Page 29 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? The man is a grump, a curmudgeon. I doubt he’s ever smiled, or laughed, or so much as had a pleasant thought.”

“I thought he was engaged.”

Vera blinked.

Candace hurried to add, “I only mean that he must have been happy, at one point. Perhaps it’s his failed engagement that’s set him so low.”

“I doubt the lady was any more cheerful than the gentleman. Most likely, she found someone even grumpier and decided to marry him.”

The path narrowed, and Vera scooted closer to the large stone fountain to allow Seamus to squeeze through. It was terrible timing—just as she leaned, the huge dog bumped roughly into her hip. Vera was sent sprawling into the basin of the fountain. She was submerged for an instant in green-hued water.

Vera surfaced with a splutter, coming face to face with the massive face of Seamus. The mastiff tilted his head in gentle inquiry, as if to politely ask why Vera had chosen that moment to go for a swim.

“Are you all right?” Candace hurried over, her eyes wide. She attempted to shove the huge dog over; he didn’t seem to notice and began wagging.

“I’m…I’m fine.” Vera sat up, sending another wave rolling across the surface of the fountain. “He bumped me.”

“But you’re not hurt? Are you certain?” Candace offered her hand and Vera took it gratefully.

Between the two of them, they managed to get Vera upright once more. Her dress was sopping; her bonnet was a sodden mess. Her hair clung to her face and neck like errant strands of seaweed.

“Truly. I’m unhurt. A bit surprised, is all.”

“I’m so sorry.” Candace helped her step over the wide rim and back onto the gravel path. “He’s not a bad dog, I promise. He just has no concept of his own size.”

“I know. No harm done.”

Vera looked over at the dog. He’d somehow figured out that something was amiss, that perhaps he’d done something wrong, even if he wasn’t quite sure what. He lay on his back, offering a meek wag and his stomach as a sign of goodwill. She couldn’t help but grin and rub his belly, covering her wet fingers with errant fur.

“You’re far more forgiving than I’d be.” Candace shook her head. “That was a lovely muslin.”

“It will be again.” Vera rubbed the great abundance of luxurious fur at Seamus’s neck. “The baroness is forever arriving home with grass stains and mud caked to her trousers. I daresay there’s no house in all of England better prepared to deal with a bit of pond water.”

“I am sorry. What a terribly abrupt end to a visit. I’ll call for tea and towels—I should have done already.” Without another word, Candace hurried off around a corner in the garden.

Fifteen minutes later, Vera found herself comfortably bundled into the back of a carriage, headed toward Bertforth House once more. Benjamin had remained behind with Arthur and Candace, and Vera had promised to return for their picnic just as soon as she changed her clothes. If she hurried, they wouldn’t even have to postpone the boys’ luncheon.

Once she arrived at the house, she let herself in the front door and raced up the stairs, wincing at the water droplets in her wake. She’d have to alert the servants to the mess before she left—she didn’t want anyone slipping and falling on the way down.

Vera yanked open her bedroom door, nearly catapulted herself inside…and froze.

Stephen sat at her desk, all of her carefully folded letters undone and spread out before him on the surface. He held two—one in each hand. It appeared he’d been reading them side by side. His wide eyes met hers—she didn’t know which of them was more surprised in the moment.

“Get out,” she snarled in a voice she barely recognized, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t want anyone else to hear this outburst.

“Wait.” He stood smoothly, his eyes still wide—whether at being caught, or because of her bedraggled, wet appearance, she didn’t know. “Let me explain.”

She tossed her ruined bonnet onto the wooden floor with a wet slap and laughed mirthlessly. “Do you think me so idiotic that I require an explanation?”

“I just⁠—”

“What?” She spread her hands on either side of her, bared her teeth.

It didn’t help her temper that the two letters he held were the most excruciating of the lot of them.

One was the letter her mother had written, weeks ago, informing Vera she was no longer welcome at home. The other, Mr. Audel’s highly improper job offer.

Maybe she’d gotten lucky, after all. Maybe Stephen still held those because he hadn’t yet read them…