Page 32 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
“Will that be all, mistress?” Mr. Boyd asked politely.
“Yes, thank you,” she said. When she was alone, she studied the package, then carefully unwrapped it. It was a first edition of H. Rider Haggard’s Allan Quatermain. A letter was tucked inside the front cover and she opened the book, instantly enveloped with the aroma of musty pages. A smell she adored, because it made her think of the library at Pepperwirth Vale. The letter was from Owen, and as she began to read, she could hear his voice, perhaps because she longed to hear him speak.
Milly,
I hope you’re reading this. I hated the way we parted. I did not offer you a complete explanation of Mr. Brandon’s comments, nor did I explain the reason for my hasty departure. I chide myself for both actions. As soon as I am able, I shall explain all of it to you. I thought to keep such things a secret, perhaps because in truth they are not my secrets to tell. But I know that truth must exist for us and I cannot keep the truth from you. There is much that lies between us, more than simply our marriage. I do not wish to damage what we are building. Please consider Allan Quatermain a gift, a begging for your forgiveness. I realize you were forced to leave your own library behind. If you let me, I shall spend the rest of our lives filling Wesden Heath’s library with every book your heart desires. I am not the most eloquent man when it comes to speaking from my heart, but I know that the thought of losing you fills me with a heavy ache. I shall write to you every day while away. Please, give me a chance to win your trust and to win your heart.
Faithfully yours,
Owen
“Give me a chance to win your heart.” She murmured the words aloud and realized her lips were trembling with a small smile. The man said he was not eloquent in matters of the heart, yet he was wooing her with his words.
She turned her attention again to his gift, stroking the spine of the book before she let herself peek at the first page. A good book had a way of erasing one’s troubles, dulling one’s ache, and lightening one’s heart. She wanted to read it straightaway but knew she had something more important to do first.
A few minutes later, she had paper and pen, ready to write Owen back.
Owen,
If you have not realized by now, I am quite stubborn, but not lacking in sensibility. A few days before, I did not fully understand the situation. I am better informed now regarding Mr. Brandon and his sister as well as the truth you spoke to me regarding your involvement in the matter of her situation. Your duty is to care for Mr. Watson. Yes, I know everything. I was able to glean this information from Mr. Boyd. Do not be cross with him. He betrayed no confidence. I shall remain here, with Allan, waiting for you to return. Please write to me every day as you promised. I shall write back.
Milly paused, then decided to add a quick note about the progress she’d made in the house and closed her letter with Your Milly. It felt silly, girlish even, but she couldn’t bear to cross it out. She summoned one of the new footmen and gave him instructions to send it to London at Owen’s hotel and then settled down to supper and reading.
It didn’t erase her longing for him, or the fact that she’d grown fond of the way he’d tease her or challenge her to do or try things she normally wouldn’t. There was more to it, though. He loved Wesden like she did Pepperwirth Vale. And seeing him so in love with a place made her feel like a kindred spirit with him. She nibbled a bite of her bread and tucked the blanket more firmly around her as she opened the novel again. The night seemed a little less lonely as she felt Owen’s gift transport her to the distant lands of Africa.
Chapter 12
Ten days had passed since Owen had left Milly alone and gone to rescue Jack. He’d spent his time reading the responses that she’d sent him while Jack slept. Owen could scarcely believe that she’d actually written him back.
He leaned back against the bed in the hotel room while Jack packed his bag. Owen lifted the latest letter that had been received the night before. She had written him every single day, not even waiting for responses to his letters and he had done the same. He didn’t want to think about the fortune he’d spent in hiring messengers to drive to Wesden and back with his letters.
The last letter unfolded in his hands and he read the words again, unable to keep from smiling.
Owen,
I finally cleared away a great mess in the attics. I would love to tease you about having bats in the belfry but I imagine you’d find some way to say I brought the bats with me from Pepperwirth Vale. It gave the maids quite a fright. They will need some persuading to clean up there. I do miss your teasing. I thought I would hate that most about you, that you would taunt me, but as always you prove me wrong. Do you know how frustrating that is for a woman who has sworn not to like the husband she was forced to marry? I suppose I’ll have to forgive you for that.
Owen snorted. His Milly was forgiving him for ruining her. Now that he’d come to know her, come to really see who she was beneath her aloof façade…he would have chosen her over Rowena in a heartbeat if he’d had to do it all over again. He probably should never tell her that, though. He focused back on the letter.
How is Jack? I hope he’s faring better. I believe bringing him home to Wesden might do him some good. We may both take care of him then. I miss you, and I’m afraid your parents’ library is sorely lacking in literature. When you get home, you’ll take me to town for books, won’t you? Perhaps I might finally tempt you into reading She.
The ink had dried a little and then he’d seen a darker patch, as though she’d paused for a while and then started writing again.
I have been speaking to the schoolmaster of the little village Helena not too far from Wesden and I think he will let me assist in teaching the girls. It will take some convincing with their parents, but I should like to do this.
She was to achieve her dream, the one she’d whispered to him during one of the evenings after working themselves to death on the house and grounds. He hadn’t dared laugh or scoff at her hopes of making the lives of other girls better. It had surprised him, but then he’d felt a burning pride in his chest at her hope to change the world, one child at a time. When he returned to Wesden, he would do everything he could to help her.
He brushed his thumb over the closing words of her letter.
Come home soon, husband. The nights are cold and lonely without you here.
Your Milly.
His face actually hurt from how much he was smiling. My Milly.
He carefully folded the last letter and collected the stack of remaining letters she’d sent, humming softly as he packed them into his coat pocket. Jack was placing shirts into a traveling case. He was still too pale, too thin, but his eyes were bright, and not with drink or fever.
“You truly want me to come home with you while you’re settling in with your bride?” Jack flashed him a charming grin, a ghost of a smile that had broken many hearts, including Scarlett Brandon’s.
