“I finished it this morning.”
“We spoke of it two days ago,” she said with a frown.
“You were adamant that it was a gripping read, and as I am new to town, I still have more time on my hands than is good for me, so I went to Bentmoor and found a copy of it. I couldn’t put it down.” The gentleman spoke so matter-of-factly, as though it was entirely reasonable that he acted so quickly and thoroughly.
“I didn’t think you enjoyed reading,” she said.
Dr. Vaughn shook his head. “I haven’t read much, but it is more about opportunity than desire. My father pushed me to move quickly through my schooling and establish myself as a doctor, which didn’t leave me much time for such things. Dr. Floyd Vaughn values success above all else. Pastimes have their place, but not when one is still in his prime.”
Violet’s brows rose at that. “A strong work ethic is admirable, but surely, there is time for pleasure as well.”
Dr. Vaughn gave her a half-smile. “Not if you wish to live up to the family reputation as being amongst the best doctors in London.”
Giving a vague hum in reply, she turned her attention back to the water. “Well, I’ve never heard of Floyd Vaughn.”
And that drew forth a sharp laugh as Dr. Vaughn shook his head. “Never say so to my father. It would decimate his pride.”
*
Arthur was quite certain this was the finest day he’d had in some time. Perhaps ever. Despite a few bumps along the way, here he sat in a beautiful location with an equally lovely lady at his side, all his attention fixed on her as they spoke of everything and nothing.
When he’d considered love and marriage, Arthur hadn’t truly known that one could find it and friendship wrapped in one perfect package. Through his profession, he’d witnessed many private moments between spouses and families, and though many espoused beliefs of romance, such displays were superficial physical connections.
Here, more than mere attraction bound him to Miss Violet Templeton. Her ideas and opinions were as fascinating to him as the draw he felt to her hand that rested so close to his. If his fingers inched nearer along the stone, they would touch, yet Arthur couldn’t bear to risk breaking the moment. Best not to press his suit too quickly.
But when a lull in the conversation drew her attention to him, Miss Templeton’s eyes fixed on his, and Arthur felt theirpower pulling him in. There was a softness in her expression, and he longed to brush aside a curl that hung across her cheek, bouncing slightly in the breeze.
“I am sorry about your hat,” she said with a frown, reaching up to poke the rim. Nodding toward it, Miss Templeton held out her hand. “May I see it? I’ve mended enough of my brother’s and father’s clothes to have learned a thing or two about resurrecting hats.”
Arthur felt the familiar flush of heat creep across his cheeks, though he batted the embarrassment away.
“I promise I am not going to steal it,” she added with a hint of laughter.
Dropping his gaze away from her, Arthur struggled as his throat decided to be uncooperative once more. It wasn’t as though Miss Templeton didn’t know what lay hidden beneath, as she’d seen his bald head several times already, but it was easier to ignore such failings when they were hidden from sight. Surely, putting it on display wouldn’t endear him to her. Yet there was no polite way to deny her.
Arthur lifted it from his head and handed it over. Miss Templeton took hold of it and turned the hat about, feeling the crumpled rim. Turning it this way and that, she considered it.
“With a bit of steaming, I believe it is salvageable. We haven’t a milliner in town, but if you take it to Bentmoor, I am certain you could have it straightened in a trice. Though I know of a few women here who take in laundry and might manage it.”
Then, turning it between her hands, she plopped it on his head once more. “In the meantime, it gives you a bit of a roguish air. As though you’ve gone a few rounds of fisticuffs with ruffians.”
“When in fact, I was nearly impaled by a lady with gardening shears,” he replied, though it was a miracle the jest came out at all.
Miss Templeton chuckled, her dark eyes meeting his with a smile shining in their depths. Her hand rested against the slab once more, and her fingers were so close. A little movement andhe could take hold of her hand. To lean in her direction would bring her close enough to steal a kiss. Either was far too forward at this stage, but holding her gaze, Arthur allowed his eyes to tell her the many things he was imagining.
Surely, she could feel the closeness and connection they shared, and in that moment, Arthur knew that one way or another, he was going to find a solution to their problem. Having just found Miss Templeton, he wasn’t going to allow a little thing like their livelihoods to run him from town. He needed time to explore the possibility that lay heavy between them.
There must be a way.
Chapter 18
“Letter for you, Mama,” said Violet, inching open the door to the lady’s bedchamber.
The curtains were still pulled tight against the light, and the air sat heavy with the scent of the sickroom; the fireplace cheerily burned, but the lady in the bed remained bundled beneath the mass of blankets. Mama gave no acknowledgment, and Violet crossed to her, sitting upon the corner of the mattress and pressing a hand to the lady’s forehead. The skin was clammy and warm still, though far from being worrisome.
Mama opened her eyes, and she gave a faint smile. “Is it from an admirer?”
“I would say so. It is from Isaac,” replied Violet.
