Page 46 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“Mrs. Ward, we should let Mr. Smith get to work, then we can go. Come, sir, I’ll show you out.”
“I know the way to my own front door,” Ralph growled.
“Nevertheless, I insist.” Andrew gestured to the chamber door. “After you.”
Ralph stared at Loveday for a moment, then turned and exited the chamber, muttering.
“Mrs. Smith…” Etty began.
“Please go, ma’am,” Loveday said quietly. “And I’m sorry I’ll not be able to come to your picnic.”
“But—”
“That’s enough, Mrs. Ward,” Andrew said, taking her arm. “It’s time we left. A vicar must never outstay his welcome.”
Ralph let out a snort as he descended the stairs. “If that were true, the vicar would keep himself to his bleedin’ self. Woman, make sure my supper’s on the table when I return!”
Loveday followed them out of the chamber, clinging to the doorframe. “Yes, husband, just how you like it.”
Without a backward glance, Ralph reached the foot of the stairs, plucked his cap from a hook on the wall, and rammed it onto his head before opening the front door and exiting.
“Close the door after you, vicar,” he sneered before he turned his back and set off toward the inn.
Andrew ushered Etty outside, bade Loveday farewell, then closed the door. Before she could protest, he took Etty’s arm and steered her onto the path in the opposite direction.
“Vile man!” she cried.
“Hush—he’ll hear you,” Andrew said.
She withdrew her arm, and he caught a blur of movement before pain exploded in his face as she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek.
“No—I meantyou!”
Chapter Thirteen
Etty’s hand smartedwith the impact.Heavens!She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much—by rights it should hurt him more than her, surely?
He stepped back, rubbing his cheek.
Good. Perhaps ithadhurt him more.
“What in the name of heaven’s wrong?” he asked.
“You dare ask such a question after what happened in there?” she cried. “We have to go back.”
“No, Etty, we—”
“It’sMrs. Wardto you.”
He flinched at her tone, but she ignored the hurt in his eyes. What right had he to be hurt after what they’d witnessed—a brute threatening that poor, gentle soul?
“Mrs. Ward, it’s not as simple as what you see,” he said.
“It’s perfectly simple,” she said. “Or did you not notice the bruise on her wrist? Loveday Smith is being terrorized by her husband—a man who pledged to honor and cherish her.”
“Yes, and she pledged to honor and obey him.”
“Ugh!” she cried. “With that argument you’ve lost the right to evenspeakto me.”
