Chapter One
âMr Winterley is very handsome, isnât he?â Mary Carlinge said with a wistful sigh.
âIf you ask me, heâd be more at home in London and the haut ton must be flocking back there for the Little Season by now,â Rowena replied warily.
âDonât try and change the subject, Rowena Westhope. Youâre four and twenty and in full possession of your senses, so how can you not be intrigued by a young, rich and well-looking gentleman like that one? I donât know how Callie Laughraine managed to drag to him to church again this morning, but Iâm grateful to her even if youâre not.â
Rowena eyed the tall, dark and, yes, very handsome gentleman and felt a shiver of something she didnât want to think about run down her spine. âHeâll certainly need to be rich, as heâs bought the old Saltash place and itâs almost a ruin. I suppose he is good looking, but heâs far too vain and haughty for me to admire him because he was born that way.â
âEither youâre a saint and belong in a nunnery, or youâre a liar, my friend,â Mary murmured as Mr Winterley glanced in their direction, then let his gaze flit past as if they werenât worthy of it.
âAnd youâre a wife and mother, Mary Carlinge, and should know better.â
âI may have wed Carlinge when I was hardly out of the schoolroom,â Mary said blithely, sparing her husband of six years a fond but dismissive glance, âbut your Mr Winterley is still worth a second look, then a third and fourth for good measure.â
âHe isnât mine and he knows heâs attractive and well-bred and a fine prize on the marriage mart a little too well for my taste,â Rowena replied as coolly as she could when the wretched manâs unusual green eyes flicked back to eye her speculatively.
She had thought herself all but invisible in the shadow of an ancient yew tree, until Mary tracked her down and insisted on asking impossible questions. Now he was watching them as if Rowena might put a toad down his back if he didnât keep an eye on her. A decade and a half ago she certainly would have, but it was unthinkable for a sober widow to do anything of the kind.
âNow I like a man who knows his own worth. Iâd wager my best bonnet that one is a fine and considerate lover as well,â Mary insisted on telling her, although Rowena didnât want to know her friendâs innermost secrets. âWhen I finally manage to give Carlinge another son I do hope Iâm still young and attractive enough to find out for myself, as long as some discerning female hasnât snapped him up in the meantime.â
âOh, Mary, no; thatâs an awful thing to say. We were only confessing our sins before God a matter of minutes ago. You canât possibly mean it.â
âShush,â Mary Carlinge replied and took a look round to make sure nobody was close enough to hear the vicarâs eldest daughter being shocked by things she really shouldnât admit out loud. âItâs as well you lurk in dark corners nowadays and do your best not to be taken notice of. Is that a habit you learnt at your mama-in-lawâs knee, by the way? If so, itâs a good thing sheâs taken it into her head to go and live with her sister and abandon you to your fate, because you would have stayed with her otherwise and become a boring little widow who breeds small dogs and keeps weavers of iron grey worsted in luxuries.â