Chapter 1
Leah. Morning of the first day.
Leahwatchedasthesnow fell, each white flake a perfect, frozen design of beauty . . . and oh, how she hated every single one. Her trunk was currently being packed, or she would have the footman load the carriage now and be on her way to Amelia’s home. It was not a long trip, perhaps only a mile, but at the rate the snow was falling, she was not sure the carriage would be able to make the trip at all. As it was, she could no longer see the grass, which did not bode well for her plans.
Leah’s heart sank deeper as the snow piled up at an alarming rate, dashing her hopes of escape. She had planned to enjoy a nice weekend at Amelia’s before Christmas day. Not only would she get to spend time with her closest friend, but she would also escape being in the same house as Owen. Now, it looked as if she was going to be forced to suffer through the experience with as much aplomb as she could muster—which she feared would not be much at all.
“You are going to ruin your fingernails if you keep at that.”
Leah turned her head at the voice, pulling her fingers away from her mouth and clasping her hands together in her lap. Realizing it was only her brother, Jonas, she shook her head and looked back out the window. “Amelia will not care if my fingernails are not up to snuff.”
A shadow appeared in her periphery, and Leah spared Jonas a quick glance. He leaned against the wall next to her, gazing at the accumulating snow with a grin. “No, but Owen might have something to say about it.”
Just hearing Owen’s name made Leah’s spine stiffen. She pulled her fingers back to her mouth, giving one more decisive chew just to show Jonas what she thought of Owen’s opinion. Jonas only laughed, leaning closer to the windowpane as if that would help him better discern the state of her plight.
“You might be able to make it still,” he began. “Have Mr. Ashley load up the carriage now.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and jerking his head to flip a stray lock of hair from off his brow. He had done so for years, and no matter how much their mother nagged him to simply cut off the stubborn follicle, he refused. Sometimes Leah wondered if he did it just to make a point. He was his own man, and no one could tell him how to dress or live his life.
“Rebecca is finishing packing my trunk as we speak. However, I fear she will not finish in time for me to get to Amelia’s without becoming stuck.”
Jonas turned so his back flattened against the wall, pulling his foot up behind him. “I suggest you cut your losses and get your trunk in the carriage now. How many dresses does one girl possibly need to visit a friend?”
“If the snow becomes too cumbersome, I will leave tomorrow. Surely I can survive one evening in Owen’s company.”
Jonas chuckled. “Now that you are older, you should probably refer to Owen as Mr. Turner.”
Leah stared blankly out the window, cringing as a strong wind swept up a white cloud of snow so thick she was unable to make out the barren apple tree that stood only a stone's throw from the house.
“That is fine by me.” Leah began to pull her fingers back to her lips, but quickly set them down on the windowsill. She knew how horrid a habit it was and had years of reprimands to keep her from chewing her nails. Only on rare occasions did she find herself doing it, and the thought of suffering through Owen’s company was apparently enough to make her forget years of careful practice.
“Oh, come now,” Jonas said. “Owen is not so bad. Can you not let bygones be bygones? You have both grown a fair bit since you last saw him.”
She turned to Jonas, her lips tight. “Did he somehow become a likable human in the span of four years?”
Jonas tried to hide his smile by running his hand across his face. “He has always been likable. He was only a young boy playing harmless tricks.”
“Harmless?” She blurted, standing and walking away from the horrid view of her plans being dashed to shreds. “He tripped me and caused me to fall into the mud. Ruining a perfectly lovely dress, might I add.”
“And how old was he when he did this?”
She glared at him as he continued to lean lackadaisically against the wall. “It does not matter his age. As the son of a gentleman, he knew better.Anyboy should have known better. Though, I suppose he is a more recent gentleman than others.”
Jonas’ smile faded slightly as his eyes encouraged her to acknowledge her silly grudge. “How old, Leah?”
She took a deep breath, gripping her skirt. “I suppose he would have been twelve at the time.”
“And how old would he be now?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You know very well how old he is.”
“Yes, I do. I am only checking to be sure thatyoudo.”
She inspected her nails, seeing what damage she had done earlier. Luckily, there was only a slight fray to the edge of one or two. “He would be about twenty-two years of age. The very same as you.” Leah was only two years younger than Jonas and Owen, and thus had suffered through their antics more than any other sibling.
“Yes. And he is a grown man with a career now. I am sure he will not be pulling your pigtails or tripping you—”
“Or putting snails in my dollhouse?”
Jonas attempted to keep his face straight, but inadvertently snorted out a laugh. “Yes. Or that.”
