Page 69 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

Stephen didn’t quite appreciate the tone Hamish used—it reminded him too much of Mr. Douglas—nor did he appreciate the fact that Hamish looked at Vera as he said the words. Canterbury half choked, half coughed, and Stephen frowned.

Percy appeared in the archway, his hands upon his hips. “Well? Are you gentlemen coming?”

* * *

The guest of honor, Miss Warrington, was one of the marchioness’s sisters. Introductions were made all around. She was pleasant enough; Stephen paid attention long enough to note that she was blonde, of average height, wore a purple dress, and was decidedly not Vera.

That was how Stephen was starting to look at all ladies these days. His interest was like one of those decision trees he’d made as study aids in his medical education.

Was the woman Vera? Yes? Interested. No? Only interested enough to fulfill societal duties.

Still, as he was seated next to Miss Warrington, he was obliged to speak with her a little. At least Vera was directly on his other side, so he could split his attention to her. Lately, he’d become singularly charmed with her laugh—or more precisely, interested in what made her laugh.

Stephen had noticed that she rarely laughed at the expense of others. Even the teasing little jokes that the marquess and marchioness lobbed back and forth with love in their eyes—Vera only smiled or grinned. She preferred a clever, dry wit, which he was glad of, as he thought he possessed just such a sense of humor.

“Miss Warrington,” Stephen began, once the first course was served—it was a single round bite. He blinked at it and prayed the serving size wasn’t indicative of the courses yet to come. “How are you finding the countryside?”

“It’s lovely, although I confess I’ve yet to see much of it. Devon Manor is situated so charmingly, and the company within so pleasant that I haven’t stirred once since I arrived days ago.”

“I’m sure that your sister and your brother-by-law are delighted to have you visit.”

On his other side, Vera was saying something to the Duchess of Canterbury—something about a luncheon Candace was planning.

Stephen mustered the energy to say to Miss Warrington, “My mother tells me that your brother-by-law has performed quite the renovation on Devon Manor the past year or so, and that the Duchess of Canterbury worked on the gardens while she was here.”

There. That should be enough to keep Miss Warrington talking long enough for him to eat…well, whatever this was on his plate. He’d given the lady two topics to address. He stabbed the bite with his fork, popped it into his mouth. Delicious. He blinked and stared at his plate. He’d like an entire platter of…that. Whatever it was. He suddenly wished he’d paid more attention to what he’d just eaten.

“…she even went so far as to invite the townspeople for a picnic to allow them to see it. Have you had the chance to see it yet?”

Stephen hadn’t the faintest idea what Miss Warrington was on about. He’d been trying to decide if the flavor still lingering upon his taste buds had been lamb or a very fine roast beef. Or was it possibly venison?

Still, he saw Vera’s head inclined toward them and decided she might be able to help him limp through the conversation.

“Er…I haven’t,” Stephen said, then turned to Vera. “Have you had the opportunity to see it?”

“Pardon.” Vera blinked. “I’m not certain of what we’re speaking.”

She looked at him expectantly, but Stephen shook his head. “Miss Warrington will describe it far better than I ever could.”

“The garden folly.” Miss Warrington leaned past Stephen to smile at Vera. “Though you were staying here with Candace at the time, so I’m sure you saw much more of it than I have.”

Vera nodded, her eyes bright. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? So strange that a sculptor of that skill would have consented to carving statues situated all the way out there.”

Had the topping been pickled onions? Stephen surreptitiously sucked his teeth. And there was definitely horseradish in the mix.

“…you should ride out and view it.” Miss Warrington’s eyes were upon him once more, and Stephen tried to pay better attention.

With those waving doo-dads atop her head, Miss Warrington reminded him strongly of the monal, a small, pheasant-like bird native to India. It had a sprout of feathers growing out of its head that bobbed when it walked, just like that. Stephen found it very distracting.

“Thank you. I might just do that.” He turned to Vera. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Ah, but she’s already seen it so many times,” Miss Warrington interjected smoothly. “I’m happy to accompany you, if you’d appreciate someone to show you the way. I’ll be sure to wait to see it again until you can join me—to better replicate your own experience of seeing it for the first time.”

There had been pickled onions atop the dish, but that wasn’t all. There had also been an earthy sweetness in the dish.

Beets! It was absolutely beets!

“A very kind offer.” Stephen nodded and smiled, thrilled with his discovery.