Page 29 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“Precisely,” Andrew said. “Perhaps you had no need to attend church this morning, Mrs. Ward, if you had nothing to learn.”
“There’s always something to learn, vicar.” She rose to her feet. “Frances, dear, let me help you with that. The teapot looks awfully heavy.”
“It’s no trouble, Mrs. Ward,” the girl said. “I filled it a little too much, that’s all.”
Etty gave Frances an affectionate smile, and Andrew uttered a silent prayer of thanks to the Almighty that He had delivered that sweet child to a home where she would be treated with kindness and not blamed for the sins of others—a sin she was party to, merely through being born.
“If you have concerns about your mortal soul, Mrs. Ward, I can always bring my sermons to you,” he said.
“I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, I assure you,” he replied. “I’d relish the prospect of engaging in a conversion about the principles of life with a member of my parish who has experienced something of life outside the village. Did you know that most of my flock haven’t ventured further than ten miles from the village in which they were born? How is one to gain a wider understanding of the world if one does not experience it?”
Her smile slipped. “I wouldn’t advocate a wider understanding of the world,” she said. “The world is not a kind place—particularly for a woman.”
“I understand that,” he replied. “I—”
She raised her hand. “Forgive me for contradicting you, Mr. Staines, but you understand no such thing. Your sex prevents you from understanding the plight of a woman because you will never have lived the experiences she must endure in a world ruled by men.”
Damn.
He allowed himself a silent curse—for which he’d pray for forgiveness tonight.
Just when she seemed to be warming to him, he had to open his mouth and reveal his ignorance of women.
“Perhaps you consider my life a privileged one because I had a London Season,” she said.
So, shehadbeen a debutante. Might Robert have known her, danced with her at some ball or sat next to her at a dinner party?
Lucky bastard.
Oh dear—another curse requiring the Almighty’s forgiveness.
She let out a sigh, much like a disappointed parent, then met him with the full force of her gaze.
“I see the envy in your eyes… No, do not deny it,” she said as he opened his mouth to protest. “In terms of material comfort, I’ll admit my life has been easy compared to many of the women hereabouts. Wealth is noticeable. It exists on the surface, in silken gowns, bright jewels, and large townhouses—and the Society accents schooled by governesses through years of elocution lessons. To the casual observer, who fails to look beneath the surface, women in Society are masters of our fate. Yet, likeallwomen, we are just as beholden to the men who own us.”
His heart ached at the undercurrent of pain in her voice. Perhaps the late Mr. Ward had been unkind.
She paused, as if contemplating something. Then she shook her head and looked away.
“I expect no sympathy,” she said. “I have not been so unfortunate as to have endured an unhappy marriage.”
Her voice sounded strained, as if she recited each word with care.
Andrew’s cheeks warmed with shame. How could he—a vicar, a man of moral standing—indulge in his desire for a woman recently widowed, with a young child, who still mourned her late husband?
“Perhaps, if you are looking for suggestions for material for your next sermon, Mr. Staines, you should consider the sins of men who believe their rank gives them the right to take advantage of naïve young women. Men who care nothing for the consequences, such as ruined lives.”
“Or unwanted children.”
Andrew spoke the words before he could stop himself.
She froze, and the warmth in her eyes turned to frost. But before she could respond, an explosion of crockery shattered the air, followed by a shriek.
She leaped to her feet.
“Frances!”
