Verity winced. “Maybe just curtsey, Cousin.”
They continued along the path and Verity’s thoughts began to fill once more before she abruptly realised that not once had she noted how the dogwood stems were shining red now their leaves were falling or that the beech hedges had leached to copper.
Perhaps she was, after all, feeling just the slightest bit crabby.
Later that night.
Verity looked to the stars,some aglitter, some tinged azure, others crimson, sprinkled against the coverlet of black as though diamond dust had been thrown to heaven.
With a sigh, she stepped back into her conservatory and began to carefully draw down the fragile blind to cover the window – the roller mechanism had been repaired three times this year.
Perhaps she would sleep upon the chaise tonight and listen to the leaves furling, the air heavy with night-scented jasmine. Perhaps it would aid her crotchety disposition.
Was Miles safe at home? And who on earth would wish him ill?
She’d written him a letter expressing her concern and she hoped he would–
“There you are, hiding away with the plants as usual.”
Verity twisted. “Is all well, Aunt?”
“You tell me, darling.” And with an arched brow, she stepped in from the garden, Valmont stalking aside her skirts. “Let’s have a little chat.” She wended her way to the lush central haven and patted the chaise. “Come sit.”
Perhaps a new cat was being mooted. Verity sat.
With a whip of tail, Valmont also deigned to join them, kneading his wicked talons upon the cotton slipcloth.
“Now…” Aunt breathed deep and clasped her hands within her lap. “I believe you are in love once more with Miles Firth.”
“Er…”
“In fact, I believe you’ve never ceased.”
“Well…”
“And I believe he has feelings anew for you also.”
“I’m…”
“But you’re…well, bungling it, I’d say.”
“That’s…”
“You shared not a word of that night when he came to call upon you but I daresay you told him that your past was a hindrance to any renewed courtship.”
“But it wou–”
“Claptrap!” And Aunt sniffed.
“But what if–”
“What if.” She huffed. “I hear noCould be. I hear nothingof the Verity who overcame such adversity. I hear no pluck of the girl I know and adore.What ifis for wilting milksops.”
“But this is not aboutme, Aunt.” Verity thinned her lips. “It is about Miles. I admit, he has asked to court me anew, but…He needs someone who can share his dreams of adventure. Let alone what my past would mean for him as earl.”
Aunt lifted a hand to Verity’s shoulder. “Miles is no longer that sprig of a lad you knew but a man of considerable competence, who is quite capable of knowing what he wants. Do not underestimate him.”
“I know. It’s that part of him, that man he has become, that calls to me so much again but–”
