Off to the side of the altar, a door opened and Josephine Merrick came in, carrying two large vases of flowers. He was hidden in the shadows in the back and didn’t want to startle her.
“Hello, Mrs. Merrick,” he said, announcing himself but startling her anyway.
“Ah!” she shrieked.
The flowers swayed, and he raced up the aisle to assist her before she dropped them.
“Let me help you with those.”
“Lt. Price, it’s you. You scared me.”
He reached for the vases and put them on the floor, as she laughed and patted a hand over her heart.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I was attempting to make my presence known, but I botched it.”
“No need to apologize. I never expect anyone to be in here, but there often is, and when I find I’m not alone, I always jump like a frightened rabbit.” She leaned nearer and whispered, “I’m afraid of the dark.”
“I won’t tell.”
With her being so close, there was a pleasant intimacy surrounding them that he enjoyed. He felt as if they were old friends reunited after a lengthy separation.
She, too, perceived a connection. Her gaze narrowed as if they might have met previously and she couldn’t recollect where or when. She moved away, grabbed the vases, and took them to a table in the vestibule.
He balanced his hips on the rail, watching until she returned. She sat in the front pew and peered up at him.
“Were you praying?” she asked. “Have I interrupted you?”
“I don’t ever pray.”
“Really? How sad. What sustains you in times of despair?”
“I don’t despair,” he blithely said, “so I’m never melancholy.”
“How lucky for you.”
“Yes, I have been lucky.”
Not in his younger years, but definitely in his more recent ones. After all, how frequently did your only sibling inherit an earldom?
“If you’re not overly religious,” she ventured, “I don’t imagine you’ll get on with Oscar.”
“He’s a tad . . . pious for my tastes.”
“He’s very devout.”
“My brother and I aren’t.”
“I’ve heard that Captain Price—I mean, Lord Stafford—is a bit of a heathen.”
He snorted. “You’re too polite.”
“I’ve been wondering how he and Oscar will fare.”
“Badly, I can guarantee. Let’s make a secret pact to keep them apart.”
“That’s a good idea,” she concurred. “I’ll shall keep Oscar silent and at home.”
“And I shall keep Nicholas busy at the manor and far away from the vicarage.”
They grinned a conspiratorial grin, and he was struck again by the impression of fond acquaintance.
There was an unusual attraction between them, and it would be hard to ignore it. He’d quickly grow bored at Stafford and would crave female companionship. He was curious as to how she’d view a dalliance.
She was a widow. Was she missing her husband? Was she a teeming cauldron of unbridled passion that was begging to be assuaged? Or was she chaste as a nun? She was a prim, proper lady, and he’d had scant experience with her type. How did a man suggest an affair to someone like her without having his face slapped?
It was probably impossible. The rules were different in a rural village than they were at an army camp. At Stafford, if he so much as danced with her twice at a neighborhood party, a marriage proposal would be due shortly after.
Rudely, he inquired, “What happened with your husband’s family after he died? How is it that you ended up living with your brother?”
“Why Lt. Price, shame on you for posing such indelicate questions.”
She didn’t look offended. She was still smiling, which he took as permission to continue.
“Would you rather I gossiped about you behind your back? Should I learn of it from the servants?”
“I’m sure you’d hear plenty.”
“If I want to know something, I ask.”
“How refreshingly annoying.” She declared, “It’s a very sordid tale.”
“Will I be shocked?”
“Yes. Your manly self might not be able to bear it.”
“Try me. Let’s see how I hold up.”
They both chuckled.
“I was married for seven years, but I never had any children.” Her courage flagged, and she glanced away. “I oughtn’t to be embarrassed, but I guess I am. It’s still difficult to talk about it.”
“You can tell me,” he coaxed. “I have my own squalid past, so I’m not in a position to judge.”
“He’d filed for divorce, claiming I was barren.”
“What a disloyal ass.”
“I certainly thought so, and of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that his cousin had just come of age and she was very rich.”
“Oh, of course not,” he sarcastically agreed. “I’m liking him less and less by the minute.”
“He had the grace to perish before the divorce was finalized.”
“Thank heaven.”
“After he passed away, I hadn’t the funds to stay in London. He wasn’t wealthy, and what little there was to inherit, his mother seized.” She sighed. “I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
“It must have been hard for you to move in with your brother.”
“Very hard,” she admitted. “He’s always blamed me for the debacle. The ‘sins of Eve’ and all that. He says if I’d been a dutiful wife, God would have blessed me with many babies. It’s a constant harangue.”
The words rushed out of her as if it was a confession she’d been yearning to make. Her shoulders drooped, and she appeared smaller, as if she’d been deflated by it.
“My dearest Josephine,” he murmured, improperly using her Christian name, “I’m so very sorry.”
Tears flooded her eyes, and he dawdled like an idiot, knowing he should comment, but perplexed as to what his remark should be. He couldn’t stand to see a woman abused. Should he offer to pound her brother into the ground? To whip him? To have him fired? And then what?
Stephen wasn’t inclined to support her financially, and he wasn’t about to marry her himself, so he was worthless as a defender. Oscar Blair was her elderly male family member, and he had full authority over her. He could beat her or lock her in a closet or starve her, and Stephen couldn’t intervene.
“I can’t believe I told you so much about myself,” she said.
“I’m glad
