“There,” Owen said. “Now try to eat slowly and use your silver. I know such manners are difficult to remember when you’re hungry.” He gave each of my brothers a broad smile.
I watched with amazement as Peter picked up his spoon, taking a careful scoop from his bowl and following Owen’s instruction.
How on earth had he managed to do that?
My gaze shot to Owen, who gave me a satisfied grin. He was obviously trying to prove himself capable of his task. Admittedly, I was impressed.
When the main course was brought in, my brothers stared with unblinking eyes at the trays of meat and vegetables circling the table. Suddenly, Charles began squirming in his chair. “Georgie! Hold still,” he said in a hushed voice.
I gave him a puzzled look. “Who’s Georgie?” I whispered. I followed his gaze as it traveled slowly down to the pocket of his trousers. A small, round lump sat quivering over his leg. Dreadbegan creeping up my stomach and into my chest. “Charles. WhoisGeorgie?” I hissed.
In answer, he reached his hand inside his pocket. Before I could stop him, he had removed Georgie from his pocket and was holding him high in the air.
To my complete dismay, my suspicions were confirmed—Georgie was a mouse. A small grey mouse, who happened to have a very slick tail. As soon as Charles pulled Georgie from his pocket, he slipped his tail right from between Charles’s fingers and scurried across the table. Charles stared after him with an adoring grin. “Look how fast he can run!”
I very nearly dove across the table. The mouse stopped just in front of Mrs. Everard, as if to take a look around.
Mrs. Kellaway pointed a shaking finger at the mouse and let out a scream that could have shattered the windows. She nearly tipped the table as she leaped from her seat. I could have never imagined what chaos such a small creature would ensue.
With a bloodcurdling shriek, Mrs. Everard flew from her chair and ran across the room, clutching her chest in panic. I also would have never imagined that Mrs. Everard could move so quickly.
I looked around frantically. Peter and Charles laughed in their chairs, eyes wide with delight. Jumping into action, I grabbed my empty glass and slammed the open end over the mouse, trapping it inside.
“Don’t hurt him!” Charles screamed, tugging on my skirts.
I twisted to look at him. My face flushed hot. “Take him outside, now!”
Charles quickly obeyed, snatching Georgie and hurrying to the door. Peter accompanied him. I could hear their secretive giggles as they left the room.
I sat back in my chair and put my face in my hands. It was warm to the touch, and the entire room had fallen silent aroundme. I had been completely wrong to assume that my brothers hadn’t been working mischief while they were out of doors unsupervised. Surely Mrs. Kellaway wouldn’t allow us to stay any longer. Two incidents in one day? Even I hadn’t expected their behavior to be this horrible.
I took a deep breath. Then another. “I am very sorry,” I said behind my hands. I didn’t dare uncover my face. After a long stretch of silence, the temptation was too great. I glanced up.
Owen was looking at me, his lips quivering in an apparent effort not to laugh. Mr. Everard sat rigid, his wrinkled face completely expressionless. Mrs. Everard stood across the room, attempting to steady her breathing, and Mrs. Kellaway had returned to her chair. Her lips were tight, brows lifted.
I rotated in my chair to face her. “I truly am very sorry.” It was all I could manage. How many apologies had been uttered within the walls of this house today? It seemed like thousands.
She drew a shaky breath and put on a smile. “Not to worry. The fault is not your own.”
I nodded silently. But of course the fault was mine. My brothers were so young, and it was now obvious that I had not taught them well enough. Mr. Coburn was right, and Mr. Frampton was wrong. I was inept. I had no control over my brothers’ behavior. The moment I married him, he would see me, and my brothers, for who we truly were. Despair and mortification swirled around my heart.
After a long moment of silence, everyone carried on with the meal except Mrs. Everard, who was still catching her breath in the corner.
My heart beat hard with shame. I looked across the table at Owen. He leaned forward. “I didn’t catch a good look at the creature,” he said in a hushed voice. “Was it a harmless mouse or a rabid wolf? I cannot be certain based on the way they reacted.” He pointed his gaze at his mother and Mrs. Everard.
A small smile tugged on my mouth. “I’m surprised you were able to keep your wits.”
“They are suspended by a thread. Much like my grandfather’s lip.”
An unexpected laugh burst out of me.
Looking at Owen’s smiling face, I was struck by a pang of guilt about not accepting his apology. He had meant it in earnest, and I had refused it. Although he was an unyielding, mischievous tease who could never be serious, I was fairly certain that his intentions weren’t all bad.
My thoughts were interrupted by a flustered sigh from Mrs. Everard as she reclaimed her seat at the table. She shook her head, then patted her curls back into place. “Those boys ought to be kept on leashes.”
My eyes flew of their own accord to Owen. We looked at each other, as if to see who could hold out longer without laughing.
Mrs. Everard scowled at us. “Do you not agree?”
