Page 16 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 16

W hen the men joined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner, Mr. Everard stood to sing a number while Mrs. Kellaway played the pianoforte. His voice came out gruffer in song, and was not, I must admit, a pleasant sound. Owen and I locked eyes in the middle of his performance and the laughter I had been holding back suddenly threatened to break loose. I had to bite my lip to keep it at bay. Owen’s mouth was clamped shut, but his eyes pooled with tears.

After the agony of Mr. Everard’s performance, Mrs. Kellaway cleared her throat and called the room to attention. “As you know, my garden party is just a few days away. I have made most of the arrangements with the staff, but I’m still undecided on whether to serve lemonade, orangeade, or punch. What do you think, Annette?”

I sat up straighter in surprise. She had never asked my opinion on matters like this before, and I felt quite unqualified to answer. “Well, I have never had orangeade before,” I said in a hesitant voice. “It might be a lovely way to exhibit the merits of your orangery.”

She smiled. “Those were precisely my thoughts. Owen discouraged the idea because he thinks it will strip the orange trees bare for the rest of the season. He wanted you to be able to enjoy them while you’re here.”

I glanced at Owen, who sat back on the sofa with his arms crossed. His gaze flickered to mine. He seemed content just to observe the conversation.

“That is very thoughtful.” I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my attention on Mrs. Kellaway. “But I already had the opportunity to taste an orange. If I am here all summer, I might very well strip the trees bare all on my own.” I smiled. “I imagine they will go to better use at your party.”

Mrs. Kellaway laughed. “Perhaps you are right. I will continue to think on it.” She gave a soft smile as she studied my face.

Mrs. Everard sat forward. “I was thinking that we ought to use this time to introduce Miss Downing to some of the eligible gentlemen in our neighborhood. There is one in particular, Mr. Baines, who will be attending the party.” She glanced at her daughter. “Would they not make a lovely match?”

Mrs. Kellaway’s eyes lit up. “They would, indeed.”

Mrs. Everard grinned. “Oh, yes. He is a handsome gentleman if I ever saw one, and so very agreeable. He would be quite smitten by Miss Downing, I imagine.” She rubbed her hands together with a sly smile. “Unless, of course, Mr. Abney takes equal interest. His mother told me he is in serious pursuit of a wife, and he will be attending the party as well.”

For some reason, Mrs. Kellaway cast a glance in Owen’s direction. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I suppose we might also introduce him to Annette.”

“Mr. Fields will be there,” Mrs. Everard added. “He is a bit grey, but could still be a suitable option.”

“It is always good to have options,” Mrs. Kellaway said with a nod.

Mrs. Everard grinned. “As many as possible, if you ask me.”

My stomach lurched with a sudden surge of panic, but then I remembered that I hadn’t yet given Mr. Frampton my final answer. It would be wise to meet other gentlemen while I had the chance. Perhaps one of them would take an interest in me. It seemed unlikely, but so had Mr. Frampton’s proposal.

Mrs. Kellaway must have noticed my worried expression. She laughed, casting me a sympathetic smile. “We don’t mean to frighten you, Annette, but we do want what is best for you. You must allow us to do a little matchmaking while you are here.”

I looked down at my hands, my cheeks growing hot. “I have very little experience with courtship, but I am willing to learn.”

“That is no matter. If the opportunity arises, we will guide you through it.”

“Oh, I’m certain she will have more than one opportunity,” Mrs. Everard said with wide eyes. “We will soon have all the gentlemen in town dueling for the chance to court you.”

I forced a small laugh. “That is highly unlikely.”

Mrs. Everard gave me a sneaky look and glanced across the room. “It seems we already have one gentleman prepared for that very duel.”

I followed her gaze to Owen. His features were hard, not a hint of a smile on his face as he listened to his grandmother’s predictions.

“Will it be swords or pistols, Owen?” Mrs. Everard asked. “You could, of course, resort to fisticuffs if you wish to spare a few lives.” She could barely be understood through her laughter. I had seen her drink several glasses of brandy before dinner, and the evidence was becoming clearer by the minute.

Owen shook his head, half his mouth lifting in a weak smile. “I have no doubt that Annette will be widely admired anywhere she goes.” He caught my gaze before looking down at the rug. His jaw tightened.

I looked down at my hands, the tingling heat on my cheeks spreading down my neck. Would Owen care if I received attention from other gentlemen? My heart pounded as I contemplated the possibility. He didn’t seem amused in the slightest by his grandmother’s plans. In fact, he seemed…frustrated.

Mrs. Everard was still hooting, but the rest of the room was filled with an awkwardness that was so centered around me that I needed to leave. Now. As much as I tried to prevent it, my voice came out shaky. “Peter, Charles, it’s time for bed.”

I stood from my chair a little too abruptly, waving my brothers forward. I flashed a smile in no particular direction. “Please excuse us.”

Against my will, I peeked at Owen again just as I was leaving the room. The look on his face was familiar. My gaze froze on that look until I placed it: It was the same way he had looked at me in the water gardens today after he caught me—when I had thought about kissing him. I hurried through the door, shaking my head in an effort to clear it. I must be imagining things now.

My feelings for Owen were complicated, and I couldn’t begin to understand them. He made me nervous, I knew that. He made me angry. He made me smile and laugh. He made me feel understood in a way I hadn’t before. It was dizzying to think about all the things he made me feel. All the emotions collided together in the middle of my heart, creating a cloud of thick smoke. I couldn’t see through it, no matter how much I tried.

Perhaps it was best that I didn’t try.

My head spun as I tucked my brothers into their beds and hurried down the hall to my own room. I couldn’t mistake that I had seen a strong emotion in Owen’s eyes, but I also couldn’t jump to conclusions as to what it was. He might have been feeling protective over me, or upset at the thought of having less time to spend with me as his friend. There was no need to guess at anything else. I was too sensible to live inside a dream…to entertain thoughts of any man taking an interest in me. Especially Owen. That thought was the most dangerous of all.

I had come to Kellaway Manor to escape Mr. Frampton temporarily, not forever. The moment I allowed myself a drop of hope that there was another future for me, I would be disappointed. I should feel very fortunate that Mr. Frampton had offered for me at all. Hope was a nuissance. It would ruin me if I allowed it.

I couldn’t think clearly any longer. The dull pain in my head had now buzzed into a full, throbbing headache, and I was afraid my skull would burst from an overdose of thought. So I settled into my nightdress, blew out the candles, and drifted into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the sky looked very likely to rain, stirring black and gray clouds. Owen had planned another lesson for the boys outside, but the weather wouldn’t allow it. I took my brothers to the library instead, surprised to find it empty. The Everards weren’t in their usual chairs.

After finding a few children’s books to occupy Peter and Charles, I sat down at the table with a book of my own. It had been a relief to not see Owen at breakfast. After witnessing my rush out of the drawing room the night before, he would know how uncomfortable I had felt. He would likely tease me for it.

I tried to focus on my book, but I couldn’t seem to concentrate. The raindrops on the window made me wish I was in the orangery instead, watching them fall on the glass above me. I felt a tug on my heart as I recalled how Owen had tried to save the oranges for me. I smiled, watching the raindrops roll down the window.

Lost in thought as I was, I didn’t hear the library door open. Peter and Charles jumped to their feet, running to the door.

Owen stood there, cravat tied loosely, a broad smile on his face as he greeted my brothers. He looked up at me. His eyes matched his waistcoat. My heart hammered, and I scolded it for doing so. Did he know I had just been thinking about him?

“I’m glad you decided not to meet me out in the rain.” He nodded toward the window. “We’ll have to plan the second lesson for another day.”

Whatever it was, it must have required an outdoor setting. He hadn’t told me what the plan was, and it didn’t seem that he intended to. He liked keeping secrets from me.

I shrugged. “The rain doesn’t usually deter me, but I didn’t want to track mud into the house.”

Owen laughed. “That is very thoughtful.”

Once again, I was reminded of the night before, and how thoughtful he had been about the oranges. Fortunately, he didn’t seem inclined to tease me about my dramatic exit from the drawing room. In fact, he didn’t seem unsettled around me at all.

I relaxed into my chair, enjoying the comfortable silence as Owen found a book and sat beside me at the table.

“This is my mother’s sketchbook,” he said with a soft smile. “She doesn’t share it willingly, but she is very talented.”

I leaned closer to look at the pages as he flipped through them. There were many architectural drawings, stunning landscapes, and several different prospects of Kellaway Manor. One sketch of a different estate caught my eye. “What’s this?” I asked.

“That’s Willowbourne.” A long pause followed his words. “My uncle’s.”

The name sounded familiar. I studied the picture more closely, noting the horseshoe staircase and dozens of windows. It was a masterpiece. “Is it far from here?”

Owen glanced up from the sketch. “No, actually, it’s quite close. I used to spend every summer there. As a young boy, it seemed that there was never enough time to explore the entire place.” A crack of anguish flashed in his expression, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. It surprised me. I stared at his face for any sign of its return, but he held his gaze firmly on the drawing.

“Have you visited recently?”

His jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard. “Not since I was sixteen.”

There was clearly something unpleasant associated with the estate. I needed to know what it was. He had delved into my personal affairs yesterday in the water gardens, and had plans to do so again. It was only fair that I take my turn. “Why haven’t you returned since?”

The library was silent except for the crackle of the fireplace and the quiet patter of rain on the window. Owen was silent for long enough that I was almost convinced he hadn’t heard me. “The best part about Willowbourne is gone now,” he said with a heavy breath. “Theodore. My cousin. He was two years older than me—my brother Edmund’s age. Edmund preferred to stay home rather than visit Willowbourne. He had plenty of friends here, but I had none. Theodore was my best and only friend, and I looked up to him as the example of everything I wanted to be. He was my role model, confidant, and the most trustworthy, kind, and humble person I ever knew.”

Owen turned his gaze back to mine. “That last summer I visited was when he died. He was preparing to leave for Oxford, but just a week after I arrived, he fell terribly ill. The doctor that was called treated his illness as nothing, claiming Theodore would recover swiftly due to his young age and strength. He might as well have pronounced him dead before he even made his lazy attempt to heal him.”

I watched with alarm the signs of bitter anger rising in Owen. “I had to watch my best friend die under the inept care of this man, and there was nothing I could do.” His words were clipped and harsh. He took a deep breath. “Perhaps there wasn’t anything the doctor could have done to help him. But I always wondered if Theo could have been saved if that man had only tried harder.”

My mind spun. I never would have guessed that Owen had experienced such a tragic loss. My heart stung. “Is that why you became a doctor?”

He nodded. “It was the first time I ever considered it. I felt the need to be what that man wasn’t. I needed to be the one that would have saved Theo. I wouldn’t have given up so easily, at least.” He was silent for a moment, watching the flames in the hearth. “I wanted to be the physician that people could count on to truly care about their loved ones.” When he finally looked away from the fire and at me, I saw the determination in his eyes. “If I can do anything of importance with my life, it would be to become the man that Theodore was, and the physician that man wasn’t.”

The integrity of his words made my heart skitter with admiration. But the sad twist to his smile made it break in half. He understood the sorrow of real loss. He had lost someone he loved too.

He looked at the drawing of Willowbourne again. I couldn’t stop staring at his face, at the longing in his features.

I could easily imagine myself making a sketch of Kellaway Manor while I was here and taking it back to Aunt Ruth’s house. Surely I would find myself staring at it one day with the same longing in my eyes. “I’m sorry about Theodore,” I said in a quiet voice. “He must have treasured your friendship just as much as you do his.”

Owen gave a soft smile, his eyes connecting with mine. I wanted to tell him how much I treasured his friendship, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want to sound cloying.

Charles’s voice from across the room made me jump. “Annette, will you read this story to me?”

I turned around in my chair. “Of course.”

He grinned and hurried over to sit on my lap.

Peter jumped to his feet and stopped with a frown. “Charles! I wanted to sit there.”

Owen laughed, exchanging a glance with me. He patted his leg. “Fortunately I also possess a very comfortable lap.”

Peter walked over to him with a shy smile, and Owen hoisted him up onto his knee. Peter giggled and looked at Charles with a smug grin. “This lap is much more comfortable.”

Charles frowned. “It is not!”

“It is,” Peter said in an offhand voice.

Owen and I were laughing so hard at this point that I could hardly get the words out. “That’s enough, boys.”

Charles cast Peter one last scowl before I began reading. When their argument interrupted the story again, Owen offered Charles a place on his other knee. And then Owen took the book and read for a while.

Peter and Charles both nestled their heads against him, listening to his animated voices and expressions.

The warmth in the room made me drowsy, but I couldn’t look away. The rain pattered in the background of Owen’s voice. A sense of peace enveloped my body, nearly bringing tears to my eyes. It was shocking. Still, I clung to the sensation, desperate to keep it for as long as I could.

I had never expected to find a balm for the wounds in my heart, but as I stared at Owen with my brothers, I had the fleeting thought that if I could freeze time in that moment, I might never hurt again.