Iris clung to that hope as the afternoon stretched into evening and as the house remained divided between Owen’s study and the nursery, where she kept vigil.
Somewhere in the silence between them lay the future of their family. It was fragile and uncertain but not yet lost.
CHAPTER 32
“You look terrible, my dear boy.”
Owen glanced up from his breakfast—or rather, from the cup of coffee he’d been staring at for the past quarter hour—to find the Dowager Duchess of Richmond standing in the doorway.
She swept in without invitation. She was magnificent in deep purple silk and despite the early hour, her sharp eyes glittered brightly.
“Duchess.” He rose with automatic courtesy, though his head pounded from the previous night’s excess. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“Clearly. When did you last shave? Or sleep, for that matter?” She sat down across from him with the authority of someone who’d been managing wayward dukes since before he was born.“Peters took one look at me and practically dragged me in here. The poor man is beside himself with worry.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“Nonsense. You look like death warmed over, and according to my sources, you’ve been absent from every social event this week.” Her gaze sharpened with maternal disapproval. “More concerning, your wife was seen yesterday looking like she’d been crying for days. What’s happened?”
Owen’s jaw tightened. Of course, the Dowager Duchess had sources. Half of London reported their daily activities to her, whether they realized it or not.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Everything concerning you concerns me, young man. You’re my grandson’s best friend, which makes you family.” Her voice softened slightly. “Not to mention that your grandfather was my dearest friend. I made him a promise to look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after.”
“You appear to be falling apart rather spectacularly, so I would say you do need some support.” She leaned forward and studied his face with discomfiting intensity. “What’s driven you to drink alone and avoid your wife? Trouble in paradise?”
The casual question hit closer to home than Owen cared to admit.
Paradise. Yes, that’s what the past months had felt like—a brief glimpse of happiness before reality intruded with its demands and complications.
“My marriage is none of your concern.”
“It is when I can see you’re destroying it through sheer stupidity.” The Dowager Duchess’s voice carried the sharp edge of someone losing their patience. “That girl adores you, Owen. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see it. Yet here you sit, looking like a man who’s lost everything instead of fighting for what matters.”
“You don’t understand the complexities involved.”
“I understand that you’re acting exactly like your father.”
He did not appreciate the comparison, especially since Felix had said nearly the same thing the night before. Owen’s hand stilled on his coffee cup. Every muscle in his body became rigid with tension. “I am nothing like my father.”
“Aren’t you?” The Dowager Duchess’s eyes glittered with something akin to disappointment.
The Dowager Duchess was quiet for a long moment. When he didn’t answer her question, her expression shifted from irritation to something that looked almost like pity.
“Do you know why your grandfather inserted that clause in his will? The one requiring you to marry before inheriting the full estate?”
Owen frowned. He’d always assumed it was simple dynastic planning, ensuring the line continued. “To secure the succession.”
“To save you from becoming your father.” The words were delivered with gentle firmness. “He was terrified you’d inherit his title and his hollowness in equal measure. That you’d shut yourself away from human connection and fall into alcohol, cruelty, and debauchery, just as your father did.” The Dowager Duchess reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. “Your grandfather wanted you to have what he had. A partner, a family, people worth living for rather than simply existing.”
“And if I’m not capable of that?”
“You are. I’ve seen you with that precious baby and with Iris. You’re capable of extraordinary tenderness when you allow yourself to be.”
Owen pulled his hand away, unable to bear the kindness of her touch. “What if allowing myself to feel destroys everything? What if caring too much turns me into someone who hurts the people I claim to protect?”
