Page 25 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
“And your bishop kind.”
Charlie stared at the man, anger lining his lip. “I do work, sir, for whatever I gain, from whomever I serve.”
“Two thousand is sad, sir. Sad.”
Willa gasped at the insult. Swinging around, she glared at her father.
Charlie tightened his hold on her one hand.
“Compared to how our girl lives here?” Her father extended his hand to indicate the room. “Pitiful.”
“Papa, you are rude!”
Charlie circled an arm around her waist and held her fast to his side. “I love her, sir. And she…” He examined her features with the tenderness of a suitor. “She cares for me. But has not declared herself. I have worked to make it possible that you would come to me, my dear, and live well. I do love you. Will you marry me, Wills?”
This proposal was so unlike the other two. She wanted this man. Admired this man. For good reasons. He was brave, loyal, patriotic, prudent, honest, tender, loving. Oh, there could be no man to compare. Yes, she did love him.
“She refuses, Compton.” Her father was on his feet. “Refuses.”
Then he strode out and left them both there, staring after him.
Shaking, she turned to Charlie. “Oh, that was hideous of him. I would apologize for him but he has utterly outraged me. And you.” She cupped his cheeks. Sorrow eating at her, she began to shake and could not stop her sobs. “Oh, my darling Charlie.”
He brushed away her tears with his thumbs. “I care only for you, sweet Wills.”
“I shall reprimand him. Unconscionable of him to be so bold. He would not stand for it in me. Why do it himself?”
“Because often we cannot honor our own ethics when we see our world crumbling about us.” He cradled her close and put his lips to her forehead. “I need an answer from you, Wills.”
Torn between her love for him and what little was left of her loyalty to her father, she balked. Dear heavens. She also had the plans of her new alternative future to consider. What a mess she had before her. “I cannot…cannot commit to you now.”
He shuddered and pulled her so near their bodies aligned as they always had before. “Tell me why.”
Too many reasons stood in the way now of marriage. It was as if they had multiplied. “He is so opposed to it. That hurts me. His manner too. How can he be so ignoble, so rude? I always knew he and your father were politically opposed, but I thought that public policy, not private.”
“I must tell you that my father is not opposed to our match. He accepts whatever I want because it is what I want.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “You must know that your father’s logic stands on shaking ground. Our marriage would not change the course of legislation in this country.”
She shook her head, her tears dry upon her cheeks. “Stubborn—childish—of him to think it, I know.”
“And while he will not likely approve of my manner of it, I have worked to improve my standing and my income.”
This she had seen over the past few months as she read theEdinburgh Review.“Your articles appear with more frequency. Members of Parliament quote you.”
“And to my surprise, my bishop approves of the improvements I promote. I’ve written to you of my work for my father to improve crop yields on the estate. He pays me well. And that includes a gift of use of his house in Hanover Square. I am not rich, darling. Will never be. But I can provide well for you. Honorably.”
“And it might be possible for me to marry you if I didn’t think you’d fall ill or suffer an accident—”And if I had not committed myself to this position in Brighton.
He took her by the shoulders and dug his fingers into her flesh. “You will not kill me.”
She gazed at his charming face with sorrow swimming in her heart. How to impress upon him her inability to marry him now. “You cannot be certain. Cannot predict.”
He exhaled in exasperation. “I told you I would find a way to prove to you that you would not kill me. This is that way.” He stepped backwards, his arms lax at his sides. “I will leave you now. I expect to see you at the end of the month at the Courtlands’ house party. There you will see me and have even more proof.”
“I don’t know what that could possibly be.”
“God works in His own ways.”
She considered the pattern on the Turkey rug.
