. It’s as good as settled.”
“What?” Owen demanded.
“It’s as good as settled,” the baron said, shaking his hand. “My blessings on you, and all the best of wishes to you for the future.”
Owen stared at him. He was aware of the baron talking, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. The world seemed to have gone silent, and all he was aware of was the beating of his heart in his chest. He had done it. He had made this decision.
His life had changed forever.
He stood there with his stomach knotted and his heart thudding, his hands cold and he had no idea what to do next, following the course his life had taken.
Chapter 8
The rain fell steadily downwards, pattering the long window in the drawing room. Beyond, the lawn sparkled with raindrops and the first roses were wet, the white petals burdened with tiny pools of rain.
Ophelia sat on the long chair by the window and stared out, feeling listless and sorrowful. It was yet another day of spring and again she’d have no time for poetry.
Mama had arranged that the seamstress would come to do fittings for her new ball-dresses that morning, and the Season and all its pressures only made her weary and disheartened. The ball just yesterday had tired her more than usual and she felt listless and confused. She stifled a yawn, her eyelids drooping. They had only got back home after midnight, and she’d been so confused it had been early in the morning by the time she fell asleep. She stifled another yawn, wishing she didn’t feel so worn out.
“Ophelia? Ophelia!” Mama’s voice called her, summoning her with some urgency. “Where are you?”
“I’m in here,” Ophelia called softly. She hadn’t even thought of writing a poem about the rainy scene outside, so her mother hadn’t even disrupted her thoughts. She put her book aside—the copy of Coleridge she’d loaned—and stood up.
“Ophelia!” Her mother’s face was tense, her hair a little disheveled like she’d hurried to find her, and Ophelia frowned. That was unlike Mama, who could easily have sent Lily or another maid to locate her. “Can you come downstairs now? Your father has something urgent to say.”
“He has?” Ophelia frowned, heart twisting. What could it be? Had one of the staff been taken ill? She thought at once ofthe friendly maidservants at Walden Manor in the country and felt concerned for them.
“Mama! Is it Mrs. Holloway?” she asked at once, thinking of the elderly housekeeper.
Her mother looked at her confusedly. “No. Why would it be? Your father has something to say to you.”
“To me?” Ophelia felt her frown deepen.
“Yes. Come down at once, if you please.” Her mother’s tone was urgent.
Ophelia’s heart thudded. Whatever could it be?
She walked down the stairs, trying not to run. Mama led the way, her pace quick but somehow also ladylike, and Ophelia slowed her own steps to match. They went down to an anteroom downstairs.
She followed her mother in, feeling almost in a dreamlike state. She wasn’t really aware of her surroundings, just of the strange twist of fear she felt for some reason that she couldn’t explain.
“Daughter! Ah. There you are,” her father greeted loudly. “Evelyn?” He addressed Mama directly.
“I have to go and inform the housekeeper of dinner plans,” Mama said swiftly. “I’ll just be a second.”
“Shut the door for us, will you? Thank you,” her father replied.
Her mother went wordlessly out, shutting the door behind her.
