Page 24 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
“I call upon a friend,” Charlie said after he gained the settee. “I had met Lady Willa at Viscount and Viscountess Courtland’s home in May and thought I would present myself.”
“Courtesy, is it?” the earl pressed. A shrewd light dawned in her father’s eyes which put her on guard. Had he known Charlie Compton was the Courtlands’ vicar? Since when? And if he had, he didn’t like it. Furthermore, she suspected that he planned some move. What was it?
She shivered.
Charlie acknowledged him with a nod. “Indeed, sir.”
“Reverend Compton and I struck up a friendship while I was at the May Day Frolic and he is most kind to come to see me.” She was in a rush to declare their relationship. But in the telling, could she possibly have been more bland? Why not just stand up and shout that he was here to hold her hand and embrace her and kiss her?
“I see. Well. Do tell me how you find your work with your parishioners. Fulfilling?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any problems?”
“With what, sir?” Charlie blinked as if he played the vicar who is much too superficial and slightly dim.
Wills threw him a frown.
He cocked a brow at her.
Her Papa pulled at the points of his waistcoat and said, “Dunno. Got any n’er do wells or drunks? Women with no morals? That sort.”
“No parish is without those who need a clergyman’s guidance.”
“And you offer it.”
“I do.”
“Like it better than soldiering?”
Dear heavens. Papa also knew Charlie had been in the army. Why should she be surprised? The upper hundred knew far too much about each other. They should be improving the lot of their tenants and their employees rather than learning gossip.
“Soldiering,” Charlie said with a certain sourness, “has its own challenges. Men fearful, bleeding, dying, mad with…” He cleared his throat. Anger ripe upon his cheeks, he said, “Sir, the friend I came to call upon is Lady Willa.”
“I thought as much.” The earl had a smile of pride that quickly faded.
“I’m here to ask you to bless my proposal for her hand in marriage.”
Wills was on her feet.
Charlie was on his. Taking her hand.
And she was tempted, so tempted to throw herself into his arms and kiss his marvelous lips. “Oh, Charlie.”
“Has he asked you, Willa?” Her papa still held his place in his chair.
“No, sir.” She adored Charlie’s darling green eyes.
“What can you give her, Compton?”
Charlie smiled at her with a fervor she yearned to keep forever on his handsome face. “From my father, two thousand a year to live on and use of his house in Hanover Square. Later, perhaps, if I want the appointment, the bishop tells me he has marked me for elevation.”
Willa stared at him. Her Charles Compton was a man to admire. To cherish. He had more than status from his father, he had built his own reputation in the army, as his father’s temporary steward and now in the Church, too. He had improved himself. By his own hand. He was a man to love.
Her father huffed. “Your Papa is generous.”
“I have earned it, sir.”
