Page 62 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
She looked over at Owen, wanting to ask him the extent of the damage, but not sure if he wanted to discuss it now. She ate some toast instead, finding she was ravenous. After five slices with marmalade and butter she started to feel a little better. Leonard pushed back his chair.
“Excuse me, Owen. My lady,” he inclined his head politely. “I must hasten to my study. Wretched solicitor is visiting today.” He made a face.
“Of course, Leonard,” Owen answered. “We’ll probably still be breakfasting when you come out.”
Leonard chuckled. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Owen leaned back when Leonard departed. He looked tired.
“What happened, Owen?” Ophelia asked gently.
Owen took a deep breath. “I’m not sure, dearest.” He cleared his throat. “The cause of the fire still needs to be determined.”
“But is it very terrible?” Ophelia inquired softly.
“The whole of the west wing has burnt,” Owen said, and she could hear anger and sadness in the tightness of his voice. “But part of the main house remains. I don’t know how fit it is forhabitation.” He made a face. “It’s too unsafe to check yet. The men from the parish fire brigade said we’ll have to wait a few days to be sure the fire won’t restart itself.”
“I see.” Ophelia looked at him fearfully. The memory of that fire would be with her for a long time. She wondered if she would ever look into a grate and not hear the awful sound of the flames and smell the horrible smoke.
Owen looked at her tenderly. “All I care about is that you’re alive.” He shook his head. “What happens to Ivystone isn’t that important. It’s a house. Houses can be built again.”
“But...” Ophelia paused. The expense of rebuilding would be immense, and Ivystone didn’t have the money. She knew that—it was the reason the lamps were only lit for a few hours and the coal sputtered and smelled.
“The money is there,” Owen said slowly. “I think we might find it was there all along.”
Ophelia frowned, but as he spoke those words, she remembered. She had found an anomaly in the totals. She had written it out and she was going to show him that evening. She stopped.
“Owen, you don’t think...”
Owen looked at her. “I don’t know what to think,” he told her. His voice was emotionless, flat and cold. “But I do know that I am going to be investigating. An attempt on your life will not go unpunished.”
Ophelia cleared her throat, wanting to say that she didn’t care what happened to Barrow, as long as she never laid eyes on him, but before she could say anything, Mr. Crane appeared in the doorway.
“Morning, my lord. I trust Lady Ivystone and you fare well?” He was frowning, and Ophelia thought he looked as though he was in pain.
“Mr. Crane!” Ophelia greeted, even as Owen spoke the samewords.
“Mr. Crane. You’re here. How are you and Mrs. Crane...?”
“We’re well,” Mr. Crane replied. “There are comfortable rooms up in the servant’s quarters and we fared very well last night.”
“Good. Good,” Owen replied, clearly pleased to see him there.
“Are you planning to go down to Ivystone?” Mr. Crane asked.
“No, I hadn’t planned to. The horses are well, I trust?”
“Yes, my lord. Benjamin helped to take them to the inn. They are being stabled there until you can settle them somewhere else.”
“Grand. Grand.” Owen nodded his head. “That’s just as I wished it.”
Mr. Crane held his gaze. “My lord, about the missing staff-member. Will you be investigating?”
“I will, Mr. Crane. I will ride into town directly.”
“Good. Because I know that he did it.”
“What?” Owen demanded.
