Page 13 of One Night of Temptation
“You made your way outside and were completely disoriented until…” He thought for a moment and then inspiration struck. “Until you saw the spire of my church.”
“Which I recognized at once because I’d been there!” She leaned forward in her enthusiasm. “I went to the church for help.”
“Where you encountered me, and I took you home.”
She blinked at him. “You did? You will?”
“Of course. I told you I wouldn’t leave you again, and I meant it.”
She retreated back fully into her seat and curled her hand around the glass of brandy. “But youwillleave me.”
He thought he detected a note of disappointment. Did that mean she was as loath for their connection to end as he was? “I must leave you, but I won’t disappear. Surely you’ll come to the church again. Maybe you’ll even attend a service.”
She hesitated. “I can’t promise any of that. I’m not entirely certain what my parents will do upon my return. There is every chance my father will send me to his cousin in Lancashire.”
He heard the hope in her voice even as he suffered a flash of dismay. Lancashire was quite far. He’d never see her again.
“Maybe I’ll be able to come to a service before I go. I’d like to see you in the pulpit.” She fixed him with an interested stare, her head tilting slightly. “Why did you decide to become a rector?”
“As the third son of a third son of a viscount, there are not many options. My family wanted me to pursue a military career, but by the time I was nine, I was already more interested in helping save lives than taking them.”
“Why not become a surgeon?”
“I thought about that too, but I wanted to help more than people’s bodies. I wanted to help their souls.” He’d grieved terribly when his mother had died, and there’d been little comfort for him.
“Their souls,” she whispered. “That’s lovely.”
He hadn’t really thought of it that way, but hearing her say it with reverence and admiration made him think it was possible, if not true. “I don’t know if it is, but it seemed…necessary. To me, anyway. My family is hardworking, and they thought I should aspire higher than joining the clergy. As you mentioned earlier, the profession doesn’t always have a reputation for diligence.”
“Surely they knew you would be a different sort of clergyman.”
“That didn’t stop them from thinking I would be a better soldier, or maybe a barrister.” He leaned against the back of his chair. “They learned to accept it.”
“Who is ‘they’?” she asked. “You mentioned your mother earlier. Your father? Your older brothers?”
He thought of his family, whom he only saw perhaps once a year, or even less. They wrote, however, and there was a stalwart sort of love, even if it was never mentioned. “My father died about five years ago. I’ve two older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister. They’re all wed with families of their own.”
“They had no trouble finding spouses—unlike you,” she observed. “Not that you’re havingtrouble.”
“Not trouble, no. I just haven’t made it a priority. Maybe because I haven’t met a woman who’s prompted me tomakeit a priority.” He didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way or to insinuate she might be such a woman, but he couldn’t help but think of the possibility… Which was absurd. She was the daughter of a marquess, and, ruined or not, she wouldn’t be allowed to marry the rector of St. Giles.
She nodded in understanding. “I haven’t either—met a man, I mean.” She turned her head and stared out the window, her hands gripping the brandy glass. “I just want to find the right person.”
His body thrummed with expectation. “I want that too.”
She shot a glance in his direction. “Who is the right person? For you.”
He ignored the desire pooling in his belly. The possibility he’d imagined a moment ago took root. He was incredibly drawn to her, and with each passing moment, the connection between them grew stronger. Did she feel that too? “I would like a wife who, above all, wants to help others, particularly those who are unable to help themselves. She should be intelligent, warmhearted, and, if it’s not too much to ask, in possession of a fine wit.”
“Why would that be too much to ask?”
He shrugged. “I am often told I should laugh more. A wife with a sense of humor would undoubtedly help with that.”
“Who tells you that?” she asked.
“Tom—my curate. My housekeeper. My sisters.”
“Not your brothers?”
