“Oh, Annette.” Mrs. Kellaway’s face lit up. “I have never seen anything so lovely.”
“Madame Fareweather’s judgment is always sound,” Mrs. Everard said, nodding toward the modiste. “Pink is the color for you.”
I didn’t dare wonder what the price of the gown was, but Mrs. Kellaway didn’t seem to care. She circled me with such an awed expression that I could hardly meet her gaze. Who was I if I didn’t keep my promises? I had told myself I would never wear pink without my mother to see it. Was this garden party enough to change my mind? It was embarrassing to think of Owen seeing me in this dress after I had been so firm in my convictions.
But it seemed that I had no choice in the matter.
Madame Fareweather was an excellent saleswoman. “I will have the gown altered and delivered by tomorrow morning, as requested,” she said.
That marked the end of the conversation. After helping me change, she sent her assistant away with the gown and settled a few matters with Mrs. Kellaway at the front desk.
Despite my conflicted feelings about the gown, I thanked Mrs. Kellaway profusely. I had never owned something so fine, and by tomorrow, the gown would belong to me. It was a thrilling thought, and it buzzed through my mind the entire drive home.
Willowbourne passed us again, just as secluded and mysterious as the first time. I realized that it must have been the beautiful thing Owen had loved and lost—the reason he understood me that day in the water gardens. The estate had once been special to him, but now it was associated with heartbreak.
I looked at the grounds, the golden facade, and the pond. They were Owen’s equivalent of my pink dress.
They were just as painful as they were beautiful.
If I could wear my dress to the garden party tomorrow, then Owen could visit Willowbourne again. Perhaps I could convince him, and we might both find beauty in our favorite things again.
CHAPTER 20
Igave Peter and Charles each a hug when we arrived back at the house late that afternoon. They told me of all the activites that they had enjoyed with Mr. Everard, reading books, learning tricks, and learning to play whist. They were so energetic and lively that I had to laugh when I noticed Mr. Everard snoring on the farthest sofa.
They had clearly worn him out.
A young maid sat on a chair in the corner, dutifully observing my brothers in Mr. Everard’s stead.
“Look what he gave us!” Charles held out his little palm, revealing two shiny pennies. “Two for me, and two for Peter.”
Peter showed me his hand where two identical pennies lay.
I smiled. “Well, that was very kind of him, wasn’t it? Keep those pennies safe until you can use them to pay for something you want. There is never a need for stealing.”
“We must pay for what we want,” Charles said, repeating the line I had tried to commit to his memory. “Can we use them to pay for some sweets at the bakery instead of taking them from Mr. Coworm?”
I laughed lightly. Mr. Cowormwas a much more fitting name for that odious man. “Of course. Just be sure it is something you really want. We do not want to waste money either.”
They nodded, clutching the pennies in their fists. I had a feeling they would keep them very safe.
A familiar voice came from the doorway. “Did you bore Grandfather to sleep with your talk of ballgowns and fashion?”
I turned around to see Owen, an easy smile on his lips as he strode into the room. I remembered Madame Fareweather’s lecture about confidence, and decided that Owen embodied the word perfectly. His gaze found me where I stood with my brothers near the pianoforte. I smiled, and he smiled back, his eyes softening at the corners. A little flutter rippled through my stomach at that look. I tried to ignore the sensation, but Iwastruly happy to see him.
Mrs. Kellaway laughed. “Your grandfather has been snoring since the moment we walked through this door. We are not to blame.”
I noticed a letter in Owen’s hand. He tore it open with an amused smile, still addressing his mother. “Perhaps because he was anticipating your return.” He unfolded the letter, not waiting to read it privately. His eyes ran down the page, then stopped suddenly. His grip tightened on the paper.
Something was wrong. All at once, he lowered the letter and strode quickly out of the room.
Mrs. Kellaway frowned in his direction as she settled into an armchair. “I hope nothing is amiss.”
I stared at the empty doorway, worry prickling over my shoulders. His smile had fallen so quickly. What could have made him rush away like that? I stood frozen for another minute before retreating to the sofa.
Peter and Charles were showing Mrs. Kellaway their new pennies, and Mrs. Everard was attempting to jostle her husband awake by poking him with the end of her fan.
I couldn’t stop worrying about Owen.
