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

by Penny Fairbanks

  Owen sighed again and pulled the door open further, taking Davies’s free arm and guiding him to the nearest chair.

  The lieutenant lowered himself down with Owen’s help and groaned as soon as he felt the soft upholstery against his back. He took a few deep slow breaths and rubbed his knee above his bulky wooden cast.

  Owen planted himself before his friend and crossed his arms defensively. While he appreciated Davies’s effort, he still did not wish to have a drawn-out conversation. Especially not when Owen suspected that his friend had seen through his excuse of illness.

  “What else can I help you with, Davies, now that I have provided the chair?”

  Davies sat up a bit straighter and fixed Owen with a suspicious expression. “Something is off about you. Why did you leave the drawing room in such a rush? What truly ails you?”

  Owen glanced about the well-furnished and comfortable room that had been his own these past few months, avoiding the lieutenant’s curious eyes. He frowned as he considered lying and claiming some sort of sudden stomach pain or headache.

  But Owen knew this would not do. He and Davies had been through hell together and he was his closest friend. They had seen each other in any number of uncomfortable, embarrassing, and emotionally and physically painful situations. And Owen knew that Davies only asked those questions to give Owen the opportunity to come clean himself. There was no use lying to him now.

  Owen sat heavily on his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. He leaned his forearms on the tops of his thighs and folded his hands together, his head sinking between his shoulders as if the weight of his feelings had begun to slowly crush his body in on itself.

  “I know it will come as no surprise to you, but I have developed a very strong attachment to Violet.” His voice was quiet but it carried through the room and seemed to bounce off every wall back at Owen.

  He glanced up to see Davies raise his eyebrows at the mention of his sister’s given name but he did not interrupt.

  “I believe she has developed an attachment to me as well. I know for most this would be the end of the story. There would be the proposal and then the wedding and then a lifetime of happiness.

  “The solution seems so simple when I think of it in those terms. If we both care for each other, what more can there be? But it is not so simple for me. Or for her.

  “I know she has worked hard for her position here and she loves the family she serves and the work she does. But it can be difficult for servants who marry to keep their positions. I do not think Lady Neil would turn Violet away by any means, but she would have to divide her time between her duties to two families. I would hate to dull the sense of pride and fulfillment she takes from the work she does and add more stress for her.

  “And I also cannot give up my own sense of duty to my country. I cannot risk putting her and any future children in a terrible position should something happen to me if another war comes. I only want her to be happy. She has been through so much already in her young life and she has managed to maintain her kindness and determination through it all. I could not bear to be the cause of more worry and suffering for her.”

  Owen shook his head after he finished his speech, the weight of his words causing his shoulders to sag. The two men sat in silence for a few moments as they both absorbed Owen’s words.

  “Well,” Davies began, taking a pause to formulate his next words. “Firstly, I would like you to know that I wholeheartedly approve of a relationship between you and my dear sister. I had not considered it in the least when we first arrived but I think the idea came to me much sooner than it came to either of you. But that is not uncommon for people in love. So you need not worry on that count.”

  Owen glanced up at his friend nervously. He had not mentioned love exactly.

  “There is no need to deny, nor state it explicitly. Everything you said speaks of love. And I do agree that Violet feels the same about you though she has not come out and said it to me either. I fear we have not come to that point in our new relationship yet, or perhaps she is just shy.

  “As I have said before, my good man, I understand your concerns. But you have already valiantly served your country. There is no way to know if another war will come. But perhaps it is not such a bad idea to sell your commission if you are serious about courting my sister. You are in half retirement now and I know how much it means to you to serve your country. But you have done your part a million times over I would say.

  “And should you decide to keep your commission and get called up again, I am sure Violet would be well aware of the risk she would take on in making a match with you. And I daresay she would support you every step of the way. I do not wish to see my sister hurt any more than you do but if I have learned anything about her in these past few months it is that she possesses an incredible strength.”

  Owen nodded, pondering his friend's words. He knew what Davies said was true. Perhaps selling his commission was not such a terrible idea. He’d very briefly considered it at different points since he realized his affection for Violet but he had banished the thought as the coward’s way out. But the lieutenant did have a point that perhaps Owen could be satisfied with the service he’d already provided.

  And her certainly knew that Violet was a brave, willful young woman who had survived some of the most awful circumstances life could throw at a person. Perhaps he had not given that quality enough credit.

  “Here’s an idea, Jessup. Why don’t you think of some gift or gesture to present to Violet that will show her you are serious in pursuing her, that will show her what a life with you could be like,” Frank suggested.

  Owen nodded slowly and ran his mind through various options that did not include an outright proposal. Yet. He wanted to be sure that they both agreed on what kind of life they wanted and if it would be worth the risks before taking the next step.

  “Ah!” He sat straight up as the thought hit him like lightning. “Thank you, Davies,” Owen cried out as he sprung off the bed and headed for the door. “You are a genius! Sometimes.”

  He could hear Davies laughing as he sped down the hall to find Lord Neil.

  Chapter 13

  The delicate glass bottles clinked as Violet wiped them down and rearranged them on Lady Neil’s vanity. She always stayed behind in the dressing room after Lady Neil went down to breakfast to tidy up.

  Exhaustion made her limbs and eyelids heavy. Violet did not begrudge her mistress for the extra help she required, but she sincerely hoped that she could soon return to her regular schedule. Many of her continuous tasks had fallen behind.

  And she missed Owen dreadfully.

  “Oh, what could it hurt?” Violet asked herself quietly as she allowed the weight of her tiredness and gloom to sink her aching body into Lady Neil’s chair. She had never done such a thing before, knowing how impudent it was to commandeer any of her mistress’s belongings as if they were her own unless specifically invited to do so. But surely just this once couldn’t hurt. She was so very, very tired. She rested her elbows on the vanity and dropped her face into her hands for a few moments.

  But the sudden creak of the door opening caused Violet to jump up immediately, knocking her knees against the vanity in the process and nearly toppling several of the bottles sitting nearest the edge. She scrambled to right them before they spilled or rolled to the ground.

  Her heart thundered and the exhaustion fled her body as a surge of adrenaline rushed through her. She turned to the door, expecting to see Lady Neil’s shocked expression upon finding her maid taking a rest that had not been granted. Perhaps she had forgotten something or wished to send Violet on a different errand.

  Instead, her eyes beheld an even worse sight. Lord Neil stood in the doorway, eyeing her curiously. Violet would have been embarrassed beyond belief to have been discovered in a state of repose by her mistress though she knew she likely would not have suffered any harsh punishments or scoldings. But it injured Violet’s pride to give even the impres
sion of laziness.

  Now she was utterly mortified to have the master of the house walk in on her sitting at his wife’s vanity as if she had the right to do so.

  “L-Lord Neil!” Violet stuttered, her sudden anxiety hiking her normally light voice into an even higher pitch. “Is everything alright? Is Her Ladyship well?”

  “Yes, she is perfectly fine.” The baron nodded as the surprise left his face, replaced by his usual unintentionally solemn expression. “I have actually come to speak with you for a moment. I know you usually stay behind here after Her Ladyship comes down for breakfast.”

  Violet’s breath caught in her throat, all her senses on high alert. It was exceedingly strange that Lord Neil should seek her out. After all, the last time he had done so resulted in her brother’s return to her life.

  She took a few anxious steps toward the baron. “How may I be of service, my lord?”

  Suddenly Lord Neil’s face melted into a reassuring and pleased smile. Violet almost reeled back in shock. She could not fathom why Lord Neil would look at her so. In fact, she was rather surprised that he would look at her with any sort of pleasantness after finding her shirking her duties.

  “There is no need to worry. The news is good. I would be happy to speak to my publisher if you are serious about publishing your poetry. Once I have read some samples, of course. I must confess I did not realize you would be interested in taking such a path but the idea of having another writer in the house, and a published one at that, very much excites me. I cannot promise success, however, but I think you may find a very nice readership in time. Her Ladyship and I fully support your endeavor.”

  Violet’s head swirled as Lord Neil rambled on. In fact, this was the most the baron had ever spoken directly to her and possibly the most she had ever heard him speak in one go. Excitement gleamed in his eyes as he delivered this “good news” to Violet but she could not bring herself to see it as such.

  Despite her shock, Violet did not forget her manners. “I appreciate that very much, my lord. But may I ask who gave you this information?”

  “Captain Jessup. He sought me out yesterday afternoon after he recovered from his illness. He said you had shared your poetry with him and expressed interest in sharing it with a wider audience. He knows I have connections in the publishing industry—though he still does not know I publish myself and I would ask that it remains that way—and he asked if I might mention your work and help your dream along.”

  “My dream...” Violet mumbled as she turned the baron’s words over in her mind. She slipped into shocked silence but her confusion quickly morphed into anger.

  “I apologize, my lord, but I fear I may have given Captain Jessup the wrong impression. I have no such desires. I simply like to write a little from time to time. I have no such dream,” she said with a strained smile.

  Lord Neil’s brow furrowed at her statement. “Are you quite sure? If you are shy about sharing your work you need not be. The captain has vouched for your talent. And I know myself how nerve-wracking it can be to show your work to someone else the first few times.”

  “I am very sure, my lord. The captain is simply mistaken. But I do appreciate his efforts and your willingness to help.” Violet nodded with as much grace as she could muster as she fought the annoyance broiling in her stomach.

  “Very well. You are always welcome to seek me out should you change your mind.” Lord Neil offered a disappointed smile and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Violet took a few steadying breaths and tried to push the conversation out of her mind. She turned her attention back to her work, tidying the room and laying out a walking dress for Lady Neil’s first afternoon walk with Master Neil.

  Soon she realized that she had pulled out an evening dress rather than a walking dress and shook her head. This would not do. She was too frustrated by this incident to simply ignore it. It refused to be pushed to the back of her mind.

  Her next best option was to face it head on. Violet replaced the incorrect dress and stood before the large closet, staring into the expanse of dresses of all different types of fabrics and colors and embellishments. But she did not truly see them.

  Instead she saw Owen lying to Lord Neil about her imaginary desire to publish her poetry. Perhaps lying was too strong a word. But he had certainly exaggerated whatever information he’d misinterpreted from their conversations.

  Violet could not understand why he would say such a thing to the baron in secret. She had never told him she wanted to publish. To her knowledge she had never even hinted at such an inclination.

  She rubbed at her temples as she tried to piece together Owen’s logic but all her attempts failed. She could only come upon one explanation.

  Owen had always taken risks his whole life—from his decision to join the army and go straight into the heaviest battles to his high speed and high energy hobbies. Perhaps Owen felt that Violet needed to take more risks in her life. Perhaps, if she let him any closer, he would try to push her toward something she knew was not meant for her.

  Owen took risks and lived a bold life. But that did not mean that Violet could do the same.

  All Violet wished to do was live her quiet life without any disturbances or fanfare. That wish had already been complicated when Frank and Owen had turned up at the door of Gatherford Park. And it only became more complicated the longer they stayed.

  She had not anticipated that she might fall in love with her brother’s handsome, charming friend. That was the biggest complication of all. Clearly it all hindered Violet from doing her job, the thing that had been most important in her life since she became an orphan and lost her home, the thing that gave her security.

  In love. Violet had hesitated to associate those words with her feelings for the captain. She wished that she did not feel so frustrated and despondent when she associated them now for the first time.

  Violet may not have had much life experience, staying mostly inside the homes she served in under the Richards family and now the Neil family.

  But Violet was no fool. She knew enough of life to know that being in love did not guarantee compatibility or long-term happiness.

  She trusted that Owen’s intentions in asking Lord Neil to help her publish had not been malicious in any way. But surely if Owen knew Violet at all, he would have known that the last thing she needed was another distraction stealing her time and focus away from Lady Neil and her many duties in the house.

  Violet hadn’t had the time or energy to think of what would happen if the captain did ask for her hand. Surely she could not continue as she did now. How could she live separately from Lady Neil and come to the house every day to do her duties and then go to her own home that she would also have to manage? She and Owen would rarely see each other. And she would be too far away if Lady Neil had any emergencies.

  In many ways, Violet felt that she owed Lady Neil her life.

  It had been the baroness, after all, who had begged her parents to take her in. And the baroness had asked for Violet to be promoted to her personal maid when she began her London seasons and required more attention in dressing and toilette. She had even brought Violet with her when she married though she could have hired a new, more experienced maid who knew how to serve a real lady.

  Though her heart longed for Owen, for the life of companionship and love she had never allowed herself to dream of before, Violet did not know if she could bring herself to forsake her mistress.

  What she had told the baron was true. She did not have such dreams. She should not have such dreams. Especially when her dream tried to take her to places she had no right to go.

  Violet barely saw her needlework as thought after thought about Owen’s interference in her life raced through her mind. She pulled the thread through the frayed hem listlessly. She would not be surprised if she had to take her seam ripper later to all the work she’d done during lunch. Yet another interference.

  A sudden commotion by the entran
ce of the servants’ hall startled Violet and she nearly pricked a finger when she jumped at the sound.

  She paused and listened to the banging of doors and shuffling feet and a consistent heavy thud against the ground as someone approached.

  “Truly, lieutenant, you need not come down here. The servants’ hall is no place for a guest. Please do allow me to fetch her.” Mrs. Baird’s voice trailed back to Violet from the entryway.

  Violet stood from her chair and carefully set the gown she’d been mending on the dining table. Frank burst into the servants’ hall a moment later, walking as fast as he could on his crutch, an unsettled look in his eyes and a nearly crushed sheet of paper in his other hand.

  “Frank! What has you looking so perplexed?” Violet cried out, surprised not only to see her brother in the servants’ hall but to see him in such a shaken state. That was the only way she could describe his expression. Shaken.

  He stumbled over his words, unable to string any coherent thought together. Instead he collapsed into a chair and waved the page at Violet, mumbling for her to read it.

  Violet took the letter with trembling hands and hammering heart. She could not guess what the letter might contain but she knew it must be something shocking to put her brother in such a bizarre mood.

  She slowly sat in the chair next to Frank and began reading. Her eyes flew over the poorly written lines. The handwriting was difficult to read at times, as if the writer could not hold the pen steady.

  The increasingly sick feeling in Violet’s stomach told her that the safety she’d cultivated was being threatened once more.

  Their oldest brother Samuel had succumbed to disease and passed away several months ago. The letter had been written to both Frank and Violet by their remaining brother, Charles.

  A jarring mixture of astonishment, anger, and sadness flooded Violet’s senses. She was dizzy with the words she’d just read as they swam through her mind.