The answer.
“Oh, most assuredly,” said Violet, the words blurting out before she could reconsider. With an insinuating tone that wasthicker than clotted cream and jam smothered on a scone, she added, “But though he is very capable in many ways, I fear the gentleman is timid when it comes to tender matters. Dr. Vaughn struggles to express himself, but if acertain ladywere to help matters along…”
Miss Bacon perked, her fan snapping shut. “Say no more, Miss Templeton. I grasp your meaning.”
For all that not a single lie had crossed her lips—Dr. Vaughn had indeed shown a preference for Violet (even if it was platonic), and he was exceptionally shy except when she’d done her best to help the conversation along—her insides churned as she watched the young lady turn and make her way to Dr. Vaughn’s side.
Glancing out at the gathering, Violet spied other gazes (both of the maidenly and widowed variety) all turning to the doctor with varying degrees of curiosity and avarice, and she knew this was precisely the solution for which she’d been searching. Passing over the tenderhearted, who were less apt to believe that Dr. Vaughn nursed a secret tendre for them or be crushed when they discovered the truth, Violet set her sights on three of the more cunning ladies in attendance.
A few well-placed insinuations were all it would take, and in a matter of weeks, those ladies would be convinced Dr. Vaughn was madly in love with each. Not only would the overt attentions discomfort him and make Oakham far less palatable, but once that idea took hold, there would be no saving his reputation. Even if he settled on one of them, the others and their allies would cry out for blood, and nothing caused chaos like ladies fighting over a beau they each thought ought to be theirs.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Dr. Vaughn was going to be the most hated man in Oakham.
Chapter 26
Birdsong was a magical thing, and a veritable chorus followed Arthur along as he strolled through the heart of Oakham. His medical bag bounced against his thigh, tapping in time with the trilling notes that filled the air. For perhaps the first time this season, the sun chose to make an appearance; with the summer having delivered so many gloomy days in a row, the breeze still had a nip to it, but Arthur wasn’t going to complain. Just having the golden light surrounding him was enough to warm his spirits.
Though much of that had to do with his destination.
Conversation with Miss Templeton was far easier than he’d ever thought to find, yet he’d be a fool if he trusted his tongue, so he thought through his explanation for appearing on her doorstep. Stocking his medical bag was a ready excuse, but he sorted through the exact wording.
Miss Templeton had allowed him to hold her hand. And she had gripped him as tightly as he did her. Even Gadd hadn’t done that much. That was something worth celebrating. As long as Arthur ignored that she allowed the blackguard the liberty of kissing her knuckles and addressing her informally. And Arthur was going to do just that.
Gadd may be flashy in his overtures, but none of his actions had felt as intimate as the moment Arthur had shared with Miss Templeton.
Of course, she might’ve allowed Arthur to do so simply because she’d been overwrought. He hadn’t thought the lady capable of being defeated, yet he hadn’t imagined the tears in her eyes, even if she hadn’t allowed them to fall. And try as he might, Arthur couldn’t help but feel he was the source of her pain.
Surely, things were not so dire as all that. His schedule had been so full of late that despite nearly a sennight passing since the concert, Arthur was only finding time just now to pay a call. Clearly, there was demand enough for two physicians.
Yet even as he told himself that, he knew it was a rosy view of the situation. Being uncomfortable astride meant he walked to his appointments, stealing away much of his time, and when the influenza plaguing the village moved on (as it inevitably would), Arthur wasn’t certain there was enough day-to-day need to keep both himself and her brother actively employed.
But all hope was not lost.
Arthur’s gaze drifted over the cottages as he passed, and he breathed deeply of the air, which bore the scent of the crops growing in the fields beyond. He could follow Mr. Templeton’s example and take on an apprentice; the fees they paid wouldn’t make up the difference entirely, but it would supplement his income. However, he was an abysmal teacher.
Bentmoor was a possibility. With a few doctors and apothecaries already established, settling there wouldn’t be the peaceful situation he’d hoped to find, but he could remain close to Miss Templeton—an attraction that no other town could boast. The distance was troublesome, as it was some two hours by carriage, and in winter or bad weather the travel would take even longer, which was hardly ideal. But surely, they might have this courtship limbo sorted out before the snow fell.
Arthur longed to tell the lady of his efforts to resolve matters, but only a fool rushed ahead with grand promises beforehe knew if he could deliver upon them. It wasn’t as though any decision needed to be made posthaste. With the Templetons producing the town’s medicines and Arthur’s frugal lifestyle, they all could remain afloat for some months. There was still time.
A burst of color drew his gaze, and he found himself staring at a magnificent rose bush climbing over the stone fence lining the lane. The blossoms were open wide, their petals catching the sunlight and bringing the palest of pinks to the white petals; they were pristine, looking their absolute best and spilling their sweet fragrance into the air.
Arthur couldn’t help but cross the road whilst reaching into his frock coat pocket for his pen knife. That tool was something every physician ought to have on hand, though he usually kept it in his medical bag; but then, before meeting Miss Templeton, he’d only ever used it for sharpening quills and pencils and never considered employing it to cut bouquets.
The wall wasn’t tall, and Arthur glanced at the cottage on the other side as he carefully selected the loveliest blooms. Despite having been told that no one begrudged a few pilfered blossoms (assuming one took care not to strip the bush bare), Arthur still felt a little like a kid sneaking a biscuit from the pantry as he examined the bush for a few more offerings. But then, flowers in the city were a luxury, and his former peers and patients wouldn’t have thanked him for taking them.
The door to the cottage opened, and Mrs. Morris poked her head through with a wave. “Dr. Vaughn. I thought that was you.”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Arthur paused and forced himself to relax as the lady flitted down the path to stand on the other side of the wall from him. “I—I do hope you are not offended—I…purloined a few of your flowers.”
“That depends on what you intend to do with them,” said the widow, ducking her face away from him with a coy blush. Arthur drew in a sharp breath and tensed, his muscles tightening as he tried to understand the heavy insinuation in her tone.
“I…” Arthur didn’t know what to say, and that single vowel stretched out for far longer than was comfortable.
Mrs. Morris straightened, her brows drawing together as her lips formed a pout. “I was only teasing, Dr. Vaughn. I only wish you had come to the door first.”
“Oh.” Arthur’s hands dropped from the foliage as he shifted in place and his tongue twisted in on itself, refusing to be of much assistance as he attempted to speak. “I—I apologize. I hadn’t meant to be impertinent—”
“Don’t be a goose. I meant so that we could visit.” Mrs. Morris laughed and caressed his forearm, and Arthur jolted at the contact, nearly striking her with the flowers. But then she straightened, her eyes brightening. “Unless you were intending to bring me a bouquet, and I have spoiled the surprise.”
