“Some contingencies can’t be planned for.” Owen moved to the window so he might watch carriages pass in the street below. “Some risks have to be accepted.”
“Is this about Adele or the way you’ve been avoiding your wife?”
The quiet question made Owen’s muscles stiffen. “I’m not avoiding anyone.”
“No? When’s the last time you shared a meal? The last time you spent an evening at home instead of prowling through London’s underbelly?”
“We’re searching for?—”
“We’re searching for excuses.” Felix set down his glass with more force than necessary. “At least, you are. I’m thinking this whole enterprise is less about finding Adele and more about giving you a reason to stay away from home.”
The accusation stung more because it held a grain of truth. Each night spent searching was another night Owen didn’t have to face Iris across the dinner table. It gave him another evening where he could avoid the careful conversations and loaded silences that had become their norm.
“I do not appreciate your meddling in my private life, Halston.”
“This again. Come on, Carridan; you are distracted. Half your attention is on whatever domestic drama you’re avoiding.” Felix stood up and straightened his coat. “Find a way to resolve things with Iris or call off this investigation. But stop using it as an excuse to run from your problems.”
After Felix left, Owen stayed at his desk. His eyes remained fixed on the map scattered with their useless leads.
He didn’t want to admit it, but the truth sat heavy in the room. They weren’t going to find Adele. Either she was dead, or she’d vanished so thoroughly that no amount of searching would bring her back.
It was time to turn his attention to what he could still repair. And that started with the wall he’d built between himself and Iris.
The next evening, for the first time in days, Owen emerged early from his study. The dining room was set for two, candlelight dancing across polished crystal and porcelain. But when Peters announced that dinner was served, only one place setting had been laid.
“Her Grace sends her regrets,” Peters informed him. “She’s taken a tray in her room.”
Of course, she had. After days of eating alone, why would she expect him to join her tonight?
Owen climbed the stairs after his solitary meal and paused outside Iris’s door. Light filtered beneath the wood, but no sound emerged.
He raised his hand to knock, then stopped.
What would he say? How could he explain his absences without revealing the search for Adele?
Instead, he continued to the nursery. The room was dark except for the small lamp Iris always left burning. Evie slept peacefully in her cradle with one tiny fist tucked beneath her cheek.
Owen settled into the rocking chair so he might watch his daughter sleep.
Tomorrow, he would call off the search. Tomorrow, he would start healing the rift between himself and Iris. Tomorrow, he would start building the family Evie deserved.
But tonight, he would simply sit in the darkness, listen to the soft sounds of the baby’s breathing, and try to remember what it felt like to hope for something beyond mere survival.
CHAPTER 23
“His Grace seemed disappointed you’d already taken breakfast up here, Your Grace.” Mary’s nimble fingers did not pause as she styled Iris’s hair.
Iris looked at Mary’s reflection in the mirror, noting the careful way with which she phrased her observation.
Owen had been making efforts lately. He appeared for dinner promptly, lingered in the nursery during evening feedings, and even attempted to have awkward conversations about their days.
“Did he?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral.
“Yes, Your Grace. He asked Cook to prepare something special for this morning, thinking you might join him in the breakfast room.” Mary finished her hair, then busied herself with arranging fresh linens, but Iris caught the hopeful note in her voice. “Perhaps he was planning an outing? The weather’s been lovely.”
The suggestion hung in the air between them. Owen’s recent attempts at closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed by the household staff who seemed cautiously optimistic about the gradual changes in their employers’ behavior. But Iris found herself hesitant to trust these small overtures because she was afraid they might disappear as suddenly as they’d appeared.
She’d spent too many months learning to expect nothing from her husband to suddenly embrace the possibility that he genuinely wanted her company. What if this newfound attention was merely another performance, designed to maintain appearances now that they had Evie to consider?
