Page 62 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“Your mother’s animals are so much smaller than dogs and horses. Why are you more frightened of them?”

“That’s part of the problem—they give me the same feeling as a spider or snake. I’m half-convinced they’ll charge me and scramble up my trouser leg.”

“I’m the opposite. I can handle a hedgehog or a fox easily. The first time I saw the Duke of Canterbury’s dog, I was petrified.”

“Seamus?” Stephen grinned. “It’s hard to imagine him frightening anyone.”

“I know that now, and I adore him. But I was ill-prepared to deal with him when I first met him. It was a surprise, you see, and there he was, all six hundred pounds of him, stretched out in the foyer.”

“He’s only two hundred twenty pounds. Or at least, that was the last measurement they had. The duke says Seamus has no concept of how large he is—the fellow is terrified of squirrels.”

Vera laughed again. “So he’s like you, then.”

“I’ve been likened to worse, I assure you.” His eyes slid to study her face in what he hoped was taken for a casual glance. “So are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy having a dog like Seamus around the house?”

“Of course not! He’s such a dear. It was only the initial shock of him that put me off, and only for a moment. Now I know what to expect and he doesn’t frighten me at all.”

“My father always had dogs around the house, but my mother prefers a wilder sort of pet, apparently.”

“I doubt that dogs would appreciate a fox or a raccoon about the house,” she admitted.

Precisely, Stephen thought.

CHAPTER 17- VERA

They were seated in the parlor. Stephen was trying to teach Benjamin the basics of chess. Vera pretended to read the medical textbook open in her lap while shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“That was an excellent idea, but remember that the king can only move one square.” Stephen reset the board. “But look closely—there’s another opportunity you might be inclined to take. Don’t forget your pawns—just because they’re smaller than the others, doesn’t mean they can’t be very effective.”

Vera watched the ordinary scene—similar to others that had occurred a thousand times before in rooms much like this—and felt something within her shift. It might have been imperceptible had she not been paying attention, but as her thoughts were wholly focused on the physician with whom she shared a roof, she was able to discern it quite clearly.

Forgiveness—that was what the feeling was. Genuine forgiveness.

Vera forgave Stephen for what he’d done, for how terribly he’d treated her when he first arrived. She thought she quite understood it now. Though that understanding wasn’t enough to excuse his behavior, he’d apologized multiple times and—more importantly—his actions proved that he meant what he said.

Even though she’d told him she forgave him, until this moment, she hadn’t. Not fully, at least. There was still a shard left behind in the wound that kept it from fully closing, kept it from healing completely. Now, that little sliver of hurt had worked itself free.

“Well done!” Stephen exclaimed from the chess table. He grinned over at her. “Vera, come see. Benjamin has put me into check.”

She obligingly set her book on the sofa next to her, a satin ribbon acting as her placeholder amongst a diagram of the organs.

“It hardly matters,” the boy protested, even as his cheeks flushed with pleasure. “You’re just going to get out of it again.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been playing for years, and you’ve only been learning for a fortnight. You should never have put me in such a pickle—I think you have a natural aptitude for the game.” Stephen beamed up at Vera where she stood at the edge of the table. “Look.”

Vera smiled politely and nodded as Stephen showed her how Benjamin had accomplished the feat, but she heard very little of what he said.

Something had happened in that split second when Stephen had smiled up at her. It was as if that little shard had left a vacuum behind, and this new something had rushed in to fill it. Vera wasn’t sure what it was, and that frightened her.

“My lord,” Roland said from the doorway. “A servant has come from the Marquess Salisbury’s house. It’s the marchioness. They bid you come at once.”

* * *

Their ride to Devon Manor was quick and tense. Thankfully, the road between the two houses was well maintained and there wasn’t too much of it. Still, Vera glanced sideways at Stephen several times and his expression was the same—a grim clench of the jaw that spoke of his concern.

“Vera,” he said, turning suddenly toward her when they were almost to the house. “In my experience, matters with pregnant ladies are either nothing at all or extremely grave. I don’t know which this is, but I need your word that if I ask you to leave the room, you’ll do it immediately without protesting.”

She nodded and her eyes pricked with her worry.