Page 26 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“What of Seamus and Millie?”

The dog circled before them and lay close to the fire with a grunt.

“Well before Thanksgiving, best guess.” He shrugged. “But I don’t need to tell you how these things are—it’s an imperfect estimate.”

“Indeed.”

Now Canterbury looked at him with patient expectation, as if he agreed they’d exhausted the need for small talk and could move on to the real reason Stephen had visited him today.

“This is a delicate matter,” Stephen haltingly began. “But I was hoping that you might give me some insight as to the nature of one Miss Vera Ashbury…”

* * *

After his meeting with the duke, Stephen’s thoughts were grim. He glowered all the way home, letting the horse take the lead, lest he put his boots to it or treat it harshly on account of his foul mood.

It wasn’t as Stephen had thought—that the duke had seen Vera’s destructive interest in Lady Candace and intervened on her behalf. No—it was far worse. It seemed this Miss Ashbury had deceived the entire countryside. Canterbury had cheerfully confirmed that Vera was all that was kind and wonderful. The man had even gone so far as to hint that Stephen himself could do no better for a wife!

Of course, the man hadn’t come right out and said that, but the less-than-subtle signals were there. The duke had misread the purpose of Stephen’s visit entirely. Canterbury thought that Stephen had been so charmed by the pretty miss that he’d started in on his due diligence before proposing.

Stephen rubbed the knotted bruise on this upper arm and frowned. Charmed, indeed. He’d sooner marry his mother’s hedgehog.

But Vera would be out of the house for hours this afternoon. It might just be the chance that Stephen was looking for…

CHAPTER 8- VERA

The day was cool and clear. The carriage swayed gently as they rounded the last corner that brought Montclare into view.

“What are you most looking forward to?” Vera asked.

“The biscuits.” Benjamin grinned.

She shook her head, smiling. Boys had a close relationship with their stomachs, especially at this age. She remembered how ravenous her brothers had always been, from the age of eight until twenty.

“And seeing Seamus, of course.”

Vera wanted to snort, but refrained. Benjamin was at an uncomplicated age—biscuits and a dog, and he was set to have a marvelous day. She envied him. The older she got, the more complicated things became. She would eat the same biscuits as Benjamin, pat Seamus’s massive head, but she wouldn’t derive near the amount of pleasure the boy would from either thing.

“Remember your manners,” Vera said as the carriage stopped in the grand drive. “No running indoors, and follow the lead of your host. Don’t ask for things that aren’t offered.”

“Yes, Miss Vera.”

She was satisfied—Benjamin was a very well-behaved boy, indoors. It was when he was set loose upon the countryside that she began to worry. And there were two of them—a set of diminutive conquerors, seeking to pillage the hedgerows for every scrap of mischief possible.

“Hello, Vera dear!” Candace rushed down the steps to greet her once she alighted from the carriage. “It’s been far too long.”

Vera smiled and agreed on the inside. They hadn’t had a proper visit, just the two of them, since before Candace was married. Now, she wondered if they ever would again. There was either her husband or her new son-by-marriage present whenever they met.

Though she loved both of them in their own way, sometimes Vera longed for the intimacy that she and Candace had once enjoyed—sharing secrets and inner thoughts along with a tea tray.

But life was forever changing, and Vera thought maybe that was part of the lesson: never taking anything for granted, as it might soon be past.

Even this, she thought, reminding herself to be grateful. Who knows how long I’ll still be in the countryside?

As Candace led her and Benjamin into the wide front hall, Vera’s thoughts returned to the letter to Mr. Audel that she’d started only last night. Although she didn’t want to take it, his was the only offer she’d received all these weeks she’d been looking.

With the return of the baron from India, she could feel her time in Devon growing short. It was as if she stood on the wet sand of a beach, and the tide was coming in. Even now, she felt the swirl of cold waters around her ankles; if she waited much longer, she’d drown. The baron was going to ask her to leave soon—she could feel it.

“I thought we’d take a walk through the gardens before luncheon,” Candace said as Arthur stood from the leather sofa and Seamus lumbered up from his position in front of the fireplace, wagging his greeting.