Owen nodded to his wife. “Eight.”
“I heard you had made it to London, but I fear I routed my most recent letter to your country estate. Oh, I’m sure you’ll receive it, eventually. Handy it is I found you here this evening, Your Grace. You’ll never believe what our hostess has in her garden.”
Owen glanced at Georgiana and ignored her raised eyebrow. “I’m certain I could not guess.”
“No, you could not! But you must. I’ll give you a hint.”
The Earl chuckled as he clicked his fingers and pointed at the centerpiece on the table. Owen had studied it a good minute before moving along, trying not to be in anyone’s path.
“A pineapple?” Owen narrowed his eyes at the man. Excitement burst in his chest. “Good Lord, you don’t mean to tell me they have a pineapple plant?”
“They do! I was just about to steal away to see it before I realized you were in attendance. We must see it together. The size, you know. It’s unseemly. I’ve already borrowed a sketchbook.” The Earl patted his pocket. “Shall we?”
Owen nodded eagerly, unable to help himself. He’d been reading everything he could about the tropical plant. But the one time he’d encountered it in the islands, the fields had been flooded because of the rainy season. It was a recurring topic of discussion between him and the Earl.
But then Owen stopped himself before he took a step forward and turned sharply back to Georgiana. “My apologies. But I––”
Covering her mouth politely with a hand, she nodded. “Go on. You can find me later.”
“Ah, I remember the days of young love,” Lord Blythe remarked as he glanced between them. “Always tethered to one another.”
“We are married, so we are tethered for life,” Owen pointed out. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t like Lord Blythe’s remark. It seemed to insinuate something he wasn’t certain about. He nodded to Georgiana before turning to the Earl, feeling his excitement growing. “Would you like to lead the way?”
The Earl nodded. “I shall do just that. Thank you for allowing me to steal your husband, Your Grace. I shall return him to you shortly.”
“I would appreciate that,” she called after them.
Glancing back, Owen tried to read Georgiana’s expression. The way she said that left him unsettled. Was she trying to tie him down? She gave him a small wave before taking her seat again.
She would be left alone at the table. His steps faltered. As excited as he was to see the pineapple plant, he was less certain about leaving his wife on her own.
But then he remembered their earlier conversation. Georgiana was happy. And it was best that he not mislead her into believing their marriage would be anything more than friendly. Distance now and again would have to be good for them.
“Your Grace?”
He nodded to Lord Blythe. “Lead me to the plant. I’m eager to discuss the leaves with you.”
Laughing, the Earl nodded. “Right down this hall, then. We shan’t be long.”
So Owen pushed away thoughts and concerns of his wife. He let his quest for knowledge take the lead. Falling into easy conversation with the Earl, they picked up where they had left off in their letters while making their way to study an exotic fruit.
CHAPTER23
Georgiana stifled a giggle as she took her seat again, shaking her head. The encounter with Lord Blythe had been unpredictable in many ways, most of all her husband’s reactions.
She had begun to understand how closed off he was and how he preferred to be. But everything the Earl said had surprised Owen. The way he had hastened to his feet showed how eager he was. She could see the brightness in his eyes flickering with a hunger she hadn’t known he could express.
It was so precious to see that window to his soul if only for a moment. I’m glad to know there are things in this world that can make him happy. He so often appears determined to be miserable.
Sighing, she watched her husband disappear down the hall. Her amusement turned into appreciation. It was obvious he was spending the evening trying to act the part for her sake. His attendance alone was enough.
Already she had heard more whispers than she liked about how no one really knew what he had even looked like. There were also conversations about all the rumors about him––they grew more outlandish with every new one that she heard. Though she’d been careful never to take the gossip rags seriously, Georgiana was beginning to realize just how ludicrous they were.
“Isn’t he the duke who went mad in France and was disguised as an old maid to flee Paris?” she had heard just that evening.
The ton could say what they liked, to be certain. But no one knew her husband. Even she only knew part of him.
It isn’t much, I fear, but it is still something. It will have to be enough for now, I suppose. If he continues to try building this relationship with me, then surely I will get to know him even more. But we have made great progress, and I meant what I said. I know him well enough. He isn’t what the ton makes him out to be. It makes me wish they knew him better.
