Rebecca’s cheeks burned red. Inwardly, she cursed Augustus for casting her name in such ill light. “I’ve known Augustus for years. I never quite know what he’ll say next. It’s a bit of a game for him, I think. He wishes to push anyone to the brink of their own comfort, then beyond it.”
“Interesting attribute in a friend,” Owen said. “If you could call him that.”
Rebecca gave a sly shrug. “I’m here at his dinner party, aren’t I?”
“I suppose so. Although I haven’t yet seen you dance with anyone,” Owen said, arching his brow.
“Oh, don’t you know? I believe I’m betrothed to be married,” Rebecca said.
Owen’s smile widened. “I haven’t yet heard this. The talk around here is that you’re eternally free? Expound upon this.”
Rebecca’s grin matched his. Her heart pumped wildly, and she glanced at the ground, suddenly anxious. “It’s quite ridiculous, isn’t it?” she began, choosing instead to be frank. “All this time, I’ve told my father that I won’t marry the man he chooses for me. And yet…”
She paused. What did she mean, “and yet”? Did she mean that, perhaps this time, she yearned to go along with what her father wished for her?
“I’ve had a similar experience,” Owen returned. His smile faltered, but he took a tentative step towards her, so that his words were meant for her and her alone. “I’m sure you’ve heard. My father can be terribly ill. When he sits at the gambling table… No one’s to know what he might gamble away. And in this case, it seems that he found it appropriate to gamble away my family’s entire fortune.”
Rebecca’s eyes smarted, although she forbade herself to cry. This wasn’t her family, not her problem. She swallowed and whispered, “I can’t imagine what it feels like to know that your father is apt to do such a thing.”
“Not to say that yours is in the running for most honorary father,” Owen replied. “Pawning you away like that.”
“He’s had such trouble with me,” Rebecca admitted.
There was a long pause. Rebecca swallowed, then added, “My two eldest sisters were simple. My mother is long-dead. I know that my father just wishes a few years of peace, before…”
“Before what?” Owen asked. His voice was soft, oddly assuring.
Rebecca didn’t wish to dwell on this strange and shadowy future. She sighed and said, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Only that…” She paused, wondering if she should reveal how many engagements she’d had in the past. Five! It seemed outlandish. Perhaps it was best, in this moment, to keep this fact to herself.
“It’s a good thing that our engagement – if we can even term it that – hasn’t yet been formally announced,” Owen interjected.
Rebecca arched a brow. “What do you mean?”
“I suppose it gives us time to plan something. To figure out a way out of this,” Owen continued.
Rebecca felt her heart drip into her stomach. This? This was precisely what she’d yearned for. Wasn’t it?
“Magnificent,” she murmured.
Owen bounded around to face her fully, speaking excitedly. “Yes. I had a sense that you would understand me, Rebecca. And goodness, I’m grateful for it. All these days I’ve spent, fearful that I would have to…” He paused, seemingly side-stepping what was surely a painful statement. “Rebecca, I don’t mean to be crude. Really, I don’t. You seem entirely lovely. Far more lovely than the others, in fact.”
“How many others have there been?” Rebecca asked. Her voice caught in her throat for a moment, a dreadful thing, if she was ever to be taken seriously in this strained relationship. Beyond this, she knew that she would never reveal her number. Thusly, it was unfair to ask.
It seemed that Owen wasn’t willing to play along, regardless.
“It doesn’t matter,” Owen returned. “Rather, I’m grateful now that we can set this aside once and for all. We won’t marry one another. Goodness, doesn’t that feel remarkable to say, Rebecca?”
He reached his free hand out and gripped hers. A jolt of electricity shot down her spine. She nearly dropped her glass of wine.
“Yes. Yes, it really does,” Rebecca said. She sensed the density of her lie. “It feels remarkable. Thank you for allowing this moment of sincere honesty. It’s such a rare thing in today’s society.”
“Precisely!” Owen replied.
“But…” Here, Rebeca allowed her face to clench a bit, her eyes to grow smaller. “Don’t you think… well. Your father, he gambled away your family’s fortune, correct?”
Owen nodded. “Yes.”
“Then the only way your family will remain afloat is through the union with… me, correct?” she continued.
Owen shrugged. “I believe that we’re intelligent individuals. The most important word here is, of course, individual. I wish to be free to choose who my wife will be. It’s forever, Rebecca. Not just a few days, a few weeks.”
“I’m well attuned with the nature of marriage,” Rebecca snapped, her nostrils flaring.
But Owen wasn’t bothered by her quick attitude. He grinned broader and said, “This is the sort of spirit required to rid us of this wretched arrangement, don’t you think? It seems to me that you’re the perfect creature with whom to pair myself. In no time, I think, we’ll be…”
Rebecca took a long sip of wine and rolled it across her tongue. A flurry of emotions swept over her.
“I just think you’re being quite naive about this, Owen Crauford,” she said, tilting her head.
“Naive?” Owen returned. He sounded arrogant, overly proud. “I don’t suppose I know what you mean. Please. Explain yourself.”
Was it possible that they spoke too loudly? Could others hear them? Rebecca flashed her eyes, about to reveal only the flirtation of a little dinner party. Tabitha continued to speak with Augustus, who seemed to cast his eyes toward Rebecca throughout his conversation, as though he wished to ensure she was all right. This, in turn, also annoyed Rebecca. She didn’t require assistance.
“Yes. I believe you’re being naive, Owen. It’s not as though I’m positively overjoyed about our arrangement, either, but I know about the intricacies of the world in which we live. Your father gambled away your family’s entire fortune. My father wants me paired with your family to rid himself of me. The maths seem to add up, don’t you think?”
Owen’s grin didn’t dissipate. Was he always so wretchedly cheeky? Behind him, Theo spun and grabbed his arm and murmured something into his ear. Whatever this was also caused Owen to burst into laughter. Rebecca shifted her weight, willed herself to stop her rapid drinking. It wouldn’t do her well to show any sort of anger, of panic. Owen returned his eyes to her and apologised.
“Terribly sorry. He always knows precisely what to say,” Owen said, still chuckling.
“I suppose you have an understanding that no other earthly creature could comprehend,” Rebecca returned, her words laced with sarcasm.
“I suppose so,” Owen replied. “Now. What was it you said? Something about my naivety? Something about how little I understand all of this…?”
Chapter 6
It pleased Owen to enrage Rebecca. He wasn’t entirely clear why. There was something she did with her face when she grew particularly impassioned. Her eyebrows rose, her eyes grew enormous, her cheeks blotched pink. Her breasts even seemed to enlarge, sweep over the edge of the top of her gown, as though she’d grown too enormous with her anger.
He stood, towering over her tiny frame, beaming at her, marvelling at the ridiculousness of their conversation. It further pleased him that they could speak so openly about their current task. It was clear that neither of them wanted to marry the other. What a strange thing, indeed. Owen had never encountered a woman who remained so spiteful towards the concept of marriage.
“As I said, Rebecca, you really are quite lovely. A spitfire in every sense,” Owen continued.
“So grateful to hear these compliments,” Rebecca chimed back.
“But help me
understand. If you’ve got yourself out of previous engagements, as I have, then why don’t you suspect, with our combined efforts, we could dig ourselves out of this one as well? Yes, my father has lost my family’s fortune. Yes, your father wishes to be rid of you. But does that entirely take away our free will? I think not. These are problems that date back to previous generations. If we’re to honour our inner lives, our deepest wishes, then don't we owe it to ourselves to fight for this?”
“You speak as though I’ve given up,” Rebecca blurted.
“And in fact, that is what I perceive,” Owen returned.
“I believe you’re not thinking with logic. Perhaps that’s something that also runs in your family,” Rebecca said, her voice rising.
Again, Theo bounded around, gripped Owen’s arm and whispered, “I really do think Zelda is wild for me. Don’t you? Goodness, I would love to have her.”
Owen chuckled again. Rebecca’s eyes grew even more enormous, something he hadn’t assumed possible moments before.
Theo added, “It seems that you have a bit of a problem on your hands, don’t you?”
“I’ll speak with you later, old boy,” Owen replied, just loud enough for Rebecca to hear.
Theo patted his upper arm once more and returned his attention to Zelda.
Rebecca nearly growled. “What on earth was that about?”
“Don’t busy yourself with attempting to make sense of Theo,” Owen said. “He’s a simple man, with simple desires.”
“And yet, I would say that’s what you all are,” Rebecca said.
“Do you normally think so ill of men?” Owen asked.
“Perhaps I should,” Rebecca said. Her eyes danced down his face, towards his broad shoulders, down the cut of his fine suit. With everything she did, Owen sensed her attraction towards him rising. And in turn, he too found her endlessly attractive. In some ways she was assuredly one of the better options in the county. In his mind, however, if he allowed this marriage to go on, it would mean his father had championed over him, despite not being deserving of such a thing.
“Might this be the very first spat of our very short engagement?” Owen asked, delivering another sly smile.
“You really believe that you can do whatever you please,” Rebecca replied.
“Perhaps I do,” Owen said. “And why not? This life we’re given, it’s the only one we have. I believe we should do with our time what we please.”
Rebecca knocked back the rest of her wine. She stretched her hand across her mouth, as though she was shocked that she’d again drank so quickly. She huffed, then said, “If you’ll excuse me. I have much better conversations to return to. When you decide that you’d like to live in the real world once more, please, come and find me. We can discuss this like adults.”
“Very well. Good evening, Rebecca,” Owen said. He bowed his head, mocking her.
She shot back to her friend and that wretched idiot Augustus. Owen turned back to Zelda and Theo. Zelda cast her eyes up to him and let out a horrid giggle. Why did Theo busy himself with such silly creatures?
“How are you finding the party, Owen?” Zelda asked. Her voice was far too bright and sweet, overzealous. “Theo just informed me that you’ve recently met this woman, the red head.” Her eyes grew shadowed with confusion.
Owen glanced at Theo, who shook his head lightly – an indication that he hadn’t given the entire game away. It would have been dreadful if Theo had lent gossip that he was betrothed. He supposed news of the engagement would make its way around the county sooner rather than later, but it couldn’t be through Theo’s mouth. That would be the utmost betrayal.
“I have recently met her. Our fathers are good friends,” he said.
“That’s nice,” Zelda chimed back. “Although she does seem to be in a kind of rage, doesn’t she?” She turned back to inspect Rebecca, who was in the midst of telling a volatile tale – surely about Owen himself – to her friend. “I never understand girls like her.”
“What do you mean?” Owen asked.
“I’ve heard stories about her,” Zelda said. “She’s entirely resistant to the concept of arranged marriages. You should have seen what she did to this poor man, Gregory. I’ve heard that he never fully recovered from whatever she told him. He lost his confidence forever.”
“What on earth could a pretty thing like that say to destroy a man so deeply?” Theo asked.
Zelda grew blotchy with jealousy. She swallowed and said, “I haven’t any idea. But she really must be wretched, no? In order to orchestrate such heinous words… My mother and father raised me only to be kind, to be gentle.”
“The sort of wife any man should want,” Theo returned, seeming to recite the words from a kind of script that Owen had never been allowed to read, nor eager to.
“That’s precisely what my father says!” Zelda said.
Her face still clenched up with anger, Rebecca turned her eyes back to Owen. Owen felt his heart pause, as though it didn’t dare to beat until she gave him something, some affirmation that she adored him. But she just shook her head slightly, as though disgusted with his very being. Owen chuckled to himself, maintaining eye contact until she ripped it out from under them.
“I only hope that women like her understand that, in the long run, that’s what we’re all meant to do,” Zelda continued, speaking mostly to Theo. “We must become wives and mothers. What else is there? We’re meant to extend our familial line. To make our fathers and mothers happy. To gift little children back to the world.”
The words felt heinous to Owen’s ears. His stomach clenched. But he remained there, his eyebrows furrowed, whilst Zelda and Theo continued their wretched flirtation. He’d watched Theo embark on such affairs countless times. Years before, it had been a game they’d both shared. Now, however, Owen’s eyes flickered towards Rebecca with increased interest. Nobody had lurked in the back of his mind for longer than a few minutes. Now, days after meeting her for the first time, he recognised that he’d done nothing but think of her: the intelligence that seemed to burn behind her pupils, the soft red of her hair. There was unique pleasure in spatting with her, something he couldn’t refute.
A friend of Zelda’s joined the group for a moment and then dragged her to the other side of the garden, leaving Theo and Owen alone. Theo laughed, his eyes tracing Zelda’s path. Owen remained quiet.
“How was it?” Theo asked, arching his brow.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You know. Your conversation with your newly betrothed.”
Owen scoffed. “I’ve told her the score. We’re not to be married. She respects it, I think. She…”
“Her father has had a tireless campaign to marry her off,” Theo said.
“I understand that. It’s clear that the story of Rebecca Frampton is a complex one. And, it seems, one that most people in this county have already heard,” Owen said.
“Here’s something I continue to return to,” Theo began.
“What? Regarding Zelda?” Owen asked, suddenly aching for a conversation change.
“No. Only this. Rebecca has been able to scare off every other suitor her father has paired her with. Even Zelda has heard the stories. It seems to me, however, that she’s suddenly met her match. She couldn’t possibly scare you away. You’re as hard as nails, old boy. I would love to see her try,” Theo said. He tapped Owen’s upper back, gave a firm nod, and then traced a path back to Zelda, seemingly hungry for another bout of empty flirtation.
A Wicked Duke's Prize: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 7