The Untamed Earl(71)

“The rough part?” Alex repeated. “If this is the rough part, I don’t want to keep going.”

“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?”