Mrs. Kellaway and the other women gasped.
I scrambled to my feet. Peter and Charles watched from the window, and I could hear the faint sobs coming from both of them now. My pink dress might have made me look like a lady, but I was prepared to fight like a madman. Hot anger made my skin burn. If Edmund and Mr. Kellaway hadn’t been holding me steady, I might have charged at Aunt Ruth.
She glared at me through a strand of hair in her eyes, tugging on her gown to straighten it. “Howdareyou—” Her face was red again, a sheen of sweat on her chin.
I looked up at the path behind the carriage. Two men on horseback approached quickly, hooves beating hard against the ground. My vision was clouded for a moment, but then their faces came into focus.
It was Owen astride the dark brown horse, and a man I didn’t recognize astride the black one.
The moment I saw him, my emotions scratched at my throat. My fortitude threatened to fall to pieces at the sight of his face. I didn’t have to be quite so strong if Owen was here. He would surely make up the difference.
He stopped his horse on the path in front of the carriage and dismounted, striding toward me. Mr. Kellaway and Edmundstepped back, and Owen took both my hands. He looked surprised as he took in the scene—Aunt Ruth, the carriage, Peter and Charles inside. A dangerous look entered his gaze. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
I was disheveled, but not hurt. I shook my head.
Owen turned slowly toward Aunt Ruth. I had never seen her intimidated, but that was the only name I could give her expression. I swallowed, clinging tight to Owen’s hand.
“My aunt, Mrs. Filbee,” I said, looking in her direction.
Owen didn’t move, his jaw tight. I saw his eyes flicker to the carriage window.
“She doesn’t believe that we are engaged,” I added.
Owen’s gaze met mine. In certain terms, I had never told him I could marry him, but he understood my meaning.
“We are engaged,” he said in a confident voice. He turned his attention to Aunt Ruth. “And I must assure you, Mrs. Filbee, that I fully intend to have the guardianship of Peter and Charles transferred to me immediately upon our marriage.”
She scoffed, but I saw a hint of doubt cross her face. “What makes you think you can do that?”
The man on the black horse dismounted and began walking in our direction. He looked vaguely familiar, and I quickly realized that he was one of the gentlemen I had seen Owen standing with at the ball. He looked to be similar in age to Mr. Kellaway, with greying hair and a pointed nose. He was tall and thin, his slight figure floating somewhere inside his eccentric orange jacket.
I realized that I hadn’t stayed at the ball long enough to meet Owen’s uncle. Could this have been him?
Owen tucked me partially behind him when Aunt Ruth took a step closer. She crossed her arms, eyeing him with scrutiny. Surely she was wondering how on earth I had managed to attract such a man. I wondered the very same thing.
“My uncle, Mr. Bartholomew Pratt, is the master of Willowbourne,” Owen said. “It is arguably the finest house in Hampshire. I assume you have heard of it?”
Aunt Ruth’s nose twitched, and she glanced in Mr. Pratt’s direction. “Yes.”
Owen gave a nod. “Well, my uncle has had many dealings with the courts to appoint me as his heir. He has made me aware that since the late Mr. Downing appointed Mr. Filbee as guardian over the legal affairs of his children, your husband’s death prior to the reading of the will would have nullified that.”
A deep line appeared on Aunt Ruth’s forehead, and her gaze shifted to the ground.
“By marriage,” Owen continued, “you were still the closest relation to Mr. Filbee, so you were given the responsibility of nuturing the children. But the role of testamentary guardian over their legal affairs would have been granted to someone else—most likely another male relative of the Downings.” Owen waited until Aunt Ruth looked up at him again. “Who might it be?”
She tugged at her gloves, her lips pursed tight. For a moment, she looked like a child who had been caught making mischief. She was cornered. “The late Mrs. Downing has a cousin in Yorkshire,” she muttered. “He accepted his duty in court, but he has done nothing to uphold it. He has never even been acquainted with them.”
“That should make my task easier, then,” Owen said. “It seems that the current guardian will have no objection to relinguishing his responsibilities to me after Annette and I are married. As their closest relative above the age of majority, there shall be no contest as to who should be nurturing the boys. Annette, of course.” He glanced at all the others standing beside us before addressing Aunt Ruth again. “And with so many to testify to your incompetency and cruelty, any argument youmight make to keep the children will be overruled. Be assured, Mrs. Filbee, that everyone here, myself included, will prevent you from leaving with those boys today.” He took a step forward, his voice low. “By any means necessary.”
Aunt Ruth’s face darkened a shade.
“I would suggest,” he continued, “that you open that door, set them free, and return quietly to Silton.”
My mind raced. Aunt Ruth’s power had just been tugged out from under her like a rug, her ruse revealed. She had never had as much control over my brothers and me as she had pretended. Hope gripped my heart.
Aunt Ruth set her gaze on me, her eyes gleaming with hatred. Owen had silenced her, but she was still not intimidated by me. That didn’t matter though, not now that I was surrounded by so many others. I wasn’t alone anymore. The thought made my eyes swell with tears. I blinked them away, holding firm where I stood.
After a few seconds, she finally turned toward the carriage and opened the door.
