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 thoughtfulhehad 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 Theodorewould 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 quietvoice. “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 muchItreasured 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.
