Rivals and Roses (The Vaughns #1)

Chapter 40

V iolet turned her gaze to the bundle of lavender in her hand and focused on tying it up with twine. “I thought you two might suit.”

Lifting it, she hung the herb on the hook and set her sights on the next bundle, picking up the shears to clean off the stems.

“I assure you we do not,” said Diana with a vehement shake of her head. “That was the most awkward and unfortunate afternoon I’ve ever been made to suffer. Good heavens, the man hardly spoke two words the entire time. I know you enjoy his company, and you are welcome to him, but I shan’t be attempting it again on my own.”

Violet huffed and shook her head. “That’s just how he is at first. Dr. Vaughn requires time before he is comfortable around others, and you shouldn’t dismiss him until you give him a proper chance.”

“Believe me, I have no interest in attempting it again. I don’t know why he bothered with the picnic when it was clear he didn’t wish to be there. It was almost as though he had no interest in anything that didn’t include you,” said Diana with a knowing tone .

“Don’t you start as well,” replied Violet with a frown. “We’ve discussed this. My history—”

“Yes, I know all about your history,” said Diana, her brows pulling together. “I can’t help but wonder if—”

“No,” said Violet, punctuating the word by pointing sharply with the shears. “Do not start with that. You simply must give him a chance. Dr. Vaughn is such a dear, and I think you might suit each other.”

“Whether or not that is true is immaterial,” said Diana, picking up a stem of chamomile and taking a sniff before quickly tossing the flower back onto the pile. “Dr. Vaughn is leaving Oakham for London.”

Violet stiffened, her eyes widening as she stared at her friend. “Pardon?”

“The only thing he managed to say during our outing was at the end,” she said with an airy wave. “He thanked me for my time and apologized that we wouldn’t be able to do so again, as he’s leaving for London.”

Gaping, Violet set down her tools and flowers and clutched the edge of the table. “That cannot be.”

“He didn’t elaborate beyond that, but he was quite firm about his leaving,” said Diana as she examined the pile of chamomile.

A sharp breath filled her lungs, and Violet straightened as she stared at her friend. Clearly, Diana believed him, and she couldn’t imagine Dr. Vaughn saying such a thing if it wasn’t true.

That fool!

***

Standing amidst the chaos that was his parlor, Arthur studied the crates surrounding him. Thankfully, he hadn’t gathered many new possessions in the two and a half months since arriving and wouldn’t need a great many things sent to London, but he’d brought mounds of books and medical equipment that all needed to be carefully packed back in straw before they could be carted back.

He rubbed his forehead as he examined the mess. It was the way of such things that everything grew messier before they righted themselves in the end, but when trapped in the disorder, it was difficult to see one’s way past it. Hands on his hips, Arthur examined the bottles and glassware that were key to making medicines. In truth, he needn’t pack it all away immediately, but now that the plan was set in motion, there was no need to put it off. None of this was needed in the interim.

A sharp rap on the door drew his attention, and Arthur moved toward it to find Miss Templeton on his doorstep. But before he could ask her what she was doing here, the lady pushed past him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I think I should be asking that question,” said Arthur with a frown. “My knowledge of country manners may be lacking, but I doubt it is acceptable even here for a lady to call on a bachelor. It isn’t as though you require a physician, and we do not share any professional overlap any longer to excuse such behavior.”

“I do not care in the slightest,” she said with a frown. “What is this about you leaving Oakham?”

“How are you surprised by this?” Arthur asked with a sigh as he perched on the back of his sofa.

“But this is your dream.” The lady looked so genuinely angry and desperate, her eyes pleading with him to change his mind and readily accept her position.

“I am going to remain for a fortnight or so, to ensure Mrs. Finch and her babe are thriving, but need I remind you that your brother and I cannot both practice medicine here?” asked Arthur with a raised eyebrow. “You were quite insistent about it for a long time, and though I have been foolishly optimistic on that score, I now realize you are correct. ”

Miss Templeton scowled at that. “Isaac has chosen his path, and if not you, then someone else will settle here and run him out of business. But if you remain at least something good will come from it. I want you to be happy. To have your dream—”

“You think I could be happy at your expense?” he asked, folding his arms.

The lady had the gall to scoff at that. “Don’t be a fool. I always knew being a governess would be my path eventually, so it is nothing to mourn. With Felicity’s assistance, I am bound to find a good position somewhere, so there is no need to take me into account. I will not allow you to surrender your dream and return to London!”

“Dream?” The word came out louder than he meant, but Arthur couldn’t hold back the temper that was now rising inside him. Disappointments and heartache surfaced, blending until he couldn’t say what he felt beyond exhaustion. The last of his composure slipped from his grasp, leaving him unable to consider the brashness of his actions and freeing his tongue entirely.

“What happiness do you think I could find here in Oakham? Do you think I could enjoy life here, surrounded by the memory of your rejection? To be forever tormented by having that dream within my grasp—only to have the lady I love choose servitude rather than accept my suit?”

Miss Templeton stared at him, and Arthur let out a frustrated breath, allowing it all to seep away from him. Though there was a kernel of truth in that final question, he knew he had no reason to be angry. Miss Templeton was free to shape her life as she saw fit, and though he couldn’t erase the pain accompanying that choice, there was no reason for his temper.

Yet his heart throbbed at that realization. For the first time in his life, a lady had crossed his path who enjoyed his company and made him feel at ease, and Miss Templeton preferred toiling away as a governess. What was so very wrong with him? Was he entirely unlovable? Arthur didn’t think his appearance had anything to do with the situation, but old wounds pulsed in time with his heartbeat, making their insidious selves known.

Forcing his focus away from her, Arthur stood once more and set about his work, forcing the glass into the piles of straw with more haste than care. And with it, he tried to take strength from what Miss Templeton had shared at the Finches’: stuff his hopes deep down and bury them out of sight so they couldn’t plague him any longer.

*

Dr. Vaughn had been correct. Being in his home was unacceptable, yet Violet couldn’t feel even a niggling of apprehension standing there—or from seeing the gentleman standing there without his frockcoat, his sleeves rolled up to display his forearms. But then, she couldn’t feel anything at all in that moment. The gentleman returned to his work, and she stood there mute and staring as Dr. Vaughn seemed not to realize that the very ground beneath her feet was trembling.

“Pardon?” she whispered, though her throat was so dry and her muscles so weak that she barely formed the word. But even when she repeated herself, Dr. Vaughn did not look in her direction.

“The lady you love?” she said, forcing the question out loud enough for him to hear.

Violet was certain her ears were in perfect working order, yet she could not believe they’d heard him properly. Surely, not. A slip of the tongue perhaps? Had Dr. Vaughn’s wits fled him? Or was he feverish, finally succumbing to the influenza in town? Any number of possibilities lurked in her mind, insistent that they were the clear answer to her question.

Violet stood silent, staring at his back, willing him to answer, but the gentleman only gave a vague grunt. The glassware he was packing clattered ominously as he shoved it into the straw.

Coming closer, she grabbed his arm and repeated, “The lady you love? ”

Dr. Vaughn’s gaze fell to her touch, his expression falling as his muscles sagged.

“What do you mean, ‘love’?” she asked, her fingers gripping his forearm tightly. “Surely, you do not mean ‘love.’ Or the lady you speak of is someone else? You cannot mean you love me.”

He drew in a sharp breath, his features hardening. “Do not mock me, Miss Templeton. You are free to reject my suit, but you needn’t laugh—”

“I am not laughing!” she said with a vehement shake of her head.

But the gentleman didn’t seem to hear her and continued, “I know it was foolish of me to have presumed, but it seems I am bound to be forever a fool when it comes to love.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “You keep using that word, but there must be a mistake. You cannot love me.”

Dr. Vaughn’s blue eyes met her gaze, a frown marring his features. “Because I am not good enough? What is it about me that is so egregious?”

“You cannot be in earnest,” she said with another sharp shake of her head. “I am not the sort of woman a man loves.”

Stiffening, Dr. Vaughn’s head jerked back, his eyes boring into her with an expression of utter shock, studying every facet of her expression. Violet squirmed beneath his regard, longing to look away, but she was caught in his gaze, unable to move. The silence dragged out, and with each passing second, his features softened, his muscles slackening as his brow furrowed.

“You honestly believe that?” he asked. “After everything I have done and said—”

She pulled away from him, stepping back as she wrapped her arms around her middle. “You said any man would be lucky to have me. Men say such things when they are placating bruised feelings, but all it means is that some other man would be lucky to have me.”

Dr. Vaughn’s frown grew more pronounced. “Since when?”

“Always,” she said, throwing out her arms as though to take in the entire span of the world. “You saw with your own eyes how hard Mr. Gadd laughed at the thought of courting me. Men act sweet and affectionate, but in truth, they always think I am the perfect wife for someone else . Never them. No one ever wants me. They want someone delicate and lovely. A social butterfly who is charming and witty and demure.”

Despite having said such things before, the pain of saying them at this moment made Violet’s heart split open, bringing with it all the pain of her past. All the effort she’d made to keep those feelings buried was swept away, allowing them to surge to the surface in a wave of anguish.

And she desperately longed to hide away from it all.

*

Demure she was not. Miss Templeton was like one of the fabled Amazonian warriors or how the Greeks and Romans imagined Artemis and Diana, the great goddesses of the hunt. Stately and regal. A fighter. Someone with steel woven into her very core. The lady stood where she ought not to be, facing a conversation that Arthur had fled from so many times.

Yet there was such fragility in her gaze. Not daring to hope yet unwilling to back away.

Saints above, Miss Templeton truly believed her words. Doubt shone in her gaze, as though fully expecting him to laugh like that fool, Gadd. And as he considered the gentleman’s behavior anew, Arthur’s heartache receded, allowing him to see the situation as he hadn’t whilst in the midst of it.

Had she not understood the intent of their picnic? Despite how clear he thought he’d been, did she even now not comprehend the depth of his feelings for her? Arthur didn’t need to ask. The truth was stamped clearly on her face. For all that he had attempted to distinguish his behavior from that of men like Mr. Gadd, he had fallen short. Unwittingly so, but that did not alter the situation standing before him.

The only path ahead was verbal, which was far from Arthur’s strong suit, and his usual fears surged to the forefront—but then, he’d already declared his feelings, and unless he wished to lie and retract them, there wasn’t any reason to hide any longer—and there was every reason to be clear.

“It seems subtlety and nuance have done us no favors, Miss Templeton, so I will be blunt,” he said, drawing himself up to face her fully. Finch had been right; if she rejected him again, it couldn’t feel any worse. “From the very first, I have admired you, and, bungling though I have been, I have spent the past two and a half months courting you.”

Arthur paused and amended, “Or attempting to, rather.”

Miss Templeton’s eyes widened, her mouth gaping for a long moment before she said, “I do not believe in love at first sight—”

“And neither do I,” said Arthur with a hint of a smile. “It wasn’t the sight of you that intrigued me. The entire situation with Mr. Evans showed me how capable, kind, and intelligent you were. I’ve never met anyone as strong as you, and I was in awe from the very first.”