Leahhaddecidedtotry and immerse herself into helping Rose with her needlepoint over the next few days. Rose hated to take the time to do it, but also wished to improve. So here they were.
“What are you stitching, Leah?” Rose leaned over to peer at the pillowcase Leah was embroidering.
“Nothing relevant.”
Rose squinted. “It looks like a heart.”
“Oh?” Leah stabbed her needle through the cotton fabric, slowly pulling the thread back through. “I had not really planned on it, but I suppose you are correct. It does resemble a heart.”
“Not planned?” Rose dropped her little embroidering board into her lap with a scowl. “How is that even possible?”
“I know how,” Cecily sang from the settee across from them.
Miranda folded her book shut. “If Leah is unaware, then how do you know?”
“Because I am very astute.” Cecily grinned over at her.
“Or,” Leah continued, “I had been trying to stitch a rose and simply forgot what I was doing.”
“But you said you did not know.” Rose seemed more confused than ever, her eyebrows forming a tight V at her brow. “So do you know or not?”
“I now remember. It was supposed to be a rose.”
“Are you stitching it for me? It is a lovely little pillow cover.”
Leah smiled, returning to her stitching. “Say the word and it is yours.”
A door creaked and all four ladies turned toward the sound. Their butler came just inside the morning room. “Mr. Turner is here to see you, Miss Thompson.”
Leah’s hands stilled while her sisters all erupted into a fit of giggles. “Shush,” she scolded them over her shoulder. She did not need Owen hearing their laughs and thinking she had told them everything. The only one she had confided the details to was Cecily, and she had been careful to leave the more colorful parts out.
“Can we stay?” Rose stood as Cecily held a hand out to her. Rose took it, but waited to see what Leah would have to say.
“I don’t honestly know,” Leah admitted. She had no context to go on other than Owen was here and with the apparent reason of seeing her. But what if he did not wish for a private audience and all her sisters scattered, making the event awkward or uncomfortable?
Leah turned to tell them they could stay, but they were already to the side door. All she saw were Miranda’s dark curls as her sisters turned into the hall opposite from where their butler had announced Owen’s arrival.
And when she turned back to the door, Owen stood there watching her.
“Owen, what an unexpected and pleasant surprise.” She smiled, her hands wrapped so tightly around each other that she was afraid they may never come apart again.
He smirked, coming farther into the room. “I was hoping you would say that. But, truthfully, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.”
“Why would I not be pleased?”
He shrugged. “I was not sure if I allowed you enough time.”
“Oh.” She swallowed—her neck tight. How did she go about not seeming overzealous? After telling him she needed more time but spending every waking moment after he left thinking of nothing but him? Though, isn’t that what she had wanted? Was that not her answer? If she had not thought of him after his leaving, she would have taken that to mean it had only been a temporary thing. But that was not what had happened.
Not at all.
He looked at the window, kicking his foot against the floor. “So, have I? Given you enough time, that is?”
“I will admit it has not been very many days,” she said lightly. There. Her answer was not a lie. She said not many days. Though it had felt like a lifetime since last seeing him.
He bobbed his head, working his mouth. “I suppose it felt like a long time to me, so I thought perhaps it had to you as well. But if not, I shall go and see what Jonas is doing.” Instead of turning to leave, he brought his gaze up to her, hope hiding in his eyes.
“Then I suppose I must admit . . .” She paused. “It felt much longer than one week to me as well.”
