Page 38 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
“Ahh, there you.” Owen came over to greet her, grasping her gloved hands in his as he kissed her on the lips, right in front of their guest. Her face flamed, but she couldn’t help it; she always responded to him strongly.
“Mrs. Hadley, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.” Jack came around the table to greet him. It was the first chance Milly had to get a good look at him. He was tall like Owen, but thin. She could see he’d once been a muscular man, full of strength. He might yet regain that strength, but it would take time, food, and physical activity. Yet despite his slightly diminished state, he still had a reserved sort of charm some men possessed, a quiet dignity that drew friends and influenced people. Owen was more like a bright fire to Jack’s single flame. Both burned hot, but in different ways.
“Mr. Watson, I’m so glad you’re here.” Milly smiled and leaned a little into Owen as she spoke, hoping he’d see her touch as supportive. “My husband needs a friend to keep him busy and entertained lest he get in the way of my restorations to the house.”
Jack snorted. “I highly doubt he has any need of being entertained while you are around. He talked of nothing but you while he…” Jack coughed, his face paling as he seemed to realize he’d confessed too much. “Well, I’m sure he’s told you how he’s helped me.”
She nodded, her smile fading. “Yes. And we are both glad you’re feeling better.” She meant it.
“I am.” He patted his stomach. “Wesden Heath has one of the best cooks in this part of the Cotswolds. I’ll likely outgrow my trousers if she keeps preparing such meals as I had last night.”
Milly had to agree. Cook kept things simple, but hearty and tasty. She’d come from a world of ten-course meals with elaborate dishes and exotic garnishes. Expensive tables were displayed as a sign of Pepperwirth wealth. Wesden could not have been more different. Her old self would have been rankled at the idea of modest dishes and a home in great need of repairs, but marrying Owen had changed her. Being around him had made her see things different, value different things.
“Shall we sit?” Owen offered, and they took their seats at the dining room table.
Luncheon was brought in by a footman, a young man named Jennings who was another of the new staff. He grinned, as though delighted in his job, but when he saw Milly watching him he quickly wiped the expression from his face. That was something else that had changed inside her. She would have been disapproving of a servant who had caught her attention in such a manner, but, after spending the last two weeks of working with them, she’d gained a sense of camaraderie. When Jennings looked her way again, she offered him a small smile and he beamed at her.
After the young man left, she turned her attention back to Jack and Owen. She froze when she saw her husband watching her, his eyes hot with desire, and there was a softer, subtler emotion shadowing the desire that she couldn’t quite read. She ducked her head and focused on her meal, trying to ignore how exposed she felt. In many ways, it was like the night when they had dinner at Hampton House, but without the anger and resentment that had been between them. This was…a heated exchange born of affection. Milly couldn’t help but smile as she finished her lunch.
When she, Owen, and Jack were ready to leave, she collected her hat from Constance, who helped pin it on her head before she met the men at the front door. A hired cab was waiting for them.
“You know,” she leaned in to Owen to whisper, “we can afford one of our own now.” The money she’d brought to the marriage could certainly cover a car and so much more.
He glanced down at her in surprise. “Only if you wish it. I wouldn’t make such an expensive decision unless you wanted it, too. It’s your money, Milly.”
Milly stumbled but Owen caught her by the waist and kept her upright. She was stunned. Hadn’t it always been his intention to marry solely to gain access to his wife’s funds? What had changed?
“But I thought—”
With a shake of his head, he cut her off. “My desire, my hope, was that any woman I married would love my home enough to make the costly decisions herself. I never planned to spend your money without your permission or counsel.”
And just like that, tears stung her eyes. She was going to cry right there in front of him and Jack, like some silly ninny. That had been one of her darkest fears, that she would be trapped into marriage solely for monetary gain by a husband who would not see her as an equal and use her money without consulting her. Yet here Owen was, defying every awful expectation she’d had, except one. He did not love her, or if he did, he hadn’t yet told her. She wanted love, wanted it so much she’d forced herself to believe she could never have it, that life wouldn’t give her that one true dream.
Could Owen’s like someday turn to love? Her inner voice was that of a younger girl, the one who’d lived in France and dreamed of a man loving her as much as she did him, as equal partners in love and life.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He motioned for Jack to go on ahead of them to the car while he remained on the steps, holding her close. He cupped her face, wiping away a rebellious little tear that dared to drip down her cheek.
“It’s nothing.” She flashed him a falsely bright smile. “Would you kiss me?” she asked.
He chuckled. “It would be my greatest pleasure, wife.” He bent his head and stole her breath with a heady kiss that made her float on air. How could he always do that? Seize her heart and body with just a kiss?
“Cab’s running. You two better get down here so we can go to town.” Jack’s hooting laugh made them break apart, sharing shy smiles.
“Tonight.” Owen promised everything in that one word.
“Tonight,” she agreed.
Chapter 14
Owen followed behind Milly as she nearly skipped ahead of him down the narrow gravel lane. The rows of houses leading into the village of Wesden looked like cozy little stone structures, each with painted doorways and puffs of smoke from their little chimneys. In the spring and summer a dozen bright colors would coat the windowsill flower boxes, and ivy would climb the walls of the home. The idyllic setting would capture Milly’s heart as it had his so long ago as a boy.
Every few steps Milly would turn to face him, beaming. Her smiles were so much freer now, as though the façade she’d clung to for years was at last crumbling. When they’d left the house after luncheon, she’d looked so lost, so frightened, and he couldn’t figure out why. Kissing her had been an easy thing, something he’d come to adore, but he wondered why she seemed to need reassurance that he belonged to her fully and completely. She didn’t need that. He’d vowed he was hers, would always remain faithful.
“Owen.” Milly paused by a flower shop as they reached the village proper. “Might we buy some flowers? I should like to start a hothouse garden. We could construct something in the spring. If we buy a few plants, I could tend to them indoors through the winter.”
He took long strides to catch up to her.
“What a charming idea, wife.” He tucked her arm in his as they entered the small shop.
