Page 45 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

“I know the whole story, Miss Spencer,” he said kindly, patting Vi’s shoulder as she sank into the nearest chair. The implications of his words were obvious.

“I suppose Leo sent you here,” she said bitterly. “To persuade me to do the right thing and marry him.”

“Indeed, he did not,” Harbottle said, shaking his head as he settled himself opposite her. “In fact, I was only allowed to visit you on the understanding that I do no such thing. He was very clear on that point. Said you would run as far and fast as you could if I so much as hinted at it.”

Vi let out a breath. She should have had more faith in Leo. He knew by now that such tactics would not work, and he was neither foolish nor arrogant enough to try such a thing.

“Then why are you here?” Vi demanded, and then blushed a little at her lack of manners.

Harbottle shrugged, settling back into his seat. “For my own curiosity. I confess I am a little flummoxed.”

“By what?” Vi said in confusion.

“By what would make a beautiful young woman refuse to marry a handsome young man she is quite obviously head over ears in love with?”

Vi blushed, looking away from Harbottle’s sympathetic smile.

“You were very brave last night, rushing in like that. You put yourself in danger to save the man you loved. Quite admirable, Miss Spencer.”

Vi shook her head, blinking back tears. She took a deep breath and spoke carefully so there could be no misunderstanding. “In the first place, Reverend, I am not a young woman. By society’s standards, I am well and truly on the shelf, my best childbearing years behind me.”

Harbottle shrugged. “If Mr Hunt does not care for this—”

“He has not thought it through,” she said impatiently, staring out of the window, mortified by having to discuss such a thing.

“You think not? Is he mentally impaired in some way, then?”

“What? No, of course not!” Vi replied crossly before she rearranged her face. “I beg your pardon, but why would you say such a thing?”

“I did not,” Harbottle replied calmly. “Mr Hunt seems to me to be an intelligent and capable man who knows his own mind. It is you who seems to think him incapable of making such a decision.”

Vi coloured, shocked into silence.

“Mr Hunt told me he did not care a button if you never had children, so long as you were together. He said he would happily adopt children if you wished to but would be glad simply to share his life with you if you did not. You are adopted yourself, I believe, Miss Spencer?”

Vi nodded dumbly. There was a lump in her throat she could not swallow past, and her eyes burned.

“H-He said that?” she managed, wiping away a tear that fell despite her best efforts and blinking hard.

“He did,” Harbottle replied, smiling kindly. “And I rather think you should give him the chance to tell you the same thing himself. But something tells me that this is not the real problem, is it, Miss Spencer? At least, it is not the only one.”

Vi could not speak. Her chest rose and fell too quickly as she tried to keep her composure. The reverend seemed to have the strangest ability to see into her heart and she was not entirely sure she liked it.

“May I pour some tea?” he asked, spying the pot Vi had ordered, thinking Leo would be back by now. “I believe we could both do with a cup.”

Vi nodded dumbly as the reverend got up, relieved to have a moment to gather her nerves. He prepared her a fresh cup and put it in her hands before seeing to his own. Settling down again, cup in hand, the reverend regarded her over the rim.

“Mr Hunt has been often in the scandal sheets, hasn’t he? An entertaining young man, to be sure, if a little reckless. I confess that his exploits have given me a good deal of amusement over the years. I was delighted to have the chance to see him fight last night. I have heard much of Mr Anson’s pugilistic talents, but I always understood Mr Hunt was quite clever with his fists too, as he proved in no uncertain terms.”

Vi said nothing, for Leo’s exploits had done nothing but give her sleepless nights and a terror of hearing he’d broken his silly neck. Last night’s confrontation was not something she particularly wished to recall, yet the vision of Pembury holding a gun on him flashed behind her eyes once more and her stomach roiled.

“How did you come to be adopted, Miss Spencer?”

Vi looked up, startled from her thoughts by the sudden change in the conversation. “A-A carriage accident. I was six. My parents had gone out to visit friends, but… but my father took a corner too fast. There was something coming the other way.” She shrugged, thinking that explanation enough.

Harbottle nodded. “A terrible shock for you as a young girl. Your parents were nice people, kind parents?”

“They were,” Vi said, smiling. “My mother was very beautiful and my father… my father was wonderful, funny and clever. I was so proud of them both. I remember the feeling of being with them, of being safe, loved and secure. Then in a matter of moments, it all went away.” Because her father had been reckless. She swallowed hard against a sudden wave of sadness. It had been so long since she had thought of them, of that time, that it took her by surprise.