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This time, he rose and knelt beside her but did not reach for her. “From what you and everyone else have told me, I deserve your contempt. You didn’t know what I would be like when you met me at the hospital. It goes without saying that you would treat me based on your previous experiences.”
Selena lowered her head, staring at her hands in her lap. He had meant for his words to ease her conscience. With one finger, he tilted her chin so her gaze met his. “I bear you no ill will, Selena. If you let me, I want to be a good husband to you. You deserve so much more than I can ever offer, but I’m willing to try.”
They gazed at one another, each trying to see into the other’s heart, looking for a sign that things would work out for the best. Selena’s eyes widened. With a gentleness he did not know he possessed, Owen brushed his thumb along her jawline, making her breath hitch. What would it feel like to take her in his arms? To protect her from everything, even himself, if need be? But it was too soon. Selena needed time to reconcile her feelings for the new Owen.
A moment later, he dropped his hand and went back to his chair. The room felt stuffy. As with each time they met, the tension was clear. Time to change the subject.
“The hour is growing late, and I don’t think my mind is up to chess tonight. I think I will retire.”
“Yes.” Selena stood. “It has been a long day.”
“May I escort you upstairs?”
She hesitated before nodding her head. Owen opened the study door and waited for her to exit. Instead of walking ahead, she waited for him. When Owen stood beside her, she tentatively looped her arm through his. Her hand pressed against the fabric of his dinner jacket. Owen knew it took a lot for her to make the simple gesture. It was a start.
He guided her up the stairs and down the hall, the way he had seen her go last night. They proceeded until Selena stopped at a door. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” He lifted her hand to his lips. The perfume she wore circled his nose. “Good night, Selena.”
“Good night.”
She slipped through the door and closed it with a soft click. Owen let out a long sigh. It was progress. Instead of retiring to his bedchamber, Owen went back to the study for a drink. He lounged by the fire, watching the flames lick over the wood. Tomorrow, the real work would start. The first thing he would do was see the entire estate, ride out to survey the land. He had to know what he had before figuring out how best to go along.
In the end, he was the earl. Every decision was his to make. Thankfully, Victor Steele appeared to be a competent man who would aid Owen in his transition. There was a lot to learn about being a titled landowner. It would entail reading the newspapers, reviewing old financials, talking to the tenants, anything to help with his endeavors. He leaned his head back. At that moment, the task seemed insurmountable. Here he was, a grown man, and he felt like a child having to learn everything from the beginning. He had to succeed. Not just for himself, but for Selena, and everyone who depended on him.
Still restless, Owen went to his desk. As he rounded the couch, his foot hit something on the floor. It was the bag he had brought home from the hospital containing his belongs. Perhaps there was something inside that would jostle his memories.
He put the bag on the desk and removed each item. There was his uniform jacket, tattered and dirty. The cut from the knife was easy to spot. The bag also contained his pistol, a knife, his boots, and his personal hygiene belongings, but nothing of any use. Drat! Nothing was going to be easy. With more force than needed, he put the items back in the bag. He picked up his shaving kit when he noticed a piece of paper peeking out from the corner. He opened the box again and saw the paper had slipped out from its hiding place between the lid of the box and the velvet lining.
There were only a few words on the scrap: Contact Longfellow, London
What the devil did that mean? Longfellow must be a person, but who? Had he written those words? Owen found a piece of paper and pen and wrote the name. It was his handwriting. But why had he written this cryptic message? He groaned in frustration. Instead of finding answers, all he had were more questions. How was he supposed to find one person in a city like London? He couldn’t. For now, it had to wait. There were more important things to attend to here.
* * *
The following morning, Owen met with Steele after eating breakfast alone. After last night, he had hoped that Selena would join him, but it did not surprise him. How could she be expected to change her feelings in one night? The best thing was to move on and occupy himself with work.
It was later in the morning when Richards entered. “Pardon, your lordship, but you have visitors.”
“Who is it?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Branson Hughes.”
The names did not ring a bell.
“Thank you, Richards. Where are they?”
“They are in the drawing room with her ladyship.” At least Selena knew who they were.
Owen turned to the estate manager. “I think that will be all for now, Steele.”
“Very good, sir.”
He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his jacket before going down the hallway. As he drew nearer, hushed voices drifted from the half-open door. When he entered, everyone fell silent. Owen wanted to pull at his necktie. Everyone’s penetrating stares made him feel like a spectacle to be gawked at.
Selena came up to him. “Owen, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Branson Hughes.”
“How do you do.” He nodded to the couple.
