My gaze found Eve’s dark eyes. Thatsomeonemight as well be a horse.
I scanned the stables one last time for anyone who might be eavesdropping, then began spilling all my secrets. I felt like a dolt, pouring out my concerns and questions and fears to a horse, but surprisingly it seemed comfortable, relieving, and I didn’t have to worry about being judged.
I told her about my aunt, and her requirements of my brothers. I told her about Kellaway Manor, and how at home I felt with these people who I would soon have to leave. I told her about Owen, and how afraid I was that we might never be friends again. I told her how there was speculation that he might be in love with Miss Lyons.
My voice and heart felt heavy when I said that part.
I considered asking her why it hurt me so much, but I was afraid of the answer. The realization had been sneaking up on me, and now there was nothing left to hide it. Owen was much more than a friend to me. I feared I had fallen in love with him.
I didn’t know how long I had been falling, but it felt just as irreversable as my harsh words to him in the library. Dread sank through my stomach, followed by a hint of panic. How had I allowed this to happen? Loving Owen was a risk that would end up hurting me, I just knew it. I could already feel the pain of regret and the fear of rejection, all as a result of having a careless heart. That organ was traitorous, and I needed to learn to control it before I married Mr. Frampton. If only I knew how. My heart had not asked me for permission to fall in love with Owen, and it was stubborn enough to refuse alteration.
I leaned my elbow on the gate of Eve’s stall and rubbed my forehead. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Perhaps I could forget him. There was still time before Owen returned. I could still turn myheart in the right direction. But the most pressing issue, the false engagement, led me to ramble on to the horse for another five minutes. I asked her what I should do about it.
She didn’t answer, of course.
When I finished talking to Eve, the stable was thick with the silence that I had dispelled with my prattle. I felt a small sense of relief, but not enough to be comfortable. I gave Eve one last stroke between her eyes and walked to the orangery. I hadn’t been inside since the first day with Owen. It was warm and quiet, but all I could see was the empty space on the bench beside me.
I plucked an orange from one of the trees, peeling back the skin and taking a bite. It tasted more bitter that I remembered. I didn’t finish it, even though it was the first thing I had eaten all day. I didn’t want to go back to the house and face Mrs. Kellaway, Alice, and Miss Lyons. They would surely have questions for me. I didn’t want to lie. I would rather be hated by Mrs. Everard than hated by everyone else. I pondered over that for a long moment.
Telling the truth was still the best course of action.
If I could find a private moment with Mrs. Kellaway, I could tell her about her mother’s scheme and how I didn’t choose to be a part of it. She could then clear things up with Alice and Miss Lyons immediately.
With these firm thoughts in mind, I made my way back to the house.
I had been hiding outside for far too long. It was time to face the problem boldly; it was the only way to put it behind me. I walked up the stairs, where I could hear Mrs. Kellaway’s laugh coming from a room at the end of the hall. As I approached the door, I nearly collided with her as she walked out.
Her eyes flew open wide and she gasped, placing a hand to her chest. “Good heavens, you gave me a fright!” She laughed, chest heaving as she caught her breath.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a glum voice.
Mrs. Kellaway wasn’t alone for long. Alice and Miss Lyons stepped out behind her.
Drat it all.
I locked eyes with Miss Lyons, who looked as shocked as Mrs. Kellaway, her cool blue eyes round, her perfect lips parted. “Were you eavesdropping?” she asked with a laugh.
Her voice grated on me. “No. I came to speak with Mrs. Kellaway.” I turned to face her. “May I have a moment of your time?” I tried to keep my voice calm.
Mrs. Kellaway nodded, though she looked a little confused. She stepped away from the door and followed me toward my room. My heart raced as I rehearsed the words in my mind.I am not engaged to Owen. I am sorry for the misunderstanding.Your mother is an old, mischievous, dolt who finds pleasure in torturing me.
My thoughts were interrupted by the echo of hurried feet along with the sound of Peter’s panicked voice. “Annette! Charles is stuck!”
I whirled around just in time for Peter to grab my arm.
His face was wet where tears had smeared across his freckled cheeks. He sniffed and tugged me in the direction of their room. I quickly excused myself with a fleeting glance at Mrs. Kellaway, and ran after Peter down the hall.
CHAPTER 25
As we approached my brothers’ room, the soft, dull sound of muffled cries reached my ears. My heart leaped to my throat.
When I stepped through the door, with the sobbing Peter behind me, I looked around the room frantically, trying to follow the sound with my eyes.
“Where is he?” I asked in a panic.
Peter raised a shaking finger in the direction of a short, wooden chest with a Charles-sized drawer at the bottom. “W-we just wanted to s-see if he would fit, but the drawer g-got stuck,” Peter sobbed.
“Charles is inthere?” I ran toward the chest. I squatted down in front of the little drawer, whimpers and sobs reaching my ears from inside it.
