And yet here she was, sitting in a carriage out the front of Follett House late in the evening, busily wringing her hands and trying to screw her courage to the sticking place. To give Owen, though he most certainly didn’t deserve it, one last chance to come clean and tell her the truth. That he had a fiancée waiting in the wings.
Colin reached over and took a hold of her hand. “Are you sure you want to do this, to open yourself up to more heartbreak? He is a consummate liar. He only tells the truth when it suits him, or he has no other option.”
Amy nodded. “Yes. I know he doesn’t deserve any more chances from me, but I have to know in the depths of my soul that I gave him every opportunity to tell me the truth. You saw how he was when he caught me with Antonio—he was half-crazed with rage. I need the comfort of knowing that when the time does come for him to discover who I am, I will be able to look him in the eye. To have him realize that the pain he is feeling comes as a result of his duplicity and inability to really love someone.”
Amy was also hoping that this last opportunity with Owen would help to alleviate some of her guilt. She had used Antonio. She had made kind, sweet Colin, a party to her underhanded scheme. Worst of all, she had never been fully honest with Owen. Their relationship had been based on lies from both of them.
Colin alighted from the carriage and Amy watched as he climbed the front steps of Follett House and knocked on the door. He returned a few minutes later, a small piece of paper in his hand. He handed it to Amy.
“I spoke to Lord Follett’s sister, Lady Eliza. I told her I was Mrs. William Smith’s cousin and that I had a message for Lord Morrison. She didn’t appear to recognize the name, so I would suggest Owen has been keeping your supposed affair secret.”
“Good, though if I was really a wife looking to stray, I am not sure he is someone with whom I would trust my reputation. There were a lot of tongues wagging at the party after he took to Antonio with his fists,” replied Amy.
She pushed away the thought of that night and the shocking violence.
“I take it Owen was not at home?”
“The Noble Lords are rehearsing at the Sans Pareil theatre on the Strand tonight. It is where they are hosting the Waterloo charity concert. Owen left for the theatre an hour ago,” said Colin.
“Let’s go to the theatre. I need to speak to him. I need to see him one last time. I have to know I gave our love every chance,” replied Amy.
She had promised herself she would not fall in love with Owen, but it hadn’t taken Amy long to realize the futility of that promise. If she walked away from Owen tonight, it would shatter her heart into a thousand pieces.
Owen was doing his best to concentrate on the rehearsals, but Callum had arrived drunk and was being difficult with just about everything. Even the normally patient Lavinia had lost her temper with him, after which Reid had suggested that his new bride should go home.
As soon as Lavinia had disappeared out the main door, Reid turned on Callum.
“You are a fucking arsehole. How dare you speak to my wife like that! You expect her to treat you with respect, and yet you are not capable of speaking in a civilized manner to her.”
Owen and Kendal sat silently while Reid gave Callum the bollocking he so richly deserved. While Reid and Lavinia were now married, Eliza was still officially in charge of Follett House.
When a red-faced Reid was finally finished, Kendal put an arm around his shoulder. “Come for a walk outside and bring your temper back under control. You still have to get through the rest of the song tonight before we leave. You cannot allow him to get the better of you.”
Callum shot Kendal a withering glare but remained silent.
Reid sighed. “I just want to throttle him. Then my rage will cool.”
Reid let Kendal lead him down from the stage and they headed toward the foyer, following the same path that Lavinia had trod a few minutes earlier.
Callum pulled his hip flask from his jacket and took a sip. He offered it to Owen, who frowned.
“Are you serious? Did you hear anything Reid just said to you?”
Callum threw the flask down onto the wooden floor of the stage where it landed with a loud bang.
“I can take Reid standing in judgement of me. I could even accept the same from Kendal, but not from you. Not from a man who so openly flaunts his libertine ways,” said Callum.
Owen huffed. They had all played the field when it came to married women; none of them had a right to call the other out for their behavior.
“Huff and puff all you like, but you and I both know that you are a fucking liar. You have another man’s wife in the palm of your hand while at the same time you are about to be married,” sneered Callum.
“I wasn’t aware that you knew about Diana. But what has that to do with anything?” bit back Owen.
“This is a young wife whose husband has all but abandoned her, and yet you are quite content to lead her on. I don’t expect you have bothered to inform her that you have a fiancée in Lady Amelia Perry, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.” He had seriously considered it. He had thought to try and tell her following the birthday party performance, but after he had beaten Antonio Calvino to a bloody pulp in front of her, Diana had not responded to his written entreaties.
“Tell me if I have this straight? You told this poor woman that you love her, but at the same time failed to reveal that you were planning on marrying someone else. And I am considered a blackguard? You, Earl Morrison, are a low piece of shit who cares nothing for either of these women.”
Owen set his violin down on the chair and began to pace back and forth across the stage. When he got back to where Callum was slumped in his chair, he stopped.
“If Diana loves me then she will come to accept that the Morrison family line has to continue. As for Lady Amelia Perry, well, she is a means to an end, nothing more. I honestly couldn’t care less about the chit.” Owen did feel bad at times when he thought about Lady Amelia, but he wasn’t going to give an inch to Callum. This argument was making him say things he wished he didn’t.
“The fact that you care nothing for your future bride is a good thing for her. But just you remember that when she goes looking for love in other places. If the assault on Antonio Calvino is anything to go by, we will all be watching with bated breath the first time another man makes an attempt to seduce your wife,” said Callum.
Owen speared his fingers through his hair.
“No one will be trying to bed my wife. I won’t let them,” he replied. The tide of his anger was rising by the minute.
Callum struggled to his feet, then with a long, slow groan, bent, and picked up the hip flask. His glazed eyes met Owen’s. “What? So, you are going to fight every man in London who so much as looks at your bride? I hope you liked the smell of Newgate Prison because you are probably going to be spending a lot of time there.”
Owen hated the fact that Callum, while drunk, was still making clear and rational sense. It wasn’t possible for him to spend the rest of his life fighting other men in order to keep them away from his wife.
Callum staggered over to Owen. The look of sadness on his face pulled Owen up short. “Please listen to me when I tell you that if you truly love Diana, you will go and tell her that you have a fiancée. You will give her the choice of deciding whether her love for you is strong enough for her to agree to be your mistress. If you don’t your love will not survive.”
“I may have to wait until after I am married, but I will tell her.”
“What difference will it make waiting until after you are married?” pressed Callum.
Owen gritted his teeth; Callum had him backed into a corner. Foolish words of bravado were the only things that would shut Callum up, words that Owen knew to be bitter lies even as he spoke them. “Because once I am married, I shall have Lady Amelia’s dowry at my disposal. Hopefully I will be able to offer Diana enough jewels and tokens of my love to keep her satisfied.”
�
�You mean keep her quiet.”
Owen closed his eyes and shook his head. It would take more than Lady Amelia’s money to keep Diana’s love.
Colin reached for Amy. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. From where they had been standing just out of view of the stage in the main doorway of the theatre, they had heard the whole ugly conversation between Owen and Callum.
“Come on. Let’s go home,” said Colin.
Amy raised the hood of her cloak and covered her face.
They made their way out to the foyer of the theatre, narrowly managing to avoid Kendal and Reid as they walked inside.
Outside in the carriage, Colin threw a warm blanket over Amy’s lap and held her close.
“Tomorrow morning, we leave for Rickmansworth, and this whole sordid mess will all be over,” he said.
For Amy, the tears wouldn’t come. But she was certain that the pain she felt in her chest was her heart breaking. Owen had no intention of telling his secret lover that he was going to be married until after the fact. Then he intended to use his new wife’s dowry to buy Diana Smith’s ongoing silence.
There could be no doubt as to his plans for both his wife and his mistress. Amy had heard the words from Owen’s lips. How could the man who had spoken such sweet words of love to her be so cold and heartless? The answer lay in the words he had just spoken.
Because his love was a lie.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The noise of the crowd’s cheers and applause rang in Owen’s ears long after the charity concert at the Sans Pareil had ended. Every ticket for the show had been sold; even the Prince Regent had attended.
A private audience with his royal highness after the show had seen the Noble Lords commanded to perform more of the same concert. Four shows in London, one in Liverpool and one in Manchester. The Noble Lords were going on tour.
“What a night,” said a beaming Kendal.
The Noble Lords had played to perfection, but it had been Reid who had stolen the show. His voice had reached high into the ceiling of the theatre. He might not sing like an angel as Marco did, but he had come close.
“I am proud of you, Reid; you showed us all what dedication and determination can achieve,” said Owen.
Reid held Lavinia in his arms while his bride smiled lovingly at him. They made a great couple; Reid had chosen the perfect woman with whom to fall in love. Owen was glad for them. He could also admit to being a tiny bit jealous. Reid and Lavinia had both been free to make their choices when it came to love, and their path to marriage had been a smooth one. His own love life was a mess, but still, he couldn’t begrudge them their happiness.
“Thank you. It will take more dedication for us to pull an extra six shows off. I am going to have to do a lot of begging to get Eliza to help organize the Noble Lords tour,” Reid replied.
Lavinia rose up on her toes and placed a tender kiss on her husband’s lips. “She will have my help. I am sure between the two of us we can manage to organize the four of you.”
Reid screwed up his face. “Actually, the prince wants more acts than just us. We will have to start auditioning singers, dancers and variety acts as soon as possible.”
“Well then, I shall need to pressgang some of the Noble Lords into helping me get more performers. And since all of you look like you will be staying on at Follett House for the foreseeable future, I should have no trouble in getting you to volunteer,” replied Lavinia.
Owen wasn’t actually jumping for joy at the prospect of six more concerts, but with the tour looming he at least had a little more time before he had to go and make his introductions to Lady Amelia Perry. Time he also desperately needed to run Diana to ground and get her to take him back.
After stepping out of the theatre a short while later and bidding farewell to the others, Owen hailed a hack. Another night of haunting the ballrooms and private suppers of London society loomed ahead. As suddenly as she had appeared on the social scene, Diana Smith had now disappeared. No one had seen hide nor hair of her, but Owen was not about to give up.
“My love, wherever you are, I will find you.”
Chapter Forty
Ten Days Later
The axe falls
* * *
Owen stood out the front of Earl Perry’s townhouse, sucking in deep breathes. Reid had tried to teach him how to breath from his stomach to calm his nerves, but nothing would still the strong thump of his heart.
His plans to hold off this moment had been torn up the previous day by his father. The Marquess of Lowe informed his wayward son that Lady Amelia Perry was now in London and awaiting her fiancé. Owen was out of time.
Just smile and get through this first meeting, then you can go and get drunk.
A matter of minutes from now, he would be meeting his fiancée for the first time. He dreaded that moment, wondering how he could school his features into a socially acceptable smile while not showing any sign of disappointment. Christ, I hope she has half a brain in her head.
An intelligent wife could make up for a lot of other shortcomings. If she was well-read and educated, then at least their children would have a good start in life.
He took another deep breath. It was all becoming too real. If he married Lady Amelia soon, there was every chance that a year from now, one of those children would arrive. He would be a father.
But even as he pondered his future, it was the memory of Diana that kept coming back to him. The woman who had stolen his heart. Every morning he woke in the hope that he wasn’t still in love with her, but every night he went to bed knowing that she was the only woman he would ever want.
He was about to marry Lady Amelia, yet all he could think about was the woman he intended to betray her with—the woman he yearned to call his own. The thought of being unfaithful to his own wife was now a cold, hard reality. Owen was surprised at how uncomfortable that made him feel.
He stepped back from the front steps and tried to bring his nerves under control. He felt nauseous. He had been full of puff and bluster over his fiancée while she was far away and unknown to him. But somewhere in the house, was a young woman likely as nervous as him.
Lady Amelia Perry was about to become all too real in Owen Morrison’s life.
You have to do it. Father has sacrificed so much for you and the family.
With one last deep breath, he straightened his spine and marched up the front steps of Perry House. He would do what he had to and make his father proud.
Amy checked her gown in the mirror. It was the fifth time she had done so in the past half hour. Her hair was immaculate, swept up into a soft chignon with a single curl hanging either side of her face.
She looked down at her hands. There was nothing she could do to stop them shaking. She clasped them together.
“Just remember what he said at the theatre. He cares nothing for you,” she whispered.
A knock at her bedroom door signaled the arrival of Colin. He came to her and pulled her into a brotherly hug. Amy screwed her eyes shut. She had vowed that she would not cry, but even now she knew there was little chance of her keeping that promise.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Let’s get this over with, and then you can take me to Gunter’s Tea Shop for some of those little icing-sugar drops. I think I shall need a dozen or so of them.”
They made their way to the formal drawing room where she had been informed that Lord Owen Morrison was waiting. At the door, she let go of Colin’s arm.
“Thank you, Colin, but as I told Papa, I need to do this on my own.”
Owen thought it odd that Lord Perry had not been waiting to greet him upon his arrival. Instead, he had been shown upstairs by the butler and then left on his own to await the arrival of Lady Amelia.
As the door of the drawing room opened, he got to his feet and forced a smile to his lips. It has to be done.
His gaze took in the swirl of pale green skirts as Amy stepped into the room. His smile died the ins
tant his eyes met hers. Two pools of cold, hard anger stared back at him.
“Diana?” What the devil was she doing in Lord Perry’s house?
“Actually, my name is Lady Amelia Perry.”
What? He shook his head. This made no sense. “But . . .”
He looked at Amy as the cold, bitter realization that this made perfect sense slowly settled in Owen’s mind.
She slowly tucked one of the long curls behind her ear, all the while holding his gaze with her no-nonsense glare. “Mrs. William Smith—Diana—does not exist. She never did. There is no husband in Stockholm. No puritanical Smith family. Only me, and a lie that was set to capture a rat.”
“I . . . I don’t understand,” he stammered.
She snorted. “I don’t expect you do, Owen. So, let me provide you with some illumination, shall I? I came to London a number of weeks ago to get the measure of my fiancé. To discover what sort of man he really was. I realized quickly that in order to do so, it would take some deception on my part, and thus Diana Smith was born.”
Diana was Amelia. His mistress was his fiancée.
Fu . . . Owen’s brain was so rattled that he couldn’t even manage to swear properly.
“It didn’t take too long for me to discover that you are a rake of the worst kind. That you fully intended to make Diana your mistress and keep her after we had wed,” she continued.
Owen’s brain suddenly kicked back in. “But you are Diana. So, isn’t this good news? I mean, I fell in love with my fiancée. Granted I was not aware of your identity at the time, but the outcome is the same.”
One and one usually made two, but in this case, it made one. And, to Owen’s way of thinking, that was not a bad thing. Whether Amelia was Diana or not, she was still the woman he loved. The woman he was now most keen to marry.
Owen: Regency Rockstars Page 19