Chapter Nine

July 30, 1817

"T he post is here, Mr. Alderman."

Thomas glanced up from contemplating the first lines of the sermon he had been writing and nodded at the housekeeper as she brought in a few envelopes to the study. "Thank you."

"Miss Hasting has taken the girls to a neighboring farm to visit with the children there, and while they are busy, I believe she has plans to visit with her family."

He nodded. "I appreciate the update, for I had wondered why the house was so quiet." And the very mention of Genevieve had awareness prickling over his skin. In fact, the reason why his sermon writing was going slowly was because he could think of nothing other than her and what they'd done together two days ago.

"You shouldn't bury yourself in your study so much, Vicar. There is more to living than writing sermons and worrying over your parishioners."

"So I am beginning to realize." He waved her off. "I do have work to attend all the same, but I promise to surface for tea."

"Ring if you should need anything." Then she left him to his thoughts.

Which were more confusing than ever. Though he'd asked God to forgive him the trespass with his nieces' governess, that hadn't evicted her from his mind. All he could see was her gorgeous legs on display, remembered the warmth and feel of her breasts against his palms and fingertips, how her lips had cradled his, how she'd tasted when he'd pleasured her with his mouth as if he'd been depraved.

What the hell is wrong with me?

With nothing else to do, Thomas broke the seal on the first letter, which was from Vicar Addington, the man who held the living before him. He'd stayed on for a month in order to teach Thomas how the church worked in the small area, he'd introduced him to some of the more prominent residents—including Genevieve's parents—and he'd given more than a few lectures on how to maintain order within his flock. Afterward, he had moved to a comfortable cottage somewhere in Surrey to live out his retirement.

Now he'd written to Thomas.

Knots of worry pulled in his gut as he unfolded the missive, and they continued to tighten as he read through the letter.

…there is gossip in the air stating your marital status is becoming disruptive and proving a distraction. Perhaps it's time for you to take a bride. In doing so you will become a better leader of the church. It's best to nip this current problem in the bud. Women should not attend the church merely to lust after a handsome vicar…

Was the man truly holding his looks against him? He couldn't help that he was more attractive than the average man. Did the former vicar believe that only ugly men should hold the position? With a huff of annoyance, Thomas continued to read the letter.

…if this matter is not attended to with the utmost urgency, I'm afraid I shall make certain you are removed from the living. I shall have someone else installed there who can uphold the position and maintain the image the lost sheep need…

Why was it that something bad always canceled out the good? Fate or God's plan? It was too difficult to know, especially from a lowly human standpoint.

…either find yourself engaged within the next month, Thomas, or expect a visit from someone much higher up in the Church than I am. We simply cannot have you creating a sensation when you are supposed to be leading a congregation away from sin…

Bah. There were simply no good paths to trod at the moment.

Once more, Mrs. Traverse came to the open door of his study. "There is a Lord Grantford here to see you, Mr. Alderman."

"What?" In some agitation, he folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. "Alex is here? In Bedfordshire?" He hadn't seen the viscount in what seemed like an age. Certainly not since Thomas had left London.

"So it would seem. I have put him into the parlor," the housekeeper said with amusement threading through her voice.

"Ah, show him in here, and then bring tea. It's much less formal here, and he is my best friend, after all." Apprehension circled through his gut as he slowly rose to his feet. Why the devil was he here?

"Of course, Mr. Alderman."

Seconds later following the housekeeper's departure, the viscount came into the study looking for all the world as if he were ready to drive a curricle along Rotten Row. A jacket of bottle-green superfine highlighted his broad chest and shoulders, and paired with a golden satin waistcoat and tan- colored breeches along with shiny Hessian-style boots, he was every inch a peer of the beau monde .

"Alex! It's been far too long." Thomas came around his desk with a hand extended. "What brings you by my tiny slice of the world?"

"I thought to check in on you since correspondence hasn't been forthcoming."

The viscount shook the offered hand, then they both moved to the side of the room and dropped onto a low sofa of soft leather he'd gained second hand. It was comfortable enough to sleep on, which he'd discovered the past couple of nights, for being across a narrow corridor from where Genevieve slept was too great a temptation.

"So, you sought me out." Thomas frowned, for that sounded far too suspicious. "Or did someone send you?"

"I'm here of my own volition." Grantford removed his top hat and tossed it to the low table in front of the sofa. "I have truly missed prowling about Town with you." His golden hair glimmered in the sunlight streaming in through a window. It highlighted his nearly perfect teeth and the set of his angular jaw.

The summer breeze coming into the room was fragrant with flowers. "Well, if it's any consolation, my life is considerably duller now that I'm a vicar."

"I'll wager it is," the viscount said with a chuckle.

When the housekeeper returned with a tea tray, which she set on the table, Thomas nodded his thanks and then immediately poured out two cups, one he handed to his friend.

"Why did you do it, Thomas? Why the devil would you ever want to become a vicar and give up the life you used to have?" There was nothing but honesty in his friend's face and voice.

"I received a call from God to minister to his flock."

Grantford snorted. "Or was it because you'd landed in far too many scandals and needed somewhere to hide?"

"At the time, my parents were annoyed with the sensations I'd caused." Thomas's lips twitched from amusement. "However, I am dead serious about this position. I truly enjoy being a vicar and watching over my congregation. Well, that is to say, most days."

One of the viscount's eyebrows rose in question. "Meaning?"

Knowing he could trust his friend with his life—and they had more than enough secrets on each other to provoke discretion—Thomas blew out a breath. "There are the usual temptations, of course. Temptations I am unable to act upon."

After taking a deep drink of tea, the viscount nodded. "I can understand that. You were quite a favorite of the ladies in London. A man like you couldn't merely leave that life behind without some sort of withdrawal symptoms."

"Perhaps not, and eventually willpower crumbles."

"Oh? Have you met someone?" Surprise threaded through Alex's tone.

"I don't know." Fearful of being overheard, Thomas left the sofa, crossed the room, and softly closed the door. As he returned to his seat, he glanced at the open window to be sure no one lurked outside. Still, he lowered his voice. "It all began when I hired a governess for my nieces."

"Ah." A slow grin skated across the viscount's face. "I thought you had a different look about you, as if you are… happy, like the man I used to know when we'd knocked about Town together in the old days."

Heat went up the back of Thomas's neck. "I don't know if I'm happy. In fact, I have done something highly improper." In a low tone and succinct words, he told Alex what had transpired between him and Genevieve a couple of nights ago. "Though it wasn't full on intercourse, and I never penetrated her body with my shaft, she has been ruined all the same." He shook his head then drained his teacup. "It was improper on more than a few levels."

A chuckle left the viscount's throat. His eyes twinkled with mischief. "But do you feel alive?"

"I do, in more ways than I expected." It was an admission he would die to protect.

Grantford shrugged. "Then where is the harm? You entered into a bit of slap and tickle with a willing," he threw a glance at Thomas, "I assume she was willing?"

"Oh, yes. Very much so, and she was the one who instigated the whole thing."

"Then I don't see why you should be wracked by guilt."

"Of course you don't." As a bit of annoyance coursed through his veins, Thomas set his teacup onto the table. "Miss Hasting is my nieces' governess. I'm a man of God. There should be standards, propriety—"

"Gammon." His friend leaned back and rested an ankle on a knee. "Miss Hasting is a woman and you're a man." With a wink, he took another gulp of tea. "You never took a vow of chastity when you became a vicar. If you are discreet, where is the harm?"

He snorted. "I am not that man any longer, though. In fact, I am trying to be a better man." And he was failing miserably at it.

"I understand that." When the viscount glanced at the window, he frowned. "Where is Miss Hasting at the moment?"

"She apparently escorted the girls to a neighboring farmer so they could play with other children then she had planned to visit with her own parents." He blew out a breath. "We haven't spoken candidly or at length since that night. I… I think she's in a snit with me."

"Can you blame her?" Grantford chuckled again. "You did the worst thing imaginable. Not finishing her off and then spouting off religious nonsense which may or may not have indicated she was somehow less than savory?" A low whistle escaped him. "You are fortunate a snit is all you've gotten from her."

"But not coupling her was the lesser of the two evils." He couldn't help it if Genevieve had wished for more. "She's an innocent, man. I didn't want to corrupt her."

"It sounds as if she's the one leading you on a merry chase. You should have done the deed." Mischief remained high as he looked at Thomas "Do you still wish to?"

For the space of a few heartbeats, he remained silent. Then he finally nodded. "God, yes. I cannot remove her from my thoughts."

"Then perhaps after you bed her, all of that will go away. The urges will leave your system and you can resume your dull, placid life."

"Yet she is… irresistible." It was a hopeless cause, really. Rubbing a hand along the side of his face, he frowned. "There is just something about her…" It was an impossible match between them, at best. Truly, they had no future together beyond perhaps heat.

"You are heading into dangerous territory, my friend." An intense expression came over Grantford's face. "Do you want to marry her? If you do, then you can bed her without the guilt."

There was that, and it was the easiest solution. Yet he shrugged. "I am not in love with her, and neither does she have those feelings for me."

"That doesn't matter, and you know it. We come from a world where many unions are based in mutual regard and respect instead of love."

"Right, but it matters to me. I want to love the woman I would speak vows to." Everything was a mess, and it needed to stop with him. Perhaps spending more time in prayer would help… or telling Genevieve her governess services weren't wanted any longer. Which would damage his relationship with his nieces. Then he cleared his throat. "Even if I did wish to marry her, she doesn't want a poor man. Genevieve hopes to marry well to be a lady of leisure, and I need a proper woman who can help lead my flock."

One of the viscount's eyebrows rose. "You use her Christian name?"

Another wave of heat went up the back of his neck. "After what we've already shared, that is hardly scandalous."

"True." He gazed at Thomas with speculation in his eyes. "Continue."

Thomas nodded. "While she is a delight and she challenges me at every turn as well as inflames my desire, she isn't who I need by my side." Her behavior, her forward-thinking attitude, her previous scandals would all but destroy his living and perhaps his future.

"Then enjoy her now in whatever capacity you see fit. Afterward, settle down with a woman more suited to your lifestyle and calling. There is no harm in getting your jollies off before you marry elsewhere."

The words had need shivering down his shift, forcing him to shift in his seat. Having a fling with Gigi without remorse yet not destroying his future. Could it even be done? "Perhaps. But it's against the Bible's teaching." There was no denying that, and didn't that book contain the rules he should live by?

And if that were true, then there was no recourse except to begin courting someone that wasn't her, which would eventually lead to removing Geneieve from her position. The thought of that sent sour bile up the back of his throat.

Grantford cleared his throat, recalling Thomas's attention. "Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you believe no one in the Bible ever had sexual relations beyond or outside the bounds of marriage?"

"Well, I…"

"Or that men married and then still took mistresses?" the viscount continued as if Thomas hadn't spoken.

"Of course it's possible, but…"

"Such things have been the same throughout the centuries since time began." He grinned. "God will not strike you down for the mere fact that being with this woman brings you pleasure, or heaven forbid, happiness. Everyone knows you deserve at least that after the past couple of years you've endured."

"Are grief, frustration, and compassion grounds to bed the governess, though?" When he met his friend's gaze, they both chuckled. "I suppose I've done the same for less." He rubbed his eyes. "I have been put on notice by the old vicar. He says if I don't marry someone suitable, he will petition the powers-that-be and have me removed from this post." Did it annoy him that someone else was poking around in his private affairs? Of course, but what could he do?

"Ah, then you are well and truly cocked." His friend straightened and put both feet flat on the floor. "I'm afraid you'll have to make a decision."

"Where I'll come out the loser all the way 'round." Never did he think he'd be facing such things when he'd taken this living. "I always knew I'd marry, just didn't assume it would be so soon or because of my looks."

"And the fact you cannot keep your hands off the governess," Grantford was quick to add with a cheeky grin.

"There is that." He couldn't help but grin. "Perhaps you might enjoy a glass of brandy to complement your tea? I certainly do."

"Here, here," Grantford said as he lifted his teacup in salute. "In the meantime, you can tell me about the marriage options within your flock, and if any compare with the scandalous Miss Hasting."

Thomas remained silent on that, for there simply was no one like her. If there were, he hadn't met them yet.