Page 69 of The Truth About Dukes
“Best not, Mama Constance. Uncle digs in his heels and gets all martyr-y if you disagree with him. Let the women keep silent and all that. He’ll pray at you and you can’t shout at a man who’s honestly praying. Nobody doubts Uncle’s vocation. They just all wish he’d pursue it someplace else.”
The temptation to spirit Ivy away, to bundle her into the big coach and gallop back to Rothhaven Hall, nearly made rational thought impossible.
Stephen, though, had set down his tankard of ale, and stood frankly staring at Constance, as if he were trying to communicate a warning.
“I believe Mrs. Hodges is trying to get your attention, Ivy.”
Mrs. Hodges was looking about worriedly, her basket laden with cabbages and carrots.
“Well, drat,” Ivy said, shoving Byron at Constance. “Uncle Witless must have finished his morning prayers early.”
A short, round man attired in brown from head to foot was bustling down the church steps and heading straight for the green. He slapped a low-crowned hat on his balding head and tucked a black leather-bound book against his chest.
Why, he’s only a little man.That thought was quickly followed by a frisson of unease, for little men could still claim a towering sense of self-importance.
“Will I see you again?” Ivy asked, gaze anxious.
“I hope so. I have a letter of introduction for your uncle.”
Mr. Shaw approached Mrs. Hodges, who had apparently spotted Ivy. She pointed in the direction of the bookseller’s stall and Shaw changed course.
“He hates for me to read anything,” Ivy said. “Mrs. H sneaks me the newspapers when Uncle thinks they’ve been donated to the library. Don’t leave me, Mama Constance, for he looks ready to preach on original sin.”
Don’t leave me.…The words tore at Constance’s heart and stiffened her resolve.
She turned to Ivy. “Thank you so much, miss, for those directions, and how fortunate that Mr. Shaw is your uncle.”
Shaw bustled up, coming to a stop beside Ivy. “That’s Reverend Shaw, if you please, and who might you be?”
Good heavens. Had he no grasp of manners? “I am—”
“Don’t bother telling me,” he said, flapping a Book of Common Prayer at her. “I can tell by looking at you that you’re the wretched creature who gave birth to Ivy. Ivy, you are to go directly home and straight to your room. I’ll speak to you later.”
Ivy, stay.A touch on Constance’s arm kept those words behind her teeth. Rothhaven was at her side, all languid grace and pleasant smiles.
“Reverend Shaw,” he said. “I apologize for the irregularity of this encounter, here before the whole village, but we had heard that you make a priority out of morning prayers and thought to respect your piety by putting off the introductions. I am Robert, Duke of Rothhaven. I have a letter of introduction from Dr. Pietr Sorenson, our vicar.”
He passed along a folded and sealed sheet of vellum and offered a goggle-eyed Ivy a bow. “Miss Ivy, good day.”
That was clever, to acknowledge her as if she was more than a child truant from the schoolroom.
“I have little patience with dukes,” Shaw snapped, glowering at Rothhaven and then at Constance. “And even less with strumpets.” He spoke clearly, as if trying to make a spectacle in the middle of the market day.
“I have no patience with hypocrites,” Rothhaven replied, pleasantly. “If our Lord can forgive Mary Magdalene for her failings, then who are we to cling to judgment when a young girl was taken advantage of by a worldly bounder?”
Shaw blinked, then widened his stance. “Forgiveness is a virtue, I’ll grant you, but what of you, Your Grace. Easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle, than for a wealthy man—”
Ivy closed her eyes and took a step back.
“Excuse me,” Constance said, “but might we move this game of scriptural battledore someplace more private? I had hoped to avoid airing family business for the entertainment of greater Fendle Bridge.”
Shaw glanced about, not an ounce of chagrin in his bearing. Mrs. Hodges stood nearby looking ready to smite him with her cabbages, though, and some of the wind dropped from his sails.
“My home is humble,” he said. “I am willing to hear you out there, but don’t think you can waltz into Ivy’s life, your corrupting influence already on display, and expect to be granted any access to the girl. She is impressionable and headstrong, and it won’t serve for her to form attachments when she’s soon to depart for the Lord’s work in the colonies.”
He strutted off, prayer book clutched in his pale hand, leaving Ivy to send Constance a miserable look before following in his wake.
“Not an auspicious beginning,” Constance said.
