Page 66 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“Have you ever kissed a lady?”

“I have.”

Benjamin frowned; his forehead wrinkled. “But you aren’t married.”

There was a time when the innocent statement would have set memories of Stephen’s engagement sucking at his feet, memories that would try to pull him into a dark pit of depression. Now, Stephen was happy to realize all he felt was amusement at his brother’s precious naivety.

“I’m not,” he admitted.

They rode for some time while his brother pondered the possibility of that equation, the only sounds the muffled thud of their horses’ hooves against the damp earth.

“Do you think you will marry?”

Vera’s face flashed in his mind—there and gone like a firecracker.

He shook it away as best he could—she was his assistant, under his protection. “Perhaps.”

* * *

That afternoon Mr. Douglas said, “Miss Ashbury, the gentlemen must be chasing you through the village. Good for you, telling them all ‘no.’ Tell me, how many hearts have you broken this week?”

Vera laughed in that throaty way of hers, and despite Stephen’s resolution not to sniff in that direction, he couldn’t help that his ears were tuned to her answer.

“None that I’m aware of.”

“Humble, too. What a rare jewel you are.”

From his vantage point in his armchair, the man could see Stephen through the doorway, but Vera could not. Stephen felt Mr. Douglas’s eyes upon him and made a show of rummaging through his bag.

“You mark my words,” Mr. Douglas said. “One of these days, some noble gentlemen will ride through this town, and he won’t leave until he takes you with him. A man would have to be a right idiot not to see what a treasure you are.”

Vera chuckled again. “No wonder I come here so often—speaking to you does marvels for my own esteem.”

“Do you wish to be married, Vera?”

“Only if the right gentleman asks me.”

“Do you have someone in mind?” he asked archly.

Stephen didn’t even bother to hide the fact he was listening now. He stood like a dolt and stared down into his bag.

“I haven’t met him yet,” she teased. “But you will be one of the first to know should that change.”

“Don’t settle for less than a viscount, my dear.” The old man sounded satisfied. “Though I think you’d make a splendid duchess, myself. It’s too bad that Canterbury’s married, or I might suggest you trot on over there.”

Stephen clenched his jaw. He knew the old man was needling him on purpose, but all he could hear were Vera’s words. I haven’t met him yet.

Why on earth should her statement bother him at all? It was the fact that it did bother him that was so very arresting.

“What on earth are you doing?” Vera said from his elbow.

Stephen jerked. “Looking for the camphor.”

She frowned, glanced into his bag, and plucked a bottle from one of the fabric compartments. “It’s right here.”

“So it is. Thank you.”

“Are you feeling quite well?”