“But?” she prompted, sensing he was not revealing the full truth.
“I beg your pardon?”
“What are you not telling me?”
He gave a lift of his hands. “The earl tends to be an intimidating figure to most in the neighborhood. Few would dare approach him without invitation. Which means many have continued to suffer.”
A portion of Talia’s distress faded upon hearing Gabriel was merely aloof and not a callous brute. Surely with a bit of encouragement he could earn the trust of those in his care? Not that she intended to be the unfortunate individual making the suggestion, she acknowledged with a tiny shiver.
Nor would her companion. Not if his barely hidden sneer was any indication.
“You disapprove of my husband?” she demanded, wondering if the two men had ever crossed paths.
“I have little use for those who treat their power as a God-given right rather than a duty to others.”
She narrowed her gaze at the intensity in his voice. “Are you a Jacobin?”
His charming smile returned in the blink of an eye. “I am a humble vicar who is devoted to his flock, not a revolutionary.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why do I sense there is much you keep hidden?”
Before she could realize his intent, Jack had reached to tug at a stray curl that rested against her cheek.
“I will admit that my estimation of the earl has risen considerably since your arrival at Carrick Park,” he murmured, his dark gaze regarding her with blatant admiration. “I would never have suspected that he possessed the good sense to wed a lady of such value, rather than a typical debutante.”
Talia blushed, vividly aware of the intimate touch of his hand against her cheek.
“You must know that I was not the bride of his choice,” she said in flustered tones.
His thumb brushed her lower lip. “Are you so certain?”
“Of course.” She regarded him in bewildered shock. He could not possibly mean that Gabriel was anything but horrified to be married to Silas Dobson’s daughter. “He barely noted my existence until my father bullied him into marrying me.”
“It is my experience that gentlemen such as Lord Ashcombe rarely allow themselves to be bullied into any situation, let alone into marriage.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You have not yet had the untoward pleasure of meeting my father.”
“I do not doubt he is a man of considerable…”
“Pigheaded stubbornness combined with a brute lack of morals?” she offered wryly.
“Whatever his power, he could never truly take on a wealthy peer of the realm,” he smoothly continued. “He might have given Lord Ashcombe an excuse to take you as his bride, but the earl would never have wed you unless that was what he desired to do.”
Talia’s heart gave a strange leap of excitement before she hastily quelled the ridiculous reaction.
Jack clearly underestimated Gabriel’s pride. He would have wed a savage from the colonies to avoid a nasty scandal. Now he hated her for the sacrifice he had been forced to make. And she did not blame him.
“You are quite mistaken.”
His lips twisted. “Perhaps.”
Giving a shake of her head, Talia parted her lips to continue her protests only to be distracted by the heavy tread of footsteps approaching from the cemetery behind the church.
With a frown she turned to watch two men dressed in rough woolen sailor coats and loose trousers come to an abrupt halt as they noticed her.
A strange chill inched down her spine at the sight of their heavily muscled bodies and their weathered faces that spoke of endless hours toiling in the sun. Still, it was not their rough appearances that made her consider the need to flee for safety, it was instead the unmistakable air of violence that hovered about them.
She took an instinctive step backward, not sure what to expect. Then surprisingly, she felt Jack move to stand protectively at her back, his hand circling her waist.
One of the two men glanced toward the vicar, and Talia tensed, terrified that they were about to be attacked.
Instead there was a taut moment of silence before they gave a respectful dip of their heads and turned to make their way into the church.
Talia gave a baffled shake of her head, not entirely certain what had just happened.
“Good heavens.” She turned to meet Jack’s wary gaze. “Who were those gentlemen?”
“No one who need concern you,” he assured her.
Talia was far from comforted. “Are you certain? They look to be ruffians.”
Jack shrugged. “Ruffians have as much need of spiritual guidance as any other. Even more so.”
“But…”
“It grows late, Talia.” Without warning, Jack leaned down to brush a soft kiss over her cheek. “Return to your home.”
She ignored his forward manner, sensing that he was deliberately attempting to be rid of her. Why?
Did he fear the men might still be a danger to her? Or was there some other reason for his desire to send her on her way?
“You do not wish me to call for the constable?”
“No.” He gave her a small push down the narrow lane. “I will be fine. I will see you tomorrow.”
Talia obediently headed up the pathway, waiting until she turned the sweeping corner that hid her from Jack’s view before she darted into the nearby copse of trees and started to creep back toward the church.
There was something distinctly suspicious about the strangers. And while she admired Jack for his willingness to offer sanctuary to all who came to his church, she could not bear the thought that his kindness would leave him vulnerable to harm.
Or death.
Holding up her skirts to avoid becoming tangled in the thick undergrowth, Talia weaved her way through the trees, ignoring the odd sense of premonition that clutched at her heart. Who would not be unnerved at creeping through the gathering gloom?
Still, for the first time since she’d left London, she was conscious of the scurry of unseen animals among the bushes and the distant cry of an owl that filled the silence. And even more disturbing was the awareness of just how alone she was.
If something happened, who would hear her screams?
She gave a shake of her head. She would not allow Jack to be injured because she was frightened of shadows.
At last reaching the edge of the trees, Talia squared her shoulders and darted across the open yard to the back of the church. She pressed her back against the bricks, her heart lodged in her throat.
From inside the building she could hear the sound of voices, and before she lost her courage, she forced herself to inch toward the open window, sending up a silent prayer that no one would happen by.
How the devil would she explain the Countess of Ashcombe creeping through the dark and eavesdropping upon the local vicar?
She stopped at the edge of the window and tilted her head to peer into the room, easily recognizing the sacristy. How…odd. Why would the vicar take two strange men into a storage room for the church’s most sacred possessions?
The most reasonable explanation would be that the men had forced Jack to the room in the hopes of discovering something of value.