Page 36 of A Meddlesome Match (The Vaughns #3)

Dr. Vaughn regarded Walter with a measured gaze, his expression unreadable, his scrutiny unhurried. The silence stretched, each passing second only deepening the weight of the physician’s assessment, examining him like a specimen under a glass.

“After how you’ve behaved, why would I permit you anywhere near my daughter?”

demanded Dr. Vaughn.

Though the gentleman tried to hide it, even Walter’s untrained eyes saw the signs of Dr. Vaughn’s strained health. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, and his shoulders sagged as though fighting to keep upright, but that didn’t diminish the gentleman’s presence. It filled the room, adding weight to his condemnation—though it couldn’t pain Walter more than his own conscience.

“I know I am not worthy of her, but there isn’t a man alive who is. Her sweetness of temper, kindness, intelligence, and beauty all place her firmly out of my reach.”

Walter’s voice cracked the slightest bit, and he drew in a breath to steady himself. “But she inspires me to try. To be better. To be the man she deserves. The man she believes I can be.”

“Do you welcome his overtures?”

asked Dr. Vaughn, turning his gaze to his daughter, who stared back at both gentlemen in silence, her brows slowly drawing together. Walter felt the weight of that hesitation press deep into his chest, squeezing his heart and crushing his ribs.

Sweat gathered on his palms, and his pulse quickened as he considered what to say or do—which was difficult for his timid tongue in the best of circumstances, let alone when his affection was pressing him to greater heights of lunacy. He had to convince her. He had to.

Drawing in a deep breath, he forced his thoughts to clear. Such fear would only make matters worse.

“She needn’t decide anything at present. I…”

He paused and released a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. “I am a timid man, and I have done my best to protect my heart, preferring to muck about in hints and vagueness because I was too afraid to risk my feelings. And I am sorry to say my cowardice has caused her great pain.”

Lifting his chin, Walter forced himself to look both Miss Vaughn and her father in the eyes. “I am not here to secure any promises, but to make my intentions clear so there is no question or doubt. I am quite willing to wait as long as it takes for her to decide what she wishes. I simply cannot allow myself to wallow in weakness any longer.”

Caught somewhere between the urge to laugh at having managed all that and the impulse to shake apart at the seams, Walter found (to his utter surprise) a quiet thread of peace weaving through him. It wasn’t the ease of a man certain of success, but the steadiness that came from having done all he could.

Whatever came next, he had spoken honestly and held nothing back. That alone brought a sense of rightness—small but solid—that even the doctor’s stony glare could not crumble.

Turning his gaze to Miss Vaughn, Walter added, “From the very first, I have admired your beauty and strength of character, and everything I have done is in the desperate hope of winning your favor—not for my mother’s sake but because I cannot imagine finding a more perfect woman.”

Miss Vaughn pressed a hand to her middle as though struggling for breath as her eyes widened, and that flicker of hesitation dug deep into his soul, sending shudders of pain through him. That she could be so startled by his words, as though the very idea were inconceivable, sent an ache creeping up his throat. His pulse drummed against his collar as he fought the urge to reach for her hand, to anchor himself—and her—to the truth until she had no reason to ever doubt her worth.

Walter held her gaze, hoping to convey the whole of his heart through it, and as the moment stretched out, something shifted within her. Warmth began to shine within those brown depths and spill into the space between them, unspoken yet unmistakable. Joy and something more—something strong and fierce—glistened there.

A sharp clearing of a throat cut through the quiet, and Walter gave a start, his eyes jerking to the gentleman at the desk.

“I will warn you once—and only once,”

said Dr. Vaughn, holding up a finger to punctuate that statement. “I will not allow my daughter’s heart to be kicked about as it has of late. I will not tolerate anyone mistreating her.”

Despite being one of those genteel threats common amongst fathers, there was a weight to the words and a threat glimmering in Dr. Vaughn’s gaze, which granted it a sharper edge.

“I cannot promise to never make another mistake, as I am bound to make plenty more,”

said Walter. “However, I give my word as a gentleman—and swear upon everything I hold dear—that I will never intentionally cause her pain. And if I become a source of heartache—however accidental—I fully expect to be drawn and quartered.”

He and Dr. Vaughn locked eyes for several long moments, and Walter forced himself not to flinch. Clinging to the truth and rightness of his promise, Walter stood firm against the silent challenge and prayed he would be believed.

Then, with a nod, the gentleman motioned to the door.

“I leave it to my daughter to decide what to do with you.”

Nodding out the window, he added, “I will allow you a few moments in the garden to discuss her answer, but be warned—I see and hear all from my window.”

“Yes, sir,”

said Walter, guiding Miss Vaughn from the room.

Though he was bursting to speak to her, he wasn’t about to go against her father’s wishes and hold a conference in the corridor, so Walter simply focused on following her along as she led him down the stairs and through the house. Then the pair slipped out the side door and stepped outside.

Gravel paths wound through the greenery, their borders blurred by the lavender that spilled over with abandon, its perfume carried on the breeze, and climbing roses clung to the cottage walls, their pale blooms luminous beneath the shifting light of an overcast sky. Though the sun remained hidden, the warmth lingered, wrapping the garden in a golden stillness, where the hum of bees and the rustle of leaves whispered of a world content to drift along at its own pace.

But he hardly noticed any of it with Miss Vaughn at his side.

“I planned this visit the moment you left me on the road to Thornsby, and though I yearned to come straight away, I thought it best to come bearing gifts,”

he said, placing a brow-paper package in her hand.

Tugging at the twine, she pulled back the paper to reveal the book. “A Treatise on the Cultivation and Care of Exotic Orchids?”

“I wanted to give you a potted one, but it will take a few weeks to arrive from London, and I didn’t want to wait any longer,”

he said. “I thought this was a suitable substitute.”

Opening the cover, her eyes widened as she flipped through the pages and illustrations. “This is wonderful.”

A laugh bubbled forth from her lips as she clutched the book to her chest, but the sound was as different from the one that had haunted him all these years as a sweet summer breeze was to a biting winter gale. The sound of pure elation. Her joy was radiant, lighting her eyes and softening every line of her face. Seeing it, feeling it, Walter’s own happiness deepened, as if her delight had lifted his own, making it richer, fuller. Something far greater than it could have been on its own.

“Do you truly think I am beautiful?”

she whispered, though her arms tightened around the book the moment she spoke, her cheeks pinking as her gaze darted away.

Heaven help him, because Walter couldn’t help himself. His hand drifted to her cheek, gently coaxing her to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing a caress against her skin as he struggled to find the proper words—a grand discourse about the loveliness of her features, so perfectly formed. But staring into that sweet face, the only words that came to mind were the ones that pulsed through him every time he saw her.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Simple truth, but Walter spoke it with all the strength of his soul.

Miss Vaughn’s brows rose, her eyes struggling between surprise and awe, and he felt that moment wrap around them, hushed and golden, as if the very world conspired to offer Walter this perfect chance. The thought of kissing her settled so naturally in his mind that it felt as though he had already experienced the softness of her lips and the warmth of her breath against his skin.

What else was a man to do when a woman like Miss Vaughn gazed at him with such wonder and delight? It felt right. More than right.

And yet, it was too soon. Miss Vaughn deserved patience, restraint, and the steady assurance of something real, not the reckless indulgence of a moment.

But she was so close, so lovely, and the thought of waiting was unbearable. The very brightness of her soul drew him closer.

“Miss Vaughn, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the flower show?” he asked.

*

Sadie’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the last, and she tried to steady her breath, but it came in quick, shallow gasps as Mr. Reed’s question echoed in the garden. A flutter of anticipation twisted in her stomach, and her thoughts tumbled over each other. The question was hardly surprising, as he had made his intentions quite clear, yet there was no hedging, no hesitation.

This was not a man asking because others wished it. This was a man pleading for a lady’s favor.

A man who thought her beautiful.

Like so many other qualities of late, Sadie hadn’t thought herself vain. One’s worth was not determined by outward appearances but strength of character, yet of all the compliments Mr. Reed had given, it was that word that lingered in her thoughts. Beautiful. Hearing it spoken with such force was like a balm to her bruised heart, erasing so many times when she’d been deemed lacking. Unappealing. Plain.

Sadie Vaughn was no longer the mother’s choice. She was Mr. Reed’s choice.

Yet though her heart tried to carry her away in the giddiness of that realization, she forced herself to be sensible. Mr. Reed’s explanations for his behavior were sound, but they had shown a different side to him, and Sadie couldn’t say whether it was a tolerable flaw or a line not to be crossed. Yes, he wished to court her, but was he the sort of man she wished to pay her court?

Had he asked two days ago, Sadie wouldn’t have hesitated. Yet the thought of rejecting him cut her to the quick.

But then, wasn’t that the purpose of courtship? To test the possibility? Mr. Reed wasn’t asking for the world, simply the opportunity to prove himself.

“I would love to, Mr. Reed.”

A few short words, yet a knot uncurled in her chest as the gentleman’s expression brightened as though she had granted him the greatest of favors.

Slowly, his hand rose to her cheek again, his fingers grazing her skin as he brushed away a stray curl, his eyes following the movement as though studying every inch of her. Those eyes seemed to take in the whole of her, and though it was the slightest bit unnerving, Sadie found she couldn’t breathe for entirely pleasant reasons.

Was he going to kiss her?

The idea sent a rush of heat to her cheeks, but a whisper of doubt quickly followed. She couldn’t assume such a thing—could she? No, it was too soon. But the way he was looking at her, the closeness between them, it felt like it was all leading to this moment.

But did she want him to? Her pulse quickened as she considered that—

A throat cleared behind her, blasting through the quiet garden, and the pair both jerked apart as shock strained their expressions. Glancing behind her, Sadie spied Papa and Mama sitting in their office with the windows wide open. Though she knew he couldn’t see them clearly at that distance, his eyes narrowed on her beau.

And Mr. Reed promptly cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat. Giving the spies her back, Sadie threaded her arm through his and led him deeper into the garden (though there were no good nooks or crannies in which to hide).

Just as she let out a disappointed sigh, Mr. Reed took her free hand in his and lifted it to his lips. The touch was light, yet it carried with it a promise, and a soft thrill shot through her as the warmth of his kiss imprinted itself on her skin. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow down to that singular, delicate connection between them.

And a spark of something stirred within her.

They walked side by side, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of bees following them along. The path, once winding and uncertain, now seemed clear and inviting, framed by blooms that nodded gently in the breeze as though ushering them along. Sadie’s heart fluttered in time with her steps as the weight of all that had passed melted away in the warmth of this perfect now.