“Is this where a sensible man advises caution?”
“You may, if you wish to disappoint me,” Owen replied.
“I am fond of disappointing you. It is one of the few pleasures society has left me.” Thomas hesitated. “But I ask seriously, Westbridge. Is it time to consider whether this should go further?”
Owen’s answer came at once. “No.”
Thomas studied him. “You have not considered it.”
“I have considered little else.”
“Then consider Miss Finch.”
Owen’s temper, already strained, tightened.
“I am considering Miss Finch.”
“Are you?”
The quietness of the question was worse than argument.
Owen turned away, then back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that there are several ways of considering a woman. One may consider her cause and forget her safety. One may consider her courage and forget that courage does not make her invulnerable. One may consider how much one admires her and fail to see how exposed she is becoming.”
Owen said nothing.
Thomas went on, more gently. “Charlotte Langley has watched her at every gathering where I have been present. Not with idle curiosity, but with purpose. She asks questions in corners. Shewhispers to women who then look toward Miss Finch as though a stain has just been pointed out upon the carpet. I saw it at Lady Fenton’s. I saw it before then. You have seen it, too.”
Yes. He had.
He had also seen Aurelia behind the palms, pale with effort, refusing him with the smallest shake of her head because the ballroom was full of eyes. He had received her letter that night, though he had not shown it to Thomas. He had read of Langley in the conservatory, of the warning, of the way Clara’s name had been brought near threat. He had sat over her words long after midnight, anger moving through him with a coldness more dangerous than heat.
He had wanted, then, to go to Langley and demand satisfaction of a sort no drawing room could permit. Instead, he had written back with restraint. Restraint was becoming a trial.
“I fear for Miss Finch.” Owen admitted. “I also fear for the truth, for what it may require and eventually, for what it may fail to repair.”
Thomas nodded. “That is better.”
“Than what?”
“Than pretending you are moved solely by justice and old reports.”
Owen looked up sharply. There was the turn he had sensed approaching and had hoped to avoid.
“I know you do it when you are attempting to hide something from yourself.”
Owen gave him a cold look. “You take great liberties.”
“I earned them in Portugal.”
“You earned a bullet wound in Portugal.”
“And with it the right to be inconvenient.”
Despite himself, Owen almost smiled. Thomas saw it and grew bolder, as he usually did at the worst possible moment.
“You care for her.”
