“She didn’t have to. It’s written all over your faces.” Felix leaned back. Satisfaction was plain on his face. “You look like a man who’s touched fire and can’t decide whether he wants to run or burn. She looks like a woman who’s discovered what she’s been missing and hates herself for wanting more.”
“You’re too perceptive for your own good.”
“Family trait. Iris has it too, when she’s not tangled up in her heart.” Felix finished his brandy and stood up. “Here’s some free advice, Cousin. You can’t protect her by pushing her away. All you’re doing is leaving her alone to face whatever’s coming. And if Jasper’s sniffing around Nicholas’s secrets…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“Leave it alone, Felix.”
Felix only pursed his lips.
After Felix left, Owen remained in his chair where he could stare off into the distance. The brandy sat warm in his stomach, but itcouldn’t touch the icy knot of fear that had taken residence in his chest.
He’d kissed his wife. He’d lost control completely and given in to months of suppressed want. And now she was compromised, just as she’d said. Not her instincts, but her safety.
Because if Jasper suspected the truth about Evie. If he connected her to Nicholas…
Owen signaled for another drink. He’d thought distance would protect Iris. It would keep her safe from his family’s poison and the mess Nicholas had left behind. Instead, he’d left her vulnerable and alone with a child who might have a target on her back.
Felix was right. He couldn’t protect her from arm’s length. But getting closer meant risking everything he’d spent years building: his control, his carefully maintained isolation, and his walls.
The kiss had shown him how easily those walls could crumble. One touch of her lips, and he’d been ready to take her on the dining room table like some beast. One taste of her sweetness, and he’d wanted to consume her entirely.
That way lay madness. His parents had started with passion, too. He could still remember the early days when they’d looked at each other like the sun rose and set in each other’s eyes. But that was before the passion turned into possessiveness, then poison.
But what if Felix was right about that, too? What if by trying to avoid his parents’ fate, he was creating a different poison?
Owen paused outside the club. The coolness of the evening air was a welcome relief from the smoky interior. Felix had already disappeared into the crowd, but his words lingered like an unwelcome guest.
“Your Grace?” His coachman straightened from where he’d been waiting. “Home?”
“Not yet.” Owen needed to think, and the carriage felt too restrictive. “I’ll walk. Follow at a distance.”
“But Your Grace, the streets?—”
“Are perfectly safe in Mayfair.” He set off before the man could protest further.
The familiar streets offered no comfort tonight. Every elegant townhouse reminded him of the life he’d built on careful distance and calculated decisions. A life that suddenly felt as substantial as smoke.
He found himself outside a small church. Its doors stood open despite the late hour.
Without quite meaning to, he stepped inside. The space was empty save for an elderly woman tending candles at the altar.
“The evening service ended hours ago,” she said without turning. “But you’re welcome to sit.”
Owen sank onto a back pew. The wood creaked under his weight. When had he last been in a church? His wedding day, probably. He’d stood beside Iris in her white gown and said vows he’d had no intention of honoring beyond the letter of the law.
“Troubled, are you?” The woman had finished with the candles and was now studying him with knowing eyes.
“I’m fine.”
“Of course you are. That’s why you’re sitting in an empty church at ten o’clock.” She settled into the pew across from him. “Marital troubles?”
Owen’s startled look must have been enough because she chuckled.
“Thought so. You’ve got that look about you. Like a man who’s realized he’s been a fool but isn’t sure how to fix it.”
“You don’t know anything about my situation.”
