This time it was Owen who barged into his father’s bedchamber. The old man had been taking a nap … in the middle of the afternoon. Imagine that.
“Wake up, Father. I have to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
His father sat up and sputtered and coughed while Owen strolled over to the window and yanked open the curtains. Sunlight poured through the ornately decorated room with its red velvet upholstery and dark carved wooden furnishing. His father held his arm in front of his eyes to block the light.
“Owen, for God’s sake. What do you think you’re about?”
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you? That’s awfully bothersome, isn’t it?” Owen braced his feet apart and folded his arms over his chest.
“I was merely resting my eyes for a bit. I haven’t been feeling well. My gout is acting up and—oh bother, I cannot believe Shakespierre allowed you in.”
“Ah, but I failed to tell Shakespierre I was looking for you,” Owen replied, referring to his father’s butler. “I believe he thinks I’m visiting with Mother in one of the drawing rooms.”
“By God, I’ll have his head when I—”
“Don’t worry, Father. I’ll be brief. I merely came here to inform you that I wouldn’t marry Lady Lavinia Hobbs if she were the last lady in London. In fact, I intend to marry Lady Alexandra Hobbs, if she’ll have me. I am in love with her and am planning to do everything in my power to make myself worthy of her, including a bid for the House of Commons in order to promote legislation that addresses the issues I care about, some charity work, and giving away all my material possessions if I must.”
His father’s eyes were wide gray orbs. “Wh-wh-what are you saying? What about your allowance? Your inheritance?”
“Oh yes, about that. I don’t give a toss about it and have already donated this month’s allowance to a poorhouse in Seven Dials. Lady Alexandra was gracious enough to point out their dire need.”
His father’s sleeping cap was askew. He looked old and tired. For a moment Owen was worried for him, almost pitied him. Here was a man who’d used his status, money, and authority to order people about and bully them into doing his bidding his entire life. His servants were frightened of him, and his wife never dared to confront him. Owen silently vowed he’d never act that way. He and Alex—if she’d have him—would have a loving, equal partnership filled with happiness and respect.
“You’d give up your inheritance so easily?” his father sputtered, trying to clutch at lapels that were not there.
“I needn’t remind you that the estate is entailed to me upon your death, but yes, I give it up for the remainder of your life without a second thought. Alex means that much to me.”
His father’s jowls shook. “I do believe you’ve lost your mind.”
“I have, Father. I lost my mind the moment she entered my life. And I’ve never felt better about a decision. Good day.” He nodded, bowed, turned around, and walked directly out the door.