Page 46 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

Percy and Adelaide retired just after dinner. The last course had been punctuated with her carefully hidden yawns and apologies. Everyone else politely ignored her or assured her it didn’t matter—everyone except her husband. After the third time, he began yawning loudly after her silent ones, and no amount of poking him about the midsection would stop him.

“Percy, really.” Candace shook her head. “The only reason she’s so tired is because she has a great lummox of a husband. The least you could do is be sympathetic.”

“On the contrary, dear sister. I’m only showing my utmost support and solidarity.”

Despite his shocking provocations, Vera had no doubt that the marquess was madly in love with his wife. She’d overheard Percy and Stephen deep in a murmured conversation in the hallway; the marquess had been questioning Stephen about his experience attending to expectant mothers during childbirth.

“If I need to, I can try to call Dr. Halveston away from London, but who knows if he’ll consent? I’d much rather have someone nearby.”

After dinner came drinks and cards. Vera somehow won every hand; she strongly suspected the other guests had conspired to make it so.

James and Candace were the last to depart, with Candace hugging Vera soundly. “Happy birthday, dearest. I hope this year is your favorite yet.”

Vera didn’t have the heart to tell her friend her life was in a bit of a shambles. She simply hitched her very best smile onto her face and thanked them both for coming.

The door closed behind them, leaving Vera in that strange ennui that follows a night with loved ones; the house had gone from boisterous conversation and laughter to dim shadow and silence. Vera battled the strange, nagging sensation that perhaps she’d had too much wine and said something foolish.

She sighed and turned for the stairway.

“Did you have a nice evening?” Stephen asked from the darkness at the bottom of the stairs.

Vera whirled, a hand clutched to her pounding heart. She hadn’t seen him there; she’d assumed he’d gone to bed when everyone else had left.

He waited for her to answer, his hands tucked into his pockets. His face was in shadow; she couldn’t see his expression.

“It was very nice.”

Despite the fact that Candace claimed it was he who’d invited them, Vera didn’t believe the party had been his idea. Most likely the baroness had forced him into it.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“How did you know it was my birthday?” As soon as she asked the question she frowned. “Nevermind—I suppose you learned much about me when you read my journals.”

He winced. “I wish…I wish we could begin anew. I wish I’d never done that. I hope that in time, you’ll see that isn’t who I am. Not really.”

“It may be that you wish that were the case, but our actions are far better proof of who we are than our words.”

Stephen’s shoulders rounded. He frowned and nodded. “You’re probably right.”

She sighed. “I don’t wish to fight with you. I’ll be your assistant, until such a time as I can find other gainful employment. Then I’ll be away from here, out of your home forever. But as you’ve so stabbingly said, at the moment, I have little else but charity to live on.”

Vera inhaled sharply through her nose—a poor attempt to stifle the tears that suddenly threatened to crest over her lower lashes. She had nothing except for her pride, and even that was bruised as of late.

“I am sorry,” he said, his words as dejected as his posture. “I should never have said such things. If I…if I could take back the pain I’ve caused you, I would.”

Vera peered up at him, trying to decide if his words were a trick. After a few moments, she was surprised to find she believed him.

“Very well,” she said. “I accept your apology.”

“You do?”

His relief was so palpable it nearly staggered her.

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s…that’s good.” He stood there for a moment as if he wished to say more, then gave a low smile. “Happy birthday, Vera.”

CHAPTER 13- VERA