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It wasn’t until evening of the next day that Tom truly understood just how much trouble he was in. The butler’s errant niece had returned, thank goodness, and Meggin was tucked away in the nursery, still clutching Lina’s tippet.

“She seemed to like it so much,” Lina told him, “that I gave it to her. I remember quite well the joy I felt on first feeling silk next to my skin.” The smile that curled her lips sent a stab of pure fire down Tom’s legs.

He was indeed in trouble.

Rees had appeared only briefly at supper, laconically announcing that Helene would return to the house in three to four days. He bolted his food and went back into the salon, from which they could hear discordant fragments of piano music emerging.

That left Tom and Lina together. It was, literally, the first time he’d been alone with a woman in six years, since the night before he took his vows when he’d said good-bye to a certain Betsy Prowd. He looked up from his almond custard to find Lina’s brown eyes fixed on him. She bewildered him. One moment she was a little brandy breasted songbird that looked as if it would nestle sweetly in one’s hand; the next she was like a scarlet redbreast, shaking her feathers with all the insouciance of a très-coquette.

“What made you decide to become a priest?” she asked. Her voice was as clear and fluting as a bell. It made him wonder how it would sound calling his name, if they were in bed together.

Tom dragged his attention back to her face. “There was never really any question but that I would,” he explained. “My profession was established long before I can remember. The church is a common occupation for the younger son of a nobleman.”

“You wouldn’t have chosen to go into the church on your own?”

“I don’t know that I would have,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not happy now.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Drafty old vicarage?”

“There are a few drafts, but—”

“Leaky roof in the springtime?”

“There is—”

“Far too many rooms to keep clean, and just one little maid, trundling about with blue fingers, and not enough money to buy coal!”

“No,” he said startled. “It’s not at all like that.”

Her mouth curled into a teasing smile. “Have you heard the jest about the vicar who wandered into a bawdy house, Reverend?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me by my title.”

“I apologize. In that case, Mr. Holland, have you heard the jest about the misinformed vicar?”

“No,” he said in a measured voice. “Would I like it?”

Lina looked at the man before her. He was like a younger version of Rees, without the barbed tongue. He had the same tousled hair, and the same broad shoulders, but without the sharp edges. “Don’t you like jests?” she asked, picking up a slice of hothouse peach and slipping it slowly between her lips. He was watching. This was more fun than she’d had since she left the stage.

“Yes, but not those that you’re wishing to tell me,” he said, calmly selecting an apple from the dish before them.

“And what kind are those?” she asked saucily.

“I suspect your plan is to tell me jokes not suitable for a vicar’s ears,” he replied. “But I know those jokes, and I don’t find most of them funny. They’re all to do with men making themselves like sailing ships and spending their main masts, and I can’t say the subject interests me.”

Lina burst out laughing. “I don’t know any shipping jests, Mr. Holland.”

“But undoubtedly your jokes are of the same caliber, Miss McKenna.”

She tossed a grape into her mouth. “It’s too late to save me, as they say, Reverend, so best leave the chastisement to your congregation. Why don’t you think of your time in London as an education in improper pursuits?”

Tom felt a wave of black rage. She was so beautiful, so witty, so utterly charming: how dare his brother have taken her to his house and made her into a concubine?

She seemed to guess his thoughts. “I expect you’d like a full confession,” she said with a little pout, “but you shan’t have it. I will tell you, though, in case you plan to lambaste your brother, that Rees effected no corruption. To be frank, Reverend, I lost my maidenly virtue back in my own home village.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “There are some of us who never agree with societal strictures. Haven’t you noticed that yourself? I listened to my mama’s dictates, but I couldn’t picture myself marrying one of the boys I grew up around. And I couldn’t see any good reason why I shouldn’t bed Hugh Sutherland, if I wished to. So I did bed him, and then I turned down his request for my hand, and then I left. And I haven’t any desire to return. I simply didn’t fit in.”

“I suppose you couldn’t return now,” Tom said, hardening his heart against her tempting gaiety. “ ’Tis base to be a whore, after all. It would cause your mother some grief.”

Her fingers froze for a moment. Then: “Am I that name, John?”