Page 23 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
It meantmanly.
Yes, he was that, all the more for his tenderness he showed toward her son. For who but the strongest of men would have the courage to display such gentleness in the presence of a stranger?
“I have intruded on your time for too long,” he said. “I’ll bid you good day, and send Frannie over tomorrow. But if I might make a bold request, may we part today as friends?”
He extended his hand once more, and, before Etty could resist, she reached out and took it. This time she was ready for the rush of longing as her skin touched his, but she still caught her breath as his long, lean fingers curled around hers. Gentle, tender, sensitive fingers, made to give comfort, rather than the coarse, fleshy fingers of another that had only ever made her skin itch with the need to cleanse herself.
“Good day, Mr. Staines,” she whispered.
“Perhaps, one day, you might call me Andrew.”
His cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, as if he understood the intimacy of the address, yet had dared to utter it anyway.
“Good day, Mrs. Ward.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her skin.
She suppressed a cry at the rush of need.
“Etty,” she whispered, before she could stop herself.
He arched his eyebrows. “Etty?”
A flare of desire ignited in his eyes, and she withdrew her hand.
Then the desire disappeared, replaced by the warmth. He bowed, then retreated to the door.
“I look forward to seeing you in church next Sunday, Mrs. Ward.”
He stepped outside, and Etty watched as he strode along the path toward the village, disappearing among the trees without a backward glance.
What must he think of her being so familiar, offering up her name on a first acquaintance, like a harlot enticing a man to purchase her wares?
How could she have been so foolish! Hadn’t Papa berated her on her lack of decorum that had thrown her onto the path of ruination?
A man such as Mr. Staines—Andrew—was not for her. A vicar had a position to maintain. He was revered by his parishioners as the moral ideal to which they must all aspire. And as such, a woman in Etty’s position was not for him. He deserved an honest girl—an innocent, untainted by ruination or sin. Etty had long ago thrown away any chance of a life with such a man.
And yet for the first time in her life, she had, when their hands briefly touched, felt a connection, as if their souls called out to each other across a chasm, as if she had been waiting all her life for the one man to make her truly happy. Not a man to furnish her with jewels, lavish carriages, or a title, but a man to love her merely for herself.
Eleanor had once spoken of a single defining moment, when a person stumbled across her true soul mate. And, in her vanityand spite, Etty had ridiculed her sister, thinking her words to be the nonsense uttered by a simpleton.
Until now.
But the defining moment had come too late.
By a cruel twist of fate, Etty—who had once had her pick of suitors—only now knew what it might be like to desire a man’s suit when all hope of finding a suitor had gone.
Chapter Nine
There was, perhaps,one way to determine whether another person was truly good.
Which was how they treated a crying child.
Etty’s heart warmed at the expression on Frances Gadd’s face as the girl lifted Gabriel out of his crib.
“Who do we have here?” the young girl cooed. “Such a handsome young man—you’ll be breaking hearts before you’re in your breeches, won’t you?”
Etty winced at the memory of her former self and how she’d measured her success in Society by the number of hearts she broke.
Heartbreaker of theton…
