Page 25 of A Taste of Miss Honey

Her father cleared his throat, sending her a warning glance, so Izzy pasted an insincere smile to her face as she waited for his reply.

The comment appeared to go over Lord Alveston’s head, for he replied earnestly. “Ah, well, my life is not all gaiety, I am afraid, and my doctor recommended I come and take the waters. I have been rather busy of late, what with tending my estate and the social demands I am obliged to meet. Burning the candle at both ends, so I am told. A man of my stature has many calls upon his time, my dear.”

Izzy did not pull a face at this conceited description of his worth, but it was a struggle.

“Certainly, but why Little Valentine? Would a man of your stature not be better suited to Bath, or Harrogate?” Izzy enquired sweetly, aware of her father’s muffled snort of laughter which he deftly changed to a cough as he reached for his water.

Lord Alveston smiled, showing too many teeth. Though they were clean and even, they had a yellow tinge and made her think of an illustration in one of Caspar’s favourite books, of a crocodile.

“Ah, but I have visited both Bath and Harrogate, and Little Valentine is new to me, and has such a fascinating history. I believe there are smugglers too, which is vastly entertaining. Did I hear one was hunted through the woods outside your door just the other night?”

Izzy’s heart gave a hard thump behind her ribs, and she was aware of the colour leaching from her face. To her eternal relief her father replied, for she could not have said a word.

“Sadly, there was a disturbance, though I am relieved to report that there were no fatalities.”

“You sympathise with these outlaws, Reverend?” Lord Alveston enquired, his expression bland but a look in his eyes that made Izzy shiver.

“I sympathise with any man being hunted by armed men,” her father replied, appearing entirely unruffled, though Izzy knew better than to think the question did not annoy him. “Life is harder for some than others, and those of us who have would do well to consider the lives of those who do not.”

A snort of derision greeted this measured response. “But, sir, these men are villains! Murderers and blackguards who would sell their own grandmothers for a profit.”

“Are they now?” her father replied placidly, his blue eyes glinting shrewdly as he regarded their guest. “Then I pray you enlighten us, Lord Alveston, for you seem to have a greater knowledge of the situation that we do.”

Belatedly realising that Reverend Honeywell’s easy-going nature had limits and that he had reached them, Lord Alveston chuckled and denied knowing anything at all.

“But I am interested in the history of this charming little town. The castle on the hill, for instance. Is it inhabited?”

“No,” Izzy replied, wondering how much longer they had to be polite to this wretched fellow. There is a caretaker of sorts, but the family have not lived there for decades. Not in my lifetime, certainly.”

The reverend nodded his agreement. “No, indeed, not for nigh on thirty years, I should think. Though time flies by so fast, I cannot be sure. Why? Does the property interest you?”

Lord Alveston shrugged, but Izzy felt his nonchalance was as false as his laugh and decided she did not trust him an inch. “It is a handsome building, and I am looking for a place to settle. I am of an age to marry and have a family, and it seems as if Little Valentine is on the cusp of becoming a fashionable place. It behoves a man to have an eye on the future, and to grab opportunities when they come up.”

His gaze settled on Izzy, his expression one of admiration, but there was no warmth there. Indeed, everything about him set her nerves on edge. Unbidden, the image of Boreas flickered behind her eyes: his powerful body reclined against the pillows, bared to the waist, his eyes lit with a smouldering heat that made her entire body turn to flame in response. She blushed and looked away, hating that Lord Alveston might think it was his attention that made her react so, but unable to do a thing about it.

“Well, if you will excuse me, my lord. I am afraid I have not been well these past days, and my father is also very tired. He has been tending to a dying man and has slept little. I hope you will forgive us for bringing the evening to a close, delightful as it was.”

Izzy wondered how she could speak such a barefaced lie, but Lord Alveston swallowed it, no doubt believing it his due that the world and everyone in it found him delightful.

“Not at all. I quite understand. I hope I shall find you both rested and well the next time I call upon you.”

The next time? Izzy groaned inwardly and wished she’d been ruder after all.

Still, she rang for Polly, who was prompt fetching his coat and hat, and after the usual round of polite thank yous, she got the wretched man out of the door.

“Odious creature!” she exclaimed the moment he was safely out of the way.

Her father, not usually slow to reprimand her for making such harsh observations of her fellow man, said nothing, occupied with pouring himself a large measure of brandy. She had noted he had offered none to their guest, keeping to an indifferent bottle of port that he reserved for people he did not like.

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully as he took a seat by the fire.

“Perhaps?” Izzy regarded him in astonishment. “Surely you cannot like him, Papa?”

Her father laughed, giving her a rueful smile. “As much as I try to make myself find something to like in all of God’s creatures, I admit, Lord Alveston is a challenge. However, I will say this, Izzy: he’s no fool, no matter that he might give the impression of being one. If you see him again, be very careful how you treat him. I suspect that is a man who holds a grudge and repays any who slight him tenfold. Mind that tongue of yours, my girl.”

Izzy pulled a face. “I have no intention of seeing him again, Papa. Certainly not if I have any say in the matter.”

“Ah, but we do not always have a say, Izzy. Sometimes challenges are placed in our path for a reason, though we may not always understand what those reasons are. Just have a care.”

“I will. I promise.”

He nodded, regarding her thoughtfully. “Go to bed, child. You look worn to a thread.”

“As do you,” Izzy retorted.

“And I shall follow you shortly, have no fear.”

Izzy smiled and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Good night then, Papa. Sleep well.”