Page 50 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
She curled her hand around his. “I could never fear you, Andrew,” she said. “I might admonish you in the most appalling manner—but that does not mean I don’t trust you. I cannot admire you any less than I do now.”
“Then…”
“I was beset by a memory,” she said, “by something—and someone—I’d rather forget. And you help me to forget, Andrew. I want to make new memories, to conquer the old.”
His eyes widened and she caught the flare of desire reigniting. Did he, in his innocence, know what she was asking—what she offered him?
Then a voice called out, and he froze.
“I say, vicar!”
Etty flinched at the familiar, sharp tone and turned to see Lady Fulford standing beside the front gate, elegantly attired in a dark-green gown. Beside her stood three similarly attired figures, their pale faces all turned toward her, sporting identical sneers.
“Lady Fulford.” Andrew straightened his jacket and smoothed the lapels, then strode toward the gate.
“I was on my way to see you, vicar,” Lady Fulford said. “Elizabeth has an invitation, don’t you, daughter?”
One of the younger women nodded. “Yes, Mama,” she said. “I am to sing at a soiree, to which you’re invited.”
“How delightful,” he said in a tone that conveyed anything but delight.
Etty smiled to herself. Andrew had mentioned the Fulford twins and their voices, which he’d said reminded him of crows scrapping over a carcass in the road.
“And I wanted to discuss the church flowers with you,” Lady Fulford continued. “They’re in a disgraceful state—I fear they’ve been quite neglected. You shouldn’t entrust them to Mrs. Lewis, though she’s a particular friend of mine. My Sarah here is very accomplished in the art of arranging flowers—are you not, my dear?”
“Yes, Mama,” another daughter—who was clearly Elizabeth’s twin—nodded, and smiled up at Andrew.
Heavens, could the woman be any more obvious in her desperation to foist her offspring onto him?
But how did that make her any different to Etty’s own mother? What made the Fulford girls any different to Etty herself?
Lady Fulford then turned her attention toward Etty, who nodded in recognition—but rather than acknowledge her, the woman curled her lip in a sneer again.
“I see you’ve been visiting the needy, vicar,” she said. “Very charitable, I’m sure. But I would counsel you not to spend too much of your time with those who rank so far beneath you. It’s unbecoming in a man of your station. Sir John would object.”
“But—” he began, but she raised her hand.
“Now, now, vicar, you know better than to contradict your patron’s wife,” she said, her voice pleasant yet carrying an undertone of threat. “As Sir John was saying to the bishop only last month, a vicar must lead by example when it comes to the moral fiber of the village, and while visits to the needy are a necessary evil of a vicar’s vocation, he must always observe propriety when it comes to social calls. And he must neverneglect his duties when it comes to tending to the church. Now, I insist you take tea with us now. I wish to discuss the village fete.”
“Can it not wait?” he asked.
“Ibegyour pardon? Sir John would have much to say if he learned of your refusal.”
Andrew glanced toward Etty.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
At that moment, the door opened, and Frances appeared in the entrance.
“I thought I heard you, ma’am. You’re back ever so late, I…” She caught sight of Lady Fulford, paled, and dipped into a curtsey.
“Oh, is that the Gadd girl?” Lady Fulford said. “Very charitable taking her on, Mrs. Ward. Though I must say I’m disappointed inyou, vicar. I hear you promised her to Mrs. Ward before consulting my housekeeper on the matter.”
“Why should the vicar consult your housekeeper?” Etty asked.
“It’s the custom,” Lady Fulford replied. “My housekeeper always gets first refusal when the girls in the village go into service.” She cast a spiteful glance at Etty. “I trust you’re not taking undue advantage of our vicar, Mrs. Ward. He’s much respected among the villagers, as well as those among my acquaintance. We quite consider him to belong to us. But then, perhaps we should make allowances, given that you’re an incomer and not one of us. Never mind, I’m sure you’ll soon learn.”
She stared pointedly at Andrew. “Vicar—would you be so kind?”
