The Vicar's Wife

15*

"Pardon me, Miss," the harsh tone yanked her attention up and behind her. A man in somewhat shabby clothing stood there, cap in hand. A scruff of beard coated his jaw, his hair hanging uncombed over his collar.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hattie rose to face him. "I'm afraid I have no coins on me, but if you're hungry I can-"

"I'm no beggar." He snarled, the twisted expression revealing several golden teeth. She took a timid step back. "I've heard an old friend of mine lives in town, but I've not been able to find him. Could you help me?"

"Perhaps," her smile was both relieved and unsure. Something about this man made her skin crawl. "What is his name, sir?"

"Jon," the grunt was satisfied, dark eyes keenly watching for her reaction. "Jon Forsythe."

"Oh!" Instantly she regretted the exclamation, instinctively not liking the man. "I have heard the name..." it was too late to hide the fact she was acquainted with Mr Forsythe, but perhaps she could divert the man's attention. "I believe we have attended the same card parties a few times."

"He lives nearby?"

"I..." licking suddenly dry lips, Hattie struggled to find the words. "I could not tell you...as an unmarried girl...I am hardly in a position to know where to find a single gentleman."

"You know him." It left no room for argument or denial, but Hattie's fear was equal to her rising dislike of his manner. Stubbornly her chin lifted.

"As I said, we have attended the same parties."

Like a flash he was in front of her, a hand curled brutally above her wrist. It startled her so badly that Hattie couldn't even cry out, mouth mutely hanging open as she stared in fright.

"You know him." Leaning closer, the man's features hardened as she tried to shrink back. "Tell Jon I'll be seeing him soon. I've come for payment for his sins."

"I say!" The voice called from behind them. "Unhand that young lady!"

Hattie twisted around to glimpse her rescuer, feeling her arm released from the man's grip. Stumbling away, clutching the throbbing limb to her breast, tears began to flood her eyes. The gentleman on horseback stepped down and hurried to her side, putting a gentle hand on her arm.

"Are you hurt, Miss?"

"I...no, I'm..." beginning to sniffle, Hattie trembled as the shock wore off and fear swept in. A cloth was put into her hands as she began to cry. Gratefully holding it to her eyes, she stood weeping for a few moments until composed enough to look up. Her mouth fell open an instant before she dropped into a deep curtsy. "Your Grace!"

"There, there," kindly tugging her upright, the duke of Essex smiled at her tear-stained features. "None of that, Miss Foster."

"Y-you know who I am?" Trembling badly, she could barely force herself to meet deep emerald eyes, her heart palpitating wildly as he grinned amiably at her.

"But of course. You are the country vicar's charming bride-to-be."

Reminding herself that she was to keep the truth a secret, Hattie's eyes darted around, relieved to find them alone. The mysterious man was nowhere to be seen. Even the street was curiously empty.

"I am, Your Grace...I thank you for helping me just now."

"Who was that brigand?" Lord Wentworth looked around with a scowl. "What did he want?"

"He said...he said I ought to warn Mr Forsythe that he was coming, that there will be a repayment for sin," teary eyes met the dukes. "What does that mean?"