Chapter 8
Leah. Evening of the second day
Leahdrummedherfingersalong her toilette table, pondering just how she would extract years of revenge in one weekend. Once that slightly ice-crusted snowball had hit her back, she had known it was war. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, if you will. Now the question was, should she do it subtly? Perhaps gradually increase the pranks until Owen was driven away from the estate? She would not stomp off and tattle on him like she did as a young girl. This time, she would take matters into her own silk-gloved hands.
But what mischief could she cause him?
She hadn’t realized how much creativity it took to think of such malicious schemes and was at a loss. But surely she was clever enough to think of something. If Owen was capable of it, then so was she.
Leah stood from her chair, fisting her hands as she paced the room. Perhaps ruminating on all of Owen’s schemes over the years would ignite an idea of her own.
There was the snail in the dollhouse, which she had already discussed with Jonas. There was also the time Owen had tripped her, causing her to fall into the mud directly in front of Peter Wright, splashing some of the thick brown paste onto his trousers. That had certainly been the most mortifying. Peter had been the young boy that all the girls had watched with a glow on their cheeks. While they had all been too young to be planning matrimony, she had certainly appreciated his sweet smiles and lovely black hair. But after witnessing her planting her face into the thick, cakey mud, she doubted Peter ever looked her way again. She had not handled it well. If she had been a lady about it, perhaps he would have forgotten the whole affair. But she had boiled over the top, stomping in the puddle like the child she was—only making the condition of poor Peter’s trousers worse.
Owen had tried to hide his laugh, his face nearly popping from holding it in. But she knew the truth. He had found it most entertaining.
Flashes of other instances poured into her mind, playing one right after the other. Owen planting mistletoe in a doorway and tricking her into walking under it with George Fitzroy—the boy who always had a string of saliva that hung between his lips as he spoke. Owen giving her a different set of lyrics for the song they all sang at the Hodge’s Christmas party, causing her to burst into a robust new chorus, only to be met with silence and stares from everyone else. Owen adding an unsightly weed to her bonnet whilst she wasn’t looking before church service—causing her to sit through the entire sermon with the brown, spindly plant protruding high above the rest of her hat’s adornments for the rest of the congregation to see. And last, but certainly not least, Owen belching at an extreme volume in a room full of their peers, only to glare at her and exclaim that she was most rude to do so in front of guests.
Yes. Owen Turner needed to be put in his place. And Leah was more than happy to be the one to do it.
Leah readied for dinner, feeling a bit like an evil villain from the novels she occasionally read. While staring at her reflection in the mirror as Rebecca styled her hair, she even practiced her malicious grin. One certainly needed a wicked grin if they were to be a villain, and she would like to know it looked correct before displaying it for Owen to see.
“What are you doing, Miss?” Rebecca scowled as she used the hot iron to curl the hair about Leah’s face.
“Oh, nothing. I only wish to practice my smile for the play we shall be putting on this weekend.”
Rebecca cradled the curl in her hand for a moment, allowing it to cool slightly before letting the perfect ringlet fall against Leah’s cheek. “What role are you playing? Hopefully not the fair maiden, for that last smile sent a shiver down my spine.”
Perfect.
After flashing her practiced smile in the mirror one last time, Leah took measured steps towards the stairs. She put her foot on the first step, caressing the banister with delicate fingers and gazing about the foyer as if she were its ruler. The power she felt was most intriguing, and she found she quite enjoyed it.
“What is wrong with your face?”
Leah brought her haughty chin down, glaring at Jonas who leaned against the wall below. She shook her head, making her way to the bottom of the stairs. “What do you mean by that?”
His face contorted, his lips forming a confused grimace. “You look as if you smell something unseemly.”
“Smell something unseemly?” She stopped when she reached the last step, staring at him. He only raised a brow, waiting for her to reply. Perhaps her look of superiority needed to be perfected as well. This was why one needed to practice such things in front of a mirror!
She shook her head. “Never the matter. Where is Owen?”
Jonas’ gaze shifted, focusing over her shoulder.
Leah turned about and Owen stood there beaming at her. “You needed me?”
“No.” She scoffed. “I certainly do notneedyou.”
“A shame.” He tilted his head, grinning at her in the same mischievous way she had attempted to convey earlier. She hated that his malicious smile was better.
His hair was groomed to perfection for the evening, and she allowed herself a quick glance at his attire. She resented that he struck an attractive figure. Instead of being the gangly boy of their youth, he was broader, his facial features more masculine, and based upon his earlier display pulling Rose, stronger than he had once been.
“You are certainly staring at me as if you need something.”
She righted her gaze back to his face and his taunting grin. Her cheeks blazed. “I only thought you had some mud on your breeches. But alas, you are not the one to fall prey to puddles. That is more my lot in life, is it not?”
He let out a brief chuckle, revealing an alarmingly dashing smile. “It is freezing outside, Leah. I do not believe there is a puddle to be found in the entire county.”
“You are purposely dismissing the meaning of my remark.”
