For a Year She Read Aloud to a Blind Stranger in the Park — He Was the Duke Who'd Refused Her
Chapter 4
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"Miss Brandreth, we were so distressed for you," she said. "And so brave of you to go about alone in the park. One would not blame a woman for hiding after such a very public valuation."The word sat in the room like a dropped cup. Eleven faces turned toward Verity, polite and hungry.She set down her saucer. "It was a very cheap valuation, Lady Danforth," she said. "20 words. I have had longer estimates for a chimney."No one breathed. A spoon touched china somewhere and stopped, ashamed."I believe it will rain," said Verity. "My aunt's knee is certain of it."She collected her gloves and went out. Behind her, in the silence, someone failed to begin a sentence.She walked home through the wet with her chin up and her hands shaking inside her gloves. It was not rage. It was the sound of eleven women deciding to remember her as quick rather than plain.She found, to her annoyance, that she wanted to tell Mr. Hale.In June, Mr. Josiah Gaunt came to the park. He was 40, narrow as a quill, in a black coat shiny at the cuffs from years of other men's papers. He was paid £400 a year and owned nothing but his pens. He carried a lump of sugar for the deerhound every morning. Bishop had never once eaten it."Your Grace," said Mr. Gaunt.Verity's hand went still on the page."Lord Loxbourne has called at the house. He wishes to review the quarter's accounts. The Rayford carriage waits at the gate."Nothing in the park moved. She did not look up. The ink on her finger had become very interesting."I said not here, Gaunt," said Mr. Hale."I think only of you, Your Grace. You must see how much I have already done to spare you the world's attention. It is no trouble." His voice was soft and entirely reasonable. It was the voice of a man who had never once been interrupted.Bishop turned his head away from the sugar.When the black coat had gone, she sat quite still. The man who had priced her at 20 words had been sitting at her elbow since March. He had asked her to finish a sentence. She could have thrown the sermons at his head."The hour is not up," said Mr. Hale."No," said Verity. She opened the book. He had priced her once. She would let him run up a bill.The next morning, he said good morning in a voice like a shut door. She said it back in the same voice. Neither of them mentioned it. Hobday brought the blanket and a second flask and looked from one face to the other as a man looks at two cats and a closed window.She read a long book on the draining of fens. He asked her twice to repeat a paragraph, which he had never done. It occurred to her that a cruel man would have been bored. She put the thought away. It was very inconvenient.In August, he asked her to read something other than novels.