Owen inhaled the warm, yeasty smell billowing from the cottage. “I will join her at the table if that is amenable. I’m certain she will not mind.”
Platt hesitated only briefly before stepping away and allowing Owen to enter. He knew the way to the small dining room, so he went on ahead, knocking briefly at the door before stepping inside.
Aunt Clara sat alone at the table, lifting her gaze from her plate of kippers and toast. Two dogs lay by the hearth, and no other servant was in the room. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Is this not how we make our visits now? Over breakfast?”
Her answering smile was one of amusement.
“I have business to discuss with you, but it can wait until you’ve finished eating. May I sit with you?”
“Of course. Are you hungry?”
“No. I’ve eaten.”
She cut a bite and popped it in her mouth. “How are you settling in with your parents?”
“It has been nice to see them.” Owen rubbed the back of his neck. “I can see now I ought to have returned earlier. It was selfish to remain away for so many years. My mother has expectations now that I’m home, and my father supports her entirely. But all that aside, it was thoughtless of me to stay away as long as I did.”
He didn’t mention that returning earlier would have meant more time with Uncle Edward as well. She knew that already.
“What good does that do?” Aunt Clara asked. “Bemoaning past mistakes is nothing more than a waste of time. Learn from them and move on, Owen.”
“I’m not sure I’ve learned enough.”
“Which is why you have wise women around you who love and support you.” She grinned before taking another bite.
Catherine? A wise woman? Perhaps a little self-serving in a way that worried him, but he would not call her wise.
Aunt Clara lowered her fork. “What is it? You look worried.”
“It can wait until your breakfast is finished.”
“I’d rather it didn’t.”
He smoothed his hands down his waistcoat. “Very well. Catherine—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. It wouldn’t do to throw his mother to the wolves. “We are considering throwing a ball at Buckley Place.”
Owen watched his aunt’s face closely for a reaction, but she did not so much as flinch. She continued eating, nothing in her expression giving her away.
“Catherine feels it might be a good opportunity to open Buckley Place to the county again, meet the neighbors on a grand scale. The east wing needs to be completed first, and the garden, of course.” Owen dropped his gaze to his boot and tapped his heel on the rug. “My concern is that it is too soon for a ball.”
“It isn’t, you know. I am consistently reminded by those around me that Edward has been gone well over a year.” Her lavender gown was a ready reminder of her reluctance to accept that very fact.
Owen was careful to tread lightly, to treat the subject with the respect it deserved. “But I haven’t been here for all that time, so it doesn’t feel so long to me.”
Aunt Clara set down her fork again and reached for his hand, bringing it to rest upon the table. “That was not something I considered. Your grief must be fresh, Owen, since you have only been returned to Buckley Place hardly above a month. If it is too soon for you, then say so.”
Emotion clouded him, warring with gratitude for the grace Aunt Clara extended him—grace for his grief forherhusband. He shook his head. “It is…I can manage it. I worry for you.”
She squeezed his hand once before letting it go. “You neednot. I am finding my own path, and despite my life containing far more dogs than I had imagined it would, I am finding it to be a pleasant experience.”
One of the hounds resting near the fireplace lifted his head, his ears rising as though he could sense that he was being spoken of.
“Would you care to be the hostess?” Owen asked. “Catherine believed it would set you and the whole of Briarstead at ease, though sometimes I’m not certain whether her schemes are the right course of action.”
Aunt Clara’s smile was indulgent. “You are sweet to think of me. May I give it some thought?”
“Of course. It will be another fortnight at least before the estate will be ready to host any event. There is plenty of time.”
