She could feel the color rise to her face. "I hadn't realized you suspected it, too. "
"I've known Montague all his life—it would tickle his sense of the ridiculousness. "
She'd thought the very same thing, but for some reason hearing the words from his mouth was particularly annoying. "I'm an extremely wealthy widow, sir," she said in an icy tone, "and not unattractive. Most men wouldn't consider me a ridiculous choice. "
He escorted her out onto the terrace, where a table was beautifully laid for Iwo. "Surely I haven't offended you?"
She smiled sweetly. "I'm impossible to offend, Mr. Pagett. "
"You may as well call me Simon. Every time you say 'vicar' or 'Mr. Pagett’ I hear poison dripping off your tongue. " He released her arm to hold the chair for her. There was no way she could leave without mating a scene, so she sat, glaring at him.
"You're hearing your own fevered imagination, vicar” She put deliberate emphasis on the word.
"And I suspect it's a great deal easier to offend you than I would have thought," he added, seating himself opposite her. There were no wineglasses on the table, and she was very much in need of something stronger than Monty's clear, cold water.
"Aren't we to have wine?" she asked.
"I don't drink spirits. "
Of course he didn't. And she would have given her right arm for some. But she certainly wasn't about to admit it.
For the first lime she had a clear look at him in the light of day. He wasn't as old as she'd thought—the lines on his face were ones of hard experience, not age. The one gray streak in his dark hair was all the more startling, and for the first time she realized he looked oddly familiar.
"Have we ever met?" she asked abruptly.
"Have you been frequenting churches recently. Lady Whitmore?"
"Of course not. I j
ust suddenly had the thought that I might have. . . seen you at some point. "
He shrugged. "It's possible. I spent some time in London before I joined the church. When was your first season?”
She remembered it all too well—she'd been seventeen, the toast of London, and innocent. "More than ten years ago," she said stiffly. "But I expect you'd remember me. I was quite the toast. "
"I hate to disillusion you, my lady, but I don't remember anyone from that time, no matter how heart-breakingly beautiful. I was too drunk. "
She looked at him in surprise. "I thought you didn't drink spirits. "
"Not any longer. I find they don't agree with me. I sincerely doubt we saw each other back then, my lady. 1 spent my time in whorehouses and gambling clubs. No decent hostess would have invited me over her threshold, and certainly no one would have introduced me to a shy young virgin. Which I expect you were, way back then. "
"You make me sound like an old crone. I'm twenty-eight. Decades younger than you. "
"I'm thirty-five," he said flatly. "Close your mouth. Lady Whitmore. If you're going to be astonished it's better just to raise your eyebrows. "
She snapped her mouth shut, starting at him. She could see it now, the signs of dissipation. Her judgmental, self-righteous nemesis clearly must have been a libertine par excellence.
"So you see," he continued in a calm voice, reaching for the crystal glass of clear water, "I know whereof I speak. I know just how vicious and deadly are the paths you and Thomas are following. Thomas is about to meet his maker, and while I have no doubt that God will welcome and forgive him, I think his passing will be easier if he made peace with things beforehand. Which is why I'd rather you didn't sit there telling him ribald poems and gossiping about all your acquaintances. "
"You think having been a hellion somehow gives you the right to tell other people what to do, vicar?"
"Simon," he corrected in an equally frigid voice.
Author: Anne Stuart
"Simon," she purred. "Your story is quite touching, I must admit. If I were the sentimental sort I would quite be in tears. But let us examine the truth of the matter. You've just admitted to being the worse sort of reprobate, a drunkard, a lecher. . . "
"A liar and a thief," he added. "Those tend to go together. "