Mischief and Manors

by Ashtyn Newbold

  By the length of time I had been staring at my gloves, I deducted that he was only a few feet away now. I lifted my gaze to see him. He was smiling, which should have given me comfort, but his was not a comforting smile in the slightest. It put me ill at ease for a reason I did not know. He was moderately handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes, I noticed. But that smile …

  “Good evening,” he said in a purposely slurred voice as he took the last step toward me. He offered a slow bow, and glanced up at me.

  I dropped a quick nod, feeling like a horse being appraised as his gaze not-so-discreetly swept over my figure.

  “My name is Mr. Robert Baines. I could not help but notice such a lovely lady in such an eye-catching gown.” He smiled that unsettling smile. “May I inquire the name of this lovely lady?”

  His name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I had heard it before. I held my expression at a blank state and said, “Miss Annette Downing.”

  “Ah. A lovely name to suit a lovely lady.”

  I wished he would stop calling me that. I forced a small smile onto my face. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Baines.” As I said it, I recalled the night Grandmother had spoken of the upcoming ball, embarrassing me by her talk of dueling. Mr. Baines was the name of the gentleman she had mentioned.

  He grinned down at me and leaned closer. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Downing.” The current song ended and the room cheered for the ensemble. “May I have the honor of the next set?”

  I felt my face blanch, but I gave a polite nod. I had certainly not been expecting (or at all hoping) that I would have anyone soliciting for my hand. He extended his arm to me and I took it, heart pounding. What if I didn’t remember the steps? I forced myself to remain calm as I stepped away to stand in line across from him in the center of the floor.

  The song began and we stepped together. I shifted uncomfortably as his hand wrapped around my waist and lingered there. He was very close. And when he spoke I could smell heavy brandy on his breath.

  “This is one of my favorite dances, you know.”

  I glanced up at him as we turned, willing my mind to focus on the steps and not on his much-too-searching eyes and unsettling smile. When I finally stepped away from him to move down the line, I took a deep breath. All the other gentlemen held me at a much more comfortable distance. Miss Lyons was among the women, smiling in an obviously well-rehearsed way, glancing up through her lashes with lips upturned demurely.

  I was through the line and back in the arms of Mr. Baines before I had sufficient time to relax. He slid his hand over my back and pulled me much too close. I turned my head to the side, missing a step as I tried to move to a more appropriate distance.

  He gave a low chuckle. “Am I distracting you?”

  I shot him a look of dismay. I should not have agreed to dance with this man. Grandmother had described him as agreeable, but I found him to be quite the opposite.

  “No. You are disgusting me, actually,” I said as I pulled backward. My heart raced at my insult, but he laughed.

  Just then, over Mr. Baines’s collar, I spied Owen standing against the wall straight ahead. His gaze was fixed on Mr. Baines through narrowed eyes. His arms were crossed and his jaw was firm.

  Mr. Baines tugged me closer, blocking Owen from my sight.

  I endured the rest of the dance in silence, and I could not have been more grateful when the music came to a halt. What a presumptuous cad Mr. Baines was! I shot him a final scowl then removed myself from his hands and hurried to the side of the room where Owen was not standing.

  Fortifying my heart and my resolve, I dared myself to look at him. My heart leapt at the unobscured sight of his formal jacket and cravat, his hair looking darker in the dim light. He wasn’t smiling, though, and I found myself wishing that he would. It had been too long since I had seen his smile, and it strengthened me more that I cared to confess.

  I stopped myself swiftly. Owen’s smile was the absolute last thing I was supposed to be thinking about. Suddenly, as if he knew I’d been watching him, his eyes met mine across the room with a flash of admiration.

  I hurried my gaze away as quickly as I could. No, I amended, his eyes are the last thing I should be thinking about.

  Seeking a distraction, I found Grandmother standing alone only a few feet away near the wall. She was wearing a thoroughly frilled puce gown and headdress and was nibbling contentedly on a tart. I walked toward her and she greeted me with a rueful smile. “I am afraid Mr. Baines is not the gentleman I thought him to be. He certainly had me fooled at the Thornton’s ball.”

  I nodded my agreement.

  She shook her head and clucked her tongue. Her eyes ventured to the opposite side of the ballroom. “But Owen, he is a gentleman to the very core.” She gave a hooting laugh. “Perhaps you ought to dance with him for the rest of the night.”

  “I would prefer to abstain from further dancing.” I didn’t think my composure could handle such a thing.

  Grandmother gave a huffed breath and planted a hand on her hip. “There is nothing more I can do for you two. One can try to make a blind person walk, but they cannot make them see. And they cannot guide them indefinitely to all their destinations. They must learn to find the way on their own.” She sipped from her champagne flute and sighed. “I suppose it’s time I trusted fate to the task.” Then she turned and walked away in the direction of the dessert table, leaving me alone and confused once more.

  The thought crossed my mind to follow Grandmother and inquire what she meant by her philosophical speech, but with my nerves on edge, I did not feel at all equal to the endeavor. I promised myself that I would gather the courage to carry out my plan to ensure a proposal for Miss Lyons later. So, feeling excruciatingly awkward, I stood where I was, forcing my eyes away from where I knew Owen was, and praying that Mr. Baines would not find me again.

  After a few moments of this, I felt the tap of a long fingernail on my shoulder. I turned to see that someone almost worse had found me.

  “Lady Pembury,” I said in a weak voice.

  She greeted me with a condescending nod, staring at me with her disdainful eyes. “Miss Downing, is it?”

  I nodded, feeling thoroughly scrutinized by her gaze.

  “I see you have discovered how to wear a proper gown. I almost expected you to wear that inadequate thing you wore for tea.”

  She looked very much like her daughter. They had the same piercing eyes—though the color differed—and the same golden curls. The similarities didn’t end there. They both used words as weapons. It was an arsenal that I knew to be the most afflicting. I stared at her with as much dignity as I could muster, making the decision in myself that this woman was not going to bring me down with her haughty words.

  She turned her head slowly to the left and gave an amused sigh. “Look at them. They presume that they can steal him from my dear Charlotte.”

  I followed her gaze behind me. Owen was standing beside Edmond where a group of young women flocked, waving their fans in a way that was meant to be alluring, batting their eyes and laughing at every word Owen said. He wasn’t smiling though. He shot Edmond what seemed like a pleading look, making him laugh.

  “The gossip has spread about his inheritance, you see. Now every young lady is vying for his heart. Every young lady.” She gave me a pointed look out of her sharp green eyes, then moved her gaze to Owen again. “I hope all those young ladies know that they are not designed to be mistress of such a magnificent home. I hope all those young ladies know that they are inferior to my Charlotte and that she has already stolen Dr. Kellaway’s heart.” She looked at me again, her expression all challenge and warning, then added, “But it is my hope that they will accept their defeat with grace.”

  I looked at Owen again, a heavy weight settling over me. Lady Pembury was watching the side of my face. I could imagine the slow smile curling her lips as I stared at the man that her daughter intended to marry. Owen would have an awful m
other-in-law; there was no question. But my plan still needed to be carried out. He needed to propose to Miss Lyons tonight, and it needed to happen soon.

  I realized I had been staring at him for far too long, because his eyes found mine. I dropped my gaze the moment it met his, but it was too late. I knew he was walking toward me, and I could only imagine his stride: quick, with purpose, the way it always was.

  I repeated my plan in my mind as he approached, reminding myself of my intentions, securing my barriers. Confidence, I told myself. Look him in the eye.

  But looking into his eyes was not an option while my heart was racing the way it was. So I turned my head to Lady Pembury. She looked slightly distressed, but concealed it well beneath a painted grin. “Oh. Here he comes now. What a surprise.”

  He was only twenty feet away, sliding past groups of people, making his way toward us. My heart quickened with each of his steps, knowing that the closer he came the stronger it needed to be. Only a few short seconds longer and he was there, standing directly in front of me. Too close. Too handsome.

  “Lady Pembury.” He gave her a stiff nod in greeting, then returned his gaze to me. “Annette, will you come with me for a moment?”

  I was shocked, but there was no trace of argument within me. Lady Pembury looked daggers my way as I took Owen’s arm. I felt him gazing down at me as we stepped away, but did not allow myself to look up into his eyes. But there was nothing that could have stopped me from hearing him whisper, “You look beautiful.”

  My heart jumped. I cleared my throat in the most detached manner possible. “Thank you.”

  He stopped walking once we were across the room and turned to face me. I could no longer avoid his eyes, so I glanced up. He looked confused, searching my face as if he expected to find clues there.

  I cleared my throat again, grasping onto my plan in my mind. The first step was to make light conversation, then deliver my second rehearsed line of the evening. “Lady Pembury and I have met before. She came for tea only a few days ago,” I said.

  Owen’s lips lifted in a small smile and he raised an eyebrow. “Do you enjoy her company?”

  I glanced in her direction again, not surprised to see that she was watching me with a lifted chin and narrowed eyes. “Not particularly.”

  He laughed, sending a ripple through me, then said in a quiet voice, “Perhaps we should go fetch the acorns.”

  My head snapped in his direction of its own accord. “Was she—”

  “Yes. She was.” He chuckled lightly. “A common victim of my mischief. Something that I cannot say I’m ashamed of.”

  My mind raced. Lady Pembury was the woman walking beneath the tree that day, ten years ago. I couldn’t help but laugh. I no longer regretted a single one of those acorns. But what did Owen have against Lady Pembury?

  Amid my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Owen step closer. It was an almost indiscernible distance, but I felt it all the same. I took a passive glance around the room, and found Miss Lyons speaking with Alice.

  I needed to find my voice, to deliver my next line. “Well, I see no significant faults in her daughter. Have you seen her tonight? She looks lovely. You must invite her to the next dance.”

  His gaze did not leave my face. “I’m afraid I had a different lady in mind.”

  I felt my eyes widen and my heart picked up speed. Did he mean me? I looked down, adjusting my gloves as a distraction. “Oh?”

  He leaned his head closer, pulling my gaze to his effortlessly. “May I have the next dance, Miss Annette Downing?”

  My breath caught in my throat. I had not prepared for this scenario. “No, thank you. I do not wish to dance with any gentlemen tonight. I came only for the company.”

  His eyes flashed with hurt. “Oh, yes. Robert Baines can’t be considered a gentleman, so that was why you agreed to dance with him.” His voice was nothing but a mutter.

  “I—I couldn’t think of a way to refuse him,” I said as a guilty feeling spread in my stomach.

  “You could have told him what you just so easily told me.”

  My heart pounded. I tried to put on an apologetic expression, but Owen brushed it off.

  “Goodnight, Annette.” Then he turned and walked away with that same hurt lingering in his eyes.

  I felt as though I had been physically struck, as if my breath had been knocked from my lungs. Coming here had been a mistake. How did I assume that resisting Owen’s charm was even possible? Why did Owen prefer to dance with me? If he was planning a proposal to Miss Lyons, wouldn’t he be with her at every opportunity? It was too confusing, and my plan was beginning to sound unrealistic.

  “Annette!” Alice hurried toward me. She gripped my arm and pulled me to the wall. “I have the perfect plan,” she whispered. “Owen has always been a bit … timid about his affections, so Charlotte and I have concocted a way to ensure a proposal. After this next dance, Charlotte will become ill. Pretend, of course. Owen will surely follow her into the hall on physician instinct, or, perhaps, instinct of the heart.” Alice’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “And they will be alone. Then Charlotte will offer some encouragement, a bit of flirting, and Owen will finally propose!”

  I wanted to feel excited, but instead I felt dull and empty. “That sounds like a successful plan, Alice.”

  “Oh, it is, to be sure.” She nodded with wide eyes. “Charlotte is receiving even more than she hoped for. It is absolutely perfect.”

  I was confused. “More than she hoped for?”

  Alice lowered her voice. “Well, originally she hoped for Kellaway Manor, but mistress of Willowbourne was a much greater achievement.”

  My stomach twisted in a tight knot. “But Owen was never to inherit Kellaway Manor.”

  “Yes, I know that.” She waved her hand in the air. “I meant that originally Charlotte hoped to marry Edmond, but when she learned that Owen was to inherit a much greater prize, she decided that he was the superior catch. She always thought him to be more handsome anyway.” Alice shrugged and smoothed a hand over her curls. “Oh! The song just ended!” She shuffled forward and stood on the tips of her toes, looking over the crowd.

  A sickening feeling spread in my stomach. Miss Lyons was after Willowbourne. She didn’t love Owen. And Alice had spoken about it without a hint of shame.

  I listened with half an ear as Alice announced the developments of her plan. At the point where Owen followed Miss Lyons to the hall, I joined Alice where she stood, feeling quite ill myself. I tried to catch one last glimpse of Owen, to see him leaving, so my heart could fully understand its loss, but a man with a very tall top hat stood in my way, blocking my view.

  Frustrated, I stepped back, feeling the threat of tears once again. What I had convinced myself was right was now wrong. Owen did not deserve such deceit. Miss Lyons only wanted to secure a good future for herself. Such things were not unheard of, but Owen didn’t deserve to be tricked, no matter how much silly tricking he had done himself.

  Trickery of the heart was a whole different matter.

  I could feel the beginnings of an ache in my head, and watching the spinning gowns surrounding me only made it worse. This was not how I wanted to spend my last night at Kellaway Manor. I wanted to spend it alone in my room. From now on, avoidance was my only hope. If I could manage to avoid Owen until I left in the carriage with Peter and Charles in the morning, then everything would be fine. I would then never have to know if he married Miss Lyons. I would never again have to ignore his charm. He would be allowed to fade into memory, become distant, until I forget the shade of blue of his eyes and the sound of his laugh. My heart, like any wound, should heal if left untouched.

  After I located Mrs. Kellaway, I told her I felt ill and walked myself to my room, taking the hallway on the opposite side of where I imagined Owen professing his love to Miss Charlotte Lyons.

  I changed out of the horrid pink gown the moment I closed my door. I couldn’t venture to the library now—I was presumed to be ill, so I decided sleep
was my best option.

  As I crawled under the blankets, I hoped that I would dream of Aunt Ruth’s little cottage on the hill. Because that was where my dreams belonged. That was where I belonged. And no matter how much it frightened me, or how many tears it caused to wet my pillow, I was going back tomorrow.

  A

  Chapter 20

  By the time the sun showed its first sliver, I was up, packing my trunk. My brothers’ trunks came next, so I sneaked down the hall to their room, hoping not to wake them with my echoing feet. Once all three trunks were full, I gently shook each of their shoulders.

  Peter opened his eyes first, squinting and slowly sitting up.

  “We need to leave soon,” I said, smoothing his mussed hair.

  “Are we going to the village?” His voice was still groggy from sleep.

  “Yes! Please, please may we go?” Charles asked from behind me, nearly leaping from his bed. “Owen said we could go today if you let us.”

  My heart sunk, but the words needed to be said. “We are going back to Aunt Ruth’s house today.”

  I wasn’t fully prepared for the looks on their faces. Peter looked confused at first, then his eyes filled with tears almost instantly. Charles’s lower lip quivered. “Why can’t we stay?”

  “We have already stayed for far too long.”

  They both sat quietly for several seconds, then Charles said, “But—but what if Aunt Roof still thinks we are bad?”

  I pulled them both into a tight hug, partly to console them, partly to keep my heart in one piece. “You are the best boys in the world. Not to worry. You have behaved well almost the entire time we have been here.” I pulled away, wiping the tears from their cheeks. “I won’t let her hurt you. She will not send you away.”

  “Owen said that too,” Peter said.

  My throat tightened in its fight against tears. Of course Owen said that.

  I took a deep breath. “Well, I have packed your trunks. The carriage will be here in one hour.”