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Mrs. Trenton blinked, the rest of her features momentarily frozen. “It will take but a moment.” She tried to reset her smile, but it wavered uncertainly.

“Perhaps another time,” Lord Howell said firmly. “Come, ladies, let us take our seats.” He stepped forward at once, his wife still on his arm.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” said Miss Kinsey to her friend.

“I would like to talk to Miss Lockhart a little longer. Everyone else here is so stuffy and serious. But your little ensemble look like fun.” Before Lady Howell could stop her, Miss Kinsey had headed in the opposite direction, with Mrs. Trenton and Verity trailing helplessly after her.

“She’s something of a hurricane,” breathed Mrs. Trenton as they hurried to catch up.

“A friendly one, thank goodness,” replied Verity. “Look, she’s actually starting introductions already! Lady Howell must be beside herself. Miss Kinsey is such an unlikely friend for a viscountess.”

Mrs. Trenton answered in bursts as she puffed along, sucking in a breath where she could. “For many years… she was her only friend… Ellena… will therefore likely… forgive her anything. Hallo again , Miss Kinsey. My, but you walk quickly!”

“I am used to running across the fields at Trenton Grange,” Miss Kinsey answered, her eyes sparkling as of one who is in their element.

“What lovely brothers you have, Mrs. Trenton. I myself have three. Little mischief makers, every one of them, but I love them so. And Dr. Westbridge here reminds me of dear Papa, whom I miss with all my heart. I know it is a privilege to visit in Munro, but there is nothing quite like home, is there, Miss Lockhart?”

William Cole, who had recovered soonest from the onslaught that was Miss Kinsey, quickly replied, “I imagine Miss Lockhart misses her opportunities to paint the most. She has quite the talent for it.”

“You paint, Miss Lockhart?” cried the delighted Miss Kinsey, her eyes crinkling as a broad smile lit up her face to a fullness of cheer.

“Then you must visit us at Munro House. There is a lake on the grounds that offers the most beautiful views. It will be such fun. Better than sitting around and drinking tea yet again. The aristocracy could learn a thing or two about money not buying happiness.”

“I…I…” stammered Verity, flustered by the raging energy that poured from Miss Kinsey. “I do not paint landscapes,” she managed at last.

“You don’t? Then what do you paint?”

Verity fumbled with the ribbon at her bosom. “Insects. I study them. I sketch and paint each one that I have observed as a kind of scientific record.”

“You don’t say!” Miss Kinsey clapped her hands together. “How absolutely marvelous! So that is why you are at this dull gathering. I had wondered. But one doesn’t like to ask. Apparently, I give offense with my questions. But how else am to discover what I need to know?”

“Um, yes,” Verity agreed before lapsing into silence again.

“Are you all as fond of insects as Miss Lockhart?” Miss Kinsey asked, surveying the group, who—except for William Cole—stood in mute awe of her.

“Goodness, no,” replied Mrs. Trenton. “I have offered to play chaperone, as Miss Lockhart’s sister was unable to attend. But I take no interest in the lecture for its own sake.”

“I suspect,” said Dr. Westbridge, “I am the only other enthusiast among the six of us, unless you count yourself, Miss Kinsey. It is I who extended the invitation, knowing how rare an opportunity this might be for a young lady with such an unusual pastime.”

“And I am very grateful for it,” Verity assured him. “I only wish I could have brought my sketchbook. But my sister was adamant I shouldn’t.”

“Well, then, Dr. Westbridge, your kindness should be repaid in full,” said Miss Kinsey.

“Why do you not join us at the lake? You and Miss Lockhart may regale me with stories of all the wildlife to be found at the water’s edge, and I shall have a marvelous afternoon out of doors.

In fact, why do you not all come? It shall be very merry indeed! ”

Lawrence Cole was the first to shake his head. “Alas, I must return to Fernbridge. I have been several weeks away from my family, and our father has need of my assistance at the bank.”

“And I cannot bear to be parted from my little ones for long,” said Mrs. Trenton. “Jane is but five months old and Clarence has just turned three. His is a very precious age and I do not like to miss even an hour of it. But your invitation is very kind.”

“What about you, sir?” Miss Kinsey asked of William Cole. “Will you be joining us?”

The strange discomfort seemed to seize Mr. Cole once more. His lips flattened their smile. His gaze was thrown to the floor. His breathing grew shallow.

“Mr. Cole?” Miss Kinsey prompted once more. “Do you have family commitments or”—her eyes rested a moment on his uniform—“military commitments that keep you from joining us?”

“I do not,” he finally answered. “However, I have another prior arrangement to attend to.”

“But I have not even mentioned a date!” said the astonished Miss Kinsey. “How will you know if you are available?”

“It is a personal matter. I do not know when it will be resolved.”

“Well, you are certainly mysterious, sir,” remarked Miss Kinsey, an opinion which Verity currently shared.

“And now I wish more than ever that you would be joining us. But I shall console myself that I have two new friends to entertain. And you shall hear from them what larks we have had without you!”

William Cole bowed his head. “As you say, Miss Kinsey, the loss is mine entirely.”

A polite voice that belonged to no one in the group coughed behind them. “Pardon me. Is there a Miss Kinsey here?”

All six heads turned to find a rather nervous young man pushing his spectacles higher up on the bridge of his nose.

“I am Miss Kinsey,” said the young lady.

“Oh, mm, ah, Lord and Lady Howell ask that you take your seat with them.” He paused, then added, “Ah, yes, indeed, it would be best for you all to do the same. Our speaker has arrived and is about to present his treatise.”

Verity wanted to stamp her foot in frustration.

All this chitter-chatter had taken up all her precious time in a building that she could only have dreamed of entering before.

No conversation with Dr. Westbridge about why tansy beetles rarely flew, even though they had wings.

No closer inspection of the minute differences in various types of flour beetles.

And no opportunity to see if Arthur Westbridge might be the man with whom she could have a future.

“Oh, Miss Lockhart!” called Miss Kinsey as she swooped off to join her friend, “I will send the carriage to fetch you at two in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t forget your paints!”

Before Verity could answer, the blonde whirlwind had disappeared in the crowd.

“I would have offered to fetch you myself,” said Dr. Westbridge, “but it seems your companion in lieu of a chaperone is to be Miss Kinsey. So, I will meet you at Munro House, if that suits.”

“I can hardly say if it will, sir,” Verity responded. “I have yet to find out if my sister approves this outing.”

“Perhaps you would be so good as to send me a message with your sister’s answer? It would not be seemly for me to attend upon Miss Kinsey on my own.”

He was right, of course. Dr. Westbridge, Verity was realizing, did everything by the book.

It should have been a reassuring fact. But right now, Verity was irritated.

Unlike Dr. Westbridge, she did not want to be accommodating toward Miss Kinsey.

And she wished he would show a measure of disgruntlement also.

Should he not bewail that this woman had stolen their time together?

It was so rare a gift to find a man who shared her passion, but he had not protected their precious connection.

Since he could visit this establishment whenever he chose, did he not understand the value it held for her?

He had said he did. But he had not fought for it when Miss Kinsey had entered the fray.

Instead, Verity had to wait for the lecture to end, praying it did not take much more than an hour if she was to walk and talk with Dr. Westbridge, meandering past displays that both educated and enthralled her. It was all very vexing.

They took their seats. Charlotte Trenton sat on Verity’s left, with Dr. Westbridge to the left of Mrs. Trenton.

To Verity’s right sat Lawrence Cole, his unwed brother to his right.

All very proper and correct. Bother! Verity could neither consult with Dr. Westbridge on the facts of the talk, nor could she whisper her opinions of him against William Cole’s shoulder. Double bother!

Verity sulked and fretted throughout the talk. The speaker droned on. He spoke of his travels to Egypt and Morocco, how very dangerous the Nile was, how very great the heat. He talked at length about his connection with great European naturalists and how they respected him.

Verity stifled a yawn. So far, not so much as a mention of a single beetle, Egyptian or otherwise.

She cast her eye to the left. Mrs. Trenton was listening attentively, possibly because there was no mention of beetles.

Dr. Westbridge was scribbling in a little notebook.

She wondered what he had found worth writing down.

To her right, Lawrence Cole was muttering something to his brother. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded very much like, “Sit up. Why did you even come?”

Now that was a good question. William Cole was clearly as bored as she was.

But that was likely the speaker’s fault.

If Mr. Cole had believed the subject matter to be uninspiring, he would not have wasted his time here.

Verity could not believe he would have come merely to assess Dr. Westbridge.

Not when their little pact had been agreed to in humor.