From Chapter 1
Verity Hayes dashed to catch up with Mr. Crofton at the intersection with Chestnut Street, grateful she’d taken care with her appearance on the slim chance they’d meet. Every day since she’d first seen him at St. Peter’s ten months before, she’d dreamed of him returning her love.
“Good evening!” she called hopefully, noting his ensemble with approval. His dark green coat wasn’t ostentatious, but a copper waistcoat subtly embroidered with large feathers lent him elegance.
“Ah, Miss Hayes.” Mr. Crofton bowed stiffly.
“How do you do, sir?”
“I am well.” His frosty tone belied his words. “And you?” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“I’m also well.” He nodded. To Verity’s disappointment, he didn’t seem any more eager to speak to her than he ever did.
Before he could walk on, David caught up to them. “Crofton.”
Mr. Crofton offered a much deeper bow to David. “How do you and my cousin Cassandra do, sir? It’s been some time since I’ve seen either of you.”
David returned a pointed look. “We may not have attended services in some months, but we pay for our pew all the same.” Verity looked sideways at David. Judging by the antipathy in his voice, he truly disliked the vicar.
Mr. Crofton endeavored to explain himself. “I meant no censure about your not having attended Sunday meetings. I merely noted the absence of my cousin.”
David opened his mouth, presumably to incite further quarrel, and Verity hurried to change the subject. “You referenced a book during your last sermon, Mr. Weyman’s Duties of a Christian?”
Mr. Crofton dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, it’s an excellent compendium referenced by many clergymen.”
“I read it!” She clasped her hands together, eagerly awaiting his reaction.
“The entire volume?” His incredulity made it plain how unlikely he found that.
David offered Mr. Crofton a disbelieving look of his own. “No need to sound so surprised.”
Mr. Crofton flushed and adjusted his stock. “Some of the fellows I attended university with didn’t manage to read the entire work. Very admirable on your part, Miss Hayes. How did you enjoy it?”
Verity flushed with pleasure that he’d finally noticed one of her exertions. “I was considerably enlightened as to the duties of a Christian, though many of the suggestions did seem to pertain only to men.”
“Weyman has another volume that speaks specifically to the duties of the Christian woman,” he informed her, growing far more animated. “I have a copy I could lend to you if you’d care to read it.”
Perhaps it would help her become the kind of woman who could win his heart. “I’d enjoy nothing more! You might call on me to deliver it if you wish.”
“Yes, I —” Mr. Crofton broke off, frowning.
Verity bit her lip. Had she been too bold in suggesting he call on her? “Or you could leave it at the almshouse, and I can pick it up when I deliver donations.”
David made an odd noise, and the pair turned to look at him. “Almshouse? That reminds me: some of my waistcoats seem to have disappeared. You wouldn’t know anything about that, Verity?”
Verity stared at David, perplexed by the piercing look he leveled at her. “Cassandra gave me permission to take off some of your old things.” David was the most generous person Verity knew. It hardly seemed like him to begrudge the donation of his castoffs.
David nodded impatiently. “Yes, but instead of the old things, you took a package lately arrived from my tailor.”
“R-really?” Verity had seen the bundle and assumed David’s butler, Westing, had collected the items for her. She should have checked to be sure she had the right things, but she’d been in too much of a hurry to get to the almshouse in hopes of seeing Mr. Crofton. “I’m terribly sorry.” She couldn’t meet either man’s eyes. Not only had she inconvenienced David with her heedless mistake, but Mr. Crofton wasn’t likely to find her impulsive action indicative of good character.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Crofton stepped in front of her as if to shield her from David. “It sounds as if Miss Hayes was overcome with zeal to help the less fortunate. Can’t you forgive her error?”
Verity gaped at her champion. Far from repudiating her, he was actually defending her! “Thank you, I . . . you’re too good.”
She turned back to David. “I’ll find a way to repay you, somehow.” She’d think of something, though it was doubtful that all the pin money she’d ever had would add up to the amount of just one of his tailor’s bills.
“I could try to get them back for you,” Mr. Crofton offered David.
David looked down his nose at the vicar. “I would never be so churlish as to ask for clothing off the back of a man in the poorhouse.”
“Of course not.” Mr. Crofton looked at Verity in evident concern. “I do hope you won’t be too angry with Miss Hayes.”
A mischievous light entered David’s eyes. “You know, I might need a chance to be alone so I can calm myself. Perhaps you could accompany Miss Hayes to complete her errand and give me the opportunity?”
Verity held her breath and waited for Mr. Crofton to respond. “I . . .” He looked at Verity, and for a moment, she allowed herself to hope. “I can’t, sorry. I have to meet someone at City Tavern.”
David smiled broadly. “How fortunate, as that is the exact location I am conducting Miss Hayes to!”
“I . . .” Mr. Crofton glanced at Verity. “I might be very late at my meeting. Mr. Beaufort had better be your escort.”
“Of course,” she said, to cover the awkwardness of the moment, heart crushed once again.
Mr. Crofton bowed a final time. “Good evening.” He darted past them and walked quickly away.
When Verity inveigles the new vicar into a sham engagement, their relationship isn’t the only thing that’s fake. . . .