Page 22 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

It wasn’t—not by a long shot. But he didn’t know how to explain it to her, so he nodded.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she read his falsehood. “At least tell me this…why do you think she’s lying? Why do you think she’s concealing something important?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the truth—Stephen had no clue where this sudden obsession with the young lady’s past had come from. All he knew was that it plagued him, day and night. He’d puzzled it from every possible angle while he’d weeded his old herb beds yesterday afternoon in the greenhouse. He’d ruminated on it at length while soaking in a steaming bath before dressing for the evening. He’d studied the lady in question the entirety of that strange dinner.

He was no closer to finding out who she was or why she was there. But the fact of the matter was, he believed with his entire heart and mind that she was hiding something—something big.

It was written in the small wince she gave when specific topics were brought up. There’d been a certain tone to her words yesterday when she’d spoken to Benjamin. Something was wrong with Miss Vera Ashbury, and he was determined to find out what.

“Are you sure you’re not interested in the lady for other reasons?” his mother asked lightly, breaking the silence.

Stephen exhaled with the force of his derision. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“She is quite pretty. And unattached.”

A flash of ash-brown hair shone briefly in his mind’s eye.

He leaned forward. “You forget that I was recently engaged to a young lady that fit those parameters exactly. She also was hiding something, and I took it on faith that her concealment wasn’t harmful. I’m not keen on repeating that experience.”

“Ah.” She hefted the word as if it held all the weight of a mother’s understanding.

Stephen found he didn’t like the sound of that ‘ah.’ It was as if his mother had discovered something about him that he was trying to hide, but for the life of him, he couldn’t suss out what. She couldn’t believe that what had happened with Samantha was the sole cause of his suspicion of Vera…could she?

Stephen clenched his jaw. He wasn’t crazy for thinking something was off with their houseguest. His suspicion wasn’t because he was damaged. He was going to find out what she was hiding, from him and his mother, both.

He would do whatever it took.

His mother watched him with narrowed eyes, and Stephen had the inkling that she could read all his thoughts upon his face. He’d learned as a young boy that if in doubt, distraction was the best option where parents were concerned.

He pointed at the animal across the room. “Is that your fox?”

She clasped a hand to her elegant throat, her dark eyes wide. “There’s a fox in here?”

Stephen refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely.

“You truly have changed—you used to recognize humor.”

“People grow up.” He shrugged, trying not to let on that she’d echoed one of his own thoughts—it felt as if, since Samantha, the part of him that had once smiled and laughed easily had withered and curled in on itself like arthritic hands.

“I hope that you find that part of yourself again, Stephen. I truly do.” She pressed her lips together, then asked, “What are your plans now that you’re home?”

He was grateful for the change of subject, but the question caught him by surprise, like a cuff to the back of his head.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m going to run the estate, of course.”

She frowned. “Very well. What else?”

“I imagine that will take the bulk of my time.”

“What about medicine? Are you giving up the practice altogether?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

It was a lie. He had thought about it. All the way back from India, he’d thought about it. The truth of the matter was that he was tired. Exhausted. There were so few doctors and too many people to help. He’d run himself ragged until pieces of him frayed off at the edges and were just…lost.

She was studying him again, in that keen eye way of hers that made him think of falcons. “You know, India doesn’t contain all the poor people who need a good doctor. England has plenty of those, too.”