The Untamed Earl (25 page)

“It is always darkest just before the dawn,” Lucy quoted.

“Thank you for all your help to date, Your Grace, but I'll say it again: I am completely through with Owen Monroe.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Owen was still abed when the loud thumping on the door to his rooms began. The events of last night came thundering back through his skull in excruciating detail. It was official. He was a useless ass. But he wasn't about to listen to his father rail at him today of all days. He was not in the mood. Holding his aching head in his hands, he called to his valet. “I'm
not
in!”

“Of course not, my lord,” the valet replied, clicking his heels together and bowing.

A few minutes later, after a loud exchange at the front of the apartment, the door to Owen's bedchamber cracked open, and Julian Swift stood under the arched entryway, his feet braced apart and a decidedly unhappy look on his face.

“Still abed?” Swifdon asked in a slightly mocking voice.

Owen groaned and let the pillow drop atop his face. “Where else would I be after last night?”

“I don't know. I thought perhaps you'd be at Lady Alexandra's father's house, begging for her forgiveness for the scene you caused last night.”

“Alex doesn't want to see me,” he mumbled from under the pillow.

Swifdon's voice was tinged with a bit of irony this time. “I never said she did.”

“If you've come to make me feel guilty, let me save you the trouble and tell you that I couldn't possibly feel more guilt.”

“Good. You
should
feel guilty. But that's not why I'm here.”

Owen pulled the pillow away from his face and eyed the earl warily. “Then why
are
you here?”

Swifdon yanked the chair away from the writing table. “I'm here because someone needs to talk some sense into you, and apparently your father's not particularly good at the task, so as your brother-in-law, I'm taking it upon myself. You're welcome, by the by.”

Owen continued to watch him warily out of his blurry eyes. He stuffed the pillow underneath his head and hoisted himself up. “Very well. What is it you wish to say to me?”

Swifdon swiveled the chair around and straddled it. He braced both arms along its back. “I wish to tell you that it's high time you stopped acting like a child and started acting like a man.”

Owen looked twice. Blast. Had his brother-in-law truly just said that?

“I didn't realize that I was acting like a child. Thank you for that.”

“What else do you call someone who's allowing his father to dictate his marital plans? I certainly didn't allow my father to pick for me—neither did Claringdon or Cavendish, for that matter.”

Owen groaned and rubbed his aching skull. “I hate to point out the obvious, but you all conveniently have fathers who are dead.”

“They may be dead, but you can rest assured that had any of them been living, they wouldn't have chosen for us.”

Owen closed his eyes and considered Swifdon's words for a moment. The truth of the earl's words hit him like Berkeley's punch to the jaw last night. By God, the man was right. Why
was
he allowing his father to dictate to him? He'd spent his entire life being a disappointment to the man. He hadn't questioned being a disappointment to him in his choice of a bride. But instead of picking someone of whom his father disapproved, he'd merely been failing miserably at attempting to woo the unsavory lady of his father's choice.

Alex's words came back to haunt him as well: “Mother isn't always right about things. Neither is Father,” she'd said the day Owen followed her to the poorhouse. Even at eighteen years old, she knew better than he did.

“You're agreeing with me, aren't you?” Swifdon asked, shaking Owen from his thoughts.

“I have to admit your words make a great deal of sense. I regret what I did last night, but Alex lied to me, too. She lied to me about her sister, and I suspect she was actively attempting to make me jealous with Berkeley.”

“From what I've heard from Cassie and Lucy, I think that's exactly what she was doing, though not without some
advice
from her friends.”

Owen groaned. “I should have guessed as much.”

“I can't say I disagree with you there, Monroe. We are speaking of the same young women who invented a nonexistent person and then invited a great many people to a house party in her honor.”

“We are indeed.” Owen pressed his arm to his forehead. “Speaking of advice, what else did you want to say to me?”

Swifdon sighed and shifted his folded arms along the back of the chair. “The next bit is hard-won advice from my own life, but I think it will help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes. And I think you desperately need a bit of help at present.”

Owen pressed his fingertips to his throbbing temples. “Very well, Your Lordship. What is it?”

“You know your sister and I traded letters for years while I was gone to war.”

“Yes, everyone knows that.”

“We fell in love through those letters. Only we didn't quite realize it yet. Not until I returned home.”

Owen nodded. “Cass spent all those years afraid for your life.”

“I know, and I regret that she had to be worried for so long. But when I returned, she made a choice, the choice to pretend she was someone she was not. She had reasons for her choice, and of course, Lucy Hunt was involved, but regardless, Cass's choice nearly cost us our future.”

Owen groaned. “Is this where you're going to tell me that I shouldn't allow Alex's lies to cost me our future?”

Swifdon nodded solemnly. “If you want a future with her, yes. If I had allowed Cassie's mistake to cost us each other, it would have been the biggest regret of my life.”

“And you think I'm making the biggest mistake of mine?”

“Marrying a woman you don't love, who doesn't love you? Yes. Regardless of your future with Alex, that would be a mistake, don't you think?”

Owen expelled his breath. “Damn it, Swifdon. Why do you always have to be so wise?”

Swifdon chuckled. “It's the way of us old, settled, married men, don't you know? Now, I suggest you start making the right decisions for yourself, and if you agree that one of those decisions is a future with Alexandra, then a great deal of groveling may be in order. You need to do something momentous to make it up to her.”

“Momentous?”

“Yes. Something romantic and unforgettable. You'll no doubt need help planning it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I'm not certain,” Swifdon replied, standing and pushing the chair back under the writing desk. “But might I suggest you begin with Upton. Seems to me, I recall the chap owes you a favor.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Garrett Upton did indeed owe Owen a favor. Last autumn during the house party in which Cass and Julian had fallen in love, Upton had bet Owen against a hand of cards that if he won, Owen had to keep his mouth shut and watch his sister pretend to be the fictitious Patience Bunbury for the remainder of the party. Upton, that sharp, had won, and Owen had kept his word despite the myriad misgivings he'd had about the entire ordeal. Cass and her friends were often cooking up plots, and a great deal of trouble had ensued before it all finally ended in Cass and Julian's betrothal. Regardless, after agreeing to play along with all that, Upton was in Owen's debt, the blasted hand of cards be damned.

“Monroe,” Upton said the minute the future earl saw Owen walk through the doors at Brooks's. “Haven't seen you in days. I heard a rumor that you were escorting young ladies about to balls lately. Tell me that's not true.”

“I'm afraid I cannot,” Owen replied.

Upton arched a brow. “It's true?”

“Entirely.”

“That's surprising.”

“No doubt. But then, that's why I've come. I require your help, Upton. Yours and your wife's.”

Upton eyed him warily. “I don't like the sound of that.”

Owen grinned at him. “I'd bet on it against a hand of cards, but something tells me you'd win.”

“Something tells me you're right. Have a seat.”

Owen settled into a chair next to Upton and leaned toward him to ensure they would not be overheard. “Here's what I want you to do.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Now that he had Upton in place, Owen had only a few more things to take care of before he could execute the remainder of his plan. First, he took his coach back to Seven Dials and paid a visit to Miss Magdalene. That fine woman was weeping tears of joy when he left. He'd provided her with a bank draft in the amount of his full monthly allowance. Next, he paid a call to Lord Hopbridge, the man who was opposing the toll road bill in Parliament. He informed the man in no uncertain terms that he had Owen's full support and that he would begin lobbying his friends in Parliament right away. In so doing, he began his campaign for a seat in the House of Commons. Lord Hopbridge agreed to meet with him again so they might discuss it in more detail. Finally, Owen decided to go teach young men at the orphanage how to properly tie their neckcloths.

He woke up early. A novelty. He was busy all day. No devil of a head. By the end of the day, he felt a singularly unique feeling, one he'd never felt before. Owen felt … useful. Useful and productive, as if he were actually accomplishing something, doing something good with his time, with his life. And he had Alex to thank for it. What he realized now was that Alex had been right about him all along. She'd always been right about him. She saw him for something he didn't even see in himself. She made him want to be a better man. And he realized that with her love and support, he
could
be a better man. Alex had been the one to point out to him the opportunity he had to do good, the unique position he was in to make a difference. And she was right. It was up to him—not his past, or his reputation, or even his father. No, it was
Owen's
choice how he spent his time and whether tomorrow was the same as yesterday. He couldn't wait to tell Alex, to thank her for what she'd done for him. Would she be proud of him? The idea struck him quite unexpectedly. He'd never wanted anyone to be proud of him before, not like this. But as he rode in his coach back toward Mayfair, he realized that he wanted not only for Alex to be proud of him—he wanted her to admire him, too. But first he had to become a man worth admiring. He knocked on the small door that separated him from the coachman.

“Yes, my lord?” the servant called.

“Take me to the Duke of Huntley's town house.”

*   *   *

A quarter of an hour later, Owen was standing at attention in the duke's study, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin lifted, his booted feet braced apart, while the esteemed man behind the desk narrowed his eyes on him.

“Your mind is made up?” the duke boomed.

“Yes.” Owen nodded briskly. “Entirely. Not only do Lavinia and I not suit, but I have every reason to believe that she is vehemently opposed to my courtship of her.”

Owen braced himself for a thunderous rebuke. He was surprised when the duke merely pushed back in his overly large leather chair, tossed his quill to the desktop, and sighed. “Damn it, Monroe. I hate to say it, but I fear you're right.”

Owen exhaled the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. “I can't tell you how pleased I am to hear you say that, Your Grace.”

The duke tugged at his beard. “Lavinia's mother and I had hoped she'd see reason, but we've done all we can, hosted a ball, invited you to a dinner party, and heaven knows we've been touting your qualities around here for weeks. Apparently, all to no avail.”

“I know you wanted your daughter to make a love match, Your Grace, but I'm sorry to say it cannot be with me.”

The duke tapped the quill against his sand pot. “If only she'd take a fancy to
someone.
Someone eligible.”

Owen bowed once. “I sincerely hope she does, Your Grace.” The duke had no idea how much Owen truly meant those words. Without knowing Alex's heart yet, he wasn't prepared to ask her father for her hand, but he'd be back as soon as he knew. “You still insist upon your eldest marrying first?” he couldn't keep himself from asking.

The duke's eyebrows shot up. “You've no idea the squalling that would ensue within the walls of this home if Alexandra were to announce a betrothal before her sister.”

“Sometimes a squall isn't the worst thing that can happen.” And with those cryptic words, Owen bowed to the duke. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace, and your understanding.”

Owen was nearly to the door when the duke's words stopped him. “I've always believed you're a good man, Monroe. I do hope you find the right lady one day.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I think I've already found her. And she is magnificent.” He paused. “I only hope she'll have me.”

The duke inclined his head. “She'd be foolish not to.”

Owen pulled open the door and stepped into the corridor. Lady Lavinia, in a quagmire of golden skirts, nearly fell atop him. Owen pulled the door closed behind him and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Apparently, Alex wasn't the only one in this household with a penchant for eavesdropping.

The lady scrambled to right herself and pressed one pale hand against her throat.

“My lady,” Owen said. “Are you all right?”

She straightened to her full height and patted her coiffure. “Yes, quite.”

He wasn't certain how much of the conversation she'd overheard, but he thought it best to be forthright. “You might as well know that I've informed your father that we don't suit. He agrees with me. You'll no longer have to suffer my company.”