Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (15 page)

The following week passed too quickly for his liking, though Hannah’s subdued demeanour cast a pall over their time together.

“It’s time I returned home,” she informed him after he’d stayed awake throughout the afternoon without napping for several days in a row. “I fear my continued presence will begin to raise questions.”

“Nonsense.” His heart began to race. “You’ve said yourself no one will see anything amiss in the vicar’s spinster daughter offering assistance to a sick and dying parishioner.”

“Yes, but
cohabiting
with said parishioner after
his recovery has the potential to stretch the bounds of propriety,” she said with a wry smile, “even for one such as myself.”

“But that’s preposterous.” He’d been careful not to reveal his feelings towards her. She should have no cause for alarm. “You and I both know there’s absolutely nothing between us.”

Hannah blinked several times, as if she’d gotten something stuck in her eye. “Of course there isn’t, but communities like Hartley thrive on gossip. I’d rather not give them cause, however implausible. Mr Houghton and Mrs Laws have both accepted their offers of employment and will begin work upon the morrow,” she said, naming his new butler and head housekeeper. “That completes the household staff. You’ve settled on Mr Dodds for stable master?”

“Yes, but I’m still to decide on my new estate manager, the most important position of all,” he countered, vexed by her cool tone.

“I thought Mr Lumley a sensible fellow. Will he not do? It’s not like you won’t be here to oversee matters . . . unless you’re planning on leaving the district again now that you’re on the mend?”

He stared blankly. Of course he wasn’t going to leave.

“There’s been a late application.” He walked across to the desk he’d had set up next to Hannah’s in the sitting room. It had made sense for him to be situated close by, since they were working on the same projects, but William feared he’d miscalculated and his company was not as welcome as he’d believed.

Stony faced, Hannah took the letter.

“A retired major?” She raised her brows. “He seems highly qualified
.
Do you know the man?”

William nodded, relieved to have refocused her attention. “He was my commanding officer. The younger son of a baron, he had a respectable inheritance. But upon his return from France, he discovered his father had died and his eldest brother, the heir, had squandered the lot. He’s in unexpected need of employment, as a military pension is not enough to live on—not
well
. It’s designed to supplement a gentleman’s income, not replace it.”

“Why did he leave the army?”

Hannah’s curiosity seemed to be getting the better of her, and William’s hopes rose he might yet convince her to stay.

“His wife died while he was abroad, and he resigned his commission to care for his son. The boy has an ailment of some sort.”

“I see.” Hannah read the rest of Major Jonathan Loring’s application before looking up to meet William’s gaze. “The major sounds like an exemplary candidate. You already know the man, so my input is hardly necessary.”

“You’re leaving.” William’s shoulders slumped.

“It is past time for me to return to my
duties, my lord. I’m but a half hour’s walk away if you should need me.”

“If I
need
you, I shall send a carriage.”

“A carriage?”

Her pointed look was nearly his undoing, and it took several deep breaths for him to control his temper.

“I have several being custom built.” He ground the words between his clenched teeth. “Dodds is travelling to London tomorrow to purchase a team of four and a ready-made carriage to use in the meantime. His expected return is less than three days hence if you
insist
on departing.”

“Thank you for your consideration, but I’m afraid three more days is out of the question.” Hannah smiled but it didn’t come close to meeting her eyes. “Fortunately, I’m not yet too decrepit to manage a little exercise. The walk down the hill will do me good.”

“That’s your final word on the matter?”

She raised her chin. “What difference could my continued presence possibly make? Your health is greatly improved and your arm recovering best as can be expected. You have a veritable army of servants to cater to your every need and, as you so eloquently pointed out, there is absolutely
nothing
between us.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, but she’d already begun to collect her belongings. “Miss Foster, please. It wasn’t my intention to offend you.”

“Why ever would I be offended, my lord?” She turned to face him. “It’s a long time since we were childhood friends and, as you’ve noted on several occasions, caring for you was my Christian duty.”

Stifling a curse, William resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her. “So your purpose has been accomplished, and you want nothing more to do with me?”

“No, of course not. That’s not what I said.”

She seemed rattled, but he wasn’t sorry. Anything was better than icy disdain.

“I had hoped we might rekindle our childhood friendship,” he added, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. It was futile, but in his heart, he wanted so much more.

“Friendship,” she echoed. “That was my hope also.”

“Then why are you so determined to leave?”

“Because my family needs me and, contrary to your assumption, even
spinsters
have reputations to protect. It’s nothing personal, my lord. I am merely attempting to be wise.”

“I see,” he said when it became apparent she wasn’t going to back down. “Then you must be on your way. At least let me arrange for a footman to carry your bag.”

“That would be appreciated, though there’s no rush. You can have one of the workers drop it off when they return to the village at the end of the day.”

Her smile, though small, appeared genuine, but William couldn’t muster one in return.

Hannah’s leave-taking was accomplished with the same lack of fuss she applied to all her duties, though William thought it poor form when she tried to depart without saying a proper goodbye.

“Thank you, Miss Foster, for everything,” he called from the landing as she neared the bottom of the stairs.

“You’re welcome, my lord,” she replied, her face hidden by the brim of her bonnet.

“If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, to assist you or your family in any way, I trust you won’t hesitate to ask?”

She looked up, and he caught sight of her hazel eyes for the briefest moment. Then she was gone.

Walking as quickly as he could with the aid of his cane, William crossed to the nearest door that led to the parapet overlooking the front of the manor. With an ache in his heart he expected to be a permanent fixture, he watched Hannah walk down the hill towards the village.

“Is there anything amiss, my lord?” Dawkins asked as he approached, and William shook his head. “I thought you and Miss Foster might like to take your luncheon on the balcony overlooking the south garden. The topiaries are starting to take shape, and there’s even some blooms appearing on the roses. It’s a lovely view.”

“Miss Foster has decided to return to the vicarage.”

Dawkins blinked. “You let ’er go?”

William let his valet’s less-than-respectful tone pass. “It wasn’t my choice.”

“So sorry, my lord.” Dawkins reached to pat his master’s shoulder before withdrawing his hand. The gesture was overly familiar but, under the circumstances, William wouldn’t have objected.

“It’s for the best.” He shot Dawkins a glance. “Don’t you think?”

The look of confusion on the young man’s face changed to one of sorrow as comprehension dawned.

“Aye. Ye might be right,” he said. “Miss Foster is a fine lady. It’d be a tragedy if any ’arm were to befall ’er. Beggin’ me pardon for sayin’ so, my lord.”

“You need never apologise for speaking the truth, Dawkins.” William sighed and turned away from the window now that Hannah was no longer in view.

Chapter 14

Put Upon

Hannah’s eyes stung, but she refused to allow the tears to fall as she walked away from Blackthorn Manor. In their place, she was tempted to utter a few of the curses with which William was so free—the ones she understood at any rate.

Of course, she didn’t expect anything more than friendship, but how the dratted man could say there was
nothing
between them, after all they had shared, was beyond her. He’d probably only meant to imply there was nothing
untoward
between them, no feelings of an intimate nature, but that didn’t stop the painful tightening in her chest whenever she recounted his hurtful words.

“Foolish woman,” she muttered to herself.

She removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes, determined not
to arrive home red-eyed no matter how wretched she felt.

She should be grateful William wanted her friendship, and she was. It wasn’t as if any other man had ever offered as much. At age seventeen, when she’d taken her place in society, Hannah had still been bothered by sensitive skin. Thankfully, it had not been a serious problem, but combined with the fact she’d been yet to lose the extra weight she’d carried from childhood, her confidence had been minimal. By the time her skin cleared and cheekbones emerged, her mother’s health had begun to fail. While other girls her age were marrying and having babies, Hannah was busy taking caring of her family. Her mother’s illness had lasted many years, and Hannah was twenty-four before she was ready to reemerge into society. Devoid of both dowry and youth, her chances of procuring a husband had been slim, diminishing as each year passed. At twenty-seven they were nonexistent.

Making her way up the path to the vicarage’s front door, Hannah raised her chin. Her family must never know of her feelings for William, and she summoned whatever latent acting ability she possessed. It would be difficult at first, but she imagined being reimmersed in her many duties would serve as a distraction.

The thought triggered a sob, and she ruthlessly suppressed it, focusing on the scene before her. After almost a month away, her home of many years looked in need of attention. The rosebushes required dead-heading, weeds ran rampant in her normally well-tended flowerbeds, the windows were overdue for cleaning—it had been next on her list of chores—and cobwebs had sprung up under the eaves. Whatever had the girls been doing in her absence?

While Hannah always carried the bulk of the burden, so as to give her sisters as normal an upbringing as possible despite the family’s constrained circumstance, the girls were far from incapable. Surely they could have carried out
some
of the chores.

“Hello?” she called upon entering the tiny foyer.

“You’re home!” Rachel came running from the parlour and threw herself into Hannah’s arms as if she’d not seen her in an age rather than the few days since she’d last visited the manor. “I’ve missed you, Hannah. It’s been so dreary here without you, and there’s so much work to do! Honestly, I’ve worn my fingers to the bone trying to keep up. You’re so much more efficient at everything than Naomi and I are . . . the baking, the cleaning, the laundry. You make it look effortless, but it’s
not,
I tell you.”

“No, indeed,” Hannah murmured.

“Give your sister some room, Rachel.” Their father patted his youngest daughter’s shoulder before welcoming Hannah into his embrace. “It’s good to have you home, my dear.”

“It’s good to be home,” Hannah said, her attempt at a smile not a complete failure. “Where’s Naomi?”

“She’s gone to help out at the orphanage for a few days.” Rachel’s expression fell. “There’s been another influx of children . . . a mine accident over in Fromley.”

“I see.” Hannah needed no further explanation. With the husbands and older brothers dead or grievously injured, the mothers had no alternative but to relinquish some of the children in their care, usually already-orphaned nieces and nephews they’d taken in but could no longer provide for. It was a horrible choice, but watching a child starve was worse.

“One of the Blackthorn mines?” She looked to her father, and he nodded. William hadn’t even been informed. The sooner they had a new estate manager employed, the better.