Persephone smiled serenely back at him, returning to her duties as hostess, and placed a small slice of lemon cake on a plate for Mr. Pointer. Something in her demeanor seemed different from what he’d seen lately, but Adam couldn’t identify it.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace,” Mr. Pointer offered conversationally.
“I doubt that.”
Mr. Pointer smiled as if he were quite thoroughly amused. Mrs. Pointer appeared on the verge of fainting. Her teacup had begun to rattle. Adam hoped she put the blasted thing down before it went crashing to the floor below.
“What, precisely, is the reason for your presence here?” Adam stood over the visitors, his mouth set in a very serious, interrogative line.
“A social call, of course,” Mr. Pointer said.
“Of course?” Adam repeated, making his doubt obvious in his tone. “And why ‘of course,’ Mr. Pointer? When, in the fifteen years you have served as vicar here, has Falstone Castle received visitors?”
“Not once, Your Grace.” This conversation seemed to be entertaining to the vicar.
“And what, sir, led you to believe that had changed?”
“Wishful thinking?” Mr. Pointer hazarded the guess with barely masked amusement.
“There will be no callers at Falstone Castle.” Adam’s tension at the idea of hordes of gaping guests at Falstone affected his tone. “Not today. Not in the future.”
“Falstone is not receiving, Your Grace?” Mr. Pointer asked, as casually as if he were inquiring after the weather. “Oryouare not receiving?”
“It is the same.”
“Forgive me, but it is not.” Mr. Pointer rose, placing his cup and saucer on an end table nearby. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace.”
Mr. Pointer no longer addressed Adam. The vicar crossed past him to Persephone. Adam followed the man’s progress with his eyes.
He hadn’t been able to identify what had been different in Persephone’s face earlier, but seeing her now, he knew. He knew because it was no longer there. She had been brighter, more alive and less haunted. Now the aura of sadness that had seemed to envelope her lately had returned.
“Do come ag—” Persephone stopped mid-word, her eyes darting anxiously at Adam then back at the vicar. “Thank you for—” She stopped again. With a look of disappointment, she finally settled on, “I will see you on Sunday.”
Mr. Pointer gave her a look filled with empathetic concern. “Smile, child.”
Persephone did. A smile shouldn’t lookunhappy.
“Wait,” Adam grumbled, annoyed with himself for his uncharacteristic ability to be influenced. “You might as well stay and finish your tea.” He knew he didn’t sound welcoming but didn’t remotely care. He could do without the dramatic exit Mr. Pointer obviously meant to enact. And, blast it all, Persephone looked near tears, and she hadn’t cried in days. “Cook will be offended if the tray is sent back untouched.”
He expected Mr. Pointer to smirk. He was enough like Harry to do just that. The vicar looked intrigued, perhaps even a little surprised, but didn’t smirk. As if the man hadn’t known precisely what he was about leaving in such an overblown manner. Mrs. Pointer hovered half-in, half-out of her seat, rear end jutting awkwardly over the deep red upholstered sofa.
“Perhaps you would like to try some of these fine cakes.” Mr. Pointer moved quite casually back to the seat he’d vacated beside his wife. “Or a cup of tea.”
“A dram of brandy might be more helpful,” Adam muttered.
“Do sit, dear,” Mr. Pointer said to his wife, as if Adam had made no comment. “And do try the lemon cake. Delicious.”
Persephone didn’t miss a beat, offering a plate with a slice of the praised cake to the vicar’s wife with a polite smile.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Pointer’s voice shook. Adam almost wished she’d produce one of her twittering laughs. People who quaked in his presence quickly lost their appeal.
Persephone moved to his side. “Are you sure you wouldn’t care for some tea?”
Adam shook his head. The sooner this visit came to an end, the better. He still couldn’t believe he’d allowed it. He never permitted visitors.
“I didn’t know, Adam,” Persephone said, just louder than a whisper, her eyes darting quickly to the Pointers before returning to him. “If you’d rather they leave—”
“Let them finish their tea.” He shook his head slightly at his continued illogical behavior. She’d given him the perfect opportunity to throw the Pointers out as he’d originally intended.
