She looked at him. With the sunlight shining full on his face she could see his ruined glory quite clearly. He must have been devastating when he'd been a hellion, she thought. Even now, with the lines of weariness and an abandoned dissipation writ on his lean face he was still quite. . . appealing to some-She had a great deal of sense. "My dearest friend is dying. Of course I'm perturbed. "
If she'd hoped to put the vicar in his place she failed. "You've had a while to come to terms with that," he said, though his voice gentled. "I had the impression that there was something new and disturbing. "
"If there is I would hardly be likely to share my concerns with you, now, would I, Mr. Pagett?"
"I don't know why you wouldn't. I'm a vicar— it's part of my job to hear people's concerns. I’m accounted to be a very good listener. ”
"I'm not part of your parish, and my concerns are my own. " He was standing too close to her, and she ought to move away, but for some reason she was more tempted to move closer. As a result, she stood her ground.
He looked down at her. He was somewhat above middle height, though not nearly as tall as Adrian Rohan, but she was small and he seemed to tower over her. "I could tell you that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, but I doubt you'd believe me. "
"'I don't believe you'd even quote such a hoary old line at me. Next you'll be telling me that confessing ray sins to you would get me into heaven sooner. "
"No," he said, looking oddly troubled. "I don't think I want to hear your sins. "
"That's right, you're getting quite elderly. I doubt you have enough time left to hear everything I've done," she said brightly.
For a moment he frowned, and she knew she'd pricked his vanity. And then he laughed. "You're very good at being annoying. Lady Whitmore. I've already told you I'm thirty-five—I expect to live many decades longer, and I doubt your sins can encompass that much. "
"You'd be surprised. " She tried to sound merry, carefree. Instead her voice came out with a hollow
He said nothing, watching her with a contemplative expression on his handsome face. And it was a handsome face, she thought ruefully. His premature lines only made him more interesting looking—he was probably far too pretty when he was younger. It was a good thing they hadn't met then. . .
A sudden horrifying thought hit her. To her knowledge she had never entered the bed of anyone without having a considerable amount to drink, enough to shut out the clamor of fear and darkness, and it was possible she didn't always remember them. And he must have been very pretty.
"I didn't meet you before, did I?" she asked in a sharp voice. "When was your blinding encounter on the road to Damascas?”
He laughed, having read her mind. "No, Lady Whitmore, I can safely assure you that I never bedded you in my wild years. You would have been far too young. And if I'd run into you later I promise you, you wouldn't have forgotten. "
She flushed, at a disadvantage, but she rallied. "I've forgotten any number of them," she said airily. In fact, a lie. She'd only forgotten one, and been aghast that she had, until the shamefaced young man admitted that he hadn't been able to consummate the evening. "In fact, if I tried to count them all I should fail sadly. " Another lie. While she would have loved to have a lengthy list of her amatory triumphs, she still had a strong regard for her own health, and finding men who were both careful and game was difficult.
"Of course you should," he said in a soothing voice, clearly doubting her. Which would have made her determined to find the next man she could and bed him, but for some reason she'd lost interest in it. She was having a great deal more fun arguing with Simon Pagett.
"I must compliment you on your new taste in clothing. Lady Whitmore. The subdued colors bring out your beauty far more than the garish ones you chose before. "
"I have no interest in your sartorial advice, Vicar," she said, ignoring the rush of pleasure. "You gave me no warning—my maid packed whatever was clean. "
"Of course," he said in an infuriatingly calm voice, and she was determined to go upstairs and see if ham-handed Meggie was capable of immediately cutting down the necklines of her demure dresses. She glared up at him.
And then she found she had to laugh. "You really are the most annoying man in the world, aren't you?"
He smiled at her then, and the world seemed to shatter and split. "So I've been told. "
She stared at him for a moment, unable to come up with a single word, as something inside her began to melt.
She panicked, though she wasn't quite sure why. "I wonder, though. . . " she said in the drawling voice she used to such good effect.
He looked at her warily. "Wonder what?"
"Are all men the same? Even those who've found God?" she mused.
He was very still. Like a fox, she thought, afraid a bitch had caught his scent.
"How do you mean? I can assure you I sleep better at nights. I'm happier. "
Author: Anne Stuart
"You don't strike me as particularly happy. As for nighttime sleeping situation, my thoughts were running more along those lines. "