Page 19 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
His father’s winged white brows shot high on his noble forehead. “She does not care for you? Ha! If that is so, she is not worthy of you, my dear sir.”
“She believes she kills those who propose marriage to her.”
The duke frowned. “Now she is definitely not worthy of you.”
He took another drink. “She has received two proposals. Both men died. She didn’t love them. And she thinks she is to blame.”
“And you told her this is nonsense and…?”
“She does not listen.”
“Ha!” His father scoffed. “Who is this girl?”
“De Courcy’s daughter.”
“That old fart! I could say that explains her decisions but that would not do her the justice you see in the lady.”
Charlie nodded. His father and de Courcy had never agreed on politics. His father the more liberal, hers conservative to the core. “Willa. Lady Willa Sheffield. Tall, lovely Willa with eyes that change color from brown to green to teal in a heartbeat. Hair a cloud of black curls.”
The duke grinned at his sentiments. “I’m certain you have the persuasive tools to bring her to your cause.”
“My skills as a suitor are new. But my older talents as a clergyman are ineffective with her. I’ve tried to talk her out of her superstition and I haven’t been successful.”
“Has money to do with her objection?”
Charlie took another swig of his port. “It’s all that superstition business. Nothing to do with finances.”
“Are you sure? You have but five hundred a year from Courtland in your living. That buys you no glory. Grain, a few cuts of beef or lamb. And if I know you, you’ve let the tenants grow vegetables in your glebe. They’ve eaten it all and what do you have for yourself? Ba, I say, to charity!”
“I do admit that if she relented, money could be a problem for us.” His father lived on six thousand or more a year. Last time they had spoken of funds, his brother had an allowance of five from the household coffers. Charlie’s five hundred from Courtland was a pitiful comparison. And what did Willa live on? He could guess that her father and mother lived on a sum similar to his father’s.
“Right you are. Old De Courcy won’t want his girl to starve. And he’ll not open his purse farther than he would if you were my marquess. A royal pain in the arse, he is.” His father drained his glass, then held it out for a refill.
Charlie got up to do his bidding. But as he poured, he said, “I’ve a few ideas to improve my finances.”
“Oh? Like what?”
When he sat down again, he said, “I’ve had an offer to serve as a director of the Foundling Hospital outside of Marlborough. It’s fifty pounds a year.”
“And work! Work, my boy! Begging others to donate to the orphans. No, no, no. It’s more work than compensation. Plus where should you be? Home in your bed with your wife ensuring the endurance of the Compton family! Oliver’s not tending to the legitimate line, I tell you. No Foundling Hospital for you, sir. Out shaking hands with n’er do wells begging for a scrap while they throw most of their money away.”
“It is honorable work, Papa.”
The old man sighed. “True. And you are an honorable man, my boy. But what will fifty pounds bring you, eh?”
He chose not to answer that but took another tack. “Before I met Wills, I began another venture, dear to my heart. It pays nothing for my trouble, but it appeals to the best of me.”
“And that is…?”
“I have written two articles to date for theEdinburgh Review.”
The duke stared at him. Then as if the summer sun arrived in the old library, he beamed at Charlie. “That publication is a good one. Progressive. But not inclined to get you a promotion in the Church, Charles.”
“I know. But I am called to it. I see so much that is wrong, that must be changed. The Enclosure acts that rob the poor of their right to the green. Social order that restricts the rights of women. Children who work in rags. God, sir, is not changing this. And I have those in my flock who suffer from lack of food, lack of work, lack of hope. They drink. They carouse. They fight. They fornicate. My words cannot stop them. We must change the fundamentals of society.”
His father sat forward. “And if you fight for these things, you will be drummed out of the Church.”
“I must do it.”
