‘Mayhap he’ll send Percy in his stead while the weather remains clement,’ mused Chastity, ‘though in truth, I would feel a lot less anxious if he wasn’t questioning me about every gentleman who so much as glanced in my direction. And then there’s Stepmother. Did you know she actually gave the Marchioness of Roxburgh one of the pedlar’s tinctures during the ball? You know the one that caused her to come out in that hideous rash? Told her ladyship it was good for skin complaints...’
‘No,’ Grace gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Chastity shook her head.
‘There was no need. I managed to snatch the bottle back from the Marchioness’s reticule before she departed.’ Chastity grimaced, then laughed. ‘Unfortunately, one of the vines in your ballroom has probably either died or trebled in size as I was forced to get rid of the foul stuff before Stepmother could do any further damage with it.’
Grace winced and grimaced. ‘I’ll speak to Father about his return before we go into dinner this evening.’
There was no time for further conversation as the carriage skidded to a halt outside the modiste’s. ‘I will also be having words with my loving husband concerning his choice of coach driver,’ Grace muttered through gritted teeth as she prepared to alight. ‘One would almost suspect he was trying to be rid of me.’
Giggling, Chastity climbed down after her sister, the earlier conversation about Christian Stanhope entirely forgotten.
Chapter Three
‘Well, Percy, it has to be said we can’t put it off for much longer. If we don’t return to Blackmore soon, we’ll likely be facing a den of iniquity. And that’s without taking into account the collection box. We’ll be lucky if it’s got a couple of deuced pebbles in it. Any longer and the congregation’s going to need one of your specials.’ The Reverend paused and narrowed his eyes before adding sagely, ‘Plenty of fire and brimstone to get ‘em all back on the straight and narrow.’
‘So, do you think she’s likely to have given up, Sir?’ Percy asked, unable to entirely quash the anxiety in his voice.
‘It depends on how determined she is to walk you down the aisle,’ Reverend Shackleford retorted. Then he paused before adding, ‘Though I have to say she’s a definite improvement on Gertrude Fotheringale.
‘Sir, she’s nearly six feet tall, Percy defended desperately. ‘She keeps her dead husband’s gold tooth in a tin.’
‘I’m surprised that hasn’t been snaffled,’ the Reverend mused thoughtfully. ‘It must be worth a few shillings.’
‘I don’t know anybody bacon-brained enough to take such a risk,’ Percy retorted.
‘Well, if she hasn’t already sold it, she must have a bit more than sixpence to scratch with,’ chuckled the Reverend. ‘Don’t you want to get leg shackled eventually Percy?’
‘No, I don’t. At all. Not ever.’
Augustus Shackleford couldn’t help feeling secretly relieved that his curate was not in the market for a wife. Though it had to be said, he did seem to attract the most bracket-faced trollops. Which was why the Reverend had not objected to the idea of bringing Percy to join the rest of the family in London to see in the New Year.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t stay away from Blackmore for much longer. ‘You’re just going to have to find a deuced backbone and tell her you’re not interested,’ he stated. ‘I’ll come with you if you like.’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the Reverend would have risked tea and toast with Lucifer himself to have taken them back. But it was too late. The curate looked as though he’d just escaped the noose.
‘Tare an’ hounds, Percy, she’s not likely to hit you over the head, cut you to pieces and put you in the pot for her supper,’ the clergyman muttered irritably.
‘Well, she showed me her husband’s tooth,’ blurted the curate. ‘And nobody knows what happened to him. What if she killed him to get it?’ He shuddered. ‘He could be buried somewhere in the cottage. He might even be in the wardrobe.’
‘Don’t be so deuced melodramatic, Percy. If she’d hidden him in a cupboard, he’d have been smelling decidedly ripe by now. What I’d like to know is how you manage to attract the attention of such peculiar females. I mean you must be doing something to make ‘em think you’re open to curtain lectures.’
Percy started to shake his head, then paused. ‘There was one incident,’ he frowned. ‘Lizzy was sta…’
‘Who’sLizzy?’ the Reverend interrupted.
‘That’s her name, Sir. Lizzy Fletcher,’ Percy explained. ‘As I was say…’
‘So you’re on first-name terms with this deuced woman?’
‘Well…I…she…I mean…’
‘Spit it out, Percy. Either you are or you’re not.’ Reverend Shackleford paused and stared at his curate aghast. ‘Tell me she doesn’t call youPercy.’
The curate stared back in dawning horror.
‘Are you completely addled, Percy Noon?’ Augustus Shackleford fumed. ‘I’ve neglected my flock … nay,abandonedmy flock, to bring you all the way to London, andnowyou tell me you’re on first name terms with this…this…Lizzy. That’s indistinguishable from a deuced proposal.’
‘Well, I hardly think you’ve actually abandoned them, Sir,’ Percy countereddefensively. ‘The villagers look forward to a bit of a respite every now and then.’
Reverend Shackleford opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, entirely certain he’d end up saying something he’d regret. In truth, if Percy had been a bit closer, the curate might have found himself on the receiving end of more than a sharp tongue. And it wasn’t often the Reverend was tempted to violence.
