Page 44

M r. Cole had kissed her lips, her fingertips. They were still tingly and warm from his touch. Now that Verity had tasted his mouth, she would have more of him. She wanted to press into his heat, feel his hands upon her.

But already, his dapper form had receded into the distance.

“I wonder, Miss Lockhart,” said Dr. Westbridge, “whether I might confide in you?”

“Hmm?” Verity dragged her gaze back to the doctor.

“I have thought much on this, and today, I am quite decided.”

“Oh?” She tried her best to concentrate, but her fingers and lips pulsed with recent memory.

“You may remember I mentioned my work at the Royal Hospital for retired soldiers.”

“Er, yes?” Verity was certain it was a noble task the doctor fulfilled.

But she did not want to think of other soldiers now, retired or otherwise.

Mr. Cole was going off to war. He might never have a chance to kiss her again.

Never let the wetness of his tongue torment her with a craving for more. If this was to be their first and last…

A terrible realization hit Verity like a brick to the belly.

Was that why he had kissed her? Because he was leaving to risk his life?

Was she someone he’d needed in that moment when emotions had been running high?

If so, she could have been anyone and he would still have kissed her.

It would explain why he’d withdrawn from her so abruptly.

If he should come back to England, hale and hearty, he would probably look upon that moment with acute embarrassment.

Her thoughts ran on with her. Mr. Cole’s time in Brussels would not be all grime and bloodshed.

There would be other mouths to touch with his.

Pretty, young things who wanted an adventure with a mysterious foreigner.

Would he accommodate them, slake his own thirst with them?

After all, he owed her nothing. They were not engaged.

“There will be many more like them when this war is done.”

“What?” Verity jerked back to reality.

“Soldiers who can no longer serve.”

“Oh.” The kiss had probably been meaningless. If Mr. Cole had felt so strongly for her, he would have asked for her hand.

The last of the pleasure his touch had brought now dissipated.

“But when the battles rage,” Dr. Westbridge continued, oblivious of the rise and fall of Verity’s emotions, “and the surgeons have their hands full, who is caring for those with cholera, infections, amputations that are slow to heal?”

Verity shivered. It was all too easy to imagine a hall full of such men.

“And so,” Dr. Westbridge said solemnly, “I have decided to join our good men in Brussels. I wish to serve the king with the skills I have and save as many of his fine soldiers as time and medicine will allow.”

“You are leaving too?” Verity murmured. Arthur Westbridge swam back into focus for her. He was abandoning her! Just like Mr. Cole. Nobody wanted her. She was not enough.

“I think I need to sit down,” said Verity.

At once, the doctor reached out his hand to offer support as she half-stumbled into the carriage. The dark-leather interior matched her mood. She would have preferred to have been left alone within it. That was what they were doing, anyway, wasn’t it? Deserting her, one by one.

“Are you more comfortable now?” asked Dr. Westbridge, hovering at the door.

Verity nodded. Anything not to talk. For her voice would tremble if she tried.

“I’m grateful to hear it. I confess a measure of satisfaction that my departure should affect you so.

Naturally, as a physician, I wish no harm to anyone.

But a gentleman appreciates when a woman feels faint at the thought of losing him.

” He swallowed visibly. “The thing is, Miss Lockhart, I should not be speaking so plainly to you. Not yet, anyway. I am a man who likes to take his time in matters of the heart. But this development on the Continent has forced my hand. I must now say in haste what I would have expressed more gradually if there were time. You must know how much I admire you. Even more so, I can see a future with you.”

Verity was so startled by the doctor’s change in manner toward her that she did not hear the approaching footfalls.

She was therefore doubly stunned when the face of William Cole reappeared over the shoulder of Dr. Westbridge just as the latter declared, “And so, my dear Miss Lockhart, I pledge myself to you. And ask you for your hand in marriage.”

Verity saw Mr. Cole’s face fall as if he had been struck. He stopped dead a few feet from them. Dr. Westbridge must have mistaken the meaning of her wide eyes, for he put a foot upon the carriage step to lean closer to her.

“I understand this is very sudden. I assure you it is not a sign of disrespect that I appear to act so impulsively. I have liked you from our first meeting. Yes, for our shared love of entomology. But also for your strength of character. I would add your beauty to your many fine qualities, but I would not have you think my feelings are so superficial.”

Verity watched as Mr. Cole took two steps back.

“I would marry you this moment, but there are banns to be called.”

Mr. Cole turned on the ball of his foot like a soldier on parade and marched off so quickly that Verity almost had to pinch herself to believe he had ever been there. Why had he returned at all? It would remain a riddle if she did not call after him.

Should she call? Surely, if it had been important, Mr. Cole would have stayed. Meanwhile, poor Dr. Westbridge was trying his best to propose marriage. It would be very rude to interrupt his efforts.

“And if we call the banns, it will be weeks before I can depart for Brussels.”

Mr. Cole had gone. Arthur Westbridge remained. For all his understated manner, it was Arthur Westbridge who was declaring himself. William Cole was charming and witty, his kiss passionate, his friendship precious. But he had not considered her a worthy prize to speak up for.

“I was hoping, if you would honor me and say yes , we might at least be engaged. We could write each other without fear of indiscretion. And when I returned, we could be married without further delay. I wish I could offer you more. But my duty calls me to tend to service before self. You are, of course, very much more than duty, dear Miss Lockhart. Yet I must ask for your patience.”

His words permeated Verity’s heart at last. He truly cared for her.

Not with fanfare or displays of affection, but quietly and sincerely.

Wasn’t that all she really wanted? What need had she of a sensual mouth and lively eyes, or the way a uniform hugged the figure of a man, if that man kept walking away?

Dr. Westbridge continued gently. “I do not mean to press you, but I intend to leave with the regiment tomorrow, if they will allow it. I must have your answer, Miss Lockhart. Would you consider me a tolerable husband? I will accept your answer, whatever it may be, though my hopes are that you will not break my simple heart.”

“Yes.”

Verity said the word so suddenly, she surprised even herself.

But why should she not say it? His was a perfectly good offer.

It was real and kind and heartfelt. He would never hurt her, never confuse her with actions he would later be ashamed of.

He would not flirt or play games. And she would be able to study and sketch, even be encouraged to do so.

“Yes?” said Dr. Westbridge, his mouth expanding into a broad smile.

“Yes,” repeated Verity. “I will marry you. Though I am sorry I must see you off to war. I will worry terribly.”

Westbridge took her by the hand. “Do not fear. I will be serving in a hospital, and nowhere near the battlefront. I will be quite safe.”

“That is good,” she answered, gazing down at the hand that enveloped hers. “Then it is settled.”

As if the good news should be shared at once, the Sinclairs now approached the carriage with their baskets and blankets and children.

Hope was the first to read the situation and draw the happy conclusion.

She saw the doctor’s beaming smile, his hand wrapping Verity’s, and cried, “You certainly took your time, Dr. Westbridge! We had all but given up on you. Come see, Daniel, you are to have a new brother-in-law!”

Verity blushed. It felt good to have something to celebrate.

No more confused feelings. No more wondering if she would ever find a good match.

She would not have to fear for his life in battle.

Her new husband might even have greater passion in the bedroom than he expressed when he was speaking.

After all, Daniel was not a flashy fellow, yet her sister seemed very happy.

After congratulatory handshakes and kisses on the cheek, Dr. Westbridge reluctantly bid them adieu.

He needed to talk to Captain Larson at once.

If his plans were acceptable, there was still much to be organized, letters to be written to the families he tended to.

Fortunately, Munro was a big city, and there were sufficient physicians who could take up his medical duties while he was away.

Hope tried to lift the spirits of the newly betrothed couple whose parting was imminent.

“We shall take good care of your bride-to-be, Dr. Westbridge. By the time you return, she will be ready to take on the responsibilities of an excellent wife and be aching to do so. No doubt, she will write you every day. And you must do so, too, sir, even if it is but a page and the letters arrive all in a batch after the inevitable delays of wartime post.”

“I shall do my very best,” agreed the doctor. He cast his eyes warmly upon Verity. “I wonder, would it be possible for Miss Lockhart to come and see me off tomorrow? I would let you know my plans as soon as they are confirmed.”

“I should like that very much,” Verity said, as much to her sister as her betrothed. “Everything is so rushed in this moment. I would be grateful for another hour with my very own gentleman.”

“Arthur,” said the doctor. “I would have you call me by my name. Then I may carry the memory of the sound with me abroad.”

“Arthur.” Verity tested the name upon her tongue. It felt unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. “Will you call me ‘Verity’?” she replied shyly.

“I would be happy to, my dearest Verity.” Their eyes met briefly before Arthur added, “Now I must make haste. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow.” He released her hand with a perfunctory kiss before turning to Daniel. “Thank you for watching over Miss Lockhart for me. I am most grateful.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Hope’s husband replied. “We wish you well with all that must yet be accomplished in a short space of time.”

And then Arthur was off, hastening along the same path Mr. Cole had abandoned her on.

It was a strange feeling, being suddenly engaged. Strange, yet bringing a wonderful sense of purpose. No more time wasted fretting about finding a suitor. She could assemble her trousseau in readiness for their life together.

Already, she envisioned herself taking notes of the little flying, hopping, buzzing things in the Sinclairs’ garden so that she might report it all to Arthur. Such news would help him think of home. It would be her first act of devotion to the man she would marry.

But was he the man she loved?

Verity glared inwardly at the version of herself that had spoken up. Be quiet! she told it. You are not wanted here. I can be happy. You will not spoil it.

And yet the little voice niggled at her while the driver steered the carriage home, throughout the excited chatter of her sister, and long after Verity had gone to bed.

It whispered of two kisses on her hand, one that roused her to longing and a sense of loss, and one that merely reminded her she was spoken for.

She had said yes . And that should be the end of it. And yet, when sleep finally claimed Verity’s thoughts, they had still been lingering on the back of Lieutenant William Cole as he had walked out of her life.