Page 17 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 17

I took Peter and Charles outside the following day to meet Owen for his next lesson. After he had left the library the day before, I hadn’t seen him all afternoon. But when he did join us for dinner, he told us to meet him here.

It worried me, after his first lesson, that I would be a major key to another ‘demonstration,’ but thankfully, when we arrived, I noticed archery targets set up across the lawn. The only way I could imagine being used in a demonstration would be as a target. Even that was extreme for Owen, so I allowed myself a sigh of relief. Shooting arrows seemed an entertaining way to spend the morning. Anything was better than embroidering leaves that looked like toes with Mrs. Everard.

Archery was an activity that most young boys enjoyed, and one that my brothers had been deprived of. Perhaps not all of Owen’s lessons would be based on their behavior, but would instead give them opportunities they had been missing. Spending time observing a gentleman could be the only thing capable of inspiring a change in them. Scoldings or verbal instruction only went so far.

Owen greeted us with a wave. I was grateful that he was back in a cheerful mood again. My brothers ran to him first, as usual, and I watched them from a distance.

Owen lifted Charles, who laughed uncontrollably as Owen threw him in the air and caught him. Peter was larger than his younger brother, but Owen didn’t leave him out. Peter had his turn being thrown in the air. Owen’s jacket strained against the muscle in his arms and shoulders.

I should not have been staring so unabashedly, but the entire scene had my knees rather weak. A light breeze cooled my skin as I finally made my way toward them.

Owen looked up at my approach. Charles tugged on his jacket, eager for more attention.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Owen asked me.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then you must allow me to teach you.” He gave me a persuasive smile. “I am an excellent instructor.”

“And I am an excellent student,” I said, lifting my chin.

He took a step toward me and handed me a bow. “Would you like to go first?”

“Well…” I paused, studying the bow I now held. I had no idea how to use it. “Perhaps you should demonstrate first. I should like to know if my instructor is well-qualified or not.”

He laughed. “Is that a challenge?”

I shrugged, casting him a faint smile.

His eyes narrowed, and my smile grew to a ridiculous size. I enjoyed having the upper hand for a brief moment. For once, I was not the one with something to prove.

He stood across from one of the targets and removed his jacket. He tossed it to the ground with a brief grin in my direction. He rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows and turned his attention to the target. The look suited him. With his tousled hair, he looked rugged and casual, handsome without even trying at all.

He raised his bow, aimed, and released the arrow. It hit the target just an inch from the center. He turned toward me with a winning smile.

I raised my brows. “Am I meant to be impressed by that? You missed.”

He leveled me with his gaze. “I didn’t miss.”

“You missed the center. That is the object of the game, is it not?”

He bit his lip, shaking his head. “You hold me to a high standard.”

I watched with amusement as he readied another arrow. Determination flashed in his eyes. He shot three more times, and the last arrow finally struck the mark. He turned to me for approval. “Are you satisfied?”

Perhaps I should have teased him a little longer, but he was striding toward me with a determined look in his eyes. I took a step back, surprised by the way my heart leaped.

“It’s your turn,” he said in a low voice.

I threw a glance at my brothers. “Peter and Charles are impatient to begin. I am happy to wait.” Nothing sounded worse now that having Owen watch how terrible I was with a bow. I had no doubt it was harder than it looked.

He must have sensed my narrow escape, because there was a playful smile on his lips. “If you insist.” He set to work instructing my brothers with their child-sized bows, and I felt my shoulders relax. After several attempts, Peter finally hit the edge of the target from a closer range. After he had hit it once, he rarely missed.

“Well done!” Owen said. “You have a natural talent.”

I could tell Peter was trying to keep his smile moderate when he said, “I know.”

When Charles tried, though, he struggled to come even close to the target. Owen gave him plenty of advice, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Charles shot arrow after arrow with no success.

While Owen was working with Charles, I decided to try myself. I watched carefully as Owen adjusted Charles, and tried to replicate his stance. I was proud of how accurate it felt, until I released the arrow.

The moment I let it fly, I winced. The arrow flew into a tree at least twenty feet behind the target, embedding itself in a branch near the top. I gasped and covered my mouth.

I could feel the shock of Owen’s gaze on me. “Are you trying to hunt a squirrel?”

I turned to him as casually as possible. “Yes. I barely missed him.”

An amused smile teased his lips. He squinted at the tree thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should try again.”

I shrugged. “He ran away.”

“Hmm. That sounds far too convenient.”

I laughed, dropping the bow in defeat. “Fine. I did promise I wouldn’t lie to you again.”

He strode toward me, picking up the bow I had discarded and placing it back in my hands. “Try again, but this time keep your elbow lower.” He handed me an arrow.

I wiggled the notch into the string and pulled it back. “Like this?”

Owen laughed under his breath, and then I felt his hand on my waist. “Face me, not the target.” His breath brushed across the back of my neck, and I completely forgot his instructions. He applied gentle pressure to my waist until my feet stepped in the right direction.

I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes, my heart pounding fast. His hands moved to my arm. He touched my elbow, drawing it downward, then adjusted my fingers on the bow. He stepped behind me, examining every angle of my stance. I held the string back firmly, though my arm was shaking with the effort.

“Relax,” he said in an amused voice. His hand grazed my shoulder, and I realized how tense it had been. A shiver raced down my back, and my shoulder relaxed too much. I let go of the arrow.

To my surprise, it hit the target. The outer edge, yes, but I was still proud. I turned to Owen with an exhilerated gasp. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”

He grinned. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

I laughed, gazing up at his smiling eyes. “You have proven yourself a suitable teacher.”

“Did I not already prove that in the water gardens?”

I pursed my lips. “I think my brothers liked this lesson better.”

“Did you think this was my lesson?” He frowned. “No, this was simply an…entertaining introduction.”

My brows lifted. “You have something else planned?”

He nodded with a smile that made my stomach twist with nerves. “Of course, I do.”

I scowled with confusion, but he brushed past me with a grin. “I told you to stop underestimating me.”

I whirled around, watching his back as he approached my brothers. He gathered them closer, sitting down on the grass across from them. I walked tentatively forward.

“Allow me to begin part two of your lesson from the water gardens,” Owen said.

I joined them on the grass beside Owen, arranging my skirts over my feet. The grass was slightly damp from the rain the day before, and the sky was still grey, stirring dark clouds in the distance.

“Part two?” I asked with a raised brow.

Owen nodded, turning his attention back to my brothers. “I have more to teach you on the matter of how to treat a lady. Shall I begin?”

Peter and Charles both nodded, though I caught Peter glance longingly at the bow and arrow he had left behind.

“I shall first pose a question,” Owen said. “What do you suppose a lady likes more than anything in the world?”

Charles looked up, scratching his head. “Her brothers?”

Owen chuckled. “In the case of your sister, then I believe you are right.” He winked. “But your sister isn’t like most ladies in that regard. She differs from the young ladies of my acquaintance in many other ways as well.”

I gave him a puzzled look. If he was about to compare me to all these other ladies he knew, I would fall considerably short. “That is not entirely my fault,” I said, my voice too defensive. “There are very few women my age to spend time with in Silton, and I find most of them rather unbearable. I much prefer the company of my brothers.”

Owen laughed. “And there we have another way you differ from them. You speak your mind.”

I scowled. “Not always.”

“Oh? Then is there something on your mind now that you’re hiding from me?” The prodding tone in his voice made a blush creep up my cheeks.

“Hmm. It would seem so,” he said with a grin. “Charles, Peter, cover your ears for a moment.”

I narrowed my eyes, mortified by how obvious my blush must have been. Why could I not control it? “The only thing I’m thinking right now is how unbearable you are.”

His eyes widened. “Well, good. I prefer that over atrocious .”

A laugh escaped me and I sat back in surrender. He was immune to my insults by now.

Owen turned his attention to my brothers again, resuming his tutorial tone. “The answer I was looking for, when I asked what a lady likes more than anything in the world, is . . . compliments.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “What is a compliment?”

“To compliment someone is to flatter them with kind words. To tell them of something that you like about them, whether it be of their appearance, conduct, or accomplishments. There is no need to pay a compliment to every person who passes by. Give your compliments only when they are sincere, and only to those who you feel truly deserve them.”

Owen turned toward me. Nervousness fluttered in my stomach. Was this to be another demonstration? “Now, I know your sister doesn’t particularly like compliments,” he paused to shoot me a smile, “but she is certainly one who deserves them.” He waved my brothers over. “So, come here and practice your compliments. You may say something about her beauty, her kindness, or whatever it is you like about her.”

I watched with amusement as Charles trudged to his feet and stifled a giggle. There was no possible way that he could take this seriously. He stopped in front of me and flashed a gap-toothed smile. “Your eyes are green.” He glanced at Owen for approval.

Owen laughed and knelt beside Charles on the grass. He was facing me, his line of sight directly even with mine. He looked at Charles briefly. “Almost. But you must tell her more about her eyes. Tell her how beautiful they are, how they make the rest of the world disappear.” He moved his gaze to me again. “Tell her how fascinating it is that they can express so much without words, and how any man would have to be blind not to lose himself within them.”

I scolded my heart for how wildly it was jumping around in my chest. This is only another demonstration. Surely he is not serious.

Charles giggled again. “I don’t want to say that!”

Owen didn’t move his gaze from my face. “You don’t have to. That one was from me.”

How did one respond to that? Thank you ? I certainly couldn’t let him assume that I welcomed his flirting—or that I believed a word of it. Surely he hadn’t meant it. He was teasing me. He enjoyed watching me blush and squirm with discomfort. From the first moment I had arrived at Kellaway Manor he had been playing the same game.

I clasped my hands together in my lap and pretended to be deeply interested in them. This was not a time to connect puzzle pieces in my mind—like how his expression looked just as genuine now as it had two nights ago in the drawing room.

Thankfully, Owen addressed Charles again. “Give it another try.”

I forced a smile to my face to hopefully diminish my blush. Charles looked up and chewed on his lip. After a few moments, his face lit up and he said quickly, “You are the kindest sister I ever met.”

My smile grew and I pinched his cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

Owen gave his nod of approval. “Well done.” He waved a hand for Peter to stand.

Once in front of me, Peter grinned and, with much less of a struggle than Charles, said, “I like when you make me laugh, and I like when you smile.”

Owen patted him on the back. “Two compliments at once, well done.” He paused. “Although, you might add more detail to your description of her smile.”

Not again.

He sat close to me, until he was close enough that I could smell the fresh scent of his jacket and all the masculine smells I remembered of my father—the woods, fresh air, and new parchment.

“But first, you might take her hand,” Owen said with a soft smile. He uncurled my right hand from my left and held it between both of his. “The simple touch of a hand will help convey the earnestness of your compliment.” His gaze flickered back to Peter before settling on my face again. “But the true task lies with your words. For your words must convey the earnestness of your heart.”

My hand was starting to sweat in his. My heart thudded fast, racing with enough vigor to nearly escape my chest.

“As for Annette’s smile, I might add that it is one of the rarest and most beautiful smiles I have ever seen,” Owen said in a quiet voice. “It is the kind of smile that can lift any spirit and erase any doubt. One glance at a smile like that and any reason had for sorrow is forgotten. It can charm, it can tease, it can tempt. It can compete for a man’s heart unknowingly. And it will always win.”

My blush was too hot for him not to have noticed it by now. If he was going to continue speaking, he would have to do it without looking at my face. I quickly dropped my gaze to my lap and held perfectly still. Why wouldn’t he stop? And good heavens, what were Peter and Charles thinking of all this? Surely they didn’t understand as I did that Owen wasn’t serious.

Silence stretched for longer than I expected. When Owen spoke again, his voice sent a ripple through the air so tangible I thought I could reach out and touch it. “A humble lady,” he began, “may still doubt the truth of your words. She may require further assurance of your earnestness. In such a case . . .”

I glanced up just as he shifted my hand in his. He lifted it slowly and pressed his lips against the back of it. My breath refused to come. Chills raced up my arm. His lips lingered there for a second longer and then he raised his head, looking into my eyes again. “She may need a kiss to finally convince her.”

I wanted to laugh, to prove that I knew he was only teasing, but my throat was tight.

Owen’s eyes were still serious, but slowly a smile built on his lips. I grasped onto it as proof that he was only trying to get a reaction out of me, something to amuse himself with. He had officially taken this demonstration too far. All I could do was sit in the proceeding quiet, willing my heartbeat to slow and my cheeks to cool.

To my relief, Peter grimaced. “I will never do that!”

I exhaled sharply in what sounded like a failed attempt at a laugh. My hands were shaking and my heart refused to calm itself. I couldn’t let Owen have such an effect on me. He wanted a reaction, so the opposite I needed to give him.

I tugged my hand away from his and glanced at Peter. “Perhaps all you ought to do is tell Aunt Ruth what a lovely smile she has, and then she might become a little more amiable.”

He jerked back in disgust. “But her smile isn’t lovely!”

“Charles? Perhaps you should tell her, then.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head. “Never.”

I laughed, but was surprised that I didn’t hear a laugh from Owen. With a lighter mood in the air, I sneaked a glance at him. His expression was still serious. Had I injured his pride by pulling my hand away so quickly? I should have thanked him for his kind words, but I had panicked. Had he taken my silence as a rejection?

I stopped myself. He would only have felt rejected if he meant what he said. I couldn’t allow myself to believe that. Still, a hint of guilt swirled around my stomach.

Owen drew a deep breath. When he laughed, it seemed like a delayed reaction. “Annette is right. Flatter your aunt, and she will love you so much that she will give you a big, wet kiss on your forehead every night.” I was relieved to see that the teasing gleam in his eye was back.

A loud laugh bubbled from me as I watched Peter and Charles’s reaction. They reared back in disgust and shook their heads.

Owen sighed. “Very well. Just a small kiss.”

Charles stepped away from Owen, giggling and shaking his head vigorously. “I don’t want a small kiss from Aunt Ruth either.”

When their laughter subsided, Owen addressed the boys again. “Well, then, it would seem part two of the lesson is now complete. Do you have any questions?”

They shook their heads.

“Good. Now, if there is one thing that I hope you remember from my lessons, it is this: You are never to mistreat a lady. Ever.”

My brothers stared at him in awe, surely committing every single word to memory.

“Not with insults, nor with physical harm of any kind. Do you understand?” Owen’s voice was soft, but had a firmness that couldn’t be argued with.

Peter and Charles each gave a dignified nod that seemed to satisfy him.

“Now for your assignment. I want each of you to give a compliment to Mrs. Everard and Mrs. Kellaway today. You may report back to me later on how your compliments are received.”

I grinned at my brothers’ obvious signs of excitement. I had to admit that Owen had a way with them that I would never have.

Just as my brothers turned toward the house, I felt a fat raindrop on my arm, then a second, and a third. I looked up to see the rain intensifying. Thunder rumbled through the clouds. Drops landed on my face and in my hair, soaking through my gown. It was warm rain, and it took me completely by surprise. I hurried to my feet, but the rain was already falling down in heavy sheets.

Owen laughed, grasping my hand and tugging my attention away from the sky. I laughed until my stomach ached, nearly tripping over my wet gown. Charles took Owen’s other hand and Peter took mine, and we raced blindly to the house.