Page 13 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 13

P RESENT DAY

Not a crack.

Mama and Papa hadn’t known just how long they would be away, or just how long I would keep my promise from breaking.

Something sharp poked my finger. I still clutched the pink rose in my hand. I would certainly have to dispose of it. With one last composing breath, I stood from the bench and left the silence of the orangery behind, eager to return to my brothers and their lighthearted spirits.

On my way to the library, I stopped by my bedchamber to pluck a few stray leaves from my gown and hair. I couldn’t have the Everards thinking I had been trudging around in the bushes all morning, even if it was partially true. I called for Lizzie to help improve my hair, and while she was there, I handed her the pink rose. “Will you… dispose of this, please?”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Why dispose of it?”

She was right to be confused. It was a silly thing to ask, and I really didn’t feel up to offering an explanation. “Nevermind,” I dropped the rose down on my bed and wiped my hands on my skirts. I would have to get rid of it myself later.

I made my way to the library, finding my brothers sitting on the floor, listening to Mr. Everard as he read them a story. I smiled and watched in the doorway until Mrs. Everard caught me. She tugged me inside, insisting that I join them. I hadn’t been raised in a home with a grand library like the one at Kellaway Manor, so I stood in awe as Mrs. Everard showed me the dozens of shelves lining the perimeter of the room. A table was set up next to the fireplace, and I couldn’t help but sit in one of the cushioned chairs beside it.

“That Charles is a very keen listener,” Mrs. Everard whispered from the chair beside me. “He has not batted an eye since the story began.”

I stifled a laugh as I looked at him, mouth agape, blue eyes focused intently on Mr. Everard’s facial expressions as he read. Mr. Everard was a very engaging storyteller. After a few minutes, I found myself captured by the story as well. My focus was punctuated only by a few moments of surprise as I realized how well the boys were behaving.

They looked so proper with their combed hair.

My heart warmed as I quietly observed the Everards interactions with them throughout the morning, and how eager my brothers were to learn from and socialize with these new people.

I wasn’t quite as eager, and quite comfortable simply observing, but Mrs. Everard left me with no choice. After the boys grew weary of the library, she joined us outside while the boys played their own imaginary games on the grass, running and laughing with endless energy. She and Mrs. Kellaway brought their embroidery to a table outside and insisted that I learn. I managed to stitch one ugly leaf before I gained a much greater appreciation for the embroidery work on Mrs. Kellaways gowns and others I had seen. I tried to hide my leaf out of embarrassment, but Mrs. Everard saw it. She laughed at my attempt, which gave me permission to laugh too.

“That looks like my husband’s toe!” she exclaimed through her hooting laughter.

Mrs. Kellaway wiped the moisture from beneath her eyes, pressing a hand to her stomach as she laughed.

Perhaps embroidery was not my talent, but I did enjoy the company of two women who would not scorn and criticize me. My heart lifted at the lighthearted nature of our conversations.

The evening was spent much the same, in smiles and laughter and, thankfully, a lack of mischief. I spent hours talking with the Everards, and found that both had traveled all over the world, but that they lived most of the year in their home in Somerset. I learned that Mrs. Kellaway was their second daughter, and that they had five other children and eighteen grandchildren.

Charles fell asleep on the settee around nine, so I scooped him up and instructed Peter to follow us to their room. Charles nestled his head into my shoulder, but was slowly awakening as I shifted him in my arms. Soon he would be too big for me to carry like this. He already was. The thought made my heart sting.

As I approached the staircase, a voice from behind nearly made me drop Charles.

“Annette.”

I turned to see Owen standing in the corridor behind us. The candles in the wall sconces were the only source of light, casting a dim, flickering glow over his face. I hadn’t seen him since that morning. He wore a dark blue jacket with a loose cravat. His hair curled softly over his brow.

“Please do not make a habit of startling me like that,” I said in a breathless voice.

He laughed, interlocking his hands behind his back as he took a step closer. “I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” He cast me a grin before turning to Peter. “Are you off to bed?”

Peter nodded, standing up a little straighter.

“How was your second day at Kellaway Manor?”

“I enjoyed it very much,” Peter said with a wide grin.

Owen smiled. “I am glad to hear it.” His gaze settled on me. “And how was yours?”

I adjusted Charles in my arms again. “Very pleasant. How was your time with your patients?”

“Not nearly as pleasant as the first half of the day.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you enjoyed Mrs. Berney’s company so much,” I said in a light voice.

His smile brought a matching one to my face instantly.

My stomach fluttered at the memory of when he had touched my face in the orangery. The gesture had been so foreign to me, I had hardly known what to think. Perhaps it was ordinary behavior among people who were more exposed to society, like Owen. I would do well to not overthink it. I would expose myself as inexperienced if I continued to blush at the thought of it.

I recalled my promise to myself the night before, that I would not take him seriously.

I looked down at Charles. My arms ached under his weight, and suddenly the staircase looked more daunting than it had before.

“Allow me to carry Charles upstairs,” Owen said. “There should be no need to wake him.”

I hesitated. My usual determination to prove myself capable flared inside me, but was stamped down by the reminder of what Owen had said to me that day. He already thought me capable. I was tired, and my skirts were long enough to risk tripping on, so I swallowed my pride and nodded.

Owen slipped his hands around Charles, cradling him and lifting him out of my arms. Charles stirred, but settled his head against Owen’s chest after a few seconds.

The sight took me off guard. It scraped my heart raw, leaving room for me to acknowledge the most inexcusable of ideas—like how Owen had just become even more attractive than before.

“Charles must have had an eventful day as well,” he whispered with a smile.

I took Peter’s hand to distract myself. “He did.”

Owen started up the stairs, and I followed. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Charles.

He had never known our father’s strong arms and the ease at which they could hold him. I had often been pieced back together when I was sad, simply by a warm hug from my father. The safety that could be felt when surrounded by the arms of a man who loved and cared for you was unmatched. Charles had never felt it. Peter was unlikely to remember it. I hadn’t felt it in five years.

I thought Owen would stop outside their room, but he carried Charles all the way inside. I found Peter’s clean nightclothes, keeping one eye on Owen as he placed Charles gently on the bed, arranging the blankets around him. When he finished, I tore my gaze away, pretending I hadn’t been watching so intently.

“Are you coming back to the drawing room?” Owen asked in a soft voice.

I looked up. “I was planning to.”

He seemed pleased with that answer, taking a step toward the door. “I will see you soon, then.”

I nodded, my skin buzzing with an unfamiliar sensation. I was half nervous, half excited.

Was it possible that I had come to enjoy Owen’s company? Just the day before I had been determined to avoid him as much as possible, but now, I was looking forward to spending more time with him. I supposed that’s how people felt about their new friends.

After tucking Peter into bed, I kissed them both on the forehead and blew out the candle.

In the drawing room, Mrs. Everard called me back to my seat directly between her and her husband. Owen sat nearby, so I was able to speak more with him as well.

When I stood to retire for the evening, Owen followed me to the door. “Since your tour ended prematurely today…may I show you the rest of the house tomorrow?”

I caught Mrs. Kellaway watching us from behind her book. Was it proper to accept his offer? If Mrs. Kellaway offered to join us, I would feel much less anxious about the situation.

“I-I will have to see what my brothers are doing…and find a way to entertain them.” My voice was quiet, but Mrs. Everard missed nothing.

“Leave them with us in the library!” she said. “We thoroughly enjoyed reading to them this morning.”

I exchanged a smile with Owen.

“That settles it,” he said. This time, his voice was quiet enough that only I could hear it. “I’ll meet you in the library after breakfast.”

I nodded before slipping into the corridor. I felt Owen’s gaze on my back as I left, but I didn’t dare look back at him again. I was smiling too much. There was still so much of the house left to see, and I was quite certain Owen would make the tour entertaining. I could hardly wait.

In my bedchamber, I noticed my pink rose sitting in a vase with a few inches of water on my writing desk. It must have been Lizzie’s doing. I walked beside it and dared myself to touch one of its velvet petals. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger, my mind spiraling through the events of the day. I exhaled, long and slow, and a tightness I hadn’t known was there disappeared from my chest.

Exhaustion began to set in and I crawled into bed with a smile that felt as unwaveringly wide as Mrs. Everard’s eyes. I had no desire to dismiss it, so I let it melt slowly into my face as I relaxed.

Just as I was falling asleep, I remembered having another lazy thought about Owen’s rose, how lovely it was, and how I might just keep it.