Page 79 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

He gestured at the chair next to him. Vera rounded the table and stopped with a gasp. Her eyes went wide at the large, lidded picnic hamper atop her chair. The moving picnic hamper.

As she stared, a distinct, high-pitched whimper rose from the basket.

“Is that…”

“Please open it. I think she’s frightened of the dark.”

Vera rushed to flip the lid back; she gasped. A puppy stared up at her with soft brown eyes. Her coat was a beautiful black with tiger stripes of reddish fawn. Vera bent and lifted the puppy from the basket, noting the pale pink ribbon tied in a bow at her neck.

Vera grunted under the puppy’s solid weight. “She’s huge.”

“It’s Seamus’s daughter; of course she’s huge. Happy birthday, Vera.”

“I don’t understand.” Vera’s words were momentarily muffled by a pink tongue licking at her chin. “My birthday was weeks ago.”

Stephen frowned. “You can hardly fault me that your present wasn’t finished on time. I wasn’t the one in charge of making it.”

Vera laughed; the puppy snapped playfully at one of her dangling curls. “Thank you, Stephen. She’s wonderful. Does she have a name?”

“Not yet.”

Vera frowned suddenly. She’d never heard of a governess who brought a dog with her. What would happen when she got a position elsewhere?

“But…” she started.

She looked to the baroness for support. Jacqueline was a supremely practical woman—surely she’d sussed out the problem with this arrangement already. The baroness was studiously ignoring her, going so far as to examine the chandelier to avoid Vera’s eyes.

“I cannot possibly accept,” Vera finally said.

“Whyever not? Do you not like her?”

“Don’t be daft. She’s gorgeous, but I can’t take her with me when I go.”

Jacqueline gave a delicate cough, then quelled the tickle in her throat with a sip of water, still avoiding Vera’s eyes. When Vera looked back to Stephen, he was frowning.

“She’ll always have a home here.”

Vera couldn’t read his expression, but his tone was grave, as if he were making a solemn oath.

Vera smiled. “Thank you.”

“I thought we’d call her Miss Beets.”

“Miss Beets?” His mother wrinkled her nose even as Vera’s eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed. “What an odd name for a dog. Besides, it’s traditionally the owner who gets to choose, and you’ve given the dog to Vera. I think it ought to be her decision, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Stephen turned to Vera; he appeared to barely be able to keep a straight face. “My apologies, Vera. What would you like to name her?”

Benjamin leaned forward, his eyes bright. “I would name her Pickles.”

Vera laughed and looked at Stephen. “I like Miss Beets.”

* * *

Vera had slept late, owing to her new roommate, Miss Beets. Though she’d insisted that the puppy sleep in her room, the poor thing had cried piteously from its basket half the night. Vera thought that perhaps the dog’s distress was a warning of impending bathroom needs—during that time, she and the pup made several sojourns to the cold back garden. Vera, bleary-eyed and wrapped in her robe, started to suspect that the puppy hadn’t been intended as a gift at all but was some sort of recompense for a perceived slight.

At one in the morning, Vera finally pulled the large puppy onto her bedcovers, desperate for sleep. Miss Beets briefly snuffled her cheek, turned several times upon the blankets, and curled into a warm ball. The puppy’s sigh a moment later as much as said, Finally. They both slept quite soundly until the puppy placed a subtle paw on Vera’s forehead at eight o’clock.

It followed then, that Stephen and Vera arrived at Mr. Douglas’s house later than usual. Stephen frowned up at the house and leapt down from the carriage.