Page 34 of One Night of Temptation
“Thank you, Tom,” Hugh said before turning to Penelope. “Are you ready to return?”
“Would it be terrible if I said no?” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the words fell from her tongue before she could stop them. She didn’t meet his gaze. “Forget I said that. I’m ready.”
“No, it wouldn’t be terrible,” Hugh said softly. “And I hope you know you can always find refuge here.”
“Thank you.” She’d never had a safe haven before. His kindness was nearly overwhelming.
“Give me a moment to change.” He left her in the vestry with Tom.
Penelope couldn’t help but feel awkward alone with the curate, who thought heaven-knew-what about her situation. “Thank you for your help this morning. I was in dire need yesterday, and Mr. Tarleton quite literally came to my rescue.”
“So I heard. He tends to rescue just about everyone he comes across. Or tries to anyway.”
That sounded like the Hugh she’d come to know so well in just one night. “I can see that. He helped a boy in need last night. This parish is lucky to have him.”
“That we are,” Tom agreed quickly.
A moment later, Hugh came back into the vestry looking crisp and almost unbearably handsome in his fresh clothing. The colors were somber—rectorish, if that could be an adjective—but well tailored for his muscular form. An ache bloomed inside Penelope, and she feared it would never, ever diminish.
He smiled at her and offered his arm. “Time to go, then.” His voice held a tinge of remorse, or so it seemed to her. Perhaps the remorse was all hers.
She looked to Tom. “Thank you again, Tom.”
He bowed in response. “It was my pleasure, my lady. I look forward to seeing you again if you chance to visit us.”
She didn’t explain that she wouldn’t be doing that or that she’d be far away in Lancashire. Voicing it would make the finality of their parting—hers and Hugh’s—too real.
Hugh guided her through the church and out the front doors onto the path that led to the gate. His gig was parked on the other side, and a boy was talking to the horse.
“Someday, I’ll learn to drive ye,” he said as they arrived at the gig. He turned toward Hugh. “Good morning, Mr. Tarleton. I’ve been taking care of yer horse.”
“Thank you, Ned. You’re quite good at it.”
The boy’s dark head notched up with pride, and his shoulders seemed to also swell toward the sky. “Thank ye—thankyou, Mr. Tarleton.”
Hugh clapped the boy on the shoulder. “That’s a good lad. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Ned nodded enthusiastically and went through the gate toward the church.
“You’re very good with him, and he obviously adores you,” Penelope said, thinking that adoring Hugh would be easy to do.
“He doesn’t have a father—he was killed in the war. I am not a replacement, of course, but I try to give him some paternal attention. Not that I have any experience with that.”
“I don’t think you need to be a father to know how to act like one.” Nor did she think being a father meant one was very good at it. Just look at her own father. She repeated what she’d told Tom. “Your parish is very lucky to have you.”
He helped her into the gig, and she scooted to the other side of the seat so he could climb in beside her. He picked up the reins and glanced over at her. “Grosvenor Street, then?”
She squared her shoulders, intent on maintaining the courage she’d found to undertake this endeavor in the first place. “Yes. Nearly to Grosvenor Square, but not quite. The house is on the left. I’ll show you where.”
Hugh drove the gig up to Oxford Street, a wide thoroughfare where the traffic was busy, even at this morning hour.
Penelope pointed to a blacksmith shop. “Isn’t that Giles Langford’s smithy?”
“Indeed it is. Have you seen him race?” Hugh asked.
“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t ever be allowed to do that. Have you?” She knew the races were thrilling and that no one employed a whip better than Langford. He was also incredibly handsome and charming and, as of recently, quite taken. His sudden marriage to Lady Felicity Sutton was the talk of the ton.
“Yes, I’ve seen Langford race several times. I consider him a friend.”
