Rachel felt immediate guilt. It seemed that she was not to win that victory over temptation after all. But, she thought determinedly, she was going to behave herself. She was not going to use her charms on Mr. Gower or chatter brightly in order to entrance him. She was going to be her own more sensible self and there would be no danger whatsoever that he would succumb to the general male tendency to worship her.

Almost against his will David crossed the space that lay between them and looked down at the bubbling stream. "I knew this was here," he said. "I came in search of a moment's peace. Did you?"

"No," she admitted, "but I recognized it immediately when I found it. I like being alone. Just thinking and enjoying nature. Sometimes one tires of having to be gay all the time."

He looked down at her in some surprise. "It is the smiling that tires me," he confided. "One becomes afraid that the expression will become habitual and one will be doomed to go around for the rest of one's life grinning like an idiot."

Rachel laughed. "But you are always smiling anyway," she said.

He grimaced to give the lie to her words. "You mean it has happened already?" he asked in mock horror.

"Oh, no." Rachel laughed again, in delight. "I did not mean a social smile." She regarded him for a moment, her head to one side, "It comes from inside, I think. Even when your face is in repose, as it is now, there is a smile behind your eyes. And on your lips. I cannot explain exactly."

He stooped down on his haunches beside her. "You terrify me," he said with a more open smile. "Can you read my mind too?"

"No," she said, embarrassed suddenly. "But I think you are a happy man. Are you?"

He did not answer for a moment. He looked at her with close scrutiny. "Yes, I am," he said quietly. "Strange. My godmother has just been telling me how unhappy I must be to be going to a parish in the country. Perhaps she has not looked as deeply into my eyes as you have."

He wished he could have recalled that last sentence even as it came from his mouth. He had not meant it to sound the way it did. It sounded flirtatious and provocative. And she obviously thought so too. She blushed deeply.

And their eyes became locked. Neither seemed capable of looking away.

"How could she not?" Rachel said after a tense pause. "They are beautiful and compelling eyes." And it was her turn to hear with dismay the words she had spoken.

The little thicket suddenly seemed very quiet and very secluded, and the distance between them uncomfortably close. David swallowed noticeably and got hurriedly to his feet.

"This party is in my honor," he said. "I must not disappoint my godmother by staying away any longer."

Rachel scrambled to her feet beside him and caught at his sleeve. "Please," she said in a rush, "I did not mean anything by what I said. I believe you do not approve of me. I have sensed it ever since we met, and I regret it. You think me silly, do you not? And forward. And you are quite right. I am very often both when I am with other people. But I did not mean anything just now. I was not really flirting with you."

His eyes had widened. He took her hand in both of his and held it tightly. "I did not think it," he said, looking earnestly into her eyes. "And I have not disliked you. Perhaps I have thought you a little giddy, but I see now how unjust I was to form such a hasty opinion. Forgive me. You are to be one of my parishioners, and I shall be responsible for your spiritual welfare. I wish to be your friend. I did not think you flirted any more than I did. Come, smile at me and tell me that we will be friends."

Rachel smiled. "Friends," she agreed, and withdrew her hand discreetly from between his. But he could not have looked very deeply into her eyes, she thought, or he would have seen the guilty truth there. It was true. It was no longer to be denied. She was in love with him, head over heels, topsy-turvy in love. Adoration. Obsession. A physical, throbbing ache. A moment longer with her hand in his and she would have flung the other arm around his neck and drawn his face down to hers. A man she could never even dream of trying to attach as a husband. What a wicked trick of fate!

"Have you eaten?" he was asking. "Let us go in search of some tea, shall we?" He held out an arm for hers.

Rachel was glad of the opportunity to break the tension of her own mood. She looked down at her abandoned bonnet and giggled. "I believe I would shock not a few people if I walked back thus," she said. "I do hope the hem of my dress is not wet or covered with grass."

"I shall turn away and admire the water," he said with a grin, "and I expect that while I do so, some power will transform you once again into the very proper Lady Rachel Palmer."

Little more than five minutes later the Reverend David Gower emerged from the trees with an immaculate Lady Rachel on his arm, and they made their way across to the upper lawn, still crowded with guests.

"You said that Lady Wexford believes you unhappy," Rachel said. "Does she think that you will not be contented with your new church?"

He smiled down at her. "She has lived most of her life close to town," he explained. "She cannot imagine anyone choosing to live in the countryside."

"And will you be content there?" she asked. "Will you not find your parish duties tedious? Or do you plan to spend most of your time with Algie and the rest of the gentry?"

"I shall socialize with the gentry," he said carefully, "because they will be my parishioners and as much entitled to my services as anyone else. But I intend to spend most of my time with the poor, since there are far more of them than there are of the wealthy."

"You will not be bored?" she asked, wide-eyed. "Or restless? You will not feel that your education and your talents are being wasted?"

He looked down at her, his eyes as serious as she had seen them. "You read the Bible," he said. "You told me so. Where was our Lord to be found during his earthly life? Among the rich, yes. But far more often among the poor. And did He ever seem bored or unhappy? I am His servant, Lady Rachel, and therefore a servant of the poor. I believe I will be happy. You see, I am also a servant by choice."

There was a depth behind his eyes that was not quite a smile. Rachel stared, fascinated. She had never heard anyone speak quite like this before. Certainly not anyone of her own class. And certainly not a handsome young man who was more or less fashionably dressed and in attendance at a garden party held in his honor at one of the mansions of Richmond.

"Rache!" Lord Rivers was making his way across the lawn toward them, Celia Barnes on his arm. "We were about to call out the Bow Street Runners to search for you. And all the time you were ingratiating yourself with the new vicar. I hope you have been suggesting that he keep his sermons shorter than we have been used to. Forty minutes with Vicar Ferney, David, m'lad. And that was on the days when the text did not inspire lengthy reflections! Many is the time in the last few years I have regretted not having cushions installed in my pew as I am entitled to do."

They all laughed and turned toward the tables, where a sumptuous feast was still spread out. Rachel looked up at David Gower and smiled as she caught his eye. He gave her a warm and comfortable smile in return. There was no worship in his eyes, but there was kindness and friendship, she believed. It was a sensible look, one she would do well to emulate. Not only had she chosen to fall in love with a clergyman, but she had had the misfortune to choose a man dedicated to his calling.

Such an infatuation would just not do at all.

***

It was two weeks later before Lord Rivers returned to the country and Singleton Hall, taking David with him. The Season was more or less at a close. He never particularly enjoyed staying until the bitter end. Once most people had left for the country or one of the spas, social entertaiments became somewhat tedious. One saw the same faces wherever one went.

And as he explained to David, Edgeley and his family would be coming home in five days' time and they would soon be followed by a dozen houseguests who would be staying for a few weeks. Miss Barnes, of course, would be coming with Rachel. And then David would want to be in the country for a week before Vicar Ferney retired and removed thirty miles to take up residence with a bachelor brother of his. There would be many details that David would wish to talk over with his predecessor.

And so they came to stay at Singleton Hall and David found that he was indeed busy, his days filled with happy activity and plans. He found himself impatient at having to wait out the final week until he could take up residence in the vicarage and start visiting his parishioners and getting to know his parish.

The challenge facing him excited him enormously. And the move to the vicarage would be the symbolic beginning of his service. It was true that the house was the most imposing in the village of Singleton and perfectly comfortable within. And he would have the services of an excellent housekeeper, who had lived there for forty years and was reputed to be able to convert even bare stones into a banquet. But even so, the house would be far humbler than any he had lived in in his five-and-twenty years. Moving there would be a real beginning to the life he had set himself, a life divorced from the privileges he had always taken so much for granted. He was impatient to be in his new home.

David was very thankful to be in the country at last, away from the noise and the constant round of activities of London. Not that he had participated in many events after his godmother's garden party, it was true. The enjoyment of going from one entertainment to another had palled, he had told himself as he refused more than once to join Algie at some event. He had seen something of town and society again, he had told himself, and now he was ready to begin his life's work.