A groom appeared from around the side of Simon’s house when Owen rode to a stop, taking the reins while Owen dismounted. “I won’t be long,” Owen said. He marched to the door and banged on it.
When Simon opened it, Owen barked, “I must speak with you, and it cannot wait.”
Stepping aside and pulling the door wide, Simon motioned for Owen to enter.
Somehow, Owen kept his piece until they were in the study, with the door closed to keep the servants from overhearing. “You know as well as I the depth of my affection for Zee. I intend to marry her, Simon. To provide for her, protect her, to be the one she turns to in joy and in sorrow.”
Simon’s gaze remained steady, yet he cocked an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be telling her father this?”
Owen clenched his jaw, the muscles in his forearms tensing visibly. “You’ve been insisting we share her affections. You know that won’t last. What if she’s with child? She could, even now, be carrying the future Earl of Staplegrove. Only he could never inherit because you aren’t married.”
“Xenia needs a husband, yes.” Simon’s eyes betraying a flicker of emotion.
“But she also needs the security and standing that I can offer her. If she becomes my wife, you need not fear exclusion, Owen. You have no wife to honor, no duty that binds you. You can still be a part of our lives, our... arrangement.”
“Arrangement?” Owen’s voice rose, roughened by a mix of disbelief and anger. “Is that what she is to you? A mere detail in your grand plan?”
Simon’s expression softened slightly, but his stance remained firm. “You misunderstand me. I care for Xenia deeply, but we must think practically about her future—and ours.”
“Practically?” Owen spat out the word as if it were bitter on his tongue.
He took a step forward, his presence commanding despite his lack of title.
“I’ve no mind for practicality with matters of the heart, Simon.
I refuse to stand aside and watch the woman I love marry another man, even if that man is you. ”
“Consider it, Owen. My proposition allows for all of us to remain close. Should you wed Xenia, I would have to seek a bride to bear my heirs, and our bond—as we now enjoy it—would sever.”
“Sever? What do I care? What of my wants? My needs? I’ve spent years putting others before myself, and for once, I want to choose what brings me joy, what fuels my soul.
I want Zee, a life with her, not just a fleeting closeness that could be snatched away at the whim of a man who believes he’s my better. ”
“Your happiness is important to me, truly.” Simon clasped Owen’s shoulder. “But we must think of what is best for Xenia as well.”
“Best for Zee?” Owen shook off Simon’s touch, his heart pounding against his chest like the hammer upon the anvil. He kept his fisted hands at his side as a precaution, not trusting his temper. “Or best for Viscount Kinnerton?”
Simon must have seen a telltale sign of Owen’s anger, as he paced a short distance away, as if in thought, then turned back.
“You misunderstand my intent. I would not ask you to relinquish your place at Xenia’s side.
I find a particular... gratification in watching you with her.
It stokes a fire within me as fierce as when I am the one joined with her.
What kind of husband would I be to deny my wife something she enjoys so fervently? ”
Owen’s brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw ticking with tension. He’d thought almost the same thing about Zee’s pleasure with Simon. At least on that, they agreed. Zee deserved to have both of them, if she wished.
Simon continued, taking a deliberate step closer. “We wouldn’t merely tolerate your presence, but desire it. If you wished, you could share our home. There would be space for all of us.” His eyes glinted with sincerity.
Snorting, Owen said, “Live with you? Do you not consider the whispers that would ensue? Zee’s reputation would be sullied by such an arrangement as badly as if she remained unmarried.”
“Kinnerton is a quaint village, and yet we are not without our secrets. Gossip is as easily managed as it is spread. We could be discreet. Our shared suppers need not raise eyebrows, nor our long evenings spent in each other’s company.”
“Discreet?” Owen scoffed, unable to mask the bitterness that laced his tone.
“And what of the mornings, Simon? When the sun rises and finds me still within the walls of your home? What then of the tongues that wag seeing me ride to the smithy in the morning?” He paced before the fireplace, the heat of the flames a pale comparison to the fire of his indignation.
“Xenia is strong,” Simon said quietly, yet with conviction. “She would endure the idle talk for the chance to have us both.”
Shaking his head, Owen regained some of his composure. “Zee is already feeling the gossip. Her own mama is suggesting she marry a widower with children. Do you understand how desperate the family feels, to be considering widowers as the only possible match?”
“Think how delighted they’ll be when she marries a viscount.”
Owen’s heart cried out at the idea. He searched for reasons it couldn’t happen. “What of your grandfather?”
“I’ll take Xenia to Gretna Green and there will be nothing my grandfather can say.” Simon grinned wryly. “Or, rather, there’ll be plenty he will say, but nothing he can do.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Owen swallowed a bitter taste. “Are we at an impasse, then? Neither of us willing to step aside? Do we force Zee to choose?”
“That would destroy her.”
Acid burned in Owen’s gut. If Simon truly meant to marry her, Zee would have a much more comfortable life than she would at the smithy. She’d have servants to clean and cook, and she’d never have to knead another loaf of bread.
“Consider it,” Simon pressed softly. “For Xenia, for us. This is a way forward where no one is forsaken.”
Owen met Simon’s gaze once more, the tempest within him not quite quelled, but the edges of his resolve softening as he grappled with the viscount’s proposal.
“You could ride back to the smith under cover of twilight, and take up your hammer at the forge as the village stirs awake, none the wiser.”
“Damn it, Simon. I want her. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Sharing my bed, sharing my life. Bearing my children.”
“Love is sacrifice. I know that’s easy for me to say when I’m in the position to offer her the more advantageous life, but I hope I have it in me to step aside if there’s something better for her.
I’m earnest when I say I want you in her life—our life.
And if some of my children have fair hair and blue eyes, I’ll still consider them mine. ”
“And if your son shows a fondness for iron?”
Simon shrugged. “As long as he’s not the firstborn...”
Bloody hell. Accepting what’s best for the person you love most should make you feel happy, shouldn’t it? Then why did he feel so miserable? This was best for Zee.
“Very well,” he conceded, the reluctant agreement laced with an undercurrent of excitement. “We’ll try it your way—for her.”
Simon’s lips curled into a smile, and the stiffness in his posture relaxed. “She’ll be glad to hear it.”
Owen turned to leave, now that they’d settled the matter.
“Say nothing to her, please.” The words were a request, not a command, which surprised Owen. “We’ll propose on Sunday, when we’re all here.”
Nodding, Owen left.
* * *
As Xenia prepared to depart for her Sunday visit with Simon and Owen, she was surprised when Owen came to her home.
“Good day. I was just leaving. Will you walk with me to the river?” Her parents, who were just inside, might overhear and she’d told them she was meeting the men at the river where they were fishing.
Owen’s attire caught her off guard. Normally when he fished, he wore slightly worn breeches, his jacket might be off, and the top button of his waistcoat undone.
Today he had on something suitable for an assembly, or church.
She hoped her parents didn’t look out the window as she and Owen left.
Her mother would have questions when she returned.
“That was my exact desire,” Owen said. He brought his arm around from behind his back, revealing a rose cradled in his calloused hand.
“Is that for me?” A smile curved her lips as she accepted the delicate gift. She raised it to her nose, inhaling the subtle fragrance, a balm to the bustling morning she had endured.
“Indeed, it is,” Owen confirmed. His gaze lingered on her face, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile that reached his brown eyes. “A bit of color to match the glow of your cheeks. I saw it in a hedgerow along the road and knew I must give it to you.”
The gesture warmed her, and she tucked the flower into the ribbon of her bun with care. “Thank you, Owen. It’s lovely.”
Owen extended his arm, and Xenia looped hers through it, the unexpected formality of his gesture prompting a flutter in her stomach. They began their walk to Simon’s house, a journey that was becoming quite familiar to her lately.
“You’ve certainly outdone yourself today,” she teased, glancing up at Owen, noting how the afternoon sun caught the copper highlights in his brown hair. “One might think you were off to court a queen rather than sit by the river and stare at your fishing line.”
Owen’s laugh rumbled deep within his chest, a sound that always seemed to resonate within her own. “For you, Xenia, I would outshine the sun if such a thing were possible. Besides, it’s not every day that I get to escort the loveliest baker in all of England.”
Xenia felt her cheeks warm at the compliment. She let the moment linger rather than brush it aside with another jest. They walked on, their silence comfortable, neither needing to fill it with idle talk.