‘She said as she would see you in the Assembly Rooms later, miss,’ added the girl. Verity thanked her and escaped to her little bedchamber, glad of a few minutes of solitude to collect her disordered thoughts. How much more discomfiture must she bear on account of this wretched Mr Haverigg? She could scarce open her mouth in his presence without letting fall some incautious word that resulted in her own confusion. Was she so tactless? Or was he merely touchy? No, that was unfair. After all, who would not be a trifle out of temper after being knocked so violently to the ground? Poor Mr Haverigg had taken it remarkably well, she was forced to admit. It had not been that which had caused him to clam up and look so—so—yes, bleak. If ever anyone looked to be in the grip of care, it was this pale-faced young gentleman just before she had left him. All had been well until she had mentioned marriage and children, reminding him no doubt of his infirmity and how it had destroyed his chances of connubial happiness.
