Page 9 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 9

T he sun was already shining bright through my window when I awoke. I flew out of bed the moment I saw it. How long had I slept? Clearly much longer than I had planned. I had wanted to start the day early, to be able to explore the home and grounds at my own leisure. I groaned. That was no longer a possibility.

I tugged the bell pull, calling Lizzie to come help with my hair and dress. I needed to look as elegant as possible. It was the least I could do to try to redeem myself from yesterday.

The moment she left, I stepped closer to the mirror, examining the delicate twists of my hair. It was fascinating how Lizzie could make it look so lovely in a matter of minutes. I wore a plain, pastel yellow dress without a single thread of embroidery or strand of ribbon. I had never cared if my dresses were boring before, but I was certain this would look like a potato sack beside Mrs. Kellaway’s fine gown.

I held up my arm to the mirror for closer inspection. Just above my elbow, where Aunt Ruth had gripped so tightly the other day, was a fresh purple bruise.

“Drat,” I muttered. I didn’t have gloves long enough to hide it, nor had I brought any dresses with long sleeves. Praying that the bruise would go unnoticed, I raced down the hall to Peter and Charles’s bedchamber.

I threw open the door and found two empty, neatly made beds. Where could they be now? The first explanation that came to mind was that they were at breakfast. However, noting their behavior the day before, they could be anywhere, doing anything .

Lizzie had told me where to find the breakfast room, so I hurried down the stairs and stopped outside the door, leaning my ear against it. Mr. Everard’s soft voice was mingled with familiar giggles. My muscles relaxed.

Easing the door open, I stepped inside, finding the Everards and my brothers all seated at the table. I leaned against the doorframe in relief.

Mrs. Everard looked up from her plate. “Oh, Miss Downing! Have a seat!” she exclaimed around a mouthful of food. “I trust you slept well?”

I walked around the table and took a chair beside Peter. “Too well, I think.” I gave an apologetic smile. “I hope my brothers haven’t been any trouble.”

Mrs. Everard threw out her hand. “It is no matter, my dear, you had a very eventful day yesterday. You mustn’t forget that my daughter assigned a maid to see to their needs. She drew their baths this morning, helped them with their clothes, and brought them downstairs.”

My eyes rounded. I glanced at my brothers. They both wore clean clothes, and their hair was combed neater than I had ever seen. How had so much occurred while I was still sleeping?

“How efficient,” I said with a laugh. Peter and Charles didn’t seem troubled in the slightest with the new arrangement. I would have to ask them privately if they approved of their new maid. “Where are the others?”

“You have just missed them,” Mrs. Everard said. “They were here at breakfast only minutes ago.”

“Oh.” I felt a small pinch of disappointment. I had planned on asking Mrs. Kellaway for a tour of the house. I looked to my brothers. “And how did you sleep?”

Their faces lit up and they both began rambling on at once. “The beds were so comfortable!” Peter exclaimed.

“And so very bouncy,” Charles added.

“The soap in the bath smelled like lemons.”

I walked closer, taking a deep breath near Peter’s hair. “ You smell like lemons.”

He laughed, taking a sloppy bite of his eggs. At least he was using his fork.

Mr. Everard gave a deep laugh. “Why don’t you boys come read with us in the library?” he suggested. “If your sister approves.”

I eyed my brothers carefully. They had behaved horribly the day before, so it could be foolish to let them out of my sight again. However, the Everards did seem trustworthy enough…and they had proven their kindness. Even so, I had no doubt that they were both capable of delivering a good scolding if necessary.

I nodded. “Yes, of course. I was actually planning on exploring the house a bit myself.”

Mrs. Everard grinned. “Perfect. We would be more than delighted to take them off your hands anytime. They are so darling. My grandchildren are all far too old now to sit on my knee to read a storybook. I miss those days terribly.”

The image of Owen sitting on his grandmother’s knee gave me the urge to laugh. I managed to hold it back.

“Thank you, Mrs. Everard. I pray they will be on their best behavior.” I leaned over my brothers. “Promise me that you will.” I raised my eyebrows at them.

“We promise!” Peter answered before they jumped from their chairs.

“Charles?” I said, calling his eyes back to mine.

“I promise!”

I turned back to Mrs. Everard. “I won’t be away for long. Thank you again.”

She reached up a withered hand and patted mine. “Take your time, my dear. You deserve a moment to yourself.”

My heart crumpled under the soft touch of her hand and those gentle words. I had never given myself permission to step away from my responsibilities, not even for a moment. How did she know what I deserved? She hardly knew me. I pulled my hand away too fast, uncomfortable with the way her gesture had affected me.

I flashed a quick smile, tucking both hands behind the folds of my skirts.

With one last glance at my brothers, I left the room in a hurry, eager to begin exploring. I never fully claimed the opportunity to see the grounds in detail the first time I came here. I had been avoiding a certain boy by keeping to my room.

Remembering my bonnet, I raced up the stairs and swiped it quickly from my desk. Oh, how I despised wearing my bonnet. It itched my neck and blocked my sight. But, for the purpose of preventing further damage to my complexion, I put it on. Tying the ribbon as loosely as possible, I hurried down the stairs and out the door.

I was welcomed by a strong breeze that carried all the smells I loved: freshly cut grass, flourishing gardens, and sunshine—I knew sunshine must have a smell for how delightful it was. I walked out behind the home and stopped to admire a row of flowering bushes. Yellow, purple, white, and red met my eyes.

As I was bending over to examine one of the flowers that had caught my eye, the sound of nearby footfalls startled me. I jumped, whirling toward the sound. Before I could see who was approaching, the wind caught hold of my bonnet in a vicious gust, making it fall flat over my face. I stumbled backward, crashing into the bushes and tripping over what must have been a branch. I fell hard, practically disappearing into the thicket. Dozens of delicate snapping branches made an explosion in my ears as my tailbone collided with the ground.

My heart raced as I struggled to untangle myself. I froze, changing my course of action. Perhaps I had disappeared into the thicket, and if I held still enough, I wouldn’t be found.

I pushed my bonnet away from my face. Good heavens, I was buried. Through the leaves, I caught sight of a pair of shiny black boots, then a set of crouching knees. The low chuckle that followed sent a prickle of hot mortification over my skin.

Owen .

What greater opportunity was there than this for him to tease me? I closed my eyes as a wave of heat engulfed my cheeks. What would it take to be absorbed by the soil beneath me, never to be seen again? I only had a few seconds to fantasize about my grand escape before Owen’s face appeared between the branches.

“What do we have here?” His amused smile erased my embarrassment, replacing it with pure rage. Would a gentleman’s first instinct not be to help a lady who had just fallen into a bush? Instead, he planned to crouch there and mock me.

I glared at him. “I lost my balance.”

“Did my grandmother fill your glass with brandy at breakfast this morning?”

“Did she fill your bottle with brandy as a baby?”

“Yes.” He gave a serious nod. “She likes to introduce the drink at a young age. She often lures children to the library for that very purpose. Where are your brothers, might I ask?”

I gritted my teeth. Owen was nothing near a gentleman. I had been a fool to believe that he might be respectable enough to help my brothers. I wrestled with the branches, attempting to stand before realizing the back of my hair was tangled with one of them. I groaned in frustration. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to wear a bonnet? They are horribly uncomfortable, and the only vision you can perceive must be straight in front of your eyes.”

“And when the wind becomes involved, even that isn’t so.”

“You are atrocious. ”

He laughed and cast me a look through the branches, hinting at a challenge. “You called me that yesterday. It seems that your vocabulary would consist of a bit more variety.”

“Oh, it does.” My voice was bold, and I looked him straight in the eyes. “Would you like to hear a list?”

“I would love to.”

I tugged at my tangled hair as I spoke. “You are barbaric, nefarious, abhorrent, detestable, flagrant, and wicked.” I regretted the words as soon as they escaped my daring mouth. What was he doing to me? I was never this outspoken.

But Owen only laughed again, seemingly pleased with the insult. “Is that an appropriate way to speak to a friend?”

“ You have been watching me struggle in these bushes rather than offering the slightest hint of sympathy. Is that an appropriate way to treat a friend?” I snapped. “Or a lady for that matter?”

“No, it’s not,” he answered seriously. He ran his fingers through his hair as if frustrated about something. “I’m sorry.” He extended his hand. “Please allow me to help you out of the bush.”

I sighed. “Actually, I plan to stay here until you have gone.”

He chuckled. “That won’t be possible, actually, because I don’t plan to leave until you are safely on your feet again.”

“My feet are not safe.”

I caught a glimpse of his smile. He parted the branches, snapping a few more of them to see me more clearly. The poor flowers. They would all die because of me. Well, because Owen startled me.

I tried to sit up, but my hair pulled me backward again.

“Is your hair caught?” he asked.

Before I could answer, he knelt over me, reaching behind my head with both hands. I froze. My gaze focused on his brow, furrowed in concentration as he set to work on my hair. The leaves rustled and snapped as he adjusted his weight on his knees. One hand cupped the back of my neck as he leaned closer to examine the tangle. Was this how his patients felt when he tested and prodded them? I had only ever met old physicians, not young and handsome ones. His dark lashes distracted me, and I found myself staring at them. My stomach fluttered when his eyes met mine.

“Let us hope we aren’t seen in such a compromising position,” he said with a wry smile. “You would have to marry me for the sake of your reputation.”

The words marry me on Owen’s lips made me even more flustered than I already was. “My reputation is not worth that ,” I blurted. I snapped my mouth shut. Did he understand my complete lack of experience interacting with men my own age? I didn’t know why my first instinct was to be impertinent in the presence of a handsome man. A handsome, infuriating man, I corrected.

“Good to know that you find me so repulsive,” he said with a laugh.

“Was that word not on my list?” I teased.

His gaze landed on mine, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in surprise. I hadn’t meant to tease him back, but the tone had been in my voice. I wiped my smile away as fast as I could. He was still leaning over me with his hands in my hair.

Compromising, indeed.

I tried not to think too hard on the subject as he tugged at the strands for a few more seconds. He smelled of fresh soap, perhaps some blend of citrus and bergamot, and something masculine and woodsy. Perhaps that was just the branches.

“There.” He sat back on his heels. “Your hair is free.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, my face still hot. I wrestled my way forward in the bushes until my feet found solid ground again. I took a handful of leaves off the bush as I tried to pull myself out, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“Take my hand,” he said in an exasperated voice.

“I am quite capable of standing on my own, thank you.”

“Are you?”

I stood up rather dramatically, brushing bits of leaves off my dress. I gave him a defiant look, suddenly desperate to prove my competence. “I am. I have been doing so since I was just shy of one year old, in fact.”

His eyes widened. “How accomplished, you are. All I did at that age was drink my grandmother’s brandy.”

I held his gaze for several seconds as the events of the past five minutes caught up to me.

It was all so ridiculous.

Owen’s lips were twitching at the corners, which I now knew meant that he was trying to hold back laughter. I felt it too. My stomach clenched against the wild burst of amusement bubbling up inside. I only held out a few seconds longer before my laughter burst out. Once it broke free, it didn’t want to stop.

Owen tipped his head back in laughter of his own. I was reminded of last night at dinner. His chuckling subsided and he looked at me with a broad grin. “You have the most unique and infectious laugh.”

“What? I do not.”

“You do. It is unlike any laugh I have ever heard. Haven’t many people told you that?”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. I picked a leaf fragment off my skirts. What would he think if he knew that I didn’t have any friends back in Silton?

“Few people have heard it,” I said.

He stared at me in silence for a long moment. “Well, I’m very honored to be among them.” The dimple was back, and it was paired much too perfectly with the warm, admiring look on his face. I dropped my gaze to the grass. I didn’t know how to respond.

His voice recalled my eyes, carrying a much lighter tone. “I was just on my way to stables. Would you like me to give you a tour of the estate?”

I shook my head with a dismissive wave. “I don’t wish to rob you of your time any longer.”

“It would be my pleasure. Please.” His persuasive smile made the offer nearly impossible to refuse. I had planned on asking Mrs. Kellaway, but Owen was here, and he had offered.

“Very well,” I said. “But I can’t be away too long.”

Owen gave a swift nod. “Of course. Would you like to start with the grounds?”

I nodded, sweeping my gaze over the surrounding land. The gardens bled into the distance like vibrant streaks of watercolor, seemingly going on forever as they merged with the treeline. Besides what my eye could see, I knew the Kellaways must have owned miles of land beyond it where their tenants farmed and lived. It was strange how birth order could influence so much. Owen could admire and enjoy it all, but it would never truly be his. His elder brother, Edmund, was the heir. Perhaps that made Owen treasure it all the more.

Kellaway Manor was only a temporary home for him, as it was for me.

Owen beckoned me forward with a smile and a wave of his hand. “Come. We’ll start with the gardens.”

We set off together, snaking our way through stone paths, trellis archways, and neatly manicured topiary. Flowers of all varieties were in bloom, organized into separate gardens. The scent of basil dominated the herb garden, and when we walked along the stream by the woods, I could smell the endless blooms of wild garlic growing along the bank. My favorite was the rose garden. We stopped in front of a tall bush adorned with miniature white roses. They looked like little flakes of snow.

Its neighboring bush, covered with soft pink roses, caught my eye more than once. I quickly banished the admiration. Thorns pricked my heart at the sight of the pink velvet petals. Alarms rose inside my head, and thick walls burst up to protect the memories that threatened to barge through.

Owen reached forward and broke off a pink rose. “For you.” He smiled knowingly. “I noticed you admiring them.”

“Oh, um . . .” Part of me wanted to accept it, to put it in my hair just as I always used to do. It was beautiful. The gentleness of it, the way the sun illuminated its most attractive hues…

I quickly stopped myself. “It must have been the white roses you saw me admiring.”

He held up the rose in his hand, glancing at it from different angles. “Are you not fond of this color?”

“No, I’m not.” Remembering my manners, I added, “But thank you.”

He chuckled. “Don’t thank me for a rose you find unsightly. Would you like a white one instead?”

“That would be much better.”

As he reached down to pluck off a rose near the base of the bush, a movement caught my attention from the right. I turned my head and looked twice. A robust, angry woman was marching swiftly across the grass.

I was stunned by the resemblance she bore to an animal I had read about. I believe it was called an elephant. By the way she bounded with heavy footfalls, and carried herself with such powerful authority, it seemed to me that she was the very personification of one. She seemed intent to trample everything in her path.

I jerked my gaze to Owen. I was surprised to see that he was watching her approach with a calm, if not amused, expression.

“Owen Kellaway, don’t you dare take a rose!” The woman yelled, wagging a finger. “How many times must I tell you?” Her face was ruddy, her voice shaking with rage.

Owen turned his head around to flash me a mischievous smile.

I knew mischievous smiles better than most, so from his I knew that he intended to pick the rose anyway. He grasped it by its stem and pulled up sharply, releasing it from the bush. Then he stood up straight, wide eyes brimming with laughter. “Run!”