“Thank you for your kind words, Miss Lockhart.” Dr. Westbridge shrugged. “However, I did what any gentleman of good character should have done.”
Verity could not decide if the doctor was merely modest, or whether his actions at the ball had truly meant nothing. Likely, he would have done the same for any other young woman in need. He was that sort of gentleman. But did he feel something a little more than courtesy and the fascination of a shared interest toward her? She really could not tell. It was most frustrating!
Fortunately, she did not have to wonder long, for Miss Kinsey thought much the same and was not afraid to speak her mind.
“Oh, pooh, Dr. Westbridge! I did not take you for a man who withheld the truth. You and Miss Lockhart made a fine match at the ball, as you do here, among the insects that intrigue you both. I am surprised you have not called on her before now to express these very thoughts. You would not want another to snatch her away before your very eyes, would you? You are so well suited, it would be a terrible waste.”
Dr. Westbridge, to his credit, neither blushed nor expressed the horror he must have felt to be addressed in this fashion. Instead, he calmly replied, “There were a great number of gentlemen at the ball of whom the same could be said. Mr. Cole, to name one, would qualify just as well as a suitor. I do not claim to be a better match than any of them. And if I were to have such hopes, my nature is not to rush these matters.”
For the briefest of moments, he cast his eyes directly upon Verity, then looked away as if to confirm that he had no right to gaze upon her. Verity almost missed this minutest of signs because Miss Kinsey had reacted quite differently a few seconds before. At the mention of Mr. Cole, Miss Kinsey had stiffened, an action so opposite to her usual self that it drew Verity’s attention at once.
Why should Miss Kinsey mind the idea of Mr. Cole as a suitor for Verity? Did she want him for herself? No, it couldn’t be. Mr. Trenton had mentioned she had her eye on a friend of the viscount’s, a Mr. Bradford, if Verity remembered correctly. Why, then, did the mention of Mr. Cole create such a strong response? Did it have anything to do with the seemingly ill blood between Mr. Cole and Lord and Lady Howell? Verity was determined to find out once and for all. The challenge was to create an opportunity for such a discussion to occur.
“I am flattered that you both think me worthy of such broad attention,” she said. “However, there has been no such interest expressed by any gentleman since the ball. As for Mr. Cole, weare merely friends. Now, if you will permit, I shall attend to my painting. Dr. Westbridge, you will tell me if you find the tansy beetle’s offspring?”
“Indeed, I shall,” he replied, returning to his search among the reeds.
Verity made her way back up the gentle slope to retrieve her sketchbook and paints. As hoped, Miss Kinsey joined her, no doubt because a lady’s company promised better conversation.
Verity had placed a sketch upon the easel and was readying her paints and brushes and a glass of water, when Miss Kinsey launched into her next unrestrained monologue, which, for once, was exactly what Verity wanted.
“I say, Miss Lockhart, Iamglad you do not consider Mr. Cole among your potential suitors. Dr. Westbridge is so much more aligned to your needs. Certainly, Mr. Cole is very handsome and has charm enough to sway many a young woman’s heart. I confess I may even have advised you to encourage his attentions if it weren’t for a startling exchange with my friend the viscountess just yesterday.”
Verity readied herself for the revelation of the secret as Miss Kinsey talked on with barely a pause.
“I informed Ellena that you would be coming to visit at my invitation, and, to my surprise, she appeared none too pleased. As you may imagine, this made as little sense to me as why thetonuse so much cutlery when they have their meals.”
Miss Kinsey rolled her eyes, took a quick breath and continued. “I hope you do not mind me saying so, but, when pressed, Ellena wondered at your connection to Mr. Cole and whether you were the right sort for me to keep company with. Now, I see your dismay, and I am sorry to be the cause of it. I was equally stunned and could find no reason why either of you should not make excellent friends, and I told her so.”
Annoyance, impatience, confusion, and indignation vied for supremacy within Verity as Miss Kinsey raced along with her narration.
“Well, Miss Lockhart, you may be shocked to hear her reason, as I was. Indeed, it pained her to speak of it. I must therefore trust that you value the truth over your attachment to Mr. Cole, however deep it runs.”
She stopped so abruptly that Verity was startled by the silence. Now that Miss Kinsey was willing to reveal all, Verity was no longer certain she wanted to hear it. This was not the simple spat she had predicted, but something far more sinister-sounding. And the blame seemed to rest squarely on Mr. Cole.
“You will not despise the messenger, will you, Miss Lockhart?” Miss Kinsey clasped her hands and hugged them to herself. “I should be devastated to lose your friendship. There are so few folk I like whom I may engage with. I miss the ease of our village, where everyone knows each other and the most important rule is to be kind.”
Poor Miss Kinsey! Verity had not considered how lonely it must be for a groundskeeper’s daughter to mix with the elite. If the Sangfords and Penroses were any indication, Miss Kinsey would have struggled to find a friend beyond the safety of Munro House.
“I assure you,” she told the worried woman, “that I shall receive the news with fortitude. I shall not judge you for sharing what burdens you.”
“Oh, Miss Lockhart, I had hoped it would be so! Let me tell you quickly, then, so that the injury might be brief, and we can paint and laugh again.”
Verity sat down, Miss Kinsey joining her in the adjacent chair. She leaned forward and said, “I shall speak softly, for people forget the servants are there. I will not have this talked about beyond our confidence.”
Verity cast a quick glance at the footman, who stood unmoving—likely bored—but near enough to hear their speech. “Excuse me,” she said to him, “but could you see what has become of Miss Kinsey’s shawl? She asked for it some time ago and it has not been brought to her.”
The footman nodded and strode off briskly, no doubt happy to stretch his legs and possibly even catch a quick flirtation with a scullery maid as he entered through the kitchen.
Miss Kinsey made an “o” with her mouth and clapped her hands together. “Oh, you are clever! I wish I had thought of that.” When Verity did not share in her delight, she grew serious at once, her smile slipping from her face. “To the heart of the matter, then…”
She looked over her shoulder to see if Dr. Westbridge was still occupied, then returned her attention to Verity. “I shall be as brief as possible.”
Verity thought this a very fine idea, though she was not convinced brevity was Miss Kinsey’s strong suit.
“When Ellena came to Munro last year for her wedding, she stayed with her cousin Mr. James Trenton.” She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Ugh! Horrid man! But we are not here to discuss his petty ways. His wife is quite the opposite. How they found each other and made such a fine match, I will never know. Anyway, Mrs. Trenton, as you know, is Mr. Cole’s sister, and he happened to surprise her with a visit at the time Ellena stayed with them. So, they were houseguests together.
“You will agree, Mr. Cole is a terrible flirt. I would not have minded that if I did not know what I do now. And, certainly, Ellena did not mind, either. She thought it all rather harmless fun. She didn’t have experience of men, you know. Her father kept her from them like a princess in a tower, only there was no tower, and she was not a princess, but you understand my meaning, I hope.
