Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (13 page)

“But you’re not like them. You’re different.”

“Am I?” While touched by her defence, he slowly shook his head. “The only place I ever felt at home was in the army, fighting a brutal war.”

“Fighting honourably in a
just
war,” she said.

After everything he’d seen and done on the battlefield, there were times William doubted the virtue of his actions, but he didn’t argue.

She reached to clasp his hand. He should have shaken her off but shamelessly took comfort in her touch.

“You live off the income generated by your slaves?”

William didn’t blame her for the assumption, but he was quick to counter it, his tone harsher than he intended. “I abhor the practice and have refused to profit from it.” It shouldn’t have mattered, but he didn’t want her to think quite that badly of him.

“You freed them?” Her eyes lit up.

“I tried.” He hated having to disappoint her. “When I reached my majority, I was determined to emancipate every last one. But there are thousands, and it wasn’t as simple as I had hoped.”

“Thousands,” she whispered. “Why couldn’t you free them? If you
own
these people, surely it is within your power to release them?”

“Unfortunately, in many of the places where they reside, such an action would incite political unrest and the threat of reprisals. I’d have been putting their lives at risk,” he said. “I freed as many as I could, repatriating those brave or desperate enough to return to their homes in Africa, where they are at risk of recapture. Those who chose to remain working for me, I rehired at a fair wage in their previous or more suitable positions. Whether slave or free, I’ve insisted on improved living and working conditions for all the workers and the reuniting of families wherever possible.”

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “You have done what you could and at considerable cost, I imagine.”

“Everyone said I was a madman, that my fortune would be gone in no time.” He shrugged. Never having intended leaving the army, it had been of little concern. “Some of the enterprises struggled to remain competitive, especially in the beginning. But it’s surprising what can be accomplished when one is not milking every ounce of profit from a plantation, factory, or mine. In spite of numerous predictions to the contrary, the businesses have flourished. Most of the income generated goes back into improving conditions with a portion set aside to help fund Wilberforce’s campaign to see slavery abolished for good. But there’s plenty left over.”

William hadn’t touched a penny of the excess, funds that continued to multiply regardless of his disinterest. Clearly, that was about to change, as restoring the Blackthorn estates and making up for his neglect was going to cost.

Hannah remained silent for a moment, her brow furrowed as she appeared to consider his revelations. “Your decision to right the wrongs of your forebears has brought God’s blessing on your endeavours.”

“What? No!” William sat forward. “
My
bloodline is responsible for generations of suffering. I can never atone for what’s been done.”

“But isn’t that what you’re doing? Making a difference in the lives of the people you’re responsible for and helping to support the cause that could transform the lives of countless others? If that’s not making restitution for the wrongdoing of your forebears, I don’t know what is.”

“But it’s not cost me anything.” He thumped his chest with his good hand. “I merely set the wheels in motion and then went off to do what I wanted, enlisting as an officer.”

“You
have
checked to make sure your orders were followed?” Her expression turned doubtful.

“Yes . . . often,” he said before muttering bitterly. “Pity I wasn’t as diligent about overseeing matters at home.”

“You’re here now.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s not too late to make amends. I’m assuming that’s your purpose in wanting to know the state of affairs in the district, to try and repair the damage that’s been done?”

Looking from her hopeful expression to their joined hands, William considered his response. He couldn’t possibly make amends for the past, but he could make things better for the people living there now, for Hannah and her family, and hopefully set in place safeguards for the future.

“That is most definitely my intention,” he said with feeling. Her smile was a reward he didn’t deserve but savoured nonetheless.

Chapter 12

Compromised

Caring for William reminded Hannah of the one and only time she was invited on a hunt. One minute, she was enjoying the thrill of galloping flat out across an open plain, a pack of baying hounds off in the distance and the thunder of hooves echoing in her ears. The next, she was flying over a log—sidesaddle, no less—a style of riding she’d only had opportunity to attempt a few times. Unsurprisingly, she ended up sprawled in a creek and requiring rescue. It was not one of her more pleasant memories, though it had certainly been exciting. Time spent with William shared similar degrees of highs and lows with his moods swinging like a lantern in a storm.

While she understood his insistence Dawkins be the one to assist him with his personal care, there was no excuse for reverting to his previous use of profanity. Unfortunately, his language turned all colours of the rainbow when she offered to demonstrate the correct way to massage the healing liniment into his thigh.

“I’m sorry if you feel robbed of your dignity, my lord, but you are making too much fuss. I performed this service twice a day for
ten
days while you were unconscious.” Her reminder earned a particularly piquant curse, and she huffed. “You’ve said yourself your leg is more mobile than it was before your arrival, but the treatment must be done properly to garner the most benefit. Dawkins needs a demonstration.”

“Miss Foster ’as the right of it, my lord,” the valet said. “What with me ’aving a few fingers missing, I think a demonstration would be wise.”

“Miss Foster can demonstrate on somebody else.”

“Very well.” Hannah turned to the only other candidate. “Dawkins, drop your trousers.”

“Dawkins, you’ll do no such thing!” William roared, and Hannah placed her hands on her hips.

“I have to demonstrate on
someone,
my lord.”

“Not my valet,” he muttered, throwing the blanket off his right leg and dragging a pillow over his groin. “Damned impossible woman.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. She had no intention of going near his private area. The man took modesty to ridiculous lengths.

Her pique at William’s overreaction passed when she discovered massaging his thigh while he was awake was quite
different from performing the task when he was unconscious. Acutely aware of his warm, bare flesh beneath her fingers, her voice shook by the time she told Dawkins to take over. Excusing herself, Hannah fought the urge to run from the room.

Fortunately, William could also be congenial in his manner. Having shared his extraordinary tale, he was keen to have her input on matters relating to the manor and estate. The respect he showed her opinion was gratifying, and she enjoyed her new role as his interim personal secretary. When her patient was reluctantly forced to rest, she spent her time making lists and writing letters to bankers, lawyers, current and retired officer friends of William, and various tradespeople. He insisted she send requests for specific individuals to meet with him at their soonest convenience, a topic that put an end to their truce.

“It’s too soon.” She gave him a censuring look. “If you become overtired, you could suffer a setback.”

“I need to speak with the authorities, and the sooner I employ a new estate manager, someone I can
trust
, the sooner I can begin to set things right.”

“An admirable endeavour, my lord, but the problems have existed for many years. They shan’t be fixed overnight.”

“All the more reason not to waste time,” he muttered before his expression turned pleading. “I need your help, Miss Foster. Dawkins has trouble writing, and I doubt any of the new maids or footmen have the requisite penmanship.”

“Oh, all right,” she said with a shake of her head. “But at least allow Mr and Mrs Potts and me to handle the preliminary interviews.”

He relented, and the Pottses carried most of the burden when it came to enlightening the magistrate from Thornton as to events spanning the previous decade. The man had been suspicious for a long time but powerless to do anything, as he’d assumed the current Viscount Blackthorn was party to proceedings.

“Might I suggest you maintain the status quo for the meantime, my lord?” the magistrate asked, in regards to the mines that were running illegally, their titles and permits having been forged. “I’m pleased to hear you plan to address the lack of safety, but you would cause much suffering if you shut them down cold.”

William nodded. “I’ll be needing workers to get the farms operational and to begin repairs on the neglected cottages and buildings. As soon as I have a new manager in place, I’ll have him inform the mineworkers that those who’d rather be employed in farming or construction may make the change. It will take time to determine if the mines can be made safe, but I’ll keep them operating if at all possible.”

“May I spread word of your intentions?” The magistrate’s expression was thoughtful. “There’s a lot of uncertainty in the district between your unexpected return and Grantham’s disappearance. This news will go a long way towards allaying the workers’ fears.”

“Do what you think is best.”

“Thank you, my lord. Your return home is welcome, indeed.” The magistrate bowed and departed, leaving Hannah alone with William.

“Rest,” she ordered, placing a hand to his brow. “You’ve gone quite grey.”

“Yes, Miss Foster.” He captured her hand before she could move away, and his eyes closed almost immediately. Affected by both the sight and feel of their entwined fingers, Hannah refused to acknowledge the reason why and reluctantly withdrew.

Three days passed before Grace sent word she’d be coming to check on the viscount. News had already reached the manor that her patients, the mother and child burned in the fire, had not survived. The infant had died the first night, and the mother earlier that morning. Hannah waited in the parlour and wordlessly drew her friend into her arms upon her arrival.

“You did everything you could,” Hannah murmured, suspecting Grace’s tears were the first she had allowed herself. “Was it very bad?”

Grace straightened and removed a handkerchief from her reticule. “Yes, very,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ve scrubbed myself raw, but I can still smell the smoke and the . . .”

Hannah knew what her friend had been about to say. If Hannah hadn’t been busy caring for William, Grace might have asked for her assistance. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d stood by, horrified and helpless, while her friend tried to ease her patients’ suffering. The smell of burned flesh was not something one ever forgot.

Giving herself a shake, Grace changed the subject. “How is the viscount?”

“He’s much improved,” Hannah said with a smile. “I removed the stitches a few days ago, and he is working tirelessly to restore the use of his arm. A little
too
tirelessly. He’s very determined and more difficult to manage than a gaggle of Naomi’s orphans.”

Just as Hannah hoped, Grace laughed. “If he wasn’t such a stubborn individual, I doubt he would have survived. Has he lost much movement or sensation?”

“Quite a bit, I’m afraid.” Hannah’s heart ached to think of it. “He can’t bend his wrist back or fully straightening his elbow, and there’s some tingling and numbness down the outside of his arm extending to the tip of his thumb and his first two fingers.”

“Ah well.” Grace released a breath then straightened her shoulders. “Considering the extent of his injury, it’s a wonder he has any movement at all. How’s he coping with the loss?”

“A bear with a sore tooth comes to mind.”

“He may improve with exercise. We’ll just have to prevent him from overdoing it while the wound continues to heal.”

“Good luck with that,” Hannah muttered.

“He’s not wasting any time bringing the old place to life.” Grace gestured to the bevy of servants, those passing by in the hallway and the ones visible through the parlour windows, all in the process of restoring the manor to its former glory.