The loud crash of thunder outside was strangely apt, but nowhere near as loud as the thunderbolt which had struck him last night. That prophetic sound still rang in his ears alongside the words which had caused it.
‘It’s only ever been you, Owen.’
Words he had wanted for ten long years, but hadn’t realised he’d been waiting for.
But did that mean he was the only man she had ever wanted in the physical sense or was it more than that and she had been alluding to her heart? The not knowing was sending him insane when he already knew he wanted the spiritual, temporal and emotional far more. Now that his body had possessed hers, he wanted to possess her heart, too. Because she had his. She had always had his.
He had, in the overwhelming heat of the moment, almost said as much aloud.
Twice.
Once on the back of her confession. And the second time as he had gazed at her beneath him, not daring to speak. Not daring to move. So humbled to be inside her and overwhelmed by the rush of emotion which their joining had unleashed.
Boom! Another damn thunderbolt—but this one the most powerful yet.
And one, which quite frankly, had scared the hell out of him.
So much so he had thoroughly lost himself in her body, then extricated himself from her bed as soon as it seemed polite to do so. For his own safety he had avoided her since. Something he regretted now Slugger was loading the carriage with their luggage and they were on the cusp of leaving for Aveley Castle.
‘Are you all right?’ Randolph came in, frowning. ‘Only you’ve been in the strangest mood all morning.’
Owen briskly closed the ledger he hadn’t had the wherewithal to be working on. ‘Yes… Perfectly fine. Merely dotting the i’s before I go away.’
‘Because if something was bothering you, all jesting and teasing aside, you could confide in me…’ His friend’s expression was uncharacteristically serious. ‘I am always here for you.’
‘I know that.’
‘So there is nothing you want to discuss? Nothing pressing you need to get off your chest? No advice you need from your oldest, dearest and wisest best friend? Marriage advice, perhaps? Romantic advice? Or personal advice?’
‘Honestly, Randolph, I am in need of no counsel whatsoever.’
‘Really? Then if we ignore the alternating soppy and panicked expression which keep marring those handsome features of yours after what was undoubtedly a night of long-awaited and unbridled passion, I have absolutely no clue why there is currently a Bow Street Runner here to see you. Yet he is downstairs for his prearranged appointment and clutching papers which you apparently have to see before you go away.’
‘Ah…’
‘Ah, indeed.’ His friend climbed on to a chair and folded his hands in his lap. ‘Which begs the obvious question—what is going on, Owen?’
‘Nothing that concerns Libertas.’
‘I didn’t think for a second that it did. You are much too honest to be up to no good and I’d have to be blind as well as stupid—both things I plainly am not—to fail to see this is all to do with Lydia.’ He settled back in the chair and huffed out a breath. ‘Now, because I am your best friend, because Gertie and I care and because Slugger is so aggrieved the long arm of the law appears to be after you, or me, or him—or any one of our many loyal former criminal employees, for that matter—he may very well throw that poor Runner bodily from the premises if I dally much longer. So for the love of God, tell me what is going on!’
‘I’ve reopened the investigation.’
‘Why?’
He considered fudging it, but knew there was no point. What his friend lacked in stature he made up for in brains. ‘Because the past is in the way, damn it!’
‘You’ve acknowledged that you love her, then?’ Sometimes Randolph was annoyingly right. ‘That’s a good start. And have you sorted everything else out?’ As if everything else were that easy. Completing the twelve labours of Hercules would be easier.
‘I have acknowledged I have feelings…and that I would like to make a proper go of things…and have a proper marriage with Lydia. As to the other things…’
‘Do not tell me she still requires proof of your innocence before she will similarly commit?’ His friend was outraged on his behalf. ‘Surely she has seen enough of your character now to know you were incapable of those crimes?’
‘Probably… Maybe…’ He found himself wincing under his wily friend’s exasperated glare. ‘We haven’t discussed any of it since we called the blasted armistice.’
‘You have an armistice? With your wife?’
‘It was the only way to stop us arguing.’
Randolph blinked, his mouth hanging slack. Then he was all animation. ‘Good grief! I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life! You’ve been married a month! A month! How do the pair of you even function with all that nonsense still lingering in the background?’ He dropped his head into his hands.
‘When I pointed you in the direction of a marriage of convenience, I assumed it would force the pair of you to sort out your differences once and for all. I knew you still loved her and hoped she might still have feelings for you, and between you, both of you would come to realise that love conquers all. That you’d both been given a second chance! And that you could both discover that the past no longer mattered because you had a future—a rich and exciting future with each other, Owen! Not a blasted armistice which can only possibly serve to keep you both apart!’
‘We’ve been getting on rather well as it happens…as last night is testament to.’
‘You’ve merely built a bridge out of matchsticks! And it will not last five minutes unless you are honest with each other and talk about things!’
Now there was a sobering thought. ‘It’ll be easy to talk about it all with proof in my pocket. And before you ask, no, she doesn’t know I’ve engaged Bow Street to help find it. At this stage, that’s…’
‘A little too revealing?’
‘Exactly. And probably a fool’s errand in the grand scheme of things.’
‘Which will put you right back at square one.’ Randolph shook his head. ‘So just to clarify—because Gertie won’t believe this—the past is getting in the way of your relationship.’
‘It is. It’s always there. Hovering. Like a bad smell. She still thinks me a thief and I’m still furious that she could think it and wounded at her betrayal.’
‘And you thought it more prudent to engage a Bow Street Runner and then bed her rather than perhaps discuss that pressing issue first?’
‘The two weren’t linked. I engaged the Runners—there are two of them, by the way—and then…’ Owen felt his brows furrow. ‘Wait…how do you know what happened between us last night? Did Lydia say something to Gertie?’
Hell’s bells! Did she regret it already? Had she reminded herself he was a scoundrel of the first order, a filthy thief who’d pinched her dying mother’s blasted pearls and battened down the hatches again as if last night didn’t matter? When it obviously mattered. Obviously meant something.
Even more proof he had to unearth the past. Neither of them knew where they stood.
‘She didn’t need to.’ Randolph flapped imaginary wings. ‘She practically floated into breakfast this morning all a-flutter, lips all kiss swollen, sighing like a loon…’ Then he broke into a knowing grin. ‘It didn’t take a genius to work out she’d finally stripped the wolf out of his sheep’s clothing.’
Owen did his best not to look incredibly smug. ‘She seemed all right to you, then? Happy?’
‘Exceedingly… Was positively doe-eyed with distraction and most definitely delighted by it all.’
‘Delighted?’ Now that was promising. He felt the tension in his muscles ease at the thought.
‘Nauseatingly so. Which begs the obvious question. Why didn’t you tackle the difficult subject once the deed was done? It was the most favourable time!’
‘It really wasn’t.’
That comment earned him a stunned scowl. ‘Of course it was! Women are always at their most receptive after they have blossomed and we gents are demonstrably more magnanimous—and, quite frankly, it is ridiculous that the pair of you continue to avoid it. Especially as the stakes have been raised and you have both clearly been speared mortally by Cupid.’ His friend slid off the chair to pace in frustration.
‘The conversation isn’t going to get any easier, idiot! If anything, the longer you put it off is only going to make things more difficult as all the poison becomes entrenched and continued avoidance makes it worse. Be honest. Lay your cards completely on the table while the pair of you are away—because if she cannot see your innocence for herself and you cannot ever prove it, you will never be able to move forward.’
Owen nodded, trying to focus on the positive. ‘Do you really think she’s been struck by Cupid, too?’
Randolph threw his hands in the air. ‘That’s it? That is the only part of my impassioned, wise and imploring monologue you heard?’
‘I heard it…’ And the miserable truth was difficult to swallow. ‘But if the Runner has found something, then it won’t matter.’
‘Because she will know she has always been wrong and she’ll fall at your feet in tragic remorse, begging for forgiveness?’
Something like that.
‘My name will be properly cleared and she will stop thinking ill of me.’
‘Never mind she’ll feel dreadful and riddled with guilt and will likely never get over it—you will feel superior. And if they find nothing, just as we did, then what? Are you happy to go through life with a woman who thinks you genuinely stole her mother’s jewellery for your own ill-gotten gain? What a tremendously healthy start to a marriage that will make.’
Randolph jumped back up on the chair and grabbed him by the lapels. ‘People make mistakes, Owen. But true love means seeing past them. No matter what. You and Lydia will never be happy until you both accept that. Stop building a house of cards and lay some solid foundations. You can’t hide behind your pathetic armistice for ever.’
Before Owen could respond, Slugger crashed through the door and jabbed an agitated finger in his face as well. ‘Is that slimy Runner friend or foe, Owen?’
‘Friend.’ And hopefully a less vexing and astute one than blasted Randolph.
‘Then get the blighter out of my hallway! He’s making me nervous!’