Page 19 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“So?” Leonard asked, legs stretched out and a sandwich in one hand. “Had lots to do today?”
“Not that much,” Owen replied, reaching for a sandwich. He ate hungrily. The filling was a good strong cheese that paired well with the dark bread.
“I went riding earlier,” Leonard told him. “Had to wake myself up.”
“I was quite sleepy too,” Owen admitted, selecting another of the dainty, triangular sandwiches.
“A fine ball, eh?” Leonard inquired. “Bit late to go to bed, though...wretched four-hour candles.” He stretched, then helped himself to a sandwich. “Ham. Not bad,” he remarked, chewing contentedly. Owen grinned. Leonard’s appetite was legendary when they were studying.
“Not bad, no,” Owen agreed mildly. He reached for a glass of ale. He didn’t want to have to talk about the ball. It had been too confusing—the dance, the lady, and his aunt’s expectations were in his thoughts constantly. And her father too. That discussion he’d had later with the baron had bothered him extremely.
“Well?” Leonard asked, that wicked grin back on his face. “How was it? The dancing, I mean. Meet anybody exciting?”
“Leonard.” Owen shot him a look. Leonard laughed, sounding not in the least regretful of his words.
“Well?” he asked insistently.
“I might ask the same of you,” Owen told him, tilting hishead and looking at his friend as if to prompt a reply. Leonard laughed.
“As it happened, I did,” he said. “A very nice young girl. Reddish hair. Shortish. Pretty.
“Leonard,” Owen repeated, but this time he was laughing. “That limited description doesn’t do much of a job describing her. That could be half the ladies there.”
“No, but it couldn’t,” Leonard said, eyes sparkling. “She was definitely not like any other woman there.”
Owen raised an eyebrow at him. They chuckled.
Owen leaned back in his chair. He wanted to talk to Leonard about the confusion he felt about Miss Worthington. But somehow, he didn’t think his friend would understand. Leonard had the happy talent of skimming the surface of things. He never looked deeper than he wanted to—except in matters of the law or morals— and Owen wished that he could be more lighthearted like Leonard too sometimes. He worried too much.
“So,” Leonard started, pausing in his consuming of a third sandwich. “What did your aunt say?”
“What about my aunt?” Owen asked, frowning.
Leonard shrugged. “I bet she’s relentlessly trying to make you wed one of those young ladies. Eh? Am I right?” He made a face. “My uncle is always persuading me to make myself decent.”
Owen laughed. “Not sure you can.”
Leonard made a wry face at that, and they both chuckled.
They sat silently for a moment. Owen was relieved to have Leonard there—after all, his friend made him see the lighter side of things. He drew a deep breath.
“Aunt has been trying to make me decent, as you describe.” He took another breath in. “But she thinks I should do it for the estate. To repay the debts. She said that I should find someone who’s going to inherit money or something.” He grimaced.
Leonard shrugged. “And so?”
“Leonard!” Owen shot a look at him, shocked. “Surely you can see why I would hesitate to do that. The poor lady! How would it feel for her, to wed someone purely for her fortune?”
Leonard lifted a shoulder. “You’re not exactly hideous, old fellow. You’re quite the looker. And I think the lady would be happy to wed you. I don’t see what the hindrance would be.”
“It’s wrong,” Owen said firmly, though he felt a small smile tug at his lips. He wasn’t a looker, not by his own estimation. But it was nice to hear someone say that anyway.
Leonard looked down. “True. But it doesn’t mean half of London doesn’t do it. And she’d be lucky to have you. Imagine...old Seaton from college might do the same. There ought to have a law against that happening.”
Owen chuckled. Seaton had been a bully, tormenting both Leonard and him in their first year before the fellow decided hunting and drinking incessantly were better fun than studying law.
“You’re right,” he murmured.
“As usual.” Leonard grinned and took a glass of ale. “Now stop being so mopish.”
