“I…”
“And I want the truth.” He reached for her hand and brushed the streak of pastel upon her smallest finger.
She swallowed. Knew only the truth would suffice. “Because of me, you joined the army. Because of what I said that night, you abandoned your dreams.” She shook her head. “Your words I will never forget. That I’d snapped your heart in two. That you couldn’t bear the sight of me. That you had to leave. Get away. And then a week later… I heard you’d gone. Left to join the army. It was my fault you joined.”
“Ah, hell, Verity.” And the next thing she knew, Miles’ face was in her lap.
She buried her cheeks in her hands. “You were supposed to voyage and collect plants, as you’d always wanted. But because of my cruel words, you, you…” She tentatively reached out. Hishair was so soft. “I didn’t know what to do… I felt so wretched, so guilty. You were supposed to voyage as in our dreams, but…voyage without me. You were so eager, Miles. To go to the Americas that you used to read about, collect beautiful plants and…” She wiped a cheek. “But you didn’t. So I would read all the papers, for any news of your regiment, and then get so annoyed at the glorified reports, when all I could think about was you – in the midst of battle, of carnage. All my fault. And so I… I began to draw, of my fear for you.” She heard a choke. “I-I understand your anger. Some odd person painting you all the time, discomforting you, but–”
He raised his head.
And she discovered his green eyes were not filled with anger or discomfort but…sorrow.
“Verity, I’m not discomforted by your paintings. I’m…” He rose, swiped a palm over his face, showed his back to her. “We were just such artless dreamers. And I am equally as… In fact, it is I that should apologise to you.”
“You?” she almost shouted. “Why?”
He turned, so tall and magnificent.
“Verity…” He let out a long breath. “The plant-hunting expeditions we dreamed of. How were we to finance them?”
“W-what?”
“Just indulge me, please.”
“Your father. You said he’d be only too pleased.”
“Exactly so.” The bones in his jaw clenched tight. “When my father finally returned home, when at last I had the chance to explain our plans for marriage and expeditions, do you know what he did?”
Verity shook her head,
“He laughed. Thought it all a jest.” Miles grimaced. “I’d forgotten how pig-headed and controlling he was while I’d been away at Eton and University. As it turned out, he’d consideredmy botany a boy’s pastime and had made plans for me. I was no more than the spare, should anything befall Cameron, so as such, he’d decided I would stay at home and join the Church. He’d marked out a living in Godalming.”
“The Church?” For she’d never imagined Miles suited to that.
Yet he nodded. “We argued. At length. For three nights before I set off to you. But he would not approve. Of botany or us marrying so young. My dreams, our future fell asunder, and I didn’t want a life in the Church, that much I knew. I had a small inheritance from my grandmother, but it would only have carried us so far and then what? You could’ve been with child in the middle of nowhere. We had no endorsement from Kew, no hope of getting it, and I realised we couldn’t…” He breathed deep once more. “That we had been dreaming a golden summer daydream. It had no reality. No foundation.”
“Oh, Miles…”
He sunk into a chair. “My brother found me. Drunk as a wheelbarrow in the potting shed. He sobered me up and we talked. Cameron had always been good at seeing matters from a different perspective, looking forwards not back, and the army came up as an option. I could work my way up, gain some experience and a sense of purpose of my own. Napoleon was rampaging nearer to our island and protecting it also seemed important and worthwhile to me. Cameron said he’d lend me money and so together with my small inheritance, I looked into purchasing a commission whilst also planning investments for the future.”
“And this was all before…”
“All before you jilted me for Locksley and his large botanical garden in Devon.”
“Cornwall.”
A small quirk of lip. “So that night, I also had news. I was to tell you all this. And…” He thinned his lips. “And ask you to waitfor me. Until I had some money. In hindsight, it was naïve, I was asking a lot and had no right but…”
Verity felt a tear slip down her cheek, then another. “I am unsure what to say,” she whispered. “I…I thought it was because of me alone you joined the army.”
“No. I would have purchased the commission anyway, Verity. I had to. Father had refused to support me unless I joined the Church so it was the only way for me to stand on my own two boots. That night with you… I said words in the heat of a young man’s hurt so that you would feel as heartsore as I. So that you would feel guilty. But it was my wounded pride talking and I should have known better.” He puffed a breath. “And…your paintings are magnificent, even if you’ve put some bone-headed oaf in the middle.”
She gave a watery chuckle. “I painted you too thin.”
“I repeat, they are magnificent. As though you were there. And now I know how you did it.”
“Well, I had no idea at the beginning.” Her shoulders squared. “But then I began talking to a blacksmith who’d been sent home injured from the light infantry. He didn’t mind reminiscing about his time in the army. It seemed…cathartic to him. And I would draw his battles. I would imagine you within them. I read all I could, mapped positions. Then when we came to London, I searched for soldiers that had been with you and…”
