The Scoundrel's Bartered Bride by Virginia Heath

Author:Virginia Heath
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-04-07T17:40:38+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The first laden coach arrived at dawn the next morning. By eight, Lydia was surrounded by a sea of hastily packed trunks and boxes strewn haphazardly in the hallway, containing every last stitch of clothing she owned. Clearly Owen had worked a miracle with her stubborn father, although heaven only knew how as he had yet to make an appearance. He had apparently disappeared first thing in another temper, according to Slugger, but nobody knew where he had gone or why. But as Randolph had just informed her he was finally holed up in his office again, she was determined to find out and sick of waiting for the opportunity.

Lydia turned away twice before she found the courage to knock on his door. She had always considered his office sacrosanct and he had never given her cause to think otherwise. However, whether he wanted her there or not, and no matter how awkward she felt by encroaching on his private and personal space, she genuinely needed to thank him for coming to her aid.

He answered her second knock with a distracted enter, so she did just that and found him hunched over the desk, his chin resting on one hand while the other held the quill which scratched as he wrote.

He was also coatless.

Meaning she was treated to the sight of the tight cream silk of the back of his waistcoat stretched taut over his impressive broad shoulders while the soft linen sleeves draped the muscles in his arms as they moved. Her thoughts instantly drifted to the all-too-brief sight of his golden skin, and more specifically the flock of birds etched into it, and all at once, she felt hot as well as awkward.

He finished what he was writing and glanced up, then appeared thoroughly stunned to be confronted with her.

‘Hello, Owen.’

‘Hello...’ He quickly slipped the sheet of paper he had been writing on beneath a ledger and laid down his pen, looking every inch as uncomfortable about her intrusion as she felt. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I came to thank you for liberating my things.’ Suddenly she had no earthly idea what to do with her hands, which seemed to want to twiddle with her hair, and instantly regretted not bringing him a cup of tea to give them some purpose despite that being a very wifely thing to do. ‘It was noble of you to confront my father and call him out about his petty behaviour on my behalf.’

‘It was no trouble.’

‘As my father is nothing but troublesome, I suspect it probably was.’ She pulled out the chair opposite him and perched on it. He hadn’t invited her to sit—but standing was making her self-conscious and she wanted some answers. ‘How did you manage it?’

‘I reasoned with him.’ Clearly getting any conversation out of him this morning was going to be like squeezing blood from a stone.

‘Impossible.’ She found herself smiling at his implausible explanation. ‘My father cannot be reasoned with. And you left in such a temper, I doubt you were capable of being reasonable either.

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