Page 153 of Oddity of the Ton
“Let me go!” she cried.
He freed her, but rather than the relief she’d expected, she felt nothing but loss. Cold air brushed against her neck, and she shivered.
“Eleanor—we should get you inside,” Mr. Staines said.
Montague’s gaze darkened, and he set his mouth into a firm line.
“Eleanor?” he said. “You’remarried?”
“N-no,” she said. “This is Mr.—I mean, Reverend Staines. The vicar.”
Did she imagine it, or had she caught a flicker of hurt in his eyes, followed by relief? Then he blinked, and the darkness returned—the enigmatic gaze that had captivated her before he even knew her name.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
His brow furrowed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Dear Lord, she’d been right. The scandal…
“Is thathim?” Mr. Staines asked, taking her hand. “Eleanor, you’re distressed. Shall I send him away?”
Montague lowered his gaze to where Mr. Staines had caught her hand, and a flash of fury sparked in his eyes.
“Who mightyoube?” he said, curling his lip in a sneer.
“I’m Eleanor’s friend,” Mr. Staines replied.
“An overlyfamiliarfriend, by the look of it.”
“N-no, Montague,” she said, freeing her hand. “Andrew—Mr. Staines—is a good friend. I have precious few friends in the world, and I won’t have you casting aspersions on our friendship. If you’re here to admonish me, please say what you came to say, then leave.”
“Admonish you? Whatever for?”
“F-for disgracing your name!” she cried. “I never meant for anyone to see those pictures—I p-promised I’d show them to no one, and I kept my word. That’s why I left—I couldn’t bear the thought of being talked about, ofyoubeing talked about.”
“So you ran away,” he said. “Did nobody ever tell you that running away from your troubles is never the answer?”
“Is that why you’re here—to lecture me on decorum?”
He shook his head. “No, Eleanor,” he said, and her heart almost cracked at the fatigue in his voice. “Why would you think I’d want to admonish you, when you have suffered at the hands of others—including myself?”
“In that, at least, we find agreement,” Mr. Staines said. “Eleanor, aren’t you going to introduce this man?”
She glanced from Montague’s face, creased with weariness and apprehension, to Mr. Staines’s, with its gentle, calming expression tinged with an undercurrent of righteousness.
“Th-this man is Montague FitzRoy,” she said. “Fifth Duke of Whitcombe.”
“A duke?” Mr. Staines replied. “You never told me he was aduke!”
“Does it matter?”
“It only matters in that it makes your sister’s sin against you more heinous.”
“And in that, Reverend Staines,” Montague said, “you’ll findmeagreeing withyou. But I must ask how you come to know Eleanor’s history.”
“Because she told me,Your Grace,” Mr. Staines said, with a sneer in his tone. “Eleanor’s past has tormented her ever since she came to Sandcombe. Would you rather she suffered in silence?”
“I’d rather she didn’t suffer at all!”
