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Page 8 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)

“ Y our Grace! Just the man we were discussing.”

Owen paused at the entrance to White’s, watching Felix wave him over with theatrical enthusiasm. His cousin-in-law stood with three other lords near the fireplace. Each held brandy glasses in hand.

Lord Ashford gestured animatedly while Lord Roxbury nodded along. Lord Henley appeared to be keeping score of some debate on a betting slip.

Every instinct told Owen to pretend he hadn’t seen them and continue to his usual quiet corner where he could review contracts in peace. But avoiding Felix would only raise questions.

“Gentlemen.” He nodded to each man in turn as he approached.

“Your Grace.” Ashford raised his glass. “We were just discussing the new shipping regulations. Henley here thinks they’ll ruin half the merchant fleet.”

“Only the half that’s been cutting corners,” Henley protested. “The rest of us will manage fine.”

“Spoken like a man who hasn’t seen his insurance premiums yet,” Roxbury spoke up. “Mine have doubled. Doubled! And for what? So some bureaucrat can count lifeboats?”

“So sailors don’t drown when your rotting hulls sink,” Henley shot back. “Really, Roxbury, one would think you’d care more about your crews.”

“I care about staying solvent.” Roxbury turned to Owen. “What’s your position, Carridan? You’ve invested in shipping.”

“Only in companies that already exceed the new standards.” Owen accepted a glass of brandy from a passing waiter. “The regulations were inevitable. Better to be ahead of them than scrambling to catch up.”

“See?” Henley marked something on his slip. “Carridan understands. Forward thinking, that’s what’s needed.”

“Forward thinking doesn’t pay for refitting entire fleets,” Ashford grumbled. “Though I suppose you’re right about inevitability. Speaking of which, how’s that textile venture shaping up? Morrison mentioned you might be interested.”

“We’re meeting Thursday to discuss terms.”

“Excellent. Solid opportunity there. Mills are producing twice what they did five years ago.” Ashford paused to light his cigar. “Of course, managing expansion takes a steady hand. Not like the old days when a man could run his business from the club.”

“The old days nearly bankrupted half the peerage,” Owen said dryly.

“True enough. Though some traditions are worth keeping.” Roxbury smiled. “Family, for instance. Nothing stabilizes a man like marriage and children.”

Felix cleared his throat. “Speaking of family, how’s your daughter, Carridan?”

The words dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water. Every eye turned toward Owen and shock rippled across the other’s faces. His jaw clenched as he met Felix’s innocent gaze.

“She’s well,” he replied evenly. “Thank you for asking.”

“Daughter?” Ashford’s cigar nearly fell from his lips. “Good God, man. When did this happen?”

“Recently.” Owen kept his tone neutral, despite the urge to strangle Felix. “My wife and I preferred to keep the matter private.”

“But this is wonderful news!” Roxbury clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth. “A daughter! Your first?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?” Henley abandoned his betting slip. “How old? Is she healthy? Does she favor you or the Duchess?”

“Her name is Evangeline,” Owen said, realizing Felix had done this deliberately. Better to control the narrative now than let gossip run wild. “She’s just over three months old. My wife had a difficult time, which is why she confined herself to Carridan Hall throughout the term.”

“Of course, of course.” Ashford nodded sagely. “Women’s troubles. Delicate business. My own wife nearly died with our third. Terrifying, absolutely terrifying. But all’s well that ends well, eh?”

“Is the Duchess recovered?” Roxbury asked with what seemed like genuine concern. “My wife swears by the waters at Bath for recovery. Something about the minerals.”

“She’s quite well. Both she and Evie are in excellent health.”

“Evie.” Henley smiled broadly. “Charming. You must be over the moon, Carridan. It changes a man, fatherhood. I’ve got three of my own now. Little terrors but wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

“The sleepless nights alone would kill me,” Roxbury said. “Thank God for nursemaids, eh?”

“We’re still interviewing candidates,” Owen admitted. “The Duchess has high standards.”

“Sounds like my wife.” Ashford chuckled. “Went through six nurses before she found one she trusted. Women have instincts about these things. Best to let them handle it.”

They talked for several more minutes about children, nurses, and the mysterious ways of new mothers.

Owen found himself sharing more than intended. He described Evie’s hair, her remarkable lungs, and Iris’s fierce protectiveness. The men nodded knowingly, sharing their own tales of fatherhood with the easy camaraderie of a fraternity he had never thought to join.

“You know,” Ashford said slowly while setting down his empty glass, “I’ve been looking for investors in a new venture.

I heard you had an interest in the textile mills in Manchester.

Didn’t think to approach you before, given your…

solitary reputation. But a family man… well, that’s different.

Someone who understands building for the future. ”

“I’d be interested in hearing more.”

“Excellent! Come by my office on Thursday. Bring Halston if you like. Always good to have family involved in business.” Ashford checked his pocket watch.

“Speaking of family, I promised my wife I’d be home for dinner.

She gets testy when I’m late. Something about setting a good example for the children. ”

The others made similar excuses before retreating toward the card room or the door. Soon, only Owen and Felix remained by the fireplace.

“What the hell was that?” Owen kept his voice low but couldn’t hide his irritation.

Felix didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “That was me helping you. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t recall asking for help.”

“No? What did you plan to do, then? Make a formal announcement in the Times ? Send cards?” Felix shook his head. “This way is better. Natural. By tomorrow, half the ton will know, but it will be old news. Just another baby born to just another couple.”

Owen hated that he was right. “You should have warned me.”

“Would you have agreed to share the news outright?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” Felix signaled a passing footman. “A glass of brandy. The good stuff, not the swill they serve the new members. And another one for His Grace.”

“I don’t want another drink.”

“Yes, you do.” Felix waited until the glasses arrived, then pushed one toward Owen. “You want to know why I’m helping you.”

It wasn’t a question. Owen took the glass and rolled it between his palms. The amber liquid caught the firelight, reminding him of something he couldn’t quite place.

“The thought had occurred to me,” he admitted.

“You’re my cousin’s husband. Legally.” Felix took a long sip of his own drink. “And now you’re raising a child together. That makes you family, whether we like it or not.”

“How touching.”

“Don’t.” Felix’s usual humor vanished like smoke. “I watched Iris waste away this past year. Watched her pretend that everything was fine while the ton whispered behind their fans. Watched her hope, day after day, that you would return.”

Each word pierced his soul.

Owen kept his face carefully neutral. The mask he’d perfected over years of practice did not fail him now.

“She agreed to the marriage,” he argued. “She knew what it was.”

“Did she?” Felix leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Did she tell you that, or did her father? Because the Iris I know would never have agreed to be abandoned. Ever since…” He stopped, shaking his head.

“Since what?” Owen asked.

“Not my story to tell.” Felix finished his drink in one swallow, then signaled for another. “But most importantly, she took Evie in because it’s the right thing to do. Because she’s good, Carridan. Better than either of us deserves.”

“On that, we agree.”

“Do we?” Felix studied him with sharp, dubious eyes. “Then why did you leave her?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Owen was quiet for a long moment. Around them, the club continued its usual rhythm. The crack of billiard balls. The rustle of newspapers. The quiet laughter from the card room.

“I’d rather not,” Owen replied as his jaw clenched.

“Very well,” Felix scoffed, then straightened his cravat with concise, angry tugs. “I meant what I said, by the way.”

“About?”

“Calling you out if you hurt her again.” Felix’s smile held no warmth. “I’m an excellent shot. Won three matches this month alone.”

“Noted.”

Felix started to leave, then paused. “Thursday.”

“What?”

“Ashford’s meeting. Actually, go. He’s not the sharpest man, but his money’s good, and he talks.

Having him spread word about your happy family will do more for your reputation than a dozen announcements.

” He took a step away, then turned back.

“Oh, and Carridan? When you get home tonight, try looking at your wife. You might be surprised by what you see.”

Owen watched him leave, then stared into his untouched drink. The amber liquid reflected the firelight.

Suddenly, he realized what it reminded him of.

Iris’s hair in the lamplight that first night when she’d stood in his parlor with Evie.

He drained the glass. The club suddenly felt stifling, too full of smoke and assumptions and the ghost of his father, who’d drunk himself to death in rooms just like this one.

The carriage ride home passed in uncomfortable contemplation.

The problem was that Owen had never wanted a family. He had seen what they became, how love curdled into hate, and how children became pawns in their parents’ wars.

Better to keep my distance. Better to maintain the charade without letting it become real.

The carriage rolled to a stop. He stepped out to find the townhouse ablaze with light. Strange, considering the late hour. As he handed his hat and coat to Peters, he heard it.

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