a shy smile softening her features. “A farm.”
Comprehension dawned. “Th-that’s wonderful. It’s what Jonah has wanted to do, isn’t it?” Even as joy filled him, he realized the gap her news left in him. Somehow he never thought his sister would move out and have a home of her own.
Her gray eyes met his immediately, relief flooding them. “Yes. You know he used to farm. To own his own farm, why, it’s something he never dreamed was possible for a mere laborer.”
“Where is the farm?”
“Oh, not so far from here. A few miles down on the Uxbridge Road. You know this place will be developed over the next few years, so we wanted something farther west where it’s still country. Jonah was talking with Mr. Merriton the other week. He told him of a farm available.” His sister hurried on, as if she were nervous.
“It sounds just the thing.”
Her eyes remained on him.
“What is it, Flo?”
“It’s for…sale.”
He quirked an eyebrow upward. “And?”
“We had thought of leasing something.” She swallowed. “But this one is for…sale.” Again, she said the word as if it were difficult to articulate. “We went out to see it yesterday. Oh, Damien, it’s perfect. Just the right size to farm without too much extra help. It’s near enough to London to supply the markets. Jonah looked at the fields. He says the soil is fertile and well drained. There’s a barn on the land and a good well….”
“So, what is the hitch?”
“It would require some capital.”
He ran his fingers over the teeth on a cog lying on the worktable. “I see no problem with that. We have Father’s money. Is it more than that?”
“Oh, no! But that money is for both of us. I couldn’t take it.”
“Is that your only concern?” He sat back, feeling a surge of relief. “That money is for us to use, however we choose to use it. It was from the sale of Father’s business, and he and Mother would have wished for you and your future husband to have a home of your own.”
“It must be divided equally between you and me.”
“Florence, I don’t need capital. I have this living. I’m provided with a house that’s bigger than anything I need. Why shouldn’t you have that money? If we didn’t have it, I’d insist you share my house.”
She swallowed, visibly moved. “I know you would. And I hope we can continue living a little longer under your roof, until the farmhouse is ready for us…that is, if we—” She stopped in confusion.
Once again, he squeezed her hands. “Of course you may stay with me as long as you wish. And you needn’t say anything more about the purchase of this farm. I would love to have a look at it, of course. But otherwise, let’s talk to Mr. Samuels at the bank, shall we?”
She seemed ready to argue some more, but he shook his head. Finally, she said, “I don’t want to deprive you of what is rightfully yours.”
“You won’t be depriving me of anything. You see how this parish is destined to grow. Soon, I’ll be a wealthy old vicar with more income than I know what to do with—except, of course, I know very well what to do with it.”
“Yes, if I know you, it will all go to charity.” She smiled indulgently at him.
“As anything extra you have does,” he retorted.
They both laughed. As they quieted, he strove to reassure her once more. “I don’t lack anything here, and since I’ll never marry, my needs are few. You, on the other hand, might still have children.” He smiled fondly, liking the thought of nieces and nephews. For so long, it seemed the two of them would remain single and childless.
She turned a deeper shade of pink. “I never thought I would. If the good Lord would grant us offspring, I’d count myself a blessed woman indeed.” She sobered. “It would help make up for Jonah’s loss.”
He nodded, thinking of his future brother-in-law’s loss of wife and two young offspring before they had met him. Homeless and hungry they’d perished in the harsh winter after Jonah had been locked up in Newgate, victims of the enclosure laws, which were displacing farm laborers and bringing them to the cities with few skills. The Lord had, indeed, given Jonah a new chance.
His sister rose. “Well, we shan’t decide anything until we’ve spoken to the banker. You never know. Don’t say you’ll never marry. I know the Lord has someone out there for you, too—a good, worthy girl who would make a fine wife, someone who would be your right hand in your ministerial duties and have the same heart for God.”
He gave a wan smile, looking away from Florence, trying to appear as if the sentiment meant little to him…even as a picture of Miss Phillips flashed through his mind. His fingers tightened on the clock part. He must erase such foolishness from his very thoughts.
Lord Eldridge leaned toward her. “They tell me you are the toast of the season, my dear.”
Lindsay smiled faintly at the heavyset gentleman on her right. He lifted his crystal goblet to her. “I can well believe it, from the look of you. Let me pay homage to your beauty before you are snapped up by one of these dandies who won’t appreciate your charms like this old connoisseur.” He took a long swallow of the burgundy.
When decently appropriate, Lindsay turned away from him and looked back down at her plate. Thankfully, Mr. Stokes, on her left, was momentarily engaged with the lady on his other side. All evening she’d felt hemmed in by his presence.
Her lips felt stiff from keeping a smile in place. She broke the crab-stuffed sole into pieces with the edge of her fork, but her stomach balked with each mouthful she forced herself to take.
She pressed her hands to her stomach now, hoping she wouldn’t be sick before the night was through.
As the waiters removed the covers in preparation for the pâtés to follow, she glanced down the table at her father. By his jabbing forefinger and heightened color, she could tell he was in a heated debate with another member of the Royal Society. She sometimes wondered if she were a disappointment to him, not being a son who could follow his interests in mathematics and science. Perhaps if she’d been born with a more forceful character, she could debate with him as he so enjoyed…and refuse to marry the man he’d chosen for her.
Her father’s glance strayed to her. He gave her a reassuring smile, which she forced herself to return. With a subtle nudge of his chin, he communicated his wish to her.
With a sinking heart, she turned in the direction he’d indicated.
Jerome Stokes swallowed a healthy draft of his ruby-colored wine and eyed her. His full lips were still stained crimson, and Lindsay couldn’t tear her gaze away, even as a wave of repugnance filled her.
“The sole was excellent, was it not? Although I found the mullet a trifle dry.” His tongue roamed over his teeth as if savoring the last remnants of fish.
She forced herself to look away from his mouth. As his wife,
