Healing the Captain's Heart: A Clean Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 2)

by Penny Fairbanks

  Chapter 2

  The flickering flames in the hearth did little to soothe Owen’s rattled mind. He was glad for the warmth, but every moment that passed in this unfamiliar drawing room only confirmed to Owen that he should not have come here with Davies.

  “Jessup, have a seat would you? Your twiddling thumbs and tapping feet are making me even more nervous,” Lieutenant Francis Davies called out to Owen from his chair. His hands covered his face, barely muffling his exasperation.

  Owen turned his back to the fire to face his friend. The heated raced up his thick coat which seemed to do woefully little to shield him against the freezing English winter. But it was not the coldest winter he’d known. Not by far.

  “Are you sure this was the best idea?” He did not take the empty chair next to Davies, choosing instead to pace back and forth before the fireplace.

  “Yes, I am sure of it,” Davies groaned, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows atop his knees. “There is no way she would have seen me if I wrote ahead. I doubt she would have even responded to a letter if I sent one. It feels wrong to catch her off guard like this, but I know she would refuse a meeting if she knew it was me.”

  “If you insist. Though it does feel rather like we’re sneaking up on an unawares deer during a hunt. How do you know she won’t bolt out of the room as soon as she takes a look at your unfortunate mug?”

  Owen smirked at Davies as he passed before the fireplace again. His friend did not truly have an unfortunate mug, but often being compared as the two handsomest in their regiment, jokes against each other’s faces were a staple of their friendship.

  “I don’t know that. But I can hope that she will at least grant me a few minutes to hear me out. Goodness gracious, man, will you sit down? You’re driving me near insane with all your pacing. What have you to be nervous for? You are not the one trying to win back your sister.” Davies’s frustration at his friend’s agitated behavior propelled him out of his own seat. He stood with his fists on his hips, glaring at Owen.

  “You are right, but I can’t help feeling like an intruder. This is quite a personal mission, is it not? I still can’t see why you asked me to join you.”

  Owen continued to refuse the seat Davies desperately wished him to take. When Davies first asked him to journey out to the country to reconnect with his family, Owen had agreed without much resistance. Wintering in small towns around the countryside had grown tiresome, and the prospect of spending some time at a great estate was a very welcome change.

  And it had been Owen’s own idea, after all, that Davies should try to make amends since he saw how deeply his friend’s regrets tortured him each day.

  But Davies had failed to tell him that his long-lost sister did not know he was coming until they were packed into their carriage and on the road to Gatherford Park, home of the Baron of Neil.

  Knowing enough of his friend’s tumultuous past, Owen perfectly understood Davies’s desire to apologize to his estranged sister. And holding his own family dear to his heart—his father being an earl and his mother a supremely patient woman to wrangle himself and his two equally high-spirited older brothers—Owen appreciated just how precious their time on this earth was.

  He had known many, many good young men who had longed for their families every day but never returned.

  Despite all that, Owen felt out of place in this unfamiliar drawing room, in this unfamiliar home, waiting for an unfamiliar woman who in truth was little more than a stranger even to Davies.

  “Gentlemen.” The deep voice of Lord Neil echoed into the large, quiet room and his serious face soon followed. “Miss Davies will be down shortly after she is finished attending Her Ladyship. Shall I have coffee or tea brought up?”

  “Yes, my lord, tea would be much appreciated.” Davies nodded enthusiastically as he walked to stand by Owen. Lord Neil gave a tight-lipped smile before leaving to inform the servants of their request.

  “Do you think he is simply surprised that we’ve called at this unusual hour or does he already dislike us for some reason?” Owen whispered to Davies, leaning toward his shorter friend so that no one passing by in the hall might hear.

  Owen continued to watch the door of the drawing room, puzzling over the somber master of the house. Davies failed to answer and Owen turned to face his friend. “Davies? Did you not hear me?”

  Davies too stared at the door with round hazel eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He looked nearly as ashen as when they’d set foot on the ship that carried them to the Continent.

  “Davies? Is anyone home in there?” Owen stepped before his friend to block his view of the door and waved a hand before his blank eyes.

  The lieutenant started and focused his gaze on Owen’s face, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with a nervous swallow. “Yes, indeed, Lord Neil is an unusual fellow,” he mumbled, giving his head a slight shake as he returned to the moment.

  “That is not what I asked, but I suppose you are correct. Though he does not seem unkind. Perhaps just reserved. But what ails you, friend? I haven’t seen such a look on your face in over a year. This isn’t a battle, you know.”

  Owen put a hand on Davies’s shoulder and gently steered him back toward the chair near the fire. With just a slight pressure of Owen’s hand, Davies sank into the chair. He ran a hand through his messy black hair.

  “It may not seem like a battle to you, but the anxiety coursing through my veins feels far too similar for my liking. Perhaps in a way it is like a battle. I’m fighting for forgiveness. In truth, I hadn’t expected to make it this far in my quest. What shall I do when she sees me? What will I say?”

  The distress in his voice surprised Owen. He knew this was important to his friend, but he hadn’t registered just how important it truly was. Perhaps Davies had sought to keep his expectations in check by speaking of it only briefly when he spoke of it at all.

  Owen took the seat next to Davies and leaned forward, looking his friend earnestly in the eye. “Be yourself. The self you have become. Say what is in your heart. We can’t know if she will accept your words, or if she will even stay long enough to listen. But, regardless of what happens next, you can at least be satisfied that you made the attempt.”

  Davies took a deep breath and smiled weakly. Owen could see him trying to fortify himself from the outside in. He clapped Davies on the knee at the same moment a footman entered the room with a tray of tea. Despite being a battle-hardened, fearless lieutenant, the man jumped in his seat at the interruption.

  Owen took it upon himself to serve the tea, not trusting the steadiness of Davies’s hands and securing them a few more moments of privacy. His friend’s eyes continued to dart to the door and then back to the elegant surroundings in the room. The wait looked like it would kill him long before any possible confrontation with his sister would.

  A pit of guilt opened in Owen’s stomach. Seeing one of his dearest friends’ nerves during this important moment reminded him of his own lucky family situation and that he would likely never be in such a position himself.

  He knew Davies had grown into a fine man during their years of service—far from the haughty, nearly insufferable weasel he’d been when they first met as green soldiers. He had watched it happen before his very eyes. War rarely left any man the same by the end as when he started—in some fashion or another.

  And Owen knew how much Davies’s past mistakes haunted him. He wished for his friend’s sake that today’s outcome would be a step toward putting those demons to rest. Davies had gone above and beyond to assist Owen during their time on the battlefield, and they remained fast friends in the year since the war ended. The least Owen could do was offer his support.

  They sipped their tea quietly for several minutes, Davies’s foot tapping faster and faster as the time ticked by. Owen opened his mouth to offer a word of encouragement when the soft sound of footsteps entering the room caused them both to jump and turn toward the door.

  She had only taken a fe
w steps into the room when she halted, her dark gray skirts swishing about her feet.

  Large green eyes stared at the men in shock, her small mouth falling open slightly. Her pale skin went paler still, offering a pleasing contrast to her shining dark brown hair pulled back into a modest bun.

  Owen stared back, immediately struck by her pretty features, perfectly blended on her heart shaped face. But if Owen knew anything of his fellow humans, he could see that this young lady was far from pleased. Though she remained composed, a ripple of anger passed through her eyes, their striking green color almost flashing in the firelight.

  “Violet!” After his own moment of surprise, Davies jumped up from his seat, nearly tripping over himself with his heavy boots in the process. “I’m so very glad you came.”

  He stepped forward tentatively. She stepped back.

  “If I had known it was you, I’m not sure I would have come.” Miss Davies’s voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the harsh resentment in it. “Why are you here?”

  “Please, Violet, if you can just give me a few minutes of your time.... I can’t say I’ll be able to explain, because there’s no way to explain away my actions. But I would like to apologize.” Davies’s voice faltered as he took another hesitant step closer to his sister.

  This time Miss Davies did not step back. She stood firmly in her spot, her chin jutting forward. She glared at her brother, though Owen swore he saw her eyes briefly dart to him. “I see now. You did not write ahead because you knew I would likely deny you. Another clever deceit.”

  Even Owen shuddered at the coldness in the young woman’s voice. He was suddenly very glad to be here with Davies, and not just to offer his support during this quickly deteriorating situation.

  All the same, he had to admire the elegant and determined air Miss Davies maintained in the face of shock—as well as her flashing eyes.

  “Please,” Davies pleaded again. “I know you have every right to throw me out of this house at once. I would not blame you at all if you did. But I must beg you to hear me out, even just for five minutes. If what I say cannot change your mind, you are free to go and I will bother you no more.”

  Miss Davies’s lips pursed together in a tight line but again she did not back down. She stared at her brother, seeming to carefully observe him and calculate whether a five-minute conversation could make it worthwhile to relive years of damage.

  Despite the palpable tension in the room, Owen could not help admiring Miss Davies’s resolve. Of course he agreed with his friend’s statement. The lieutenant had played his own ignoble role in the tragic, sordid past of the Davies family.

  But Owen knew Davies had changed for the better. He could see in Miss Davies’s eyes that she was trying to read her brother to determine for herself if such a change had indeed occurred. From what Davies had told him, even he had been surprised that that vile young man had turned into the brave and honorable lieutenant he now knew.

  “Consider yourself lucky. It is not within my powers to throw you out. Only my master or mistress can do that. But I will hear you. For five minutes. I must ask my mistress first for a brief respite from my duties.”

  Without further ado, the young lady turned abruptly and slipped through the drawing room door. Owen watched her turn down the hall, his eyes glued to her form until the last possible second when she escaped from view entirely.

  “Thank God...” Davies sighed with relief and returned to his seat. His strong legs seemed unable to support him any longer.

  The sound disturbed Owen’s trance and he rejoined his friend in his own plush chair. “What was your sister saying about her master and mistress?”

  “Did I not mention?” Davies looked curiously at Owen. “I discovered in my long search that she is a lady’s maid here to Lady Neil. Though she also served Lady Neil for many years before her marriage to the baron. But thank God she has agreed to speak with me! I’ve often wondered what I might say if I found myself in this moment, but I must choose the best parts to suit the timeframe. I only hope I can convey my heart’s deepest regrets in so short a time.”

  Davies’s fingers tangled and untangled themselves in his anxiety and he bit down on his lip as his eyes stared into the distance, his mind no doubt working out the best way to move forward.

  The corners of Owen’s mouth turned down in an annoyed frown. “No, you had not mentioned that. Yet another important detail you’ve neglected. But I suppose it does make sense as to how she came to live in such a place. For all your acuity in battle plans and remembering the minutest detail of formations, your memory is quite terrible.”

  But his friend seemed not to hear him, embroiled in planning how much he could say in such a short period.

  To Davies’s obvious relief, they did not have to wait long. But the person who entered the room was not who they expected. Miss Davies had not returned. Instead, a tall, exceedingly graceful woman with neatly styled blonde hair—and clearly with child—strode across the thick carpet toward the seated men. The baron followed behind her.

  Owen and Davies both stood quickly and bowed to the lady. She curtsied in response, eyeing them both carefully with perceptive blue eyes.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. I am Lady Neil. I understand you have business with Miss Davies. My husband and I would be delighted if you could join us for breakfast. Miss Davies will join us as well. Afterwards you might have a private word with her. This will give us an excellent opportunity to get acquainted—or reacquainted in some cases.”

  She smiled politely and spoke with impeccable manners, but Owen sensed that her guard was up against these two strange men who so unexpectedly turned up at her doorstep so early in the morning, seeking an audience with her maid, no less. Lord Neil did not speak but simply watched the exchange, an air of uneasiness about him.

  “Of course, we would be delighted as well!” Davies enthusiastically accepted the invitation.

  “Excellent. Follow me to the breakfast room.” Lady Neil took a few steps forward with the men in tow before pausing and turning back to her guests. “I apologize, but I don’t believe we’ve learned your names yet. Due to the unusual circumstances.”

  “Lieutenant Francis Davies, my lady.” Davies bowed his head as he properly introduced himself and Owen quickly followed suit.

  “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am Captain Owen Jessup.”

  Just as Owen suspected, breakfast was an exceedingly awkward affair for numerous reasons.

  The tension between Miss Davies and her brother could not be denied. Though they sat across from each other, neither seemed comfortable making prolonged eye contact with the other. Miss Davies seemed particularly engrossed in carefully cutting her ham into miniscule pieces while her brother accepted heaps of helpings and put them into his mouth too quickly to have much time for looking anywhere else but his plate. Nor did they speak directly to each other, preferring to allow Lady Neil to ask pleasant generalized questions on their behalf.

  But the tension did not end with the Davies siblings. Lord and Lady Neil were both extremely attentive to their guests, with Lady Neil seeing to the majority of the verbal duties necessitated by a breakfast joined by visitors. But Owen did not miss the way Lord Neil curiously observed Davies and his sister—and occasionally Owen himself when he happened to glance up at the head of the table.

  And of course there was yet another layer to the tension, though this layer likely only concerned Owen.

  He simply could not remove his eyes from Miss Davies. After their long ride to Gatherford Park—passing through the nearby town without so much as a break for a refreshing drink—Owen felt that he should be ravenous. Yet his food held little interest for him. Not when a beautiful young lady sat on the other side of the table.

  Owen hoped his observations were subtle enough. He kept his gaze down, viewing her from the corner of his eyes. The longer breakfast went on, the more Owen found Miss Davies’s manners to be very intriguing.

  The maid looked u
ncomfortable at such a grand table and Owen sensed that she felt very out of place dining with her master and mistress.

  But still she held herself with as much grace as she could muster with so many pairs of eyes upon her. She glanced continually to her mistress and tried to match the long elegance of her neck and her delicate handling of the silverware.

  No doubt Miss Davies knew that her every action, even in this unorthodox situation, would reflect upon the woman she served.

  Owen admired Miss Davies’s dedication to make herself worthy of her spot at this table, no matter how singular the experience might be.

  She answered all of Lady Neil’s questions with the utmost politeness and an exceptional way with words. The maid was very well spoken, even for a servant of the highest degree. The remnants of her upbringing were still evident in her all her manners.

  Because Owen’s attentions was so fixed on Miss Davies, he certainly noticed the many cautious glances she sent his way. She surely wondered who he might be to her brother and how he came to accompany Davies. She had only looked to him once or twice in the drawing room and hadn’t said a proper word to him since her first appearance.

  Naturally, Owen knew that her focus must be on her brother’s sudden reappearance in her life. Her brother’s strange friend was simply another oddity amidst the real event. His eyes met hers only a few times through all of breakfast, when their sideways looks happened to be well timed, but she always quickly returned her gaze to her food.

  Owen found himself wishing that she would look at him just for a moment longer, so he could take note of the shades of green in her eyes, so he could understand the many thoughts running behind them. For in his stolen observations, Owen felt certain that Miss Davies possessed a sharp intelligence that she employed at every second to make her own observations of her brother and Owen himself.