Page 116 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
Arabella shook her head. “Sadly, he’s something of a recluse. But Lawrence has secured another client—a new viscount about whom I have high hopes. I’m minded to invite him.”
“Because he’s a viscount?”
“Oh no, my dear—because he’s already issued a down payment for the work. It seems as if his estate was left in disrepair by the previous incumbent and he’s eager to restore it.”
“A man concerned with appearance, no doubt.”
“And concerned about his tenants. Lawrence told me that while he was there, the fellow was engaged in a discussion with his steward about restoring the tenants’ properties. And he was very insistent that if Lawrence were to undertake the works, he must employ men from his estate and pay them a fair wage.”
“A veritable paragon, then,” Etty said.
“You jest, but you’d be surprised at how many of my husband’s prospective clients spend much of the first meeting justifying why they should pay a lower fee than everyone else. You recall Heath Moss—or rather,SirHeath Moss now he’s inherited the baronetcy?”
Etty shuddered at the memory of the golden-haired Mr. Moss, who’d always thought a little too much of himself, and thought nothing of ruining the women he preyed upon. “What of him?”
“He refused to even speak to Lawrence,” Arabella said. “Instead he sent his steward to convey the message that the privilege of having Sir Heath as a client was worth more than any fee.”
“And did he pay the fee?”
“My husband refused the work. He said that as a commoner, he was unworthy of that privilege. But this new fellow—ViscountRadham—offered my husband tea and apologized for the state of the house.”
“Radham?” Etty asked. “I’ve heard that name somewhere.”
“He’s the one with the profligate brother,” Arabella said. “Eleanor’s husband mentioned him—he recently inherited the viscountcy, poor fellow.”
“Why poor fellow?”
“Because he’s short on funds, and there’s only one way by which a titled man can restore his fortune. A rich wife. If he went to London for the Season, he’d be devoured by desperate debutantes.”
“Women such as us?” Etty shook her head. “Bella, I have no intention of throwing myself at the feet of a titled man. You saw how Eleanor’s husband spoke to me. In the eyes of any respectable person, I’m nothing but a—”
“No, you’renot, Etty, and well you know it,” Arabella said firmly. “And though you may never be admitted into Society again, is that so much of a loss? Whitcombe was insufferably rude toward you, but his behavior came from the ferocity of the love he bears your sister. Not all men will think badly of you because of your past. And my husband tells me that Radham had a profession before he inherited the title. In fact, Lawrence told me that had the man not introduced himself as a viscount, he’d have believed him to be a perfectly ordinary man. Coming from my husband, that is the greatest of compliments.”
“A perfectly ordinary man in search of a rich wife to purchase his title,” Etty said. “What would he say to a fallen woman with a natural child?”
“I’ll not invite him if you don’t wish it,” Bella said, “but you must appreciate the benefits of a wider acquaintance. You weren’t born to be tucked away in obscurity—you were born to be admired.” She squeezed Etty’s hand. “Admired for yourdisposition and your kindness, rather than your beauty and fortune.”
“I don’t know…”
“Would you trust me?” Bella asked. “I only want you to be happy. You liked Mr. Ryman, did you not?”
“Ah, Mr. Ryman,” Etty said, smiling at the recollection of the thick-accented man who’d arrived in the garden last week in search of Arabella’s husband—who, on being asked whether he’d had a productive day, said it would have been a good deal more productive “had the fucking horses not escaped again.”
Bella let out a laugh. “The poor man! I thought he’d have a fit of apoplexy when he caught sight of us and realized we’d overheard his ratherinterestinggreeting to my husband. He didn’t speak a word all afternoon after your unfortunate introduction, for fear of offending you. But you liked him, nonetheless.”
“I did, but he’s smitten with your maid.”
“Ah yes,” Bella said, smiling, “and Connie is quite in love with him. But there are plenty of men like Mr. Ryman, hardworking souls capable of making you happy—as you deserve.”
“I suppose so,” Etty said. “Gabriel took to him immediately.”
“There! You see? Is your son not the best judge of character?”
Etty nodded, recalling the way her son had nestled into the shoulder of another man in the little cottage at Sandcombe.
Buthewas long gone. No doubt he’d live out his days as a respectable vicar, preaching goodness to those who came to his church to be seen rather than to listen.
He would never have been happy with her. The stain of her past would have tarnished his reputation and stunted his prospects. Lady Fulford and her acquaintance with the bishop would have seen to that. At least, free from association with Etty, he might ascend to the position of bishop himself and fulfil his dreams—his destiny.
