Page 47 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“Yes,” Lady Walden continued. “So that London can see their new Countess. Everyone’s talking about it.”
They surely are, Owen thought grimly. He hated being gossiped about. Not that London required one to do anything worthy of being gossiped about. They would talk about theTonno matter what they did; if they were seen just sitting in their coach after a big dinner or if they were insulting people in the street. Everything one did was observed and gossiped over, and that was one reason he had never even considered having a residence in London.
“Mama, we can’t host a ball right now...” Ophelia began.
“Of course! I understand, my sweet. But when it’s all been renovated, though, then you can,” Lady Walden said, as though she didn’t understand what Ophelia’s objection might be.
“Mama...” Ophelia tried to say, but Owen interrupted hastily, seeing Ophelia tense.
“Would you like wine?” Mr. Crane had appeared, at last, a bottle of wine on a tray in one hand, and his presence offered a way to divert everyone’s attention onto another focus.
“Ah, yes!” Lord Walden replied appreciatively, as Crane came around the table with the bottle, beginning at Owen’s glass and pouring a glass for everyone. He saw Ophelia shake her head fractionally and he knew she didn’t want any. He reached over and poured her some lemonade in another glass. She beamed at him, and he held her gaze. In that moment, it felt as though they were the only people there. They understood one another without words. Soon, he was trying to say. They’ll go home soon.
“So,” Lord Walden commented as Crane cleared away the plates from the second course. “I suppose Ophelia’s money will come in handy renovating the place?”
“No,” Owen said at once, blinking in surprise at the force of the answer he gave. He hadn’t realized until that moment how intensely he felt.
“Why not?” Lord Walden demanded. “This place should be made suitable for her to live in.”
Owen saw Ophelia push back her chair and he knew she was about to run for her room. He cleared his throat.
“I think what we do with that is for us to decide,” he said loudly. “Ophelia and I.”
Lord Walden stared at him. Owen felt relieved—at least that had the effect of quieting the fellow. Ophelia was staring at him too, as though he had just performed magic.
“Will we do sea-bathing in Brighton, Aldrich?” Lady Walden asked her husband. Owen felt his heart twist. She had impeccable manners; she must have been embarrassed by Lord Walden’s focus on wealth as well.
“Yes. Yes, of course we shall,” he murmured, and perhapseven he guessed that he had spoken impolitely, but Ophelia already looked nauseous, and Owen glared at the fellow.
Dinner continued, rounded off with a delicious trifle, and after the brandy, cheese and biscuits had been served they all stood. Usually, they would retire to the drawing room for cards while the ladies played the pianoforte and sang, but the tension was evident, and Lord and Lady Walden walked to their coach, Owen and Ophelia walking with them to wish them a safe journey on.
“Safe travels,” Owen offered politely as Lord Walden alighted into the coach after helping Lady Walden up onto it.
“Thank you, young fellow. We wish you a good night.”
Owen inclined his head politely and went to stand beside Ophelia, who raised her hand in a wave as the coach turned in the drive. Owen reached for her other hand and held it. She let him, not flinching or moving, and he stood with her until the coach had passed through the gates.
She turned and looked up at him.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her gaze was downcast, her voice trembling with emotion and his heart twisted as she continued. “I truly am. I’m sorry for his lack of manners...”
“No,” Owen interrupted. “I’msorry. I could see you were uncomfortable and I’m truly sorry you had to endure it.”
“Oh, Owen...”
He smiled into her eyes, and she gazed back. In that moment, it didn’t feel as though her parents had been there for three or four hours. It felt as though they’d spent the day walking and discussing plans, as though only that had brightened his day.
“Come on,” he said gently, his hand closing around hers. “You’re cold. Let’s go back inside. Mayhap there’s some trifle left.”
Ophelia giggled. “Are you still hungry?” she asked playfully.
“I could eat five of them,” he said honestly.
She laughed and they walked lightly indoors and up to the drawing room.
He watched as she opened the book from yesterday and passed it to him.
“Here. You can read this one aloud.”
