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But why such a sudden interest in entomology?

Verity pondered the possibilities. He might have wanted to see what she found so intriguing about insects.

Chances were, he would have numerous teasing comments to make about them.

But he definitely cared. No man attended a lecture simply to tease.

No, William Cole would merely package his interest in banter.

“How many legs did you say an insect had, Miss Lockhart? Six? My, that seems a bit excessive!” Or “That cardinal beetle’s antennae look exactly like Lord Penrose’s moustache.

” She began to smile and received a quizzical look from Mrs. Trenton.

She swallowed it down in haste and tried to forget about the charming qualities of William Cole.

She wondered what he made of Dr. Westbridge.

After all, he had spent more time in conversation with him today than Verity had.

Had he discovered anything to suggest whether the doctor was a suitable match?

She wished she could have found out for herself.

Instead, she had been dragged off to meet the cream of society and their highly energetic friend, who was not, as one might say, as creamy as they were.

Had Mr. Cole known to avoid Miss Kinsey?

Was that why he’d stayed with his brother and the doctor instead of greeting an old friend?

No, it was not so. Verity remembered Mr. Trenton telling him about her for the first time at the ball.

Unless, perhaps, Mr. Cole had ignored Mr. Trenton’s advice and danced with Miss Kinsey after all, only to discover she was more than he had bargained for.

No, she would have noticed if he had. Her eyes had been riveted to his movements all evening.

A thought that had been nagging at her now resurfaced.

Lord and Lady Howell had seemed equally reluctant to greet Mr. Cole.

In fact, now that she thought on it further, each time that Mr. Cole had flinched or felt ill or given a vague reply, it had been at the mention of meeting with the viscount and viscountess.

The cogs in her mind began to turn. Why had he not attended their wedding if they were so fond of each other?

Their last encounter had been just before the wedding, more than six months ago.

That was around the time he had returned to Fernbridge.

Why had he returned before the wedding and not after?

Verity could recall no urgent matter that had brought him home.

At the time, she had just turned eighteen, and both sets of parents had hoped for a match between their children. But there had been no hurry. No rivals were rushing to take his place. So why had he hastened home?

Realization dawned like a lead weight. Mr. Cole and Lord and Lady Howell must have had a falling-out of some kind.

Something so unforgivable that he had not only chosen to avoid their wedding, but had departed Munro altogether.

Something so private that his sister knew nothing of it.

And, despite the passing of time and the convenience of writing letters, they had not made amends. But who had offended whom?

“And so, this brings me—some might say, at last —to the scarab, the quintessential Egyptian beetle.”

General laughter followed this statement by the lecturer.

Verity sat up. Yes, at last indeed! She could wonder about Mr. Cole’s fallen friendships later.

Or not at all. It really had nothing to do with her.

She was not on bad terms with him. Anyway, who knew what might upset the members of the ton ?

Lord Howell seemed a very stiff sort of chap.

Perhaps Mr. Cole had erred with them, as he had with her butterfly…

with good intentions. Or they had somehow offended him .

No matter. It was likely petty and best forgotten. Here and now, she could fill her mind to the brim with new knowledge, without her mother fretting, and with full approval of her peers. She might even be solidifying her connection with Dr. Westbridge in the process.

Verity shut away all thoughts of Mr. Cole. Well, almost all thoughts. She was still manifestly aware of his presence, and that she was his reason for being here. It was only in friendship, but it left her feeling warm inside. Very warm indeed.

The talk proceeded and Verity was, for the moment, engrossed in it.

But it was short-lived. Egypt, as it turned out, did not have a wealth of variety in the coleoptera family.

Soon, they were applauding the lecture’s end and rising from their chairs.

To explore, Verity hoped. To better know Dr. Westbridge, she assumed.

But it was William Cole who pointed out the sacred scarab in the corner display and laughed when he discovered it was a kind of dung beetle.

It was William Cole who asked questions and expressed his admiration at how many of them Verity could answer.

It was he who graciously accepted that she did not mind these “dead things,” for, as she explained, they had been collected for science and not for someone’s personal satisfaction.

Ah, yes, it was William Cole who seemed disappointed that the afternoon had come to an end.

And it was he whom Verity thought of for the rest of the day, into the night, and deep into her dreams. Not Dr. Westbridge, who had merely nodded while she’d perused the displays, as if he were a museum curator taking them on a tour.

Not Dr. Westbridge, who had bowed politely when they’d parted and expressed his keenness at seeing Verity again on the morrow, without managing to sound particularly keen.

No, it was William Cole who haunted her thoughts. His low, seductive voice. His deep-blue eyes. The way he looked at her as if there were no one else in the room.

But that was just his way. She wasn’t special. And she couldn’t have him, though she wanted him so very, very much! For her, it would have to be a blander union. Someone like the doctor, who accepted her, liked her, respected her, shared her odd interests for longer than one afternoon.

Verity supposed she should have felt grateful. Wasn’t Dr. Westbridge, in fact, everything she had wished for? Someone who didn’t expect her to give up her passion? Someone with whom she could be herself?

And yet, Verity wasn’t sure she did want him.

Despite his qualities covering all those she had listed for herself.

Oh, it was enough to make her want to pull her hair out!

Her mother would say she was looking for excuses not to be happy.

That she would never find love if she didn’t give it a chance.

Only, it was dawning on Verity that she had found it. Mr. Cole gave her butterflies. Not the pinned and mounted kind. The sort that made her feel giddy. She wished he could come to Munro House with her. He would deflect Miss Kinsey’s high energy with his own. Verity felt… safe with him.

She had rejected him once because he had seemed too childish, too preoccupied with selfish pursuits. Now he had shown a better side, but it was too late. He would offer this better self to someone else. Verity would love him, desire him, need him, to no avail.

She sighed. Best to make a life with Dr. Westbridge, if he would have her. He could give her stability without changing her. And that should be enough. She would keep telling herself that until she believed it. One day, she would.

But that day was not today.