upon him.
Neil yielded to the desire to glance at Miss Bishop himself,
and caught her staring at their group. The look of yearning in her huge blue
eyes was unmistakable, and Neil suddenly realized she had been proscribed the
company of the notorious Coltons. The irony nearly made him let loose a shout
of laughter.
He recalled the cool civility of the Mr. Bishop’s greeting
to him after services, and his reluctance to present his daughter to Neil
several weeks before. The sanctimonious tyrant.
Undoubtedly he had worsened matters a fortnight ago when he
pressed Miss Bishop to call upon Trevor. He imagined the forbidden but
innocent pleasure of her rides in the forest with her friend, plotting to
become acquainted with Trevor. But then he frowned as he recalled her midnight
assault on The Castle.
He shrugged inwardly. She deserved as much chance as the
squire’s daughter to try to attach a title and fortune for herself. He must
think of some way around the narrow-minded reverend.
*
Libbetty’s eyes hurt from the effort not to look at the
Coltons. She longed to be in the laughing cluster around them, but she was
chained to her mother. Mrs. Bishop spoke to various parishioners and waited
for Papa to complete his obligations.
Lord Cauldreigh detached himself from his party and walked
up to her. “Miss Bishop, you have not called upon me in my invalid state. I
have missed you.”
She glanced at her mother, who quickly said, “A vicar’s
daughter has many duties, my lord.”
Libbetty presented her mother and the others who stood with
them to Lord Cauldreigh. “Mrs. Baker is one of your tenants, and Mrs. Slidell
lives in the village.” Privately, she wondered at her mother’s prevarication,
for if she had not exactly lied to him, she hadn’t told him the full truth
either.
Lord Cauldreigh turned his charm on Mrs. Bishop. “Now that
I have recuperated, perhaps I might call at the vicarage.”
Libbetty’s mother averted her gaze and her complexion
pinkened as she murmured, “All our parishioners are always welcome to call at
the vicarage.”
The marquess’s mouth dropped open.
Mrs. Bishop said to Libbetty, “Come, let us go home. We
have much to do this afternoon.” She called to the younger children, who were
playing nearby, and herded them all back to the vicarage.
Libbetty swiveled her head to look at Lord Cauldreigh, who
had an unmistakable expression of hurt and dawning anger. She followed her
mother in silence until the door was shut behind them. Unable to rein in her
emotions, she burst out, “How could you say such things? You lied to him!”
“Children, go up to the nursery. I will join you shortly.”
Floss and Mrs. Berkfield had Sunday afternoons off, and the
younger children customarily spent the time in the drawing room with the
family, engaged in quiet pursuits. They protested this unfair banishment, but
Mrs. Bishop’s stern expression offered no relief of their sentence.
The nursery door slammed behind the children, and Mrs.
Bishop said, “Come into your father’s study, where we may be private.”
Once they had seated themselves there, she said, “In the
first place, your father would have something to say about your impertinence to
me. It shows a want of respect that he would find disturbing. However, I
shall ignore it this once, because I believe you are owed an explanation. I
did not lie, merely avoided saying an unpleasant truth. I could not give
offense.” She plucked at the fringe of her shawl, averting her eyes from
Libbetty, a pink tinge in her cheeks.
“But you did give offense. You did not see Lord
Cauldreigh’s expression, as I did.”
“That is unfortunate, but since he forced his attentions
upon us, it could not be helped. Your father has a great dislike for those
aristocrats who instead of using their wealth and power to help those less
fortunate, use it to lead them to their ruin.”
“I do not understand.”
Mama flushed, her fingers moving faster upon the
Neil yielded to the desire to glance at Miss Bishop himself,
and caught her staring at their group. The look of yearning in her huge blue
eyes was unmistakable, and Neil suddenly realized she had been proscribed the
company of the notorious Coltons. The irony nearly made him let loose a shout
of laughter.
He recalled the cool civility of the Mr. Bishop’s greeting
to him after services, and his reluctance to present his daughter to Neil
several weeks before. The sanctimonious tyrant.
Undoubtedly he had worsened matters a fortnight ago when he
pressed Miss Bishop to call upon Trevor. He imagined the forbidden but
innocent pleasure of her rides in the forest with her friend, plotting to
become acquainted with Trevor. But then he frowned as he recalled her midnight
assault on The Castle.
He shrugged inwardly. She deserved as much chance as the
squire’s daughter to try to attach a title and fortune for herself. He must
think of some way around the narrow-minded reverend.
*
Libbetty’s eyes hurt from the effort not to look at the
Coltons. She longed to be in the laughing cluster around them, but she was
chained to her mother. Mrs. Bishop spoke to various parishioners and waited
for Papa to complete his obligations.
Lord Cauldreigh detached himself from his party and walked
up to her. “Miss Bishop, you have not called upon me in my invalid state. I
have missed you.”
She glanced at her mother, who quickly said, “A vicar’s
daughter has many duties, my lord.”
Libbetty presented her mother and the others who stood with
them to Lord Cauldreigh. “Mrs. Baker is one of your tenants, and Mrs. Slidell
lives in the village.” Privately, she wondered at her mother’s prevarication,
for if she had not exactly lied to him, she hadn’t told him the full truth
either.
Lord Cauldreigh turned his charm on Mrs. Bishop. “Now that
I have recuperated, perhaps I might call at the vicarage.”
Libbetty’s mother averted her gaze and her complexion
pinkened as she murmured, “All our parishioners are always welcome to call at
the vicarage.”
The marquess’s mouth dropped open.
Mrs. Bishop said to Libbetty, “Come, let us go home. We
have much to do this afternoon.” She called to the younger children, who were
playing nearby, and herded them all back to the vicarage.
Libbetty swiveled her head to look at Lord Cauldreigh, who
had an unmistakable expression of hurt and dawning anger. She followed her
mother in silence until the door was shut behind them. Unable to rein in her
emotions, she burst out, “How could you say such things? You lied to him!”
“Children, go up to the nursery. I will join you shortly.”
Floss and Mrs. Berkfield had Sunday afternoons off, and the
younger children customarily spent the time in the drawing room with the
family, engaged in quiet pursuits. They protested this unfair banishment, but
Mrs. Bishop’s stern expression offered no relief of their sentence.
The nursery door slammed behind the children, and Mrs.
Bishop said, “Come into your father’s study, where we may be private.”
Once they had seated themselves there, she said, “In the
first place, your father would have something to say about your impertinence to
me. It shows a want of respect that he would find disturbing. However, I
shall ignore it this once, because I believe you are owed an explanation. I
did not lie, merely avoided saying an unpleasant truth. I could not give
offense.” She plucked at the fringe of her shawl, averting her eyes from
Libbetty, a pink tinge in her cheeks.
“But you did give offense. You did not see Lord
Cauldreigh’s expression, as I did.”
“That is unfortunate, but since he forced his attentions
upon us, it could not be helped. Your father has a great dislike for those
aristocrats who instead of using their wealth and power to help those less
fortunate, use it to lead them to their ruin.”
“I do not understand.”
Mama flushed, her fingers moving faster upon the
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