“Worse, then.” The vicar sighed. “I’ve suspected for some time, but I did pray that my suspicions were unfounded. People are capable of change, Mr. Archer, with the Lord’s help.”

“I doubt that God has much to do with George’s proclivities.”

“How wrong you are, sir. God has everything to do with it. From the day George reached his majority, he’s been determined to throw all of the Lord’s teachings back in my face. It’s my fault. I’ve been a poor messenger. Too strict and unforgiving. A failure as both a vicar and a father.”

Alex didn’t know quite what to say. “I believe all children rebel against their parents at some time or another,” he managed at last. “Young men, especially.”

“Do they? I suppose I must take comfort from the fact.” The vicar removed his spectacles to massage the bridge of his nose. “Did you rebel against your godfather when you were a young man?”

Alex hesitated. He wasn’t deeply religious. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to lie outright to a man of God. He’d already lied so much, merely by omission. “My godfather and I have a unique relationship. More akin to business acquaintances than father and son.”

“Unlike George and I. I’ve been every inch the father to him. Too much so, he’d say. Always meddling in his affairs.” The vicar settled his spectacles back on his face. “You’ll watch over him, won’t you? He’s destructive, my boy. Bound to hurt himself, or some other person. I feel responsible—”

“I’m keeping a close eye on George, sir. You need have no concerns on that score.”

“I’m obliged to you, Mr. Archer. Don’t think I don’t realize the sacrifice you make. It’s a thankless task, looking after my son. One that will require you to postpone your pleasure on occasion. With George in his present condition…he won’t be in any fit state to accompany you to the seaside, I fear.”

The hell he wouldn’t.

Alex intended George to be up and ready to depart at half past seven, even if he had to dress him, drag him out of the house, and bodily throw him into the carriage.

“I trust his absence won’t upset all of Miss Talbot’s plans,” the vicar said. “Nor yours.”

“George will be fit enough to accompany us,” Alex assured him. “You may rely on it.”

Sure enough, George sauntered into the breakfast room in the morning, looking only a little worse for wear. He made no mention of his drunken episode the night before. And when Miss Talbot and her father arrived in their barouche, he bounded down the steps and greeted them with genuine enthusiasm.