Page 44 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“We are now,” Leonard explained, “but that is not how it began. Why, Levi’s wife could not stand the sight of him for the longest time. My wife was my friend, but I had never considered her as anything else. She hated men, you know.”
“And you were the exception,” Levi groaned, “because of your incredible personality and broad shoulders. You have told us all of this a thousand times.”
“And all so that you may finish the sentence for me,” he quipped. “But, Owen, you need not feel as though you must compete with us. Not only that, but you do not have to resign to the fate of a man that will not know love.”
It was strange for gentlemen to speak of love the way they did. Men usually spoke of their wives as a companion, but even five minutes after meeting them Owen knew that they each adored theirs. It was not that he did not admire Beatrice, but he did not know her as well as he wished he did. He had already begun to desire more of a connection, but seeing how content they all were made him feel more envy than he ever would have expected.
“Do you want to be loved?” Leonard asked. “Or are you one of those stoic gentlemen that think they are above it?”
“I am not opposed to it, but do you not fear it? You give so much of yourself to another person, and it would be easy for them to cast you aside.”
“Indeed, but it is worth the risk, would you not say?”
Another round was ordered, and Owen thought about it. It was not as though Beatrice would turn him away; she was too kind to do anything as cruel as that, but kindness did not equate to reciprocation, and the thought of falling for her only for her not to feel the same way was too much to think of.
When they returned to the household, they could hear the ladies laughing brightly in the drawing room. It was the first time Owen heard his wife truly laugh, and it lifted him entirely. There was also, however, a pang of sadness that he did not make her laugh like that.
They joined the ladies, who had been sitting with the children. One of them (Owen could not tell for the life of him who it was) fell into his lap, giggling and clapping. He chuckled, lifting him up and sitting him by his side. The little boy was happy about it, but as Owen turned away, he thought of the only other child he had known.
Her face flashed in his mind, pale and cold, and for a moment Owen thought he might be sick. Wordlessly, he rose to his feet and left the room. He wanted to explain his sudden absence,and to tell them he would return momentarily, but he could not. Instead, he walked out into the hallway and continued until he was outside.
His palms were damp, and his breaths came out in ragged chokes.
“Owen?” Beatrice called.
He thought she would be furious and admonish him for leaving her friends so abruptly. What she did, however, was stand by his side, and help him lower himself so he was crouching, his head against the cool brick wall.
“What happened?” she asked.
“My apologies. I did not mean to leave so suddenly.”
“That is not what I asked. We do not mind that you needed a moment. All that I care about is how you are feeling.”
“Well, I feel fine enough. I only–”
It was the right time to tell her about what he had done, and what he was responsible for. It was the best way to talk about his fear of becoming a father, and having to always guard a child, and why she had seen so many different versions of young girls dying on his estate.
And yet, when she looked at him, nothing would come. He could not tell her something so awful, not when they were supposed to be enjoying themselves.
“I understand,” she said softly when he did not continue. “We all have things that we hide, and things that cause us pain. I will not force you to tell me what is wrong if it makes you unhappy.”
“I do want to tell you,” he confessed, “but if you knew, you would not look at me the same way. I cannot bear the thought of your displeasure.”
“I can assure you that I know more about people than you might think. Did you know, for example, that Cecilia was a celebrated author for years?”
“But that is a good thing. People ought to know about that accomplishment.”
“And what if I told you that she made a fortune pretending she was a man, and writing about the failings of fellow men? That is not something that she should have taken pride in, according to some, and yet her husband could not be prouder of her.”
He agreed, but his secret was objectively shameful. There was no success in what he had done.
“I will tell you when I am ready,” he promised, his hand taking and covering hers without thinking.
“Very well. I will be waiting, in that case.”
They returned to the others, and as they approached the door, Beatrice squeezed his hand. He stiffened, and though he did not pull away he wondered why she had done such a thing and how she had known he needed that sort of comfort.
Had her conversation with her friends been similar to the one he’d ventured into with the other Dukes? Had she longed for a closer bond to grow between them? What if she wanted to be closer to him, all the while he was keeping her at arms’ length? He did not want to hurt her, which was precisely why he was doing what he could to keep her at a distance. Unfortunately, he had not considered the possibility that she might want to have him near her, and he did not know what to do with that.
