“And that confused you?”
“Entirely.” Lucy nodded and lowered her voice. “Though the truth is that had I known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have allowed him to leave my bedchamber with only a kiss.”
Alex gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, dear. Have I shocked you? I didn’t mean to. Cass always says my mouth works faster than my brain sometimes.”
Alex shook her head. “I’m certain you were quite in love with His Grace, and planning to marry, but Owen and I—”
“Oh no, no, no. I wasn’t settled on him at all. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. When Derek kissed me that night, it was the beginning of a great deal of confusion. You see, I thought he was going to become betrothed to Cass, and I would never betray my closest friend.”
Alex gasped again. She couldn’t help herself. “Cass? But she and Lord Swifdon—”
“Julian. Yes, I know. Oh, it’s a very long story, dear. Long and complicated, but suffice it to say that everyone knew that Derek and I were a better match. Everyone except the two of us, of course.”
“So you’re saying that Owen and I—”
“Are obviously a perfect match. We agreed to invite him here so that you would have the opportunity to talk and see the truth yourself. Owen was quite adamant that he see you and have the chance to speak with you alone. But you’ve been quite stubborn and refused to listen to him. I came out here to say I think you should give him the opportunity to tell you how he feels.”
Alex sniffed. “You don’t know everything he’s done, and—”
“I may not know all the details,” Lucy agreed. “But I’ve known Owen since I was a child, and he’s a good man. A very good man.”
“I know, you told me, the story about Eton and—”
“It’s not just that, dear. It’s many things he’s done over the years. The way he treats Cass. The way he speaks softly to his horses. The respect he’s always shown his mother. Take my word for it. He may have acted like an ass of late, but we all do stupid things at times. Let him tell you how he feels.”
Alex sighed. “Owen’s not the sort to tell a lady how he feels.”
“Perhaps not in the past, dear, but give him a chance. These men of ours, they do surprise us from time to time.”
Alex pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. This night was becoming more exhausting and more confusing, not less so. “So what are you saying? Owen should punch a tree, kiss me, and confuse me?”
“Not at all. I’m simply saying that you should hear him out.” Lucy turned away briefly and then peeked back over her shoulder with a sly smile. “And, if he just so happens to climb up to your bedchamber, don’t let him leave.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Alex couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned and flipped her pillow over at least a dozen times. It was too hot in her bedchamber. That was the problem. She climbed out of bed and made her way over to the window in the dark. Feeling her way around, she pushed open the casement. A rustling sound in the tree caught her attention. She peered and blinked out into the inky night sky. The light from the moon illuminated enough to see the outline of a man swinging from the large branch nearby. Alex’s heart nearly stopped. It couldn’t possibly be …
She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Yes. There was Owen … scaling the tree. She opened the window farther and nearly screamed as he swung himself inside. He landed in an ignominious heap on the floor just inside the window. He’d ripped his shirt, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek.
Alex clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming and waking the household. “Owen,” she whispered fiercely. “What in God’s name are you doing? You could have been killed!”
Owen groaned, pushed himself to his feet, and brushed leaves from his hair. “Yes, I know that now. But I spoke to Lucy earlier, and she indicated that you may have had a change of heart from what you said to me earlier in the ballroom. And damn me, but I decided to take Claringdon’s advice.”
Alex hurried over to the bedside table and lit a candle. She returned to where Owen was standing, holding the stick aloft. “Claringdon’s advice?”
“Yes,” Owen replied. “Claringdon suggested I get drunk, punch a tree, climb into your window, and kiss you.”
She eyed him distrustfully. “Are you drunk?”
“No. I haven’t been drunk in days, actually.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not that I’m aware, but there’s every possibility. I’ve ruined a damn fine shirt, and my coat is resting on a hedge down there somewhere. I admit I fear for its safety. Though I have yet to punch a tree, so the odds seem to be in my favor. But I did climb one. Apparently, Claringdon’s in much better physical shape than I am because I nearly killed myself doing it. Perhaps it’s easier when you’re drunk. I can’t be certain.”