Page 63 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“See this?” Mr. Crane pointed to his cheek, where Ophelia noticed now a bruise had flowered. “Fellow tried to knock me out. Didn’t work, of course. What did he think? And him such a little fellow.”
Ophelia wanted to laugh, but she was also shocked by what she had just heard. The fellow had clearly taken leave of his senses.
“What happened?”
“Well, I was doing the rounds, checking if the lamps had been lit—I've been doing it lately, since Barrow has been absent so often. I was about to go into the west wing to check, when he blocked my way. Said it wasn’t necessary. When I said I was going in there, and he’d do well to move away from the door soI could pass, he swung a candlestick at me. Hit me hard on the face, it did. I ran after him, but it took me a moment or two to get to my senses and I missed him.
“He tried to stop you going there?” Owen’s voice was high with shock.
“Yes. So, since he disappeared thereafter, I can only imagine he was the one who started the fire.”
“No.” Owen shook his head. Ophelia felt horror running down her back, cold and tight. She had suspected that Barrow had shut her in there, but now there was no escaping the fact. He had wanted to kill her.
“The books,” she murmured.
“He was trying to cover his dishonesty,” Mr. Crane agreed. “My lady, I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”
“You don’t need to be, Mr. Crane.”
“But I am, my lady. We harbored that man in the house, and I truly am sorry for the damage he did you.”
“We’re all here, Mr. Crane,” Owen said gently. “We're safe and that’s all that matters. Nobody was killed. We will deal with Barrow, but right now, let us give thanks that we are alive.”
“You are right.”
Mr. Crane inclined his head and, after checking that the tea didn’t need warming, he turned and walked out of the breakfast room. Ophelia gazed at Owen.
“He really...did he...” she couldn’t find the words. The horror that someone had tried to kill her, and in that way, that awful way, made her shiver with fear.
“We will find him, sweetling,” Owen said gently. “But all that matters is that you’re safe. We’re safe. And we will rebuild. I promise.”
“Good,” Ophelia whispered.
She reached across to him, and he held her hand, her fingers warm in his tight grasp. She felt strength seem to flow into herand she gazed into his eyes and knew that he was right... that they were alive, and safe, and that was the only important thing.
They were safe, and they could use the opportunity to make Ivystone new again, even better than before. She knew they could do it, and she couldn’t wait to try. They would be doing it together—and that was all that mattered.
Chapter 23
Owen looked up over the newspaper where he sat reading. Leonard was talking at some length to Ophelia, who was stitching away at something, a pastime Owen had never seen her do before. She seemed distracted, replying occasionally in short words to Leonard’s speech.
“Mm. I see.”
Owen grinned, trying not to let Leonard see. He knew Ophelia well enough to know that she hadn’t really been paying attention. She was just politely listening in.
Leonard continued with his speech, and Owen returned his attention to the newspaper, then found his thoughts drifting again. They had been staying with Leonard for two days now. Owen had returned to Ivystone to assess the damage, and he still felt oddly numb inside when he considered it. The flower garden remained, but the rest of the west wing was ashes and charred beams. The rest of the house had been affected, too—the anteroom closest to the west wing was gone and the downstairs hallway beside it. The rooms upstairs on the east side appeared to be largely undamaged, but nobody could go near them—the roof might still collapse and no amount of assessing the damage was worth risking a life.
Owen felt his stomach twist. That creature who had worked for him, who had served his family for twenty years—he had thought protecting himself from being found out was worth taking a life, and the life of the most beautiful being Owen knew. He looked down at his hands, trying to find a focus so that he could control the rage that boiled within him.
“You fancy coming to town, Owen?” Leonard asked mildly.
“Sorry?” Owen blinked. He understood what the wordsmeant well enough, but not why the inquiry was aimed at him.
“I thought it would be nice to go for a walk and stretch our legs. Fancy a walk in town this morning?”
“Oh. Um, yes. Thank you.” Owen nodded. It would be nice—it would also be possible to organize some clothes for Ophelia. She was wearing a dress she had borrowed from one of Owen’s household staff—it was the right size, but of plain and simple fabric, in a grayish blue color. She would look beautiful in anything, of course, but it didn’t seem fair that she should be stuck with one such ordinary gown when he could borrow all of Leonard’s clothes—if, admittedly, they were all a little bit long.
“Grand. Shall we say ten o’ clock? Then we can choose if we want to stay there for luncheon or come back here.”
