“And you have been looking out for them, have you?”
Verity blushed. “I just notice things.”
Mr. Cole’s smile wrinkled with bemusement. “Yes, you do, Miss Lockhart.”
He lowered his hat again with great care and they both gazed at their winged guest. It did not seem to mind the attention, and it rested for several moments before flitting off in movements that were, at once, both lurching and graceful.
“Thank you,” said Verity. “That was very kind.”
“What? Holding my hat for you to see your red captain better? If that is all, may I say you have very low expectations, Miss Lockhart.” He offered a lopsided smile to soften the comment.
“It’s a redadmiral. And yes, you are probably right. I don’t expect much and am usually the happier for it. But I did think it a great kindness that you lingered for my sake when you had been in such a hurry only moments earlier.”
“Oh.” Mr. Cole straightened up. “That.” He placed the hat back upon his head. “Yes. I had best be off then, hadn’t I?”
The smile had fallen from his face once more, and the dimples in his cheeks had dissolved. Verity was sorry for it. When his eyes were lit with mirth and mischief, he was almost unbearably attractive. All she could admire now was his dark-blue coat and the way it spanned across his back as he mounted his horse.
He turned and touched his finger to his hat before spurring his horse onward down the lane. Verity remained at the gate, watching his figure recede into the distance. She was oddly sad to see him go. Perhaps it was simply because he had offered a little distraction from her predictable life.
From the doorway, her mother’s voice rang clear and high with energy. She was sure to have plenty to say about their visitor, and Verity resigned herself to a half hour of relentless commentary. She cast one last look down the stony path, but Mr. Cole was out of sight. Taking a deep, bolstering breath, she closed the gate behind her and walked back along the path.
“My goodness, you certainly took your time,” Mrs. Lockhart noted as Verity approached the front door. Verity would have told her about the butterfly, but her mother was bound to answer it withthat look, the one that expressed disapproval and disappointment without need for words. Instead, Verity merely said, “Did I?” and walked on into the house.
“It is very odd that Mr. Cole should wait with such patience for you to arrive so that he may renew the acquaintance and then scuttle away the moment he had done so,” Mrs. Lockhart declared.
But Verity wasn’t listening. She rarely did. Oh, she would nod and make sounds of encouragement, but her thoughts would always drift to her latest discovery. Today, it was the red admiral and the delight of seeing one again before winter came.
If she were honest, however, she would confess that her mind was not only on the painted black wings, but on a dark-blue coat and the eyes that danced above it.
