Page 18 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

The table was set lavishly. Crystal glimmered; china plates gleamed amid an array of shining cutlery. Stephen was relieved to see that not everything had gone awry in his absence, and that no one had been allowed to make off with the silver yet. He escorted his mother to a seat, but before he could react, Hamish took the place directly across from her. Benjamin claimed the spot to her right, which left Stephen to take the empty chair at the head of the table, with Vera on his right.

She didn’t look any more pleased with the arrangement than he was—she frowned down at her plate before clearing her expression.

“What did everyone do today?” Hamish asked. Then he grinned across the table at the baroness. “Well, I know what you did. What did everyone else do?”

Stephen frowned—his mother had spent time with this secretary today? He opened his mouth to ask what, precisely, they’d done, but his brother beat him to the silence.

“Arthur and Seamus came over. We went for a walk to the creek.”

Vera’s smile was dazzling; Stephen tried very hard not to notice. Good heavens—who were Arthur and Seamus? At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were two drunken louts who lived down by the creek.

“Who on earth are Arthur and Seamus?” he demanded.

Benjamin pressed his lips together and stared down at his plate.

His mother answered gently, “Arthur is the Duke of Canterbury’s son. Seamus is his dog.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. At least Benjamin hadn’t fallen in with the wrong sort—yet.

“Were you able to trap the fox?” Vera asked Hamish.

The man smiled at the baroness again; Stephen stifled the urge to lob a butter knife at his head. “Not yet, though we’re hopeful we’ve found what the bugger likes to eat.”

“You’re feeding him?” Stephen raised his eyebrows.

“In order to lull him into a false sense of complacency.” His mother nodded. “Foxes are wily.”

“Aren’t they, though?” Hamish agreed, then nodded acknowledgement at the footman who set a plate before him.

“Of course, I would’ve had the animal weeks ago, if someone hadn’t scared it off.”

Hamish looked heavenwards. “I thought you were a poacher.”

Vera and Benjamin both laughed, as if this were a running joke and they were all in on it. Stephen didn’t want to admit how much that stung. He was the interloper here. Even this secretary seemed more comfortable in this house—his house—than he was.

“What happened?”

“As I said, I thought she was a poacher, so I hauled her out of the hedge by her arm. By the time I realized the true situation, the fox was long gone.”

Stephen blinked, tried to absorb this information.

“You’re truly lucky she didn’t shoot you,” Vera said, chuckling.

“Isn’t that the truth?” The man sounded like the prospect would have been delightful.

“I came closer to shooting my son yesterday than I ever came to shooting this one.” The baroness shook her head. “I still don’t understand what you were thinking, busting in the door, yelling like that.”

“I was mistaken,” Stephen said, stiffly. “I thought…”

He trailed off, but the baroness raised her eyebrows expectantly. “You thought what? Vera hardly looks like an intruder; you looked far more frightening than she ever has. I don’t blame her one bit for trying to brain you with the fire poker.”

“Wish I’d seen that,” Benjamin grumbled, so lowly that Stephen wasn’t sure he was meant to have heard it.

“It’s amazing she didn’t shoot you, from what she told me,” Hamish added with a knowing chuckle.

Stephen frowned at the knowledge that the man had heard a report of his eventful homecoming already. Just how close were his mother and this secretary?

“All’s well that ends well,” Vera supplied.