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She bit her lip. “I did not sleep well last night.”

“Lumpy mattress? Damp sheets?”

She shook her head but did not elaborate.

Archie offered an arm. “I would like to introduce you to someone.”

She looked at him warily but slipped her arm through his. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Tomlinson.”

She halted. “The vicar?”

He raised his brows. “After our discussion last night, I thought you might wish to meet him.”

“I must watch my tongue near you.”

“I expressly forbid it.”

“We were discussing a purely hypothetical situation which, if it were to become reality—which I very much doubt—would take place several years hence.”

“But why not plant the seed now?” He put his hand on hers to keep her from retracting her arm and pulled her toward the vicar, who was approaching. “Mr. Tomlinson. Allow me to wish you a merry Christmas and introduce you to one of our guests: Miss Prescott.”

Her attempts to pull her arm from his ceased as politeness took over.

“Thank you for your lovely sermon, Mr. Tomlinson,” Miss Prescott said.

“She was rapt, I tell you,” Archie said. “Utterly rapt. In fact, she was just saying that it seemed to pass in almost the blink of an eye.”

Her fingers pressed into his arm. If she had not been wearing gloves, her nails would have dug into him.

This should not have made him smile as it did.

“It is very kind of you, Miss Prescott,” the vicar said. “I do feel I was not able to do the subject justice—I only presented half of what I had prepared.”

Miss Prescott’s fingers pressed into Archie’s arm again.

“We have been robbed on Christmas day,” Archie said. “What I truly wish to hear from you, however, are your thoughts on a different subject altogether.”

The vicar’s brows went up. “By all means. What subject is it?”

“Past mistakes,” Archie said. “Tell me, vicar, is there mercy?”

The vicar’s brow furrowed. “Well, yes, of course, but”—he looked at Archie more studiously—“what sort of mistakes?”

“Oh, anything,” he replied. “But, for the sake of an example, let us say two young people were to act…rashly in matters of the heart. Society is unforgiving, of course, but what does the church say?”

The vicar looked between Archie and Miss Prescott warily, as though he feared this hypothetical situation was standing before him, preparing to act rashly together.

Archie opened his mouth to disabuse the man of this notion, but the vicar cut him off.

“Well,” Mr. Tomlinson said, choosing his words with care, “as a man of the cloth, I strongly discourage any rashness at all, for it demonstrates an impurity of heart and instability of character that scripture tells us God cannot abide. But most particularly in matters where virtue is concerned, rashness would be catastrophic. God may forgive, but Society’s judgment serves an important corrective function and should not be ignored.”

Archie had intended to demonstrate the vicar’s lack of mercy to Miss Prescott, stupidly not anticipating that the vicar’s response would rub salt in her wound—or that he would assume it was Miss Prescott and Archie who were planning some sort of romantic mischief.

But Miss Prescott’s eyes, fixed upon the vicar, danced with suppressed amusement.

“But what if the damage is done?” she asked.