Page 43 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“But why?” Benjamin was saying.

“Because you’re far too young, and I’m far too old.”

“I still think it could work.”

Stephen felt he could hear the jut of the boy’s lower lip from where he stood.

Vera laughed, a low, rough noise that slid down Stephen’s spine and locked up his joints. Had he ever heard her laugh before? He suddenly couldn’t remember, but then again, at this moment he couldn’t remember much.

It was more effective than the medicinal brandy he recommended for colds, that laugh. It did something funny to his stomach, was in danger of making him warm and languid.

“I cannot marry you,” she said, not unkindly. “Though I thank you very much for the offer.”

Wait—what? Stephen frowned.

“But why?”

“Because you are eight and I am twenty-five.” She leaned a bit closer to the boy. “Can you keep a secret?”

Benjamin nodded quickly.

“Today is my birthday.”

“Is it really?”

“It is.”

“I haven’t even got you a present!” he nearly wailed.

“This is my present—you helping me weed these garden beds. And once we are through, you can help me plant the seedlings, as well. That is all the gift I want.”

“If you say so.” Benjamin did not sound convinced. “I’d rather have a train set or a new pony.”

“You might feel differently when you’re as old as I am,” she teased.

“Twenty-five isn’t old.”

“I pray you remember that someday when you’re thirty and actually looking for a wife.”

Though her tone was teasing, Stephen heard a very real thread of pain within it. He frowned. When his mother had insisted upon a chaperone to preserve Vera’s honor in society’s sight, he’d thought it ridiculous. Now, all he felt was guilt that he hadn’t been the one to insist upon such a thing. His mother was correct—he had no right to put Miss Ashbury into a situation that would damage her prospects.

How had he bungled their interactions so thoroughly from the start? Regret soured his stomach, and he quietly moved away from the door. He trudged back up toward the drive, his hands shoved into his pockets. He couldn’t change what had already passed, but perhaps he could change their relationship moving forward.

And if that was too large a task, he’d settle for making life a little better for Miss Vera Ashbury.

CHAPTER 12- VERA

Vera soaked in her bathtub, enjoying the way the hot water softened the tense muscles in her back. Steam drifted upwards; the fire next to her crackled and glowed. She sank deeper into the lavender-scented water and sighed.

She’d spent nearly all day working in the greenhouse with Benjamin. Her eyes had often searched the far door of the glass structure, but to her surprise, Stephen never arrived to help them. It was just as well—thanks to Candace’s recent obsession with gardening, Vera knew enough about planting to know how far apart to plant the herbs. It was a pleasant task without Stephen looming over her and frowning if she did something wrong.

Vera lingered in the warm bath as long as she dared, then hurriedly dressed, pinned her damp hair, and went down to dinner.

The evening meal at Bertforth House was usually as casual as breakfast, so Vera was surprised to see the flicker of candlelight over a beautifully set table when she crossed the threshold into the dining room.

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices called.

Vera jerked to a stop and blinked. Candace and her new husband, James—better known to society as the Duke of Canterbury—grinned at her from the sideboard. Jacqueline and Hamish stood at the head of the table; Percy, the Marquess of Salisbury, and his wife, Adelaide, stood nearby. Canterbury’s son, Arthur, and Benjamin whooped their joy, too. And Stephen stood at the back of the grouping, studying her carefully.