Rivals and Roses (The Vaughns #1)

Chapter 26

B irdsong was a magical thing, and a veritable chorus followed Arthur along as he strolled through the heart of Oakham. His medical bag bounced against his thigh, tapping in time with the trilling notes that filled the air. For perhaps the first time this season, the sun chose to make an appearance; with the summer having delivered so many gloomy days in a row, the breeze still had a nip to it, but Arthur wasn’t going to complain. Just having the golden light surrounding him was enough to warm his spirits.

Though much of that had to do with his destination.

Conversation with Miss Templeton was far easier than he’d ever thought to find, yet he’d be a fool if he trusted his tongue, so he thought through his explanation for appearing on her doorstep. Stocking his medical bag was a ready excuse, but he sorted through the exact wording.

Miss Templeton had allowed him to hold her hand. And she had gripped him as tightly as he did her. Even Gadd hadn’t done that much. That was something worth celebrating. As long as Arthur ignored that she allowed the blackguard the liberty of kissing her knuckles and addressing her informally. And Arthur was going to do just that .

Gadd may be flashy in his overtures, but none of his actions had felt as intimate as the moment Arthur had shared with Miss Templeton.

Of course, she might’ve allowed Arthur to do so simply because she’d been overwrought. He hadn’t thought the lady capable of being defeated, yet he hadn’t imagined the tears in her eyes, even if she hadn’t allowed them to fall. And try as he might, Arthur couldn’t help but feel he was the source of her pain.

Surely, things were not so dire as all that. His schedule had been so full of late that despite nearly a sennight passing since the concert, Arthur was only finding time just now to pay a call. Clearly, there was demand enough for two physicians.

Yet even as he told himself that, he knew it was a rosy view of the situation. Being uncomfortable astride meant he walked to his appointments, stealing away much of his time, and when the influenza plaguing the village moved on (as it inevitably would), Arthur wasn’t certain there was enough day-to-day need to keep both himself and her brother actively employed.

But all hope was not lost.

Arthur’s gaze drifted over the cottages as he passed, and he breathed deeply of the air, which bore the scent of the crops growing in the fields beyond. He could follow Mr. Templeton’s example and take on an apprentice; the fees they paid wouldn’t make up the difference entirely, but it would supplement his income. However, he was an abysmal teacher.

Bentmoor was a possibility. With a few doctors and apothecaries already established, settling there wouldn’t be the peaceful situation he’d hoped to find, but he could remain close to Miss Templeton—an attraction that no other town could boast. The distance was troublesome, as it was some two hours by carriage, and in winter or bad weather the travel would take even longer, which was hardly ideal. But surely, they might have this courtship limbo sorted out before the snow fell.

Arthur longed to tell the lady of his efforts to resolve matters, but only a fool rushed ahead with grand promises before he knew if he could deliver upon them. It wasn’t as though any decision needed to be made posthaste. With the Templetons producing the town’s medicines and Arthur’s frugal lifestyle, they all could remain afloat for some months. There was still time.

A burst of color drew his gaze, and he found himself staring at a magnificent rose bush climbing over the stone fence lining the lane. The blossoms were open wide, their petals catching the sunlight and bringing the palest of pinks to the white petals; they were pristine, looking their absolute best and spilling their sweet fragrance into the air.

Arthur couldn’t help but cross the road whilst reaching into his frock coat pocket for his pen knife. That tool was something every physician ought to have on hand, though he usually kept it in his medical bag; but then, before meeting Miss Templeton, he’d only ever used it for sharpening quills and pencils and never considered employing it to cut bouquets.

The wall wasn’t tall, and Arthur glanced at the cottage on the other side as he carefully selected the loveliest blooms. Despite having been told that no one begrudged a few pilfered blossoms (assuming one took care not to strip the bush bare), Arthur still felt a little like a kid sneaking a biscuit from the pantry as he examined the bush for a few more offerings. But then, flowers in the city were a luxury, and his former peers and patients wouldn’t have thanked him for taking them.

The door to the cottage opened, and Mrs. Morris poked her head through with a wave. “Dr. Vaughn. I thought that was you.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Arthur paused and forced himself to relax as the lady flitted down the path to stand on the other side of the wall from him. “I—I do hope you are not offended—I…purloined a few of your flowers.”

“That depends on what you intend to do with them,” said the widow, ducking her face away from him with a coy blush. Arthur drew in a sharp breath and tensed, his muscles tightening as he tried to understand the heavy insinuation in her tone .

“I…” Arthur didn’t know what to say, and that single vowel stretched out for far longer than was comfortable.

Mrs. Morris straightened, her brows drawing together as her lips formed a pout. “I was only teasing, Dr. Vaughn. I only wish you had come to the door first.”

“Oh.” Arthur’s hands dropped from the foliage as he shifted in place and his tongue twisted in on itself, refusing to be of much assistance as he attempted to speak. “I—I apologize. I hadn’t meant to be impertinent—”

“Don’t be a goose. I meant so that we could visit.” Mrs. Morris laughed and caressed his forearm, and Arthur jolted at the contact, nearly striking her with the flowers. But then she straightened, her eyes brightening. “Unless you were intending to bring me a bouquet, and I have spoiled the surprise.”

Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Morris took the roses from his hand and brought them to her nose as Arthur stared at her. Despite having a strong intellect, he could not comprehend what was happening or why the widow was being so very… Arthur wasn’t certain how to categorize her behavior, but it sent a shudder down his spine.

“That tonic you prescribed did the trick,” she said, her voice lowering as though revealing a secret as she reached for him. Mrs. Morris didn’t bother with a brief touch this time; she rested her hand upon his arm, her thumb rubbing it as she stared into his eyes.

“How…nice.” Arthur glanced about, though there were no other people about on this quiet stretch of road. Pulling from her reach, he tried to mumble an excuse whilst turning away, but the movement drew him in front of the gateway, and Mrs. Morris appeared there, stepping close enough for her skirts tangled with his legs.

“Might I entice you to enjoy a cup of tea with me?” she asked with a bat of her eyelashes. Motioning behind her to where a few garden chairs sat, Mrs. Morris added, “I purchased a lovely variety from India. Or I have several delicious tisanes if you prefer. ”

Mrs. Morris gave him a bright smile, her eyes echoing the invitation as she gazed up at him, and her free hand reached up to ostensibly brush aside a bit of lint—though Arthur was certain there’d been nothing there.

“That—” This time his tongue wasn’t the trouble, for Arthur hadn’t the slightest notion how to complete that statement in any way that wasn’t outright rude. “My thanks…but I have business to attend to. Important business. That needs doing. At this exact moment. Now.”

That pout came out in full force once more, and Arthur blinked at it and the lady; the expression was hardly endearing on a child, let alone a woman.

“I suppose I understand,” she said with a heavy sigh before she met his gaze with a glint that was likely meant to be inviting but made Arthur’s throat knot. “Only if you promise to come again soon.”

Arthur’s mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was another undignified, “I…”

Giving the lady a quick bow, he turned away and hurried down the street with far more haste than grace, abandoning both Miss Templeton’s bouquet and his dignity. He didn’t dare look back because he felt Mrs. Morris’s attention on him as he fled.

Finch had warned him the ladies in the area were bound to be eager in welcoming a new bachelor to the area, but Arthur hadn’t anticipated such a brazen attempt. Something that seemed to be growing more commonplace of late as that attention grew more and more pointed. And discomforting.

Even if Miss Templeton hadn’t taken up residence in his heart, Arthur didn’t know what to do with a lady who draped herself about him like Mrs. Morris. Or Miss Lipman, who had fairly thrown herself in his path the day before. Or Miss Roper, who had followed him about after the concert, blocking him from speaking with Miss Templeton again.

A part of his heart couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit flattered by the attention. After having spent so many years watching from his brothers’ shadows, Arthur wouldn’t be human if he didn’t revel in it. Yet the larger part—the aspect that had him fleeing Mrs. Morris—didn’t know what to do with such overt affections. Or the fact that the ladies were indiscriminate in their pursuit; as Finch had warned, eligible bachelors weren’t plentiful in Oakham, and any husband with steady income was a prize.

“Dr. Vaughn!” called Mr. Bacon, pulling Arthur from his thoughts to see the gentleman approaching with a bright grin and a nod of the head. They smiled so very much in the country. “Well met, sir. I see you are enjoying the lovely day we’re having.”

“It is fine weather,” said Arthur with a nod. “Though I cannot say that I’ve been able to enjoy it much, as I’ve been occupied of late. Until this influenza runs its course, I will hardly have a moment to myself.”

Mr. Bacon nodded, though his expression dimmed a touch. “Then I suppose you will not have time to stop by Bradley Court soon.”

Arthur straightened. “Does your family require a doctor?”

“Not in the slightest. I wanted to discuss your intentions with my daughter, of course.”

Standing there like some harebrained statue made by an apprentice sculptor, Arthur stared at Mr. Bacon, attempting to take the seemingly random words and rearrange them to make sense.

“Pardon?” he asked, for it was the only thing his capricious tongue was willing to say.

“My daughter,” repeated the gentleman with a narrowed look. “Do not tell me you are trifling with her affections?”

“I—I—” Mind screaming for him to say something, Arthur struggled to form anything more coherent, but whatever eloquence he’d possessed in strained situations (which was to say none at all) fled him as he gaped like a carp.

Miss Bacon? He hardly knew the young lady. Beyond the carriage they’d shared into Oakham, Arthur had done little more than nod at her when they passed in the street, and he’d hardly said anything coherent during their journey. And she was pretty enough, but not nearly as appealing as Miss Templeton.

Despite those words streaming through his thoughts, Arthur couldn’t manage to form a single one of them whilst staring into her red-faced father—though it was likely for the best, as his tongue would mangle it into something insulting, no doubt.

Straightening, Mr. Bacon glared at Arthur. “I don’t know how things are handled in London, my boy, but in Oakham, we do not tolerate bounders who go about raising and dashing a lady’s expectations on a whim. In my day, a father would be well within his rights to call the cad out.”

Arthur held up his free hand in placation. “I apologize—this is so odd—I hardly—would never—”

The more he tried to force the words free, the more his tongue mangled them, fighting his every effort. And matters weren’t helped by the fact that with each attempt, Mr. Bacon’s complexion grew more florid. The gentleman’s eyes narrowed, and he turned on his heel, marching away with sharp steps.

Staring after the gentleman, Arthur considered his behavior, reviewing everything that had passed between him and Miss Bacon. His intention had never been to raise her expectations; had there been anything he’d done to misconstrue his interest? Or lack thereof?

His throat tightened, and his palms dampened, requiring him to wipe them thoroughly on his trousers as he considered the situation. But try as he might, Arthur couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done or said to have given the lady that impression.

Surely, it was a misunderstanding on her part. Yet…

That insidious word entered his thoughts, plaguing him as Arthur forced his feet forward. Could he be certain? It wasn’t as though he boasted a grand understanding of women nor possessed the skills to interact with them. If not for having the comfortable common ground of medicine to ease the way, Arthur doubted he would’ve ever gotten the courage to speak to Miss Templeton.

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t reconcile Miss Bacon’s expectations and his behavior. They did not align. Yet Arthur didn’t doubt that her father was quite firm in his belief that some mischief was about.

How could a man barely able to converse with a lady raise her expectations?