And more money. The Marquess cared for little else.
Glancing at Benedict, Owen felt a certain degree of sympathy for him. It couldn’t be easy loving someone, only to lose them like this.
He should have been more careful and not fallen in love. Surely, he could have controlled it. Any interaction with a woman should be pleasant but then left alone as necessary. Love is a dangerous toy for any gentleman to engage with.
Careful in every social interaction he was forced to suffer through, Owen avoided people as much as he could. Rumors of him being cursed made it easy for him to avoid the Season. As for Parliament, no one had complained, since he wrote frequently and still participated from his study in the countryside. He’d danced a time or two with women in the past, and it had all been satisfactory. But there was no longer a need for him to do any of that nonsense. Especially when it came to love.
Why should I? I have my title, my money, my plants. Any love I might have had in this life was meant for my family, and they are gone now.
“I hate this,” Benedict muttered, only proving Owen that he was right to have been careful. “All the things I promised Florentia…”
“You shouldn’t have done so,” Owen murmured.
“The words just came. The feelings just came. I love her, Owen, like I’ve never loved anyone. Tell me, what am I supposed to do? Live a life trapped like this forever?”
Owen glanced down at his hands on his knees, looked around, and then returned his gaze to his miserable cousin. “You’ve made an agreement, Benedict. Should you break your promise, the lady you’re betrothed to will be cast out of Society. If you can live with that, then do as you will.”
“But what abouther?”
“Marriage is a practical arrangement. It doesn’t need to be anything more or less than that.”
Benedict shot him a look that crossed with fear and aggravation.
“It is what Society expects. Marry, and then do as you like if you must. But a wedding puts everyone in a good mood. Your father will at least be pleased with you for a short time.”
It might not have been romantic, by any means, but Owen wasn’t romantic. He was practical.
Sighing, Benedict ran a hand through his hair. “If you think a marriage solves all ills, then perhaps you should do the same.”
Owen started. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, the rumors don’t bother you. Sometimes I think you’re amused by them. Other times… well, I don’t know. You’re cold and hard to read. You’re still a stranger to me in many ways,” Benedict admitted. “But if the rumors don’t bother you… Cursed to die young, cursed so everyone who touches you dies a tragic death, cursed to feed poison to everyone––”
Leaning back on the bench, Owen raised an eyebrow. “What is your point, Benedict?”
“Everyone I talked to in the past week knows you have been with me, and they’re expecting me to fall over dead any minute,” came his cousin’s morose reply. Then he snorted. “I can’t believe how outlandish the rumors are becoming. Should you marry, everyone would see they are wrong.”
Shaking his head, Owen resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “That’s preposterous.”
“You said marriage is just a practical arrangement. You would make a fine husband and father just as you are a duke.”
His jaw clenched at the notion. Him, a husband? A father? That was not to be. “Thank you, but that shall never happen.”
Benedict studied him with a frown. “It won’t, will it? Not even if it would help with your projects?”
Projects was one way to describe his work. Though Owen felt the urge to defend himself—something he had to do regularly whenever anyone learned a duke was involved in any type of commerce—he fought against it.
It wasn’t as though Benedict was terribly off course. Everyone was skeptical about a duke writing scientific essays and managing a greenhouse that was the envy of most of England. He’d had a few deals turn sour when folks realized he was the Cursed Duke.
“My business, you mean? Of course not. I can do whatever it is I need to. And marriage is useless for a man such as myself. I would never do it, not even for the title or my reputation.”
“If you say so,” his cousin responded.
He didn’t sound very convinced. But Owen brushed it aside. Benedict didn’t need to be corrected just now. He needed to be reminded he had made his choice to obey his father’s order and now must live with it.
There would be wedding bells ringing in just a few days. It would be a chore to attend, but Owen had made his cousin a promise. He was a man of his word and would attend.
CHAPTER5
