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 ofembarrassment, 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.
