Owen: Regency Rockstars

by Sasha Cottman

“I see.”

  Colin sat up straight in his chair and fixed her with a long, hard look. “Just promise me that you have not thrown away any chance you have of marrying someone else.” he said.

  “While I wouldn’t be so crass as to give you any details of what Owen and I have been up to during those meetings, rest assured I have been careful with how far I have let him go. I told Papa that while I was in London, I wouldn’t do anything that would see me ruined, and I have kept to my promise,” she replied.

  Colin shook his head. He didn’t believe her.

  “I am sorry I have kept my meetings with Owen hidden from you. I just had to be allowed to handle things for myself. In the end, it is me who will or will not marry him. Colin, I need you to trust in my judgement.” Amy knew her lies had hurt him, and he didn’t deserve to be treated so poorly by his sister, but at the same time she’d thought she was doing the right thing.

  “So, what have you decided about him? You must have had enough meetings with the blackguard by now for you to have formed an opinion. Or are you in a quandary and can’t make up your mind?” he asked.

  Amy put down her fork. Colin was right; she was in a bind. In the beginning, she had wanted Owen to make the decision easy for her. To be a complete selfish bastard. For her to hate him and therefore have little compunction in calling off the betrothal. She hadn’t held out much hope that he would be attracted to her. That she could win his love.

  But the handsome swine had shown her exactly why women of the ton were so eager to fall at his feet. Why completely sensible women would risk it all and do everything to lure him into their beds. And why a woman such as herself would consider spending the rest of her life with a man she knew would only cause her heartache.

  Why couldn’t you have been a complete scoundrel?

  “Yes. I am in a bind. Every time I compose a long list of the reasons why he would make a terrible husband, there is one thing which stops me from going and telling Papa that it is all off,” she said.

  Colin closed his eyes. Knowing that he already suspected the truth tore at her. It was made worse by the fact that once she gave voice to what her heart had been speaking loudly for many days, her words would only cause them both more pain.

  She took a deep breath and let her heart have its voice.

  “I love him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Reid had been in a strange mood all week. Owen had ventured a quiet word with Kendal, only to be informed that Reid and his singing teacher were somewhat at odds over his making the transition to becoming a tenor.

  Figuring he had enough problems of his own, Owen let it ride. His afternoon meetings with Diana were the only bright things in his existence. From the moment he woke each morning, he was on tenterhooks, waiting to hear from her. On the days when they didn’t meet, he prowled about the house like a lion with a thorn in its paw—growling and snapping at anyone who came within sight of him.

  When the note from Diana arrived mid-morning several days later, he breathed a sigh of relief. He pretended not to hear the echoing sighs from several of the Follett House staff. His constant pacing back and forth across the floor of the downstairs foyer was a daily occurrence. As he raced upstairs and went in search of his valet, he heard the Follett butler grumble, “About bloody time. If he keeps this up much longer, we will have a hole in the floor.”

  Later that afternoon, Diana greeted Owen in her coach with kisses and warm hands. Within minutes, they were both in a serious state of undress. His life might be more than a little complicated at present, but there was nothing better than holding her in his arms and bringing her to completion. He could never get enough of this woman.

  They spent the better part of the next hour exploring their shared passion of one another’s bodies. The coach was their own private oasis where they were free to kiss, touch and share their love.

  As the time drew near to when Owen had to leave, he placed a soft kiss on Diana’s lips. “I am sorry my love, but I shall have to go very soon.” he said.

  Diana stilled. When he met her gaze, she wore a pensive look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You called me ‘your love.’ That’s something new,” she replied.

  He scowled. He hadn’t realized he had even said the word love. Then he shrugged. What did it matter? The long afternoon spent with her had left him in a calm, well-sated state of mind.

  “That’s what having your hot mouth on me does. It makes my brain melt,” he said.

  She looked away and his mellow mood dissipated. Did I say something wrong?

  “Of course,” she replied, turning back to him. A tight smile was on her lips.

  You idiot. Women want to hear of sweet love, not be given a critique of their oral prowess.

  Finding a way forward with Diana was often at the forefront of his mind. His burning need to remain with her had to be delicately balanced with keeping their relationship a secret. His father was right; they had to protect the family fortune, and he had the responsibility of securing Lady Amelia Perry’s dowry.

  The question of Diana was not something with an easy answer. If he was ever going to get her to agree to become his permanent mistress, he would have to learn to measure his words more carefully. It was not a one-night romp in her bed that he had in mind; it was an ongoing relationship that would continue even after his marriage.

  Other men might not find it impossible to tell a woman that they loved them, but this was Owen. Love was a foreign field, which he had always vowed never to set foot in. Until now, the best he had ever managed was a ‘sweetie’ to one of his rather insistent regular sex partners.

  But Diana was a different proposition. He genuinely felt something for her. Whenever they were apart, he found himself wondering where she was and what she was doing. He might not be wearing the lovestruck look of a fool on his face, but his heart was most certainly hers.

  He climbed down from the carriage bench and got to his knees. After taking her hand in his, he bent his head and placed a long kiss on her fingers. “I called you my love because that is what you are, Diana. I love you. I can honestly say I have never said that to another woman, and I doubt I ever will.”

  Amy couldn’t decide which was worse: being in love with a liar or sitting listening to that same deceiver while he professed his love for her, all the while knowing that his words were untrue. For a moment, she was so close to believing him. To throwing caution to the wind and accepting that Owen was telling her the truth. That he really did love her.

  In the dark recesses of her mind, a tiny voice whispered.

  Liar. He cannot say he loves you when he is supposed to be marrying someone else.

  She had to remind herself that he was professing his love to Diana Smith, not Amy Perry. Only she knew that they were one and the same.

  Meanwhile, Owen, head bowed before her, continued to declare his love, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Amy was looking down at him and shaking her head. When he lifted his gaze to hers, she lay her hand tenderly on his cheek. Brushing her thumb gently across his late afternoon stubble, she smiled at him.

  How can someone be so beautiful yet so heartless? Owen, until you are honest with a woman, you will never know love.

  “That was a lovely sentiment, Owen,” she said.

  He frowned and she could see her words were not what he had been expecting to hear. She bent down and placed a tender but brief kiss on his lips.

  “Is that all you have to say? I mean don’t you feel this connection between us. You must do,” he pleaded.

  “Owen, I am a married woman. My heart should belong to my husband. No matter what I feel for you, I have no right to be whispering words of love to a man who I will never be able to truly call mine.”

  He closed his eyes and swore under his breath.

  “Even if William doesn’t come back, I will never be free. And you have a lineage to continue. For all I know, you already have a fiancée somewhere
—some lovely sweet girl who will make you a great wife. A woman who will bring you happiness,” she added.

  She knew it was underhanded of her to make mention of a possible fiancée while he was on his knees declaring his undying love for her, but Amy was convinced that Owen was in no particular hurry to tell her that he was engaged.

  When he shook his head, it took all her strength not to slap his face.

  “There is no one. No one but you, Diana. How could I even consider marrying another when you hold my heart?” he said.

  She should do it right now. Lift the veil on her secret and tell him who she was. It would serve him right if she did.

  Amy summoned up all her patience and held her tongue. The time would come when she would watch his face as he realized that he had been lying all along to the very woman whom he had just declared did not exist.

  When she didn’t answer, Owen sensed he had pushed Diana beyond her sense of comfort. She was right, of course; her loving him could never amount to anything beyond an affair. There was no legal or socially acceptable way they could be together, but if she was prepared to take a chance, there might still be some kind of future for them.

  Her reaction to his declaration gave him pause. Diana seemed oddly skittish. Now was clearly not the right time for him to raise the subject of her becoming his mistress.

  You idiot. You should have told her about Lady Amelia before you declared your heart. Now all she will think when you do tell her is that you have been lying all along.

  “But you will have to marry sometime, Owen. It is inevitable,” she replied.

  Owen managed a mere nod. There was most certainly no sign of Cupid plucking on his lyre, nor the swell of a heavenly orchestra. Diana seemed almost sad.

  He was a coward when it came to the matter of him having a fiancée. Why had he been so stupid and fallen in love? Had he learned nothing from all those uncomplicated affairs? Liaisons which were based purely on sex, with no other expectations were so much easier to maintain.

  He could just imagine what a woman like Lady Georgina Yardley would say to him if he had been so foolish as to declare himself in love with her—not that he ever had been. She would have laughed in his face.

  No one was laughing now.

  “Shall I see you tomorrow?” he asked, rising from the floor.

  “My husband has some family members coming to town, so it might be a little awkward for us to meet each day over the next few weeks. If I keep disappearing every afternoon, they may get suspicious,” she replied.

  Diana actually having a family was something Owen hadn’t considered before now. Her husband being so many miles away in Sweden was a godsend that he had taken for granted. Family members were an obstacle he did not need.

  “But you will send word?”

  She leaned forward and gave him a long, enticing kiss. “As soon as I am certain that I can leave the house without any problem, I shall pen a note.”

  He couldn’t disguise his disappointment at Diana’s almost tepid reaction to hearing him tell her he loved her. In his wild imaginings, he had pictured her being the one falling to her knees and declaring undying love. Preferably through a sheen of passion-filled tears.

  How could I have got it so wrong?

  He took her face in his hands and looked deep into her warm brown eyes. Eyes that were a well of sadness. “Tell me this—do you love me? Or are my hopes to hold your heart all in vain? I beg of you, please put me out of my misery if you are certain you could never love me.”

  She screwed her eyes shut and sucked in a ragged breath. Hope flared in his heart. She may not want to say the words, but she felt them. He knew it.

  “I love you, Owen, and I wish with all my heart I didn’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  During the last minutes they had left together, they sat in silence simply holding hands. Owen finally stirred when Diana’s maid knocked on the coach door.

  He pulled his pocket watch out and looked at it.

  “I have to go. Reid will skin me alive if I am late again,” he said.

  She nodded, needing him to go.

  While the maid waited outside a little away from the door, Owen drew Diana in for one last kiss. She sensed his frustration over her reaction to his declaration of love. He was not being sensible or discrete.

  “Think about what we discussed today. I want us to find a way that we can be together. I know it will take sacrifices on both our parts, but I think our love is worth it.”

  And with that, Owen opened the door and was gone.

  Once she reached home, Amy sought out her brother. She was badly in need of his counsel. She found him seated by the fireside in one of the smaller drawing rooms. A book was open on his lap.

  He greeted Amy with a kiss on the cheek before she took a seat on the old blue damask sofa beside him. It did her heart the world of good to be in this spot. She loved the comfy old chairs.

  Upon hearing what had transpired that afternoon in Hyde Park, Colin, as could be expected, was not pleased. “So, the blackguard told you he loved you but didn’t bother to mention that he has a fiancée. What a barefaced liar. I would say, from what you have told me, that he is planning to wheedle his way into making you his mistress. Which makes the whole thing repulsive,” said Colin.

  If she had asked him, she knew Colin would have quite cheerfully gone and hunted Owen down and given him a piece of his mind. She was glad she didn’t. While Colin appeared on the surface at least to be a calm, even-tempered man, he was more than capable of handling himself in a fight. A padfoot attempting to relieve Amy of her reticule several years prior had learned that lesson the hard way.

  “To be honest, that was not the worst of it. The fact that I made mention of a fiancée and he denied ever having one made my stomach turn. If he had been honest with me, I might have been tempted to tell him who I was. But when he said that he would never marry as long as he had me, I knew it was all a lot of rot,” she said.

  “Exactly.” Colin sat back and crossed his right leg over so that it came to rest on the top of his left knee. He looked at her over steepled fingers. “And what did you say?”

  Amy would have preferred to not tell Colin anything of the conversation she’d had with Owen. She felt foolish, even a little ashamed of her words. But if her brother was going to stand alongside her when she told their father what she had discovered of Owen Morrison, it was only fair that he knew as much of the truth as possible.

  “Apart from telling him that I had family coming to stay and would not be able to see much of him over the next few weeks, I told him I loved him.” She shook her head, disbelieving that she could be so stupid.

  Colin reached for his glass of brandy, retrieving it from the nearby side table. He put the drink to his lips and took a sip. Then, lowering the glass, he went to set it back down. He stopped, brought the brandy back to his mouth, and downed the rest of it.

  “I think it is time you and I began to make preparations to return to Hertfordshire. You must do all you can to avoid seeing Owen before we leave. If he knows that you are in love with him, he will not rest until he has taken you to his bed and ruined you.”

  Amy nodded. It was time to go home and face her father. To let him know that Owen Morrison was a deceitful bastard who would never treat his daughter right.

  “Yes, you are right. But I want to wait a few more days, to see how things play out.”

  It wasn’t revenge she had in mind; her need ran deeper. She wanted Owen to finally understand that when you were a cheat, it was the person who loved you who was left to pay the price.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Noble Lords were due to play at one of London’s grandest mansions that evening, and from the large number of chairs which Owen saw arranged in the drawing room as he arrived, it was going to be the biggest audience in front of which they had ever performed.

  You know the music, so just relax. Imagine them all naked, and your nerves won’t get the better o
f you.

  His words of self-motivation died a silent death when he caught sight of Marco and the Italians. Antonio and the other cousin, whose name Owen could never remember, were both holding violin cases. The fourth member of the group had a music folio tucked under his arm.

  “Shit,” he muttered. The Italians were also going to play tonight. He had to find the other Noble Lords and let them know quick smart.

  After a few hectic minutes of searching, he located Reid, Kendal and Callum in a corner near the front of the room. From the worried looks on their faces, it was clear they were well aware that the Noble Lords were not the only musical group on the bill for the evening.

  As he drew near, he heard Callum grumble. “Apparently our hostess wanted to have us compete against one another. A musical version of a duel.”

  “More like a bear and dog fight,” muttered Kendal.

  Reid frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “He means the Italians are going to tear us to pieces,” said Owen, joining the group.

  Kendal turned to him; his face was flushed with anger. “Where the fuck have you been? You are late . . . again. You need to tell your whore that you have higher priorities than getting your leg over.”

  Owen saw red. He pushed past Reid and seized Kendal violently by the throat, gripping tight. “She is not a whore. Take it back.”

  Kendal’s arms fell limply to his side, but he didn’t offer up an apology. Owen tightened his grip, his bloodlust surging as his fellow Noble Lord’s face turned a sickening purple.

  “Enough. We are in public,” Reid admonished them.

  Other guests around them made noises of disapproval. Owen loosened his grip but refused to let go. Kendal might well be one of his oldest and dearest friends, but he would brook no man saying anything untoward about Diana.

  After giving Kendal one last look of disgust, he violently shoved him away. Kendal held a hand to his throat.