“It’s only marriage,” he said. Even though he knew it wasn’t so simple.
The lines in her brow only grew. “Yes, but…”
“Where is he? I can talk to him.”
“I don’t know.” The words slipped off her tongue so quickly. Perspiration dotted her face. “Owen, I don’t know. He disappeared.”
Narrowing his eyes, Owen asked through gritted teeth, “What?”
“Carlisle is out searching for him right now, but I don’t think he’ll find him. Benedict left before I found this.” His aunt’s hands shook terribly as she opened at her reticule and fished for something inside.
In the end, Owen had to help her. He glanced around before shifting to try and block his aunt from everyone’s view, to give them a moment of privacy. Nor did he want them wondering why he was digging around in the woman’s belongings. Another handkerchief, smelling salts, and a scrap of paper.
He pulled the latter out and read its contents.
I’m sorry.
Owen frowned, turning the paper around. But there were no more words on it no matter where he looked or how much he squinted. He glanced back at his aunt, who paled even further.
“Aunt Augusta, you’re certain you don’t know where he went? Or why he would leave?”
Except the answer came to him even as he was asking her these questions. After all, it was only yesterday he had been talking to Benedict. And his cousin had been deeply troubled about today’s events. Distraught, even.
Was this his plan all along? Maybe he was trying to tell me… Good Lord, Benedict, what have you done? I don’t care that you’re shaming your father. And your mother would live down any embarrassment. But the ton. The lady. Benedict, you are better than this.
“Maybe he’s on his way?” Lady Carlisle suggested.
“He isn’t coming,” Owen said flatly.
Maybe Benedict had mentioned Florentia to her as well. It wasn’t like the Marquess hid much from his wife. If he knew their son was seeing a young woman, then Augusta probably had some sort of idea. But Owen didn’t bother looking for any guilt on her face. She was upset enough as it was.
Nor would she be the only upset or injured party here today.
There was an unsettling new feeling rising from his stomach to his chest. Owen tugged at his cravat in irritation—perfectly styled, as his valet insisted—for it suddenly felt too tight.
Everyone was expecting Benedict. He had a bride waiting for him, a young lady who didn’t deserve what he was doing to her.
Benedict is a good man, but what a foolish deed to leave her unprotected. If she doesn’t marry today, she’ll never be welcomed back into Society.
“Oh dear. Oh dear,” Lady Carlisle whispered. Her voice shook as a tear rolled down her cheek. “What have we done? Oh, she looks just heavenly. I do wish Benedict were here. Maybe Carlisle will find him and bring him here. Owen? What do we tell Lady Georgiana?”
Owen couldn’t turn around, couldn’t bring himself to look at Lady Georgiana. Already he could imagine her reaction. She’d brace herself for the unfortunate news. Her lips would thin. A storm would flash in her eyes. Then she would steel her spine and prepare for the worst.
While he could survive the rumors and insults of the ton, he knew it was different for a lady. A young woman at that, with little other protection. Her father had ensured a fair marriage contract but had said or shown little care for her otherwise.
And doesn’t she have a sister? I thought I saw a sprite standing near her in the house. Benedict mentioned her having a little sister. If the lady’s reputation is ruined, it will very well affect the entire family.
“Owen?” his aunt whispered.
“I’m thinking,” he said shortly and then gave his head a shake at her wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be brusque.”
She gave him a watery smile. “I know. I’m so sorry, Owen. It’s all my fault. I’ve ruined everything. There must be something we can do. Perhaps I should…”
But he gave a shake of his head again before motioning around them. “Why don’t I help you sit down? This isn’t your fault. I just need to… I need to think of something.”
“You’ll fix this?” she asked him hopefully.
Her grip on his arm was weak. He led her down the aisle, worried she could shatter into pieces in his arms. He hated seeing how much frailer she had become in the years since he had last seen her. This was not the reunion he had hoped for. She was wasting away even more than he recalled.
