Well?" demanded the vicar at last, looking at Ian. "What do you have to say to me?"
"Good afternoon?" Ian suggested drolly. And then he added, "I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow, Uncle."
"Obviously," retorted the vicar with unconcealed irony. "
" blurted Elizabeth, gaping incredulously at Ian Thornton, who'd been flagrantly defying rules of morality with his passionate kisses and seeking hands from the first night she met him.
As if the vicar read her thoughts, he looked at her, his brown eyes amused. "Amazing, is it not, my dear? It quite convinces me that God has a sense of humor."
A hysterical giggle welled up in Elizabeth as she saw Ian's impervious expression begin to waver when the vicar promptly launched into a recitation of his tribulations as Ian's uncle: "You cannot imagine how trying it used to be when I was forced to console weeping young ladies who'd cast out lures in hopes Ian would come up to scratch," he told Elizabeth. "And that's nothing to how I felt when he raced his horse and one of my parishioners thought would be the ideal person to keep of the bets!" Elizabeth's burst of laughter rang like music through the hills, and the vicar, ignoring Ian's look of annoyance, continued blithely, "I have flat knees from the hours, the weeks, the months I've spent praying for his immortal soul-"
"When you're finished itemizing my transgressions, Duncan, " Ian cut in, "I'll introduce you to my companion."
Instead of being irate at Ian's tone, the vicar looked satisfied. "By all means, Ian," he said smoothly. "We should always observe the proprieties." At that moment Elizabeth realized with a jolt that the shaming tirade she'd expected the vicar to deliver when he first saw them had been delivered after all-skillfully and subtly. The only difference was that the kindly vicar had aimed it solely at Ian, absolving her from blame and sparing her any further humiliation.
Ian evidently realized it, too; reaching out to shake his uncle's hand, he said dryly, "You're looking well, Duncan-despite your flattened knees. And," he added, "I can assure you that your sermons are equally eloquent whether I'm standing up or sitting down."
"That is because you have a lamentable tendency to doze off in the middle of them either way," the vicar replied a little irritably, shaking Ian's hand.
"Good afternoon?" Ian suggested drolly. And then he added, "I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow, Uncle."
"Obviously," retorted the vicar with unconcealed irony. "
" blurted Elizabeth, gaping incredulously at Ian Thornton, who'd been flagrantly defying rules of morality with his passionate kisses and seeking hands from the first night she met him.
As if the vicar read her thoughts, he looked at her, his brown eyes amused. "Amazing, is it not, my dear? It quite convinces me that God has a sense of humor."
A hysterical giggle welled up in Elizabeth as she saw Ian's impervious expression begin to waver when the vicar promptly launched into a recitation of his tribulations as Ian's uncle: "You cannot imagine how trying it used to be when I was forced to console weeping young ladies who'd cast out lures in hopes Ian would come up to scratch," he told Elizabeth. "And that's nothing to how I felt when he raced his horse and one of my parishioners thought would be the ideal person to keep of the bets!" Elizabeth's burst of laughter rang like music through the hills, and the vicar, ignoring Ian's look of annoyance, continued blithely, "I have flat knees from the hours, the weeks, the months I've spent praying for his immortal soul-"
"When you're finished itemizing my transgressions, Duncan, " Ian cut in, "I'll introduce you to my companion."
Instead of being irate at Ian's tone, the vicar looked satisfied. "By all means, Ian," he said smoothly. "We should always observe the proprieties." At that moment Elizabeth realized with a jolt that the shaming tirade she'd expected the vicar to deliver when he first saw them had been delivered after all-skillfully and subtly. The only difference was that the kindly vicar had aimed it solely at Ian, absolving her from blame and sparing her any further humiliation.
Ian evidently realized it, too; reaching out to shake his uncle's hand, he said dryly, "You're looking well, Duncan-despite your flattened knees. And," he added, "I can assure you that your sermons are equally eloquent whether I'm standing up or sitting down."
"That is because you have a lamentable tendency to doze off in the middle of them either way," the vicar replied a little irritably, shaking Ian's hand.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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