Page 64 of Everything But the Earl
“Well, look who’s here…”
Hugh and Lark arrived together. Lark was wearing something fashionable and slightly ridiculous. His waistcoat was bright green, though obscured by his dark blue coat, and his breeches were tight enough to look painted on.
Owen opened his mouth to ask what he was wearing, but thought it would be rude.
Apparently everyone else was staring, though.
“The waistcoat is too much, isn’t it?” Lark said, fingering the edge of it.
“That color is quite becoming on you,” said Beresford. “Did you dress up for me?”
“Perish the thought. Hugh and I just came from a garden party. The less said about it, the better.”
“Profoundly dull,” Hugh agreed. “A fundraiser for parks in London, so a good cause, but the crowd left something to be desired.”
“The gray-haired set?” asked Beresford.
Lark tapped his nose.
“So we’re all having a terrible day,” said Fletcher. “Well, I’m not, actually. I spent a perfectly pleasant afternoon working with my father on some plans to extend our estate in Cornwall. And now that the rest of you are here, I must be off. But please keep an eye on Owen, who has dived right into the clear liquor.”
“Gin is a poor man’s drink,” said Beresford with disgust. “How can you stand the taste of it?”
“I prefer it to whiskey, in fact,” Owen said, “but I only indulge when my day seems especially disastrous.”
“Parliament?” Hugh asked.
“Indeed.”
Fletcher left, and Hugh and Lark took the two empty chairs. Once they had drinks in hand, and after Owen recounted what had happened in Parliament that day, they toasted to a terrible day.
“All those months wasted,” Owen said, his brain swimming in gin. “I never expected to miss her this much, but I do, and it’s my own damn fault because I was idealistic enough to think I could affect change in this godforsaken country.”
“Your wife?” asked Lark.
“Aye. I’m fed up with London. You gents are my dearest friends, but I’d toss you all in the Thames if it would get me home faster.”
“I can’t imagine being separated from Adele for that long,” said Hugh.
“Should I leave for Wales straight from the vote tomorrow or what?”
“No,” said Lark. “You promised you would attend the charity ball my mother is hosting next week. I need reinforcements.”
Owen let out a breath. “Right. Of course I will be there. I am in no condition to leave for Wales right now anyway.”
This was true. He needed to get his servants and his belongings in order. It would take him at least a week to pack up his London housefor a long-term vacancy. Not to mention, he should write to Grace to warn her he was coming before he left. He’d love to be able to leave immediately, but there was a lot to arrange. So he was stuck in London for at least another fortnight.
He leaned back into his chair. “Another round?” he asked.
*
In Owen’s latestletter, he’d asked about Gerard Makepeace, because apparently the Marquess of Beresford had seen the vase she’d made for Owen and remarked that it looked like Makepeace’s work.
It was probably time to come clean. Grace almost wondered if Owen was fishing for information. Had Beresford said something that made him suspect?
She wanted to tell him everything, but then she received a newspaper from London—they often arrived a few days late, but she liked keeping abreast of the news in England—and there was an article about the rebellion Owen had written to her about. It mentioned the bill he was pushing in Parliament. She admired Owen’s kindness and desire to find a solution that did not involve the rebels being treated harshly.
Things had changed—Grace knew that. She knew that the original arrangement had been a product of her ignorance of Owen and of marriage, and now that she knew and understood him better, she wanted him here with her. But she was reluctant to ask him to do that, not sure if his own feelings mirrored hers. She’d wanted independence, but now she regretted asking for it.
