Page 111 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“That’s rather a bleak view of the female sex.”
“But realistic, Radham. It’s a lesson you must learn if you are to survive. You’re not a country parson anymore. You’re a gentleman about town—a viscount, heir to an earldom.”
“And?”
“And therefore, dear chap, you are prey in the eyes of every woman you encounter. There is only one way to survive. You must become the predator.”
“And if I have no wish to become a predator?”
“Then you must remove yourself from Town. What did you come here for, other than to settle your affairs with your lawyers? Did you hope to see this Miss Howard?”
Andrew flinched. Perhaps hehadhoped to see Etty. Where else would she have fled to if she intended to go “home”? But since he’d arrived there had been no sign of her—though London was a big place, and Etty was hardly likely to be parading around, given her status as a fallen woman. He’d been a fool to think he’d stumble over her the moment he set foot in Town.
“No,” he said quietly. “I doubt I’ll see her again.”
“All the better for you,” Foxton said. “If you want my advice, settle your affairs, then leave London. Contrary to popular opinion, gentlemen with titles don’t spend the entirety of their time at White’s, or with their mistresses—at least, gentlemen in your financial position don’t. With a title comes responsibility and, in your case, a neglected estate in need of restoration. Whatbetter way for a man to purge a woman from his soul than by devoting himself to his duty? And as a vicar…”
“Vicar no more,” Andrew said bitterly.
“As aformervicar, then, you should at least have a better understanding of duty than most men thrust into your position.”
Andrew sighed. His friend was right. He’d viewed his title as akin to a slave collar, binding him to a life of servitude. He’d lost everything else. But with the estate came a building, grounds, in need of restoration—not to mention servants and tenants in need of a lord to care for them. Radham Hall was no different to his church at Sandcombe, and the souls dependent on the estate were no different to the parishioners.
They were now his flock.
There was one thing that even the most brokenhearted man could commit himself to. And that was his duty.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Longford Hall, Sussex, November 1817
Strains of laughterfiltered through the air. Etty glanced across the lawn to a gap in the hedge clipped into the shape of an arch. Four children emerged, brandishing sticks.
Mr. Baxter, who was clipping the hedge at the far end, glanced up, smiled, then shook his head and resumed clipping.
“He’s after us—quick!” one of the children—a girl, though she wore breeches—cried. “What shall we do, admiral?”
“We stand and fight!” another child yelled.
“At arms!” called a third.
The fourth child, Florence, stood apart from the rest, holding her stick awkwardly.
“Come on, Florrie,” the girl in breeches said, placing an arm around her shoulders. “We must defend ourselves from the captain of the enemy ship.”
Arabella, who sat beside Etty, looked up from her embroidery. “Roberta, sweetheart, maybe Florence doesn’t want to fight. Not all girls like to play sailors.”
“She’s not Florence, Mama,” the girl replied. “She’s Captain Edward Berry!”
A fifth child emerged through the archway—Etty’s son, holding a stick aloft as he ran toward the others.
“Gabriel!” Etty cried.
“He’s not Gabriel—he’s Captain Thomas Foley,” the girl said.
“Roberta!” Arabella said. “That’s no way to speak to our guest.”
The girl blushed and lowered her stick. Gabriel continued to run toward her, then he tripped and fell forward onto the grass. He looked up, his face wrinkled with distress, and Etty leaped to her feet, anticipating the screams. But the girl ran toward him and scooped him up into her arms. He burst out laughing, his little body shaking with mirth.
