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

by Penny Fairbanks

  She waited patiently for Owen to gather himself and he finally found the strength to push his pride away and say the words burning in his heart.

  “Lady Neil, I know this is a rather unorthodox request, but I wondered if I could perhaps steal Miss Davies away from you for just a couple hours this afternoon or next or whenever you think best. I thought I might take her for a carriage ride.”

  The words rushed out in one breath. He swallowed as he watched her blue eyes read his face and absorb his words. Her face was blank for a moment and Owen feared he had indeed made a fool of himself or offended his hostess.

  But a surprising smile flashed across her face as she answered, “Yes, Captain Jessup, I think that will be splendid. I shall clear Violet of her afternoon duties. It is too lovely a day not to take advantage.”

  Now Owen felt like a pleased little boy whose governess had indulged him and given over the dearly desired treat. His body hummed with excitement as he walked Lady Neil to the table. He could barely keep his grin at bay throughout breakfast.

  The sheer volume and intensity of his excitement surprised Owen. Perhaps he had not realized how badly he wished for his request to be granted until it had been. What had started as a simple idea for a carriage ride around the grounds had transformed into an event of grand anticipation.

  Owen did not know how he would wait until the afternoon for their ride. He should have asked Lady Neil if he could take her this very moment. But he knew it best not to interrupt her busy morning. Owen had gotten what he wanted and he would have to be happy with it for now.

  His reservations about his entire situation with Miss Davies melted to the back of his mind. For now, he would relish this feeling of eagerness. But those persistent reservations did not disappear entirely. They continued to prod at him from time to time out of the corner he’d temporarily banished them to.

  Beneath his happiness, Owen knew that this was only one small victory in a war he was bound to lose.

  Owen knocked on the door of the saloon. It was nearly the appointed hour.

  A muffled “Yes?” signaled Owen to enter. Just as he’d expected, he found the lieutenant seated in his wheelchair. By his side sat Miss Davies.

  “Ah, Miss Davies. What might you be doing here at this hour?” Owen asked, feigning curiosity. He knew very well why she was there.

  The maid bristled at the question and Owen bit his lip for being insensitive. He hadn’t meant to imply that she had abandoned her duties. He hoped this would not cast a shadow over the rest of their day together.

  “Lady Neil has kindly given me the afternoon off, though she did not say why. I thought I could still put myself to good use and attend to my brother.”

  Miss Davies floated around the lieutenant, eyeing every inch of his chair and even brushing off some imperceptible dust from his shoulders.

  “As it so happens, I took the advice you gave me this morning, Miss Davies. I had breakfast with Lord and Lady Neil and asked your mistress if you might have some time off this afternoon for that carriage ride I suggested.” Owen could hear the smile in his own voice but he tried to steady himself and mask his eagerness.

  Miss Davies’s head snapped around to stare at Owen. Her green eyes were wide and her mouth slightly ajar. He knew in an instant that she had not thought he would actually trouble the baroness with his request.

  “T-That is very generous of you, captain, but I really think I should remain nearby. Lady Neil needs—” Miss Davies began to protest, her eyes darting about the room for an escape.

  “Hush now, Violet.” The lieutenant interrupted his sister with a chuckle. “If Lady Neil did not think it prudent to allow you out for a short while today surely she would have said so. Besides, this house is packed to the gills with staff. They can help Her Ladyship if needed and of course she has His Lordship to rely on as well.”

  Miss Davies flushed at her brother’s insistence. She looked down at her hands, wringing the fabric of her skirt, in time for Davies to flash a knowing look and wink at Owen.

  Owen scowled in response. Perhaps he should have pulled Miss Davies aside for a quiet word instead of announcing their outing in front of her brother—who had clearly already expressed interest in a possible match between the two. No doubt this would only fuel his fire and Owen knew he would be bombarded with questions later.

  “Very well...” Miss Davies finally agreed after a moment of uncertainty. “But I shall instruct one of the footmen to come for me should anything happen to Lady Neil. There may be many servants in this house, but none of them know Her Ladyship like I do...” The firmness in her voice when she spoke of commanding the footmen trailed away into an almost self-conscious admittance.

  Owen quickly stepped forward and reached out a hand as if to touch her but he stopped himself short. Instead he said, “And no one would suggest otherwise. You are clearly invaluable to your mistress. But I am sure she will be fine as we will not be gone long. And if it would put you at ease, we will make our exact route known to the footmen.”

  Miss Davies nodded, fixing Owen with a serious stare. He knew how much Lady Neil’s health and safety meant to her and he would not fall short of his promise to ensure everyone in the household remained on high alert while they were away and knew where to find them.

  “Let us wrap ourselves snugly and meet in the foyer in a few minutes,” Owen declared.

  A strange fluttering sensation overcame Owen’s heart when he saw Miss Davies’s shy smile and the hint of excitement in her eyes. It may have been hard to tear her away from her work, but that look alone was worth the struggle to Owen.

  Owen left the room and took the steps up to the guest wing two at a time. He quickly pulled on his winter coat and gloves and rushed back downstairs but slowed to a stop when he saw his companions.

  “Will you be joining us, Davies?” Owen asked his friend. He clearly looked dressed for an outdoor trek.

  “Yes, Violet asked that I come along. But this charming gentleman will push me behind the carriage. It’s been some days since I’ve properly been outside and a little fresh air will do me good.” Davies waved to the footman at his side and slipped on his gloves.

  “Excellent.” Owen nodded stiffly. He hadn’t expected his friend to tag along. He'd only planned on himself and Miss Davies with a footman. But no matter. He had gotten this far in his plan to share a simple conversation with Miss Davies. Her brother would not spoil that because there was nothing to spoil, Owen reminded himself.

  He turned his attention to Miss Davies. She looked very smart in her winter outfit. He held out his arm to her and she took it with a small smile.

  The carriage already waited for them and Owen gripped Miss Davies’s fingers as he helped her up onto the seat. Even with both their gloves between them, that same flutter of the heart afflicted Owen once again. He swallowed his nerves down and went around to his side of the carriage, taking the reins from the stable hand.

  As Owen had predicted that morning, the day had become even finer. It was cold, but with their layers of clothing and the sunshine beaming down on them, Owen found he did not mind it.

  Of course, having Miss Davies seated next to him certainly helped. She radiated warmth, whether physical or emotional. And his heart pumped fast enough to keep his body heated.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to relax now that they were on their path. She looked out at the scenery, her observant eyes absorbing and appreciating everything.

  Owen too cast his gaze over the grounds. He had to admit that the patches of melted snow and the way the sun glinted off the soft white, creating sparkling diamonds in his vision, had a certain charm to it. Even the trees with their shivering and naked branches looked stately and imposing.

  In truth, the grounds were beautiful, even in the winter when the landscape drowsed beneath blankets of snow. He couldn’t help noticing it when he saw the world as he imagined Miss Davies saw it.

  “How was Lady Neil this morning?
It seemed quite an urgent summons,” Owen inquired, keeping his gaze forward over the horse’s head. He asked out of genuine curiosity, not to bring back that unpleasant moment. He hoped Miss Davies wouldn’t interpret the question as jab at her.

  “It wasn’t as urgent as I thought,” the maid admitted. “She needed help getting out of bed and wanted to go on a walk. Her condition makes every day more challenging. I just fear that every ring of the bell could mean something more serious than a need for tea or a curl that’s come loose.”

  Now Owen glanced down at her and he saw the worry in her expression, brows drawn together and a slight frown pulling her plump lips down at the corners. He felt guilty for a moment for pulling Miss Davies away from her sacred duty. Surely she worried about it even now.

  But when an unexpected trill of birdsong caused her to look up into the sky with wonder and curiosity, searching for the creature who dared brave the cold to sing for them, Owen felt justified in his decision. Lady Neil needed her, no doubt, but Miss Davies also deserved some time for herself, especially out of doors. He guessed that before her brother’s arrival, Miss Davies only had an opportunity to go outside when her work made it necessary.

  The sun bathed her face in a soft glow as she continued to search the skies and Owen thought it a terrible shame that the sun was deprived of her.

  “What a pretty little song. I wonder where that bird could have come from. I hope it gets home to its warm nest soon.” Miss Davies smiled as she gave one last curious look to the sky.

  Owen kept the conversation to nature, asking Miss Davies about her favorite creatures and favorite flowers, if she ever walked by the pond in warmer weather, what sorts of fruits and vegetables they were able to grow here.

  Miss Davies had an answer for each of Owen’s queries, given with confidence and little hesitation. She loved many animals, but small soft rabbits were her particular favorite. She thought it might be nice to keep one as a pet. Every flower was beautiful but she preferred tulips above all else. She insisted that the pond was excellent for walking as a variety of fish and birds and other wildlife could be seen from its banks. The gardeners grew all manner of fruits and vegetables. The baron had long been a favorite of his country neighbors due to his luxurious gifts of various fruits.

  Owen marveled at her wealth of knowledge about the estate though she was only a recent resident and he enjoyed hearing her opinion on every topic they happened upon.

  A swift breeze blew past them, bringing along with it a biting chill. Owen shuddered as the wind hit his exposed face but the red in his cheeks produced by the cold was quickly replaced by a different kind of blush.

  Miss Davies huddled a little closer to Owen’s side, her shoulders tucked up by her ears to shield herself from the breeze. Whether she did this consciously or unconsciously Owen could not guess. Either way he found himself warmed to his core. He glanced down to see just the top of her bonnet as she continued to press her arm to his, keeping her head lowered.

  The corner of Owen’s mouth pulled up as he took in the sight and the sensations running through him, from the firmness of her presence next to him, to the heat he received from her proximity, to the gentle humming that radiated through his chest. In short, he felt utterly content.

  Miss Davies sat up, creating distance between them again. Owen quickly looked forward, training his gaze on the path ahead.

  “Which poets are you fond of these days, Miss Davies? I must admit I do not spend much time on poetry but I have read some works by that popular yet scandalous Lord Byron fellow and I enjoyed those.”

  Owen was nervous to approach the subject of poetry with an actual poet. In truth, he’d taken advantage of Lord Neil’s library since their unexpected return to Gatherford Park. Taking Lord Neil’s recommendations into account, Owen began reading poetry in earnest. At first he thought he was simply curious about the artform knowing Miss Davies’s strong attachment to it. He wanted to see if he could understand what she saw in it.

  But over time, Owen found himself enjoying it. Not every poem or poet he read, but he found a select few that did not bore him to death. At times, when he sat in the library by the fire with a particularly interesting volume in his hands, he imagined conversations between himself and Miss Davies about the poem he’d just read.

  Even deeper than that, Owen realized as he sat nervously beside the maid awaiting her response, he hoped to impress her. He did not deny that he had always been more brawn than brain but something about Miss Davies encouraged him to improve his intellectual faculties. He did not wish to embarrass himself in front of such an intelligent and insightful woman.

  “I am very fond of Lord Byron’s writing,” Miss Davies agreed happily.

  Her whole countenance transformed into joy as she listed off her favorite poems by the famous writer and her favorite aspects of each. Owen found it difficult to keep up. He hadn’t read all of the man’s works yet and many of Miss Davies’s observations were a bit out of his reach.

  She seemed to understand meaning that did not exist explicitly on the page. In fact, some of her words mystified Owen, even when she spoke of poems he did know. He resolved to head straight to the library after their ride to reread them and try to see what Miss Davies saw.

  But for now Owen was more than happy to listen as the maid shared her thoughts with him. How could he not be happy to listen when she was clearly so thrilled to speak of her passion with someone who knew a little about it—even if it was very little—and who was willing to listen.

  The realization came like a bolt of lightning to Owen. Until now, Owen had been under the impression that Miss Davies’s interest in poetry was just that. Interest. But Owen now saw that this was false. It wasn’t merely interest. It was passion.

  He watched her as she spoke and saw the gleam in her eyes, their cool emerald green shifting into a fresh spring lawn swaying in the breeze, vibrant and alive. He saw the animated and eager smile that never left her lips as she spoke.

  When she paused to take a breath, Owen seized the moment to interject.

  “Have you given any thought to publishing your own poetry? I know Lord Neil has connections at a publishing house in London. I’m sure he could be of great help if you were interested in sharing your work with an audience.”

  A rosy tint spread across Miss Davies’s cheeks as she stared up at Owen with wide eyes. He felt a powerful urge to slide his gloved finger down her round cheek.

  “I’m afraid, Captain, that you have no way of knowing whether my poetry is worthy of being published. I can assure you it is likely best left for my eyes alone. Besides...” Her voice faded away, carried off by another stiff breeze. She looked down at her hands in her lap, her fingers pinching the edge of her coat.

  “Besides?” Owen encouraged gently. He wanted to know all her thoughts and he wanted her to feel comfortable sharing them.

  She looked at him again with a sad smile. “A maid shouldn’t be anything more than a maid. Can you imagine? A maid who publishes poetry? Even a maid writing poetry sounds ridiculous.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.” Owen’s voice was firm but gentle as his eyes locked onto hers. “Everyone has a right to their passions. Even a maid.”

  Miss Davies frowned slightly, but it was not a displeased frown. It was a thoughtful frown. Perhaps she had never considered that such a thing could be possible. But Owen knew it was possible, because he’d fought for it.

  It pained him to know that Miss Davies felt she could not partake in her right because of her station in life. It pained him to know that the same situation afflicted thousands of people all over England and even the world. It pained him to know that he could not change these facts of life for most people.

  But if he could change it for Miss Davies, he would.

  “I would love to read your poetry someday if you will allow me. I promise I do not expect perfection. Whether it be good or bad, I admire you greatly for trying at all. If the words come from your heart and mind then they w
ill be good enough for me.”

  Owen smiled at the young woman, hoping to ease her self-consciousness. He truly did not care if her poems were on par with Shakespeare or if they read like a child’s musings. He was not a well-read man by any means so his standards could be assumed to be low. But if her eloquent speech was any indication, Owen felt certain that Miss Davies’s works must be beautiful.

  Miss Davies only gave a small nod, the becoming blush returning to her face. Owen sensed her discomfort and he knew it would be best not to push the matter. He glanced over his shoulder to see that his friend had maintained a respectful distance. He seemed not to notice the pair in the carriage at all, happily chatting away with the longsuffering footman who pushed him along.

  Owen could not suppress his sly smirk. He turned his attention back to Miss Davies and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “Hold on tight.”

  He gripped the reins, the sound of leather against leather sending a thrill down his spine.

  “I beg your par—” Miss Davies started, a quizzical look on her face. But they were off before she could finish her question.

  She squealed as Owen brought the reins down on the horse’s haunches and the carriage jolted forward.

  The wheels rattled over the gravel path as the horse sped forward. One of Miss Davies’s arms threaded through Owen’s and gripped his sleeve while her other arm shot up to keep her bonnet in place.

  Those first few moments of speed were glorious. Owen had dearly missed flying over the rode on his horse or on the carriage box. The air was bitingly cold now as it raced past them in the opposite direction. Owen’s hat flew off and he heard the lieutenant shout after them.

  Just when Owen thought his exhilaration had achieved its maximum, a sudden peal of uninhibited laughter at his side sent a shock through his entire body.