“Am I?” He walked over to her, offering his arm. What was he about? Earlier he had crashed into her and then pelted her with snow. Now he was offering to escort her to dinner?
It must be a trap.
She stared at his arm, hating that a part of her wanted to take it. “No, thank you.”
“Leah,” he said with a laugh, dropping his arm. “I am sorry about the snowball earlier. Is that what this is about?”
Yes. And the sled, the snail, the weed, the mistletoe, the puddle. It was aboutall of it.
Perhaps she was being too obvious. If she really wished to take him unawares, she needed to feign innocence. Snarkiness would only make it clear to him that she had ill intentions. “I’m sorry. You are correct and I am acting like a child. Thank you for the offer.” Leah held her hand out and he lifted his arm for her to take it. She slid her gloves over the sleeve of his deep green jacket, getting a slight flutter in her stomach as she did so.Silly, silly girl!
“Owen.” Rose’s soft whine came from behind them. “I had thought you would sit by me at dinner.”
Owen grinned, looking down at Leah and speaking softly. “It appears your whining has transferred to Rose.”
Leah shook her head. “Have you considered that it perhaps had more to do with my age and less to do with my personality?”
He didn’t answer her, only raised his brow and continued to grin at her in that maddening way. Why was he being so elusive? Did age make one more private in nature? She supposed it was true of herself. Things that she would have shared with the world were now only shared with those she trusted most. Like Amelia.
Once the family gathered, they filed into the dining room, taking their places at the table. Owen held Leah’s chair out for her and she reached back with her hand to be sure it was there before sitting down. She wouldn’t put it past Owen to pull the chair back a few inches to make her fall and look a fool.
As soon as Leah was assured the chair was where it should be, she sat down and took a gulp of her drink, gathering her wits. Owen seemed to be buttering her up for something, so whatever it was, it must be of some magnitude.
Upon seating himself beside her, Owen tilted his head to the side and studied her with a puckered brow. “You look very well this evening, Leah.” His words almost seemed to be an afterthought or something that he had meant to keep in his mind.
“Do you make all the ladies swoon with such compliments?” She placed her glass down as carefully as she could. Her fingers were clasped around it so tightly that it almost hurt. She shook her head.
“I’m sorry. I do not mean it backhandedly. You are just . . . different.”
A servant appeared just behind her, ladling a small portion of pea soup into her bowl and she tried to hide a grimace. She and peas had always had a complicated relationship. “Thank you. You look different as well.”
Owen pursed his lips, staring down at the green substance in his bowl before giving a nervous laugh. “I can now see how that does not sound very flattering.” He lifted his spoon, dipping it into his soup and taking a large, yet quiet, sip. He looked back to her as he held his head over his bowl. “You know you have to eat that. It does not matter how much you hate peas.”
Leah narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you have anything to do with the planning of our meal?”
“What?” Owen laughed, his face incredulous. His mouth smiled but his furrowed brow held questions. “Why would I have had anything to do with the dinner arrangement?”
Leah put a hand to her head. What was coming over her? She had begun this weekend wanting to run away, then told herself that perhaps Owen had changed, then pendulumed back to thinking the worst of him. Now she was accusing him of changing the dinner menu.
Perhaps this is what he wanted. To put her off guard and make her think she was losing her mind when inside he was really trying to figure out a way to pull a stunt of his own. She forced a laugh. “Of course. How silly of me. You are not the same boy you once were.” She picked up her spoon, hesitantly filling it with the thick soup. If she went slowly enough, perhaps they would clear the plates and begin the next course before she had to eat any.
“Areyou all right, Leah? Perhaps Jonas was on to something earlier.”
Drat. Why could she not be the subtle, scheming young woman she wished to be? Perhaps engaging in common conversation would be enough to disarm him and make her look less suspicious. “I’m sorry. I did not sleep well last night and it seems to be catching up with me.”
“I am very sorry to hear that.”
“It is nothing. Just an owl outside my window keeping me up.” She closed her eyes, inwardly chastising herself. Why could she not be smooth and discreet? No. She had to make up lies about owls outside of her window. As if that happened every day.
If Owen thought anything of her ridiculous reason for not sleeping, however, he was polite enough to keep it to himself. “I see.” He focused back on his soup, finishing it with one last bite.
“So, you mentioned the business with your father. Is it going well?”
“Very well.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Father has been teaching me the ropes with the hope that I will run a store of my own. We have one in Banbury already, plus the shop in Carterton, but we plan to open another in the next couple of years, which would be my baby, if you will.”
“That sounds like a large undertaking.”
“Yes. Grandfather always liked to play things safe, but my father pushed the limits a bit further. I feel it is a rite of passage for me to try my hand at expanding as well.” He sat back in his seat, his face becoming more animated and a smile forming on his lips as he tucked a fist under his chin. “It means my father thinks I am responsible enough to step out on my own.” Owen turned toward her, his smile softening. “It means that he trusts me to do the job.”
