Page 34 of Empowered By the Earl (Second Sons of London 3)

“What of the war in America?” he countered. “Yes, negotiations to end that conflict have begun in Ghent.” He frowned. “Politicians talk too much, though. It could take a good while for peace to come. It doesn’t mean that war is letting up and men aren’t still dying daily. The Americans recently captured Fort Erie, a supply depot for British troops. Percy and Win could be sent from Europe to North America.”

Owen raked his fingers through his hair. “There always seems to be trouble somewhere in the world.”

Louisa ached seeing the frustration on his face. She placed a hand on his arm. “I know it hurts to leave good friends behind, especially when you are now part of a world that, for the most part, doesn’t understand war or its sacrifices.”

He covered her hand with his. “It is only one of the reasons I am reluctant to belong to theton. My heart and gut tells me I may never truly belong.”

She squeezed his forearm. “You will. You have your battlefield experience and a keen intelligence. You will make for a fine member in the House of Lords. You will eventually wed, aligning your family name and title to another established one in England. You will have children and see them go on to wed others of their class, as well. Give it time, Owen.”

Nodding brusquely, he looked about. “Are you ready for your tour?”

“I would be delighted to see Danfield.”

He helped her from her seat, tucking her hand possessively through the crook of his arm. Louisa liked that he was solicitous and took care of her. She liked being near him and inhaling his wonderful, masculine scent and feeling the heat from his body.

If only she could forget about how his kiss made her knees weak and her bones melt.

“I’ll only take you to a few of the rooms. Just to give you a general sense of the house,” he told her.

They saw the library and drawing room, along with his study and the wine cellar. She was grateful that he did not take her to his bedchamber. Or any bedchamber. The thought of being alone with him in a room with a bed caused her to grow lightheaded.

Owen led her to a final room, tossing open the doors and pulling her inside.

“The ballroom,” she said, gazing about at the vast room, wondering what it would be like when it was full of dancers as an orchestra played.

“I never entered this room,” he said. “My parents never used it once. They did hold balls at the London townhouse but this one has stood empty for all these years.”

“What a shame,” she said, sadness filling her. “A room this beautiful should be used. Why, you could hold a country ball.”

He frowned. “What is that? I have never heard of this.”

“One in which you invite all your neighbors. Titled peers. Villagers. Your tenants. You could meet your neighbors that way. I would suggest that you hold a harvest ball to celebrate the crops that have been gathered and stored.”

Louisa smiled. “I can picture it now. Couples dancing and twirling, the music lively and loud.”

She turned to look at him and found his gaze intense.

“Do you enjoy dancing, Louisa?”

Her smile faltered. “Not really. I suppose if I had more practice at it—like riding—that I might.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, his confusion obvious. “You told me you attended most all of the events of the Season this year. I know there are a plethora of balls held.”

She swallowed and lightly said, “Well, you have to be asked to dance, Owen. That didn’t happen very often.”

“Why not?”

She felt tears sting her eyes. “I suppose I have gained the reputation of being a bit of a bluestocking. Dashing rakes of thetondon’t waste their time dancing with women like me, you see.”

Louisa glanced down, trying to keep her tears at bay, embarrassed at becoming so emotional around him.

His fingers captured her chin, raising it slowly until her gaze met his.

“Miss Goulding, may I have this dance?”

Stunned, she only looked at him.

Then Owen took her in his arms and began twirling her about the ballroom.

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