Owen listened with disinterest and said nothing. No objection would assuage his mother’s enthusiasm for her task so it would be a waste of breath to try.
As he toured the room, he was acutely aware of how not a single lady held a candle to his sweet Phoebe, not in appearance nor in charm. There was simply something about the way Phoebe moved, how she laughed. She made him weak at the knees; it something which no other lady would ever manage to do, as they had not a lifetime to win his heart.
“You have pleased your mother so with your acquiesce, Owen,” she said. “You have given me the opportunity to fulfill my motherly duties. I would have been bereft if you had not allowed me to ensure you had been properly introduced to every lady that might win your heart.”
Owen frowned. “And if none should win my heart?”
The Duchess pursed her lips. “Let us allow the night to run its course before we concern ourselves with such hypotheticals.”
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, careful to not let the Duchess hear his sigh.
She was most excited by the evening. For the first time in recent memory, she was wearing a color other than white—a bright, obnoxious coquelicot quite unlike any shade Owen had ever seen her wear before. It was almost as if she were dressed for a celebration in preparation for a victory she had not yet realized would never be.
“Have you seen Miss Rose? Isn’t she lovely?” The Duchess gestured to a young, sweet lady with red hair and flushed cheeks. She was wearing a dress of jonquil yellow. “Her father must have spent a fortune on that dress. Yellow is in excellent taste.”
“Is she not the daughter of Lord Tomlin? He is a Baron, Mother. It was my understanding that any title of lesser status than my own would be abhorrent to you.”
“There is nothing more abhorrent to me than the Wycliffs.” Her expression soured even at the thought of the Earl and his daughter. Then she turned her expression quickly back to its prior gayness and smiled. “Besides, no fortune can buy a beauty like hers. Is she not beautiful?”
“Very much so.”
The Duchess eyes sparkled and she drew in an excitable breath. “Did I not tell you? I knew you would be drawn to the collective esteem of the ladies I could present to you.”
“I said she is beautiful, Mother—she is. But nobody will ever be as beautiful to me as my Phoebe.”
“A strange thing to say of your brother’s widow.”
Owen bit his tongue. He had forgotten himself for a moment; forgotten that he and Phoebe were supposed to have shared no history between them, that his proposal to her was simply an act of duty.
“She’s not really ‘your’ Phoebe, is she?” the Duchess continued, narrowing her eyes. “She is Evan’s Phoebe. Remember that, Owen. Even in death, she is truly your brother’s bride.”
“She has grown beside me all my life. Caring for her shows no lack of integrity or loyalty.”
“But perhaps a shadow of lust?”
“You see things that are not there, Mother. You will not dissuade me from my decision for the call of duty is superior to all other commitments.”
“Even to your mother?”
“It causes you no harm for me to marry her.”
“Even though her father killed Evan?”
“Another fancy of your imagination. The storm was beyond all gentleman’s control.”
“But not beyond his foresight. The Earl should have predicted the dangers…but I suppose the lives on board that ship were of no concern to him.”
Owen was tired of talking to her. “You’d best introduce me to your ladies before the night is through, Mother. Your chance to turn my heart is growing ever more distant.”
Better he speak to a lady with some sense of dignity than let the Duchess continue to pour poison in his ear.
The Duchess did as he bid her and crossed the room quickly to the lady who was arguably the most elegant in attendance. She was young but carried herself with the maturity and poise of a queen who had reigned for fifty years. Her throat dripped with emeralds and she wore a dress of pomona green, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but sophisticated beyond compare.
She was blonde-haired and beautiful with a youthful visage. Her hair was a fountain of curls, teased into a charming style that left a few ringlets loose to fall about her shoulders, accentuating her femininity. She smelled of rose water.
“Lady Georgiana, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my son, Lord Huxley.”
It still stung every time Owen heard his brother’s former title attached to his name. Owen had been Marquess of Huxley since Evan’s death, and it felt wrong and wicked.
The Duchess smiled knowingly and dipped her head as she took her leave. “I see your brother is keeping an eye on you, so I shall not stay to dilute the conversation of two young people with much to say. Excuse me while I attend to my guests.”
Owen dipped in a small bow to Lady Georgiana. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady.”
She curtseyed in return. “The pleasure is all mine, My Lord. I was surprised to receive the invite for this evening, such as it was, as I heard the banns read in church to announce your upcoming marriage to the Lady Phoebe Elkins.”
“Forgive me, My Lady, but what was your impression of this evening? For it is correct that I am engaged to be married so this ball is not for my benefit.”
Lady Georgiana’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “Forgive me, My Lord! I believed you were in pursuit of another bride.”
“I suppose the Duchess encouraged this misunderstanding?”
“She indicated that the Lady Phoebe had been unfaithful.”
Owen’s hand clenched into a fist at his side and he had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from showcasing a temper that was burning wildly within him.
“The Duchess lies.” He did not try to hide the truth. It was time the Duchess experienced the bitter taste of disgrace that she so readily bestowed upon others. “She is under the wrongful impression that the Lady Phoebe’s father was responsible for my brother’s death and has targeted the innocent Lady Phoebe in a manner most vindictive and unbecoming for a lady of her status.”
Lady Georgiana gasped. “My Lord—”
“Say nothing. I am enraged to hear that these rumors are spreading and damaging the good name of my fiancée who has suffered great grief already. She is the noblest and most honorable of ladies who was faithful to my brother always, and has always been faithful to me.”
“Forgive me.”
He held up a hand. “I know one does not question the words of a Duchess. One holds a lady of such reputation in high esteem, but unfortunately, my mother is ill with grief and not a word she says about Lady Phoebe can be believed.”
“I meant no offense.”
“It pains me to tell you that I am offended. May you spread the word amongst your female acquaintances here tonight that I will marry Lady Phoebe Elkins, and that I renounce every word the Duchess has said against her. If gossip must be spread, let it be said that the Duchess has lost her mind and has become hysterical over the death of Lord Huxley. Let all know that she has disgraced herself with a tirade of lies to dishonor a noble Christian lady.”
He nodded his head quickly in a final acknowledgment of Lady Georgiana and then strode away from she and all others. He was leaving the ball.
The Duchess chased after him.
“Owen! Where are you going? You promised you would do this for me.”
He bared his teeth in a scowl. “You have disgraced Lady Phoebe in front of all her peers. You have dirtied her good name in order to achieve your own motives. I am disgusted by you.”
The Duchess drew back her shoulders and raised her head defiantly. “You should be thanking me for making it possible for you to leave her with no damage to your own reputation. A gentleman has every right to break an engagement with an adulterer.”
“She is no adulterer, and your schemes have undermined your own intentions, Mother. Lady Phoebe’s reputation will ha
ve been so stained here tonight that she will find no other husband. I would never allow you to destroy her reputation and then abandon her. Nothing will stop me from marrying her now. You’ve only made my duty to her all the greater.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Owen! Have you no faith in me? I know better.”
“You know nothing. You are a bitter, greedy wretch who has no heart. You have never known love because you are not capable of it. How could you feel any empathy for others when your soul is as black as it is?”
The Duchess reeled from his words. For the first time in his life, Owen saw tears come to her eyes.
“I loved your brother.”
“And me?” Owen met her eye defiantly. “For if you had any love for me at all, you would stop this now, and give Lady Phoebe and I your blessing.”
“You will never have my blessing.”
“Then you have lost both sons.”
“Ungrateful swine! If you think you have seen half my wrath, you are well-mistaken. I have given you the opportunity to see sense but as you are incapable, you give me no choice but to do everything in my power to save you from yourself.”
“What power do you think Lady Phoebe has to destroy me? She is a sweet, kind lady. The hatred you have for her bewilders me. Is it because she threatens you? Is it her beauty or her grace? Is it her intelligence? Or is it that Evan, Father, and I, all love her far more than you could ever be loved?”
Her eyes widened with the shock of what he’d said and she stood trembling. Her chin wobbled and tears fell thick and fast.
“You have hurt me today, Owen—far deeper than I have ever been hurt.”
“More lies. You are not capable of feeling. You never have been. I would have received more love from a porcelain doll than I ever received from you.”
“Do not mistake Lady Phoebe’s grasping schemes for love. She will use you and you will suffer for it.”
“I already suffer because of you.”
“And you shall suffer more.” She drew in short, sharp breaths through her nose, her chest heaving with emotion. “There is no goodness left in the world on the day a son makes an enemy of his mother.”
“You have been the root of all enmity. I have done all I could to please you, but you will only be pleased when every soul around you dances to your tune like a puppet on a string.”
“Wait until your father hears of how you have spoken to me today.”
“He will rejoice that I have come to my senses.”
Owen walked briskly out of the foyer where they were standing and to the front door. As he made his exit, the Duke caught up with them.
“Owen, Tabitha! The guests are wondering where their hosts have got to.”
“Your son has said disgusting things to me.”
“Father, I can no longer abide by Mother’s vindictive ways. What she has done to Lady Phoebe is unforgivable. If you wish to see me again, you should come to my premises by the university—for I shall not return to this house while she is here.”
He reached for the door handle and pulled the door open while his father begged him to stay.
Throwing the doors open, he lifted his head and stumbled back in shock. “It—it can’t be.”
Behind him, the Duke gasped. “Evan?”
* * *
The Duke sent all guests home without explanation. Undoubtedly, word would have spread through Lady Georgiana to lead them to believe that Owen and the Duchess had come to odds and the ball had been foregone for that reason.
The truth was far more incredible.
Now, in the drawing room, Owen sat stunned in a chair while the Duke and Duchess examined Evan to see if he was truly real.
He seemed real. His dark hair was as dark, his smile was familiar, his spine was still straight as a rod. No imposter could have so perfectly duplicated Evan’s form. When he spoke, his voice was the very voice Owen had heard for years before the shipwreck. This was, without doubt, his brother.
The only change that could be seen was a long scar that extended from his hairline to just above his right eye, still ridged and purple.
“How can it be?” the Duke stammered. “It’s been two years.” He lifted his hand to touch Evan’s hair gently, then took him into his arms in an embrace that lasted for minutes on end. “The Lord be praised. This is truly a miracle.”
The Duchess cried. “My son, my son!” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. “I have grieved for you; I was grieving still.”
Evan raised his gaze above the heads of his parents who embraced him to look directly at Owen, who sat silent in his chair.
“Brother? Are you not happy to see me?”
Not an easy question.
Owen stood and stared at Evan. His brother’s eyes were shining with longing and his arms were open to him. Owen went to him and hugged him tight.
When he embraced his brother, he felt the grief disappear like a heavy shroud had fallen. His chest grew warm with a relit affection. His throat grew tight with emotion.
“Of course I am. The brother who died has returned to me. This is a blessed day.”
Evan looked around with a nostalgic expression. “Nothing has changed here at all.”
“I cannot bear to wait any longer. I must know how this is possible.” The Duke took Evan by the shoulder and guided him onto the sofa. “Tell us what happened.”
“We were sailing the South China Sea when the storm hit, a storm for the ages. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The Duchess covered her mouth in horror. “It sank?”
“Eventually. We battled for hours against the raging of the sea before we were swallowed. I knew we were fighting in vain when the very mast split in two and fell into the waters. We had no sails then, so it was only a matter of time before we died of starvation or exposure to the elements.”
“How did you survive?” the Duke fixed him with an incredulous stare. “How is it you came to be sitting here in front of me now? After all this time?”
“Moments after losing the mast, we were swallowed by a wave and the ship was crushed by the ocean. I suffered an injury when this happened.” He pulled back his hair to show the scar that tracked halfway across his scalp. “When I awoke, I was floating on some driftwood. I believe one of my men must have placed me upon it.”
“Did any of the other men survive?” Owen asked.
“I have not seen hide nor hair of any of them since that night. I must believe they perished in the sea.”
“You were picked up by another ship then?” The Duchess guessed.
Evan shook his head. “I floated upon that makeshift raft for days until I eventually drifted ashore. I was very weak then. What’s more, I had lost all memory of the shipwreck and everything that came before. I did not know who I was nor where I had come from.”
“Nothing at all?” the Duke’s voice was hoarse. “How is then that you’ve come to find us again?”
“About a month ago, my memories began to return. I had dreams that I was upon a ship while a great wave fell upon me and men were screaming all around. Soon those dreams turned to memory. Soon thereafter, I began to see faces in my mind and I knew they were the memories of my own kin.”
“How much do you remember now?” Owen asked, his voice tentative. “Do you recognize us all?”
Evan smiled. “I believe I remember a great deal now. I cannot recall the days leading up to the shipwreck nor the days after, and the demise of the ship itself only comes in sudden images that do not connect. But I know I am Evan Boltmon, Marquess of Huxley, Son of The Duke and Duchess of Bentley. I know I was trained in the navy before becoming a merchant.” He looked around. “And I know this place.”
“You returned to us when you remembered,” the Duke surmised, “and now you are home.”
Evan bowed his head. “Yes.”
He opened his mouth as if to say more. As he’d been telling his tale, Owen had noticed a discomfort growing in h
is expression as one sees on the face of gentlemen with great secrets, someone with burdens of the mind they have yet to put down.
Then he looked around and frowned, whatever he was going to say becoming lost as he noticed the absence of one other.
“And I recall Lady Phoebe. We were to be wed.”
The Duke, Duchess, and Owen all fell silent.
Evan looked from one to the other with uncertainty. “What is it?” he paled. “Has she come to harm? Was it the scarlet fever returned? Has she perished?”
“No, it’s not that.”
An Immoral Dilemma For The Scandalous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance) Page 21