“Yes, I’ll be right there,” Violet responded with as much professionalism as she could muster in this awkward moment. The footman nodded briskly and left the room.
“I’m so sorry, Owen, but I must go,” Violet apologized, fearing that she’d ruined their moment.
But Owen simply smiled understandingly. “There is nothing to apologize for. I understand you have your duties. Come find me again when you have a free moment. I’ll be waiting.”
Filled with relief, Violet quickly took his hand and pulled him down so she could plant a kiss on his cheek.
She hurried out of the room but turned just in time to see the captain rooted to his spot, eyes wide and a hand on his cheek where her lips had just been.
Violet floated down the hallway on clouds of bliss. For the first time she could remember, she hoped she would be finished with her duties soon.
Owen was waiting for her.
Chapter 12
Owen turned his horse back toward the path he had left behind some time ago on his morning ride, favoring the expansive grassy paddock.
He looked around at the landscape with its hills in the distance and well-kept copse of trees that would be green again in a few months' time.
It all looked so familiar, he realized. Owen did not know when he’d begun to feel so comfortable at Gatherford Park.
Despite the sunshine blazing in the sky melting away last night’s dusting of snow, Owen’s heart sank with each step that brought him closer to the grand house. The world seemed cold—colder than it usually seemed even to Owen.
As he guided the horse toward the stables at the back of the Neil family’s home, Owen craned his neck up to look at the many windows that adorned the walls. He wondered if Violet was behind one of them now. He wondered if she ever paused her work to look out the window for him.
Days had passed since their kiss in the drawing room. At first Owen accepted that Violet was busy. Even before that incident, he had hardly seen her. She was always running about for Lady Neil who needed extra assistance after delivering the baby.
But the hours passed and Violet had not come to look for him—and barely acknowledged him when they were in the same room as she brought tea or towels or came to take the baroness away for another change of dress.
He couldn’t help wondering if she perhaps avoided him for some reason. But he could not think why. She had seemed so happy when he’d kissed her. And she’d promised to come back to him. He had said that he would wait and still he waited.
Owen sighed as he dismounted and led his horse to the stables, waving away a groom who offered to take the reins from him.
He had no right to complain. In truth, despite their kiss and their reciprocal feelings, Owen knew he still had no claim on Violet’s attention.
Her time, of course, belonged to the Neil family first and foremost.
He knew he should not have put Violet in such a situation. They had nearly been caught by another servant which would have caused gossip among the servants, regardless of whether or not the situation had been contrived by her mistress to give them a moment alone.
But Violet devoted herself to her work so wholeheartedly. Just as Owen devoted himself to king and country. His mind understood that but his heart argued.
Perhaps all Owen had done was open them both up to complications.
Yet he could not bring himself to regret it. It had been too perfect. It had been too right.
As Owen brushed down his horse, he thought back to the few times he had managed to glimpse Violet. She had been busy working every time. He saw her rushing up the stairs with a small trinket that jingled as she went. He saw her in the library as he passed by, walking in circles beside Lady Neil and watching her like a hawk for any signs of discomfort. He saw her returning to the servants’ area with a large lumpy blanket bundled in her arms and a grimace on her face, no doubt heading to the laundry with another batch of soiled clothes.
He had been privileged to spend some time with her in the drawing room but she remained by Lady Neil’s side, sometimes offering to hold the child to give her mistress’s arms some relief. She always looked so very happy to hold the tiny fellow.
Though Owen knew Violet must be exhausted from her extra duties, he could not deny that she looked more determined than ever to do an excellent job. And she looked as though she enjoyed it. She had an easy relationship with both her master and mistress and she seemed pleased to be able to help in whatever way she could, awkwardly accepting their ardent thanks.
Just like Owen.
“What shall I do about this, old chap?” Owen asked his horse, maneuvering himself to look into the large, intelligent eye on the side of its head. “It seems our similarities could cause some problems if we don’t get ahead of this soon.”
Owen patted the great beast on its muscular neck as a goodbye and heading through the stables toward the house. He missed Violet. There could be no doubt on that front. But he certainly admired her dedication to her duties. It had been one of the first things he noticed about her, one of the first things that drew him to her.
If anyone could understand Owen’s deep-seated call to serve, it was Violet.
And if anyone could understand Violet’s dedication to her work, it was Owen.
He went straight for the stairs after entering the house to change out of his outerwear in his guest chambers. He was halfway up when light footsteps coming down piqued his interest. It could have been anyone in the house but Owen felt that he knew those particular footsteps. He’d strained his ears to hear them down hallways and over plush carpets often enough.
Owen looked up and found his intuition confirmed. Violet rushed down the stairs, her head bent low over some fabric in her hands—something to be washed or mended surely.
She concentrated so deeply on examining the fabric that she seemed not to notice Owen, squeezing herself as close to the railing as possible so as not to get in anyone’s way.
Owen hoped that she would see him or sense him nearby but she still kept her gaze on her occupied hands, twisting and pinching at the cloth as her brows furrowed, searching for a solution to fix or improve it. When they finally came to the same step Owen acted quickly.
“Violet!” He called in a loud whisper as he put a hand on her elbow.
Flashbacks to a previous similar scene played in Owen’s mind. The day he’d asked her for a carriage ride and she had hurriedly thrown him off. So much had changed since then. Yet he still felt so far from where he truly wanted to be.
Violet’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. She likely had been so focused on her task that she would have been oblivious to the Prince himself coming up the stairs.
But following quickly on the footsteps of her surprise was happiness. Owen’s heart melted at the look. She could not have been avoiding him. She wouldn’t look at him so sweetly if she had been. Instinctively, Owen softened his grip on Violet’s elbow so he held it gently as if he might be about to thread her arm through his and lead her out to a dance floor. Without thinking about it, Owen’s thumb brushed over the fabric of her dress slowly.
“Violet, could we have some time together soon? Perhaps we can go out on horseback or in the carriage, just for a short while. I could come down to the servants’ hall and have dinner with you,” Owen suggested, a hint of desperation in his voice. He could not hide, to himself or to Violet, that he had missed her terribly and craved even just a few moments with her.
Violet fidgeted with the cloth in her hands and pulled her eyes from Owen’s. She looked uncomfortable and nervous. Owen disliked causing her any discomfort but with each passing day he feared he might never see her again unless he found an opportunity to snatch a conversation with her.
“Cap—Owen...I’m terribly sorry but I have been so busy. I really can’t spare any time right now. Her Ladyship is still in a delicate state and I must do my best to support her as she heals.” Violet explained quietly, her eyes finding Owen’s again. Now the surpr
ise and happiness were both gone. In their place was regret and melancholy.
Owen pursed his lips together when he heard Violet nearly call him Captain Jessup again. They hadn’t had the opportunity to use each other’s Christian names again until this moment. When they had been in the same room Violet had been working and the Neil family or the lieutenant were always nearby. She must have grown used to calling him captain again.
“But please know that I do miss you...” She continued softly. She gave Owen another sweet smile that melted his heart yet again but sank it into his stomach at the same time. How silly that they should miss each other when they currently lived under the same roof.
Owen opened his mouth to speak, to tell her he missed her so dearly, to beg for her time again. But before he could, Violet carefully pulled her arm out of Owen’s grip.
“The family and Frank are in the drawing room with the little one. I’m to add this to my mending pile and bring up tea and a blanket for Her Ladyship.” Violet gave him one last sad smile and continued down the stairs.
Owen watched her go and his heart sank deeper with every step that took her further away. His mind swirled with unpleasant thoughts.
He had considered the possibility that Violet could be avoiding him. Perhaps her affections for him weren’t as strong as his own or perhaps he’d made her too uncomfortable with his forward actions in the drawing room that day.
But Owen did not believe that now. Violet could have a career on the stage if she had fabricated the flicker of happiness overtaken by gloom in her eyes. And she said she missed him. Surely Owen could hold onto that. Soon Lady Neil would be back to her old self and Violet would be allowed a little more free time again.
Owen could wait. He’d told Violet he would be waiting.
He took Violet’s information, and what he suspected was her unspoken suggestion, and quickly made his way to his chambers to change and then joined everyone else in the drawing room.
His eyes immediately fell upon Lord and Lady Neil by the fire. The baron read a thick book, his eyes flying over the page as he rapidly absorbed the information as only a scholar like himself could do. Lady Neil sat next to him with her son in her arms. She smiled down at him as his tiny hand curled around her finger. And then there was Davies, napping away in a chair near the happy family, a newspaper folded up on his chest.
Owen paused before making his presence known so he could enjoy the pleasant picture for a moment, the corners of his lips pulling up in a bittersweet smile. Would any home of his ever have such a cozy scene?
With any luck, it would. Owen just had to wait.
He approached the empty chair next to his friend and settled himself down, slapping Davies on his good knee.
The lieutenant snorted awake and shook his head furiously. As soon as Davies’s eyes landed on Owen he launched into a half-coherent tirade.
Owen and the Neils laughed at Davies’s sleepy fury and he quickly calmed back down as his faculties returned.
“Jessup, you devil. You’re lucky only my words went flying and not my fists this time.” The lieutenant chuckled and gave Owen a slap on the shoulder.
“I daresay your fists do not concern me any more than your words. I was always the faster of the two of us, if I recall.”
True to his statement, Owen quickly leaned back as Davies attempted to land another playful blow to Owen’s arm.
Lady Neil laughed again, turning her face down as both her hands were occupied and could not provide her with discretion. “Thank you, friends, for always being so entertaining. I swear, I wouldn’t ever need to go to the theater to see a farce as long as you two stay here.”
Owen grinned. “As I’ve said before, my lady, I am always happy to help in any way I can.” He gave an exaggerated bow of his head.
A shadow flitted across the corner of Owen’s vision and suddenly Violet was at his side. He’d happened to choose the chair closest to the end table where she now set the tea tray down, a blanket draped over her arm.
Owen’s chest swelled when he saw the smile she tried to hide and the humor in her eyes that she tried to replace with neutral professionalism. She must have been in the room long enough to enjoy a little of their farce. He wished she could have joined in as she had such a lovely laugh. But no matter. He just needed to wait a while longer and he could spend all his time finding new ways to make her laugh.
“Captain, how was your ride this morning?” Lord Neil asked as their merriment settled back down into a calm, amiable atmosphere.
“It was very peaceful, thank you. Your grounds are beautiful even in the middle of winter. I can only imagine how grand it must be when spring awakens.”
Violet handed Owen a cup of tea and their fingers brushed against each other. It took everything Owen had not to toss the cup away and grasp her hand in his. But she slipped away before Owen could act on his mad impulse.
“No thank you, Violet.” Lady Neil held up her hand to the cup Violet offered her. “But would you be a dear and hold Joseph while I play the pianoforte? It has been so terribly long since I’ve been able to practice comfortably.”
Violet nodded and Owen could see the excitement ripple through her. She truly adored this little one and had grown quite comfortable caring for him when needed. Lady Neil placed the baby in Violet’s outstretched arms and she gently accepted him, smiling as he snuggled himself against her body.
Lord Neil stood from his seat and took the blanket that Violet had laid across the arm of an empty chair. He followed his wife to the nearby instrument and draped it over her lap after she took her seat.
A dull pain shot through Owen’s chest as he watched his hosts interact with such deep love and respect and friendship.
The way Lord Neil carefully placed the blanket over Lady Neil’s lap, adjusting it until he was satisfied that it adequately warmed his wife. The way Lady Neil smiled up at the baron and took his hand in hers for a moment while whispering something to him. The way Lord Neil watched his wife with amazement and adoration as she stretched her fingers over the keys and went through a warmup exercise.
It all suddenly felt too overwhelming to Owen. It must have been so lovely to openly share their affection and love for each other, to be together every day without fear.
He looked over to Violet who walked up and down before the fire, whispering words of comfort to the little being in her arms, bouncing slightly as she walked to soothe him. Her eyes spoke louder than any words she could have said at that moment. Owen could see her contentment and her devotion.
Another dull pain pulsed through his entire body this time. He wanted that life for Violet. He wanted it badly. Though she may not admit it out loud or use her work or her past as an excuse, Owen knew that she wished for a family of her own—for a love like the one shared between Lord and Lady Neil, a love that could create a new beautiful life. A love that could keep her safe.
Though Owen had begun to hope that he could be the person who could give that life to Violet, he could not shake the apprehension in his stomach when he saw her so lovingly care for her mistress’s son.
She was dedicated to this family. And Owen was dedicated to his country. He prayed to God every day that there would be no other wars to call him away from his home again. But he knew that if one did come, he would take up arms again and fight.
Seeing Violet happy and warm and safe with a precious little one in her arms reminded Owen that he would hate to leave a wife and child behind should that call ever come again. He had been extremely blessed to return home this time, mostly unscathed save for a few scars. The same may not be true the next time.
Even if Violet could accept this as a possibility, Owen was not sure that he could accept it and saddle her with that fear and possible heartbreak and a difficult, bleak future as a widow.
Owen’s chest tightened as if squeezed by some cruel invisible hand. The huge drawing room suddenly shrank until the walls closed in on him and he could not draw a full breath.
&
nbsp; The loving baron and baroness and the sweet, caring Violet and her tiny charge were magnified in his mind and Owen could not escape the longing that accompanied those images as well as their many potential disasters.
“I fear I have taken ill. Please excuse me,” Owen announced abruptly, rising from his chair and striding through the room as quickly as possible without waiting for any response.
He rushed through the house in a daze, reeling from the mixture of emotions he had felt today, emotions that made his heart soar and then tore it down the next moment. He knew what he wanted—who he wanted—but his mind would not let go of the pitfalls of such an attachment and the reasons he’d built for years to avoid this very situation.
Owen closed the door on his bedchamber and leaned back against it. Perhaps solitude would do the trick and allow him to figure out these thoughts that whirled through his head, to compartmentalize them and observe them objectively.
But as Owen paced around his room, he realized that his thoughts would not be tamed so easily. Perhaps a nap would do the trick. His hand was on the service bell to ring for the valet to change him into sleeping clothes when a knock sounded at his door.
He sighed and walked back to the door, not sure who to expect but knowing that he likely did not want to see or speak to whoever it was.
He was right. Davies stood at the door, breathing heavily and leaning against his crutch. Owen gritted his teeth. Company and conversation were the last things he wanted at the moment, the precise reason he’d left the drawing room in such a hurry.
“May I help you?” he asked, unable to hide the tinge of annoyance in his voice.
“Yes, you may. I am in terrible need of a chair. I don’t remember you ever walking so fast, or perhaps my leg slows me down that much.”
Owen took a closer look at his dearest friend and saw that he indeed looked exhausted. He'd exerted himself to check after Owen and he knew he should be grateful to have a friend who cared so much that he would hobble along on his still healing leg with an uncomfortable crutch as fast as he could manage.
Healing the Captain's Heart: A Clean Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 2) Page 15