Violet continued to pepper him with questions until the gentleman was thoroughly distracted from their previous conversation. Thankfully, Dr. Vaughn soon relaxed into a discussion concerning the best herbs for sore throats, and though Violet still fumed, she quickly found herself preoccupied with Dr. Vaughn and not his devious friend or her witless self.
But when the set came to a close, she held only just enough composure to give him a quick farewell before turning away. The sensible part of her mind warned she was being inexcusably rude, but having heard Dr. Vaughn’s admission, Violet couldn’t bear to linger a moment longer than necessary. Turning on her heel, she crossed the room and swept through the front doors, into the cool night air.
Arms drawn tight around herself, Violet stared up at the night sky. Not a single cloud marred the perfect wall of stars above her, stretching out in every direction. Any other time, she would marvel at the beauty, for such a sight never failed to entrance her. But with thoughts of her family, their future in Oakham, and the Finches’ betrayal, she could think of nothing else but the future stretching before her, vast and unknown.
Even her closest companions did not trust her family. Had everyone been laughing at them in private, whilst feigning friendship to their faces? Surely, Felicity hadn’t known.
Had she?
Violet’s heart twisted. This was her home. Her village. The people who had known her father and his father. Who had watched her grow from childhood. Did they all hold the Templetons in such low esteem?
Chapter 10
“Miss Templeton?”
Having no clock on hand, Violet didn’t know how much time had passed while she stood in front of the inn, but her hackles raised at the sound of Mr. Finch’s voice.
“Won’t you please allow me to explain?” he asked.
Violet winced at his volume, and she cast a look about at the few listening ears nearby, which were eagerly straining to gather any tittle-tattle to be found.
“What need is there to explain anything, Mr. Finch? Your actions have made your feelings clear,” she whispered before turning on her heel to join the party once more. With so many about, he would allow things to lie. What more was there to discuss? It wouldn’t alter the past.
“Will you stand up with me, Miss Templeton?” he asked in a voice designed to carry to all the eavesdroppers.
The question pulled her to a stop. Though her pettiness knew no bounds within the confines of her thoughts, Violet couldn’t bring herself to be so blatantly rude to anyone. Snubbing another—even one who had hurt her—never brought anyjoy. Even if the bounder was only using the gesture to trap her into a conversation.
And foolish woman that she was, Violet couldn’t help but hope this all stemmed from some easily resolved misunderstanding. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but at present, it was doing its best to pester her.
Scowling to herself, she took his offered hand and allowed him to lead her back into the coaching inn. The dancers were still milling about, and when Mr. Finch drew them to a stop on the edge of the dance floor, she turned her gaze from him, her arms crossed tight across her chest. Yes, Violet knew she looked petulant, but it was an honest reaction that she refused to moderate.
“I know you’re angry with me because of Dr. Vaughn,” said Mr. Finch in a low voice. He tucked his hands behind him, his posture relaxed, as though they were chatting about the weather or the fine evening they’d had.
“Is it true? Did you ask Dr. Vaughn to settle here?” she asked.
“Yes. Though I didn’t ask him as much as I told him about the opportunity.”
Violet’s muscles tightened. “So, you are simply going to confess that as though nothing is amiss?”
“Would you rather I lie?” he asked with raised brows.
“I would rather you not meddle with my family’s livelihood.”
The musicians trilled out the opening notes, and the dancers shifted into their lines. And to prove just how terrible Violet’s luck was, the chosen dance was as sedate as the ones their parents and grandparents had favored in their youth, allowing far too much time to talk.
Mr. Finch’s shoulders tightened, and he gave her a slow nod as his brows furrowed slightly. “I didn’t do so lightly, Miss Templeton. Out of respect for you, I held off. But with Felicity nearing her confinement, I could not allow things to remain asthey were. How many illnesses sweep through the village every year, carrying off loved ones with ease?”
“That is not my brother’s fault. Every physician loses patients. Many, in fact—”
“True, but can you say that Mr. Evans would’ve fared better if your brother had been on hand instead of Dr. Vaughn?”
“He may not be the finest of surgeons, Mr. Finch, but he is not incompetent. Besides, I had matters well in hand, with or without Dr. Vaughn’s assistance—just as I have helped to manage the well-being of Oakham,” said Violet with a lift of her chin.
Mr. Finch sighed. “Felicity is soon to enter her confinement, Miss Templeton. Do you truly think I ought to entrust her and our child’s safety to your brother?”
“You speak as though Isaac is incapable or incompetent, sir. I assure you he can manage such things. He was taught by our father, who was highly skilled and ensured that his son learned all he needed.”
“I do not doubt it,” he replied. “And your brother is decent—when you can find him. He is forever disappearing or traveling from town. How are we to manage when he is unavailable?”
