Silence fell between them just long enough for her to grow anxious. Owen wouldn’t stop staring at her.
“Now that you’re finished with your tantrum”—he paused when she huffed in annoyance—“you’ll take your turn and hear me out. This marriage isn’t what either of us sought. Nor did either of us want it. Already I have given you as much freedom as can be given to a woman in your position. It is a union meant for convenience and convenience only.”
“But it isn’t convenient,” she pointed out, refusing to be run roughshod by him. “In fact, I have reason to believe you have made it more difficult simply because you wish for it to be difficult.”
His mouth dropped open. “I did not!”
“How can I be certain of that?” she demanded.
Shaking his head, he huffed. “I don’t know. And I don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t have to do anything, don’t you understand? You don’t have to redecorate if you don’t wish to. I didn’t ask you for anything. Not for your time, your attention, or your creative efforts around the house.”
Every word Owen said only caused Georgiana to grow more upset. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe him. For all the good she had done, he only sought to drag her down to his miserable depths.
What a fat lot of good his looks do him with a mood like that. I cannot believe the scoundrel! I will not let him talk to me like this. He’s done enough.
“I didn’t do it all for you! I live here as well. I deserve to be comfortable. Have you had cause to complain about the other work I have done here?” she demanded, taking a step further into the room. She noted the way he glanced down at the picture. “Fine, one thing. But I don’t know why you are upset about this. It’s a very fine picture, Owen, and I thought you would be proud to have it hung in the hall for guests to see.”
He turned away. “I’m not.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she sighed.
Georgiana pinched the bridge of her nose. She breathed deeply for a few minutes to try and compose herself. As Owen continued staring down the artwork, she began to wonder if something else was the matter here.
Maybe I missed it. He’s taking shots where he can while evading the current subject. What is it about this painting that holds his attention?
It took her another moment to gather her focus. She straightened up and stepped closer to him. When Owen made no objections, she moved to stand beside him so she could gaze at the painting. Her skirts might have even brushed against his shoes. Whether they did or did not, her husband didn’t react.
“Is it a good likeness?” she asked softly so she would not spook him.
Her heart shuddered as she wondered if she was crossing a line. But could she do that if she didn’t know where the line stood?
“Yes. From what I remember, yes.”
Blinking rapidly, she gave a short nod. He’d known his parents. But they were both gone now. She tried to remember what she knew about them. It must have been years ago. That was why Owen was close to his extended family.
“What were they––”
From the corner of her eye, Georgiana saw him shake his head. “I don’t wish to speak about them.”
“You never do,” she remarked.
“Because I don’t wish to,” he pointed out in a curt tone.
She pursed her lips. “The less you talk about it, the more it hurts, you know.” He fidgeted. “Have you ever talked about them? To anyone? Not that you need to tell me. I’m sure they were lovely. One can see it in the way they look here. Especially the way he looks at her. They must have been a love match.”
“They weren’t, not at first. They—no, I don’t want to talk about it,” Owen muttered.
Sighing quietly, Georgiana glanced down before tentatively brushing her knuckles against his hand. He didn’t move. Hope sparked within her, and she tried again.
“You don’t need to say anything you don’t want to. But I would love to know more about your parents.”
“I don’t talk about them.”
“And yet we’re not leaving. I’m not leaving.” She slowly turned to face him. There was a troubled expression on his face. “Tell me about them, Owen. There is such heart in this painting… They must have shared their hearts with you. Didn’t they?”
Dropping his gaze, Owen grudgingly nodded. “They loved me if that is what you are asking. They loved me so much that it cost them their lives.”
That caught her by surprise. She inhaled sharply, forcing back the urge to speak. All she wanted to do was ask a hundred questions. But she waited.
