“Oh, congratulations! And, may I say, further felicitations on your military commission. I know how much the opportunity means to you.” Verity paused, uncertain whether she should utterallher thoughts. She had so often regretted the loss of Mr. Cole’s company, and the way they might have conversed openly as they had at the pond. It seemed that now, given the chance to talk to him again, it was better to do so unreservedly. After all, was he not theoneman to whom she had spoken with ease? Had she not wished for more time spent with him?
Verity pulled up short in her thoughts. She must amend them. Mr. Cole was thefirstman with whom she had experienced such comfort. Dr. Arthur Westbridge had managed an admirable result also. He might not be as glamorous a specimen as Mr. Cole, but he was nevertheless someone of whom she thought warmly. Verity tucked this realization away in the back of her mind to ponder again at her leisure.
Mr. Cole, unaware that her thoughts had taken this detour, continued with the conversation they had begun. “Thank you, Miss Lockhart,” he said in reply to her previous good wishes. “You must know that you have played a role in my happy outcome.”
“I did?”
He nodded. “You are a good influence on me. You call me out on my empty talk, the type I fall back onto when I feel I can’t be myself. It was your straightforward manner that gave me the courage to speak to my father more forcefully about what I truly wanted.”
Verity did not know how to respond. She was deeply moved that he thought of her in such a positive light. And yet…
“I do not consider myself a revolutionary, Mr. Cole.”
“But youare, Miss Lockhart,” he insisted. “Not all revolutions are won with cannon and bloodshed. Some happen so quietly, yet insistently, that change is achieved without fanfare. Think of your visits to the pond. Your mother does not approve of them. Yet you may keep your paints at the ready and are left unguarded, as it were, when she knows you will slip away and seek out your little subjects for study. You have stood up for yourself without so much as a whisper. Only determined action. And you do so every moment of every day because you would rather be true to yourself than enjoy the acceptance of those who would ask you not to be.”
Blood pounded in Verity’s head.Thiswas what she had wanted.Thiswas the gift he should have given all those months ago. Not that pinned butterfly. This. He could see her. See her as she really was—and not turn from her. Her entire body buzzed with electricity. If he had spoken to her like this all those months ago, maybe…
It was too late. He would be leaving soon for war and…
“I wish you didn’t have to go!” she blurted out. She had wanted to say this earlier but had held back. Now the emotion rushed to the surface, furious in its intensity, wholly unstoppable. “I should never have encouraged you to choose this path! It’s all very well to promenade in your smart, red coat with its brass buttons, but it’s another thing entirely to wear itinto battle. You could… You might…” The words choked in her throat. She was very aware of the gangly gentleman beside them staring at them and then glancing away as she caught his eye. “I’m sorry,” she said to Mr. Cole, her head lowering with her voice. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Mr. Cole matched her more solemn tones. “Don’t apologize, Miss Lockhart. I am touched that you feel this way. War is, shall we say, the less attractive side of military life. But many of us live to boast of our exploits.” He offered a small, wry smile. “You do not think the universe would deny me my little pleasures, do you?”
Verity supposed he’d said this to lighten the mood, but Mr. Cole did so without his usual twinkle. She wanted very much to reply with a light and teasing comment, but she could not bring herself to jest while the thought of Mr. Cole being killed by the French dominated her thoughts.
“You know,” he said, the casual tone still overlaying a serious mood, “you only helped me withoneof my difficulties.”
“What do you mean?” Verity was intrigued in spite of herself.
“I am still without a wife.” And there it was. The playful grin. It almost reached his eyes.
“Oh,” replied Verity, at a loss for how to answer.
“Do not look so alarmed, Miss Lockhart,” said Mr. Cole, his eyes creasing at last with mirth. “I shall not burdenyouwith my hapless suit again.”
Disappointment planted its heavy boot on Verity’s heart.
“However,” Mr. Cole continued, “you could assist me in my future endeavor. I trust your judgment implicitly. Do you see anyone here with whom I might make a good match?”
“No.”
Mr. Cole huffed a short laugh. “You didn’t even turn your head!”
Verity tried to shed the sudden sulkiness that had infiltrated her heart. “I don’t know anyone here except your sister and mine. And they are both married.”
“Ah. Perhaps a few introductions are in order. When I spot a promising lass, I shall make sure the two of you meet. Then you shall give your insight as to her character and whether it might be a match for mine.”
Verity loathed the idea out of hand. Why should she, by Mr. Cole’s own admission, have guided him toward change and not benefit from it? It was decidedly unfair. But what could she do? Announce that, after all, he might be worthy of her consideration? That she, who was demanding in her requirements, unorthodox in her expectations, would now be allhewanted?
Verity sighed long. This was what friends did for each other, was it not? This had been what she’d wanted: his acceptance, his trust, his companionship. And if, as her friend, Mr. Cole was willing to do better for someone new than he had done for her, should she not be happy that he was willing to change? Only… if he was going to grow, become a man worthy of another, shouldshenot be given a chance to consider him?
“I see you hesitate, Miss Cole. That is good. It means you take the matter seriously. Perhaps I may sweeten the pot and offer you a similar service in return. I have spent much time in Munro over the years. I know many of the families. We could assist each other. You may gauge the worth of the daughters while I get the measure of the sons. We can be allies, you and I. And they will be our chaperones, whilewetalk of what really matters, like the qualities of great passion and… er… tansy beetles.”
“Tansy beetles,” Verity corrected him automatically.
“That is what I said.”
“Oh.” Verity stuttered to a halt in her thoughts. “So you did.”
