Page 125 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
He offered his hand, but she made no move to take it. “So you’re Lord Radham,” she said. “Accept my sympathy for your loss.”
Her words, delivered in a flat, businesslike tone, sounded like an instruction rather than an expression of sympathy.
“Thank you,” Andrew said.
“I met your late brother in London.”
He waited for the usual bland words that everyone he’d encountered since Robert’s demise had uttered—false declarations of how great a man he was, such a loss to the world, et cetera et cetera. But none came.
He blurted out bland niceties to fill the silence. “Were you a friend of his?”
She narrowed her eyes, the creases deepening, and the flicker of pain flared into a flame. “No,” she said after a pause. “He reminded me of—”
“Alice, my love,” Trelawney said, approaching her and offering his arm. She took it, and her expression softened. “I believe Radham here is a different creature to his brother,”Trelawney continued. “He knows little of London Society—is that not right, Radham?”
Andrew nodded. “I am—no,was—a country vicar,” he said. “I saw little of my brother after we left school. I find myself sailing in unfamiliar waters among London Society, though my father is fond of it. For my part, I wish to avoid Society as much as possible.”
She smiled. “Then I am pleased to meet you, Lord Radham.”
“Alice, come and take some sherry,” her husband said, and he steered her toward the table where the footmen were unstoppering the decanters.
Lady Arabella approached Andrew and offered her hand. He took it and bowed.
“Do forgive me for not welcoming you on your arrival, Lord Radham,” she said. “The ladies and I were engaged in a game ofpale-maille. Do you play?”
Andrew shook his head. “I fear not.”
“It is something of a tradition here at Longford Hall. The gentlemen attempt to relieve the occupants of our trout stream of their liberty, while the ladies playpale-maille—though some of our guests took to exploring the grounds this afternoon.”
“Yes, I met one on my way here,” Andrew said, wincing at the harshness in his tone.
She frowned. “How strange! None of them mentioned it, though Juliette seemed a little out of sorts this afternoon. That’s Miss Howard, you know. I particularly wanted you to meet her—I had sat her next to you at dinner—but I’m afraid she’s been taken ill.”
“Ill?”
“A megrim, poor creature,” Lady Arabella said. “I had warned her not to work so hard.”
“Work?”
“She insists on helping about the house, despite being my guest. I had to almost push her out of the house this afternoon. I thought a walk and some air would restore her spirits, but she returned awfully discomposed. In fact…” She fixed her gaze on him. “Perhaps it was she whom you met on your way here?”
“I believe it was,” Andrew said, his cheeks warming.
“I wonder why she neglected to mention it,” Lady Arabella said. “Are you perhaps acquainted with her?”
“I know her sister, Duchess Whitcombe.”
“Eleanor? You met Eleanor in London, perhaps?”
Andrew shook his head. “I-I knew the duchess before she married. I was vicar in the parish where she stayed for a while.”
She took in a sharp breath, then withdrew her hand and frowned. “I see.”
“You do?” he asked.
Her expression hardened. “I believe so—the vicar at Sandcombe. Tell me, Lord Radham, when a woman behaves improperly or commits what is generally believed to be a sin, do you place the blame on the woman?”
“The Almighty tells us to forgive the sinner,” he said carefully.
