Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (19 page)

Fortunately, the curse that caused others to maintain a wary distance was of no great significance to his comrades. Of course, time could change their attitudes as it had Miss Foster’s when her friend had warned her of his interest.

Recalling the letter he’d had Longbottom deliver to Hannah four days prior, William groaned, wondering what fool inclination had propelled him to address her in such an intimate manner. It wasn’t as if his missive had been hastily written. He’d laboured over it for a ridiculous length of time, the one he finally settled upon his seventh or eighth attempt at finding the right words to convey his true sentiment.

He should have settled for half-truths.

While he had hoped to hear back from Hannah immediately, she had told Longbottom she’d prefer to speak to him in person. Her decision left William conflicted. On the one hand, he welcomed the opportunity to converse with her for any reason. On the other, he was apprehensive about what she might have to say. To his disappointment, her father had directed renovations be completed on the church
before
work began on the manse.

He should have sent two teams.

He’d hoped
to have Hannah living back under his roof by now, his intention to savour more of her company and consolidate their friendship. To what end, he had been reluctant to admit . . . until now.

“Because you’re a cad,” he told his reflection before turning away and limping to the bedroom window to survey his rapidly transforming domain.

He had Hannah to thank for the improvement in his leg, although he tried to suppress the memories of her strong but gentle fingers working the knots out of his injured thigh. The indulgence was not one he deserved. To his shame, he sought to repay her efforts on his behalf by capturing her affections, so desperate was he for the gift of her friendship. It was a tepid imitation of his true desire but one he couldn’t seem to deny himself.

“Your carriage awaits, my lord,” Markham said, and William turned to his servant-cum-friend who stood in the doorway, William’s cane at the ready. It was a good thing he’d learned to hide his emotions over the years, he mused on the drive to attend the Sunday service. At least his trepidation at facing the peers who’d previously shunned him and the tenants and workers he’d unwittingly abandoned would not be written on his face. The anticipation he felt at seeing Hannah again after ten interminable days was another matter, and he warned himself to keep his enthusiasm in check.

After exiting his new carriage, and taking a moment to make certain his footing was sure, William looked up and was confronted by a sea of faces. The size of the crowd gathered outside the church was unexpected, the congregation having swelled considerably since his previous visit, and he stifled a curse. All conversation ceased, just a faint susurrus of murmurs accompanying him as he walked along the pathway to the church’s entrance. Resisting the temptation to stare at the ground, he nodded politely at familiar faces and was met with nods from the gentlemen and curtsies from the ladies. The younger misses, those who weren’t already hiding behind their mothers’ skirts, paled noticeably at his passing, and William stifled a sigh. He would need to alert them to the fact they had nothing to fear from him, as he had no interest whatsoever in the local debutantes. If matrimony were an option, he would look no further than the vicar’s supposedly unmarriageable eldest daughter for a bride.

What a to-do such an act on his part would create.

His pleasure at the thought faded as he considered what it must mean for Hannah to have reached her advanced age without marrying. While he knew little of the dreams of debutantes, he doubted spinsterhood was something to which they aspired. Hannah’s position in society was only marginally more acceptable than his, and through absolutely no fault of her own.

As he approached the portico, he could hear the object of his thoughts—almost
all
his thoughts—playing a familiar hymn on the organ. Blast. He would have to wait until the end of the service to speak with her.

“Welcome, Lord Blackthorn,” the Reverend Foster said warmly when he entered the vestibule. “It’s a pleasure to see you up and about. I take it you’re on the mend?”

“Yes, indeed. No small thanks to the excellent care I received from your daughter.” William made sure to keep his voice low, unsure whether Hannah’s stay at the manor was common knowledge. Despite his belief her fears were exaggerated, he was not so out of touch with the politics of country life as to ignore her concerns regarding propriety. The last thing he wanted to do was repay her kindness by inflicting damage to her reputation.

“I’d like to offer my gratitude for your generosity,” the vicar said, and William nodded.

“You’re very welcome, reverend. No thanks are needed.”

Despite the kind greeting from the vicar, memories of an unpleasant nature assaulted William as he made his way down the church’s central aisle, his destination the elaborately carved Blackthorn pew—the one he’d sat in alone as a boy and expected to occupy singly as a man. To his surprise, he was interrupted in his journey by some of the local villagers who’d taken their seats in the rearmost pews. The front third, yet to be filled, belonged to the various society families in order of rank, William’s pew located at the very front of the church, of course.

“Welcome ’ome, me lord.” A plump, older woman stood and curtsied, her actions echoed by those around her. “Thank ye ever so much for seein’ to the wages.”

“And for the bonuses. Mighty generous of ye, me lord.” The next speaker was a vaguely familiar-looking young man. A woman holding a small babe stood at his side.

“You’re welcome. Mr Davies, is it? The blacksmith’s son?” William hoped he’d remembered correctly.

“Aye.” The man’s face lit up. “Martin Davies, and this be me wife, Sally, and our little un, Harry. I work in the mines, but I’m also a farrier, workin’ in the yard alongside me father’s smithy. I took care of that fine ’orse of yours when ye first arrived. ’Twas right sad to see ’im go, I was.”

“Then you must visit him,” William said. “I’ll be needing a farrier, as I’m hoping to have the stables filled and a breeding program up and running before too long. Make an appointment with my secretary, if you’re interested, and we’ll discuss terms.”

“Thank ye, me lord.” The young man’s eyes widened until they seemed to take up half his face, not unlike the babe in his wife’s arms. William’s lip twitched, the action surprising him, as he’d never been tempted to smile in church before.

“Ye’re lookin’ well, me lord. Much better than was reported when ye first arrived,” the plump woman said. “Miss Foster took good care of ye?”

“Very good care, indeed . . . as did Miss Daniels,” he added deliberately.

“Miss Hannah’s very well thought of by all us folks ’ere in the village.” The woman’s words were echoed quietly by those around her. Their expressions had sobered, and William sensed a definite warning.

“Miss Foster is an admirable lady on all accounts,” he said, hoping to set their fears to rest before continuing his journey to the front of the church. Their comments had alarmed him. Not the sentiment—of course they wouldn’t want the beloved vicar’s daughter entangled with the likes of him—but he was troubled as to what had triggered their concern in the first place. His sense of foreboding increased as the society members took their seats behind him, and he overheard Hannah’s name mentioned by the young ladies distressed by his mere presence. Unsurprisingly, none of his peers engaged him in general conversation, unlike the villagers. It had been that way for as long as he could recall. The further removed by station people were from the threat of the Blackthorn Curse, the more accepting they were of him as a person. William raised his brows when the vicar approached with a request that he share his pew, the church being filled to overflowing.

“Certainly.” He smiled at the arrival of Hannah’s sisters.

“Are you sure you don’t mind us joining you?” Naomi asked somewhat warily.

“Not at all. There’s plenty of room.”

Hannah had introduced her sisters to him a few days before she’d left the manor. Both girls were strikingly pretty, the youngest quite angelic in appearance. But it was testament to the degree of his infatuation with the eldest Foster daughter that the only things that interested him about the younger two were those attributes they had in common with their sister. There was little time for pleasantries as the vicar made his way to the front of the church, though both girls offered a quick word of thanks for William’s gifts.

“We went shopping in Thornton on Friday,” the younger girl said. “Don’t our new gowns look divine?”

“Rachel,” Naomi whispered, but William found her ingenuousness disarming.

“They do indeed.” He wondered if Hannah would also be wearing a new gown, and if that was the reason the locals’ suspicions had been aroused. She’d earned every penny of the payment he’d given her, so there was no reason for anyone to consider his actions untoward.

Hope rose fleetingly in his chest that Hannah might come and join her sisters once the singing was concluded, but she didn’t. To his frustration, he couldn’t see her from his location without twisting around in the pew and craning his head, an obvious move that would spark curiosity as to the object of his interest . . . and there was no denying he was
interested.

William brought his thoughts sharply into line. While he gladly would have indulged himself with memories of his many encounters with Hannah—and the affection they had inspired—some of them weren’t suitable for contemplation in church.

After placing a sizable donation on the offering plate, he partook of communion then settled back to hear the sermon. Once again, he found himself enjoying the Reverend Foster’s oration. As the message continued, however, William couldn’t help wondering if it was not aimed at or somehow about . . .
him.
To his bewilderment, the vicar had chosen to address the topic of curses, specifically how they came about and how they could supposedly be defeated.

“As light is more powerful than darkness, so God’s love is more powerful than any curse the enemy would use to enslave us. Let us have faith that we
all
can be set free from the curse of sin and death.”

The reverend’s final words echoed in William’s ears long after silence had fallen over the church. Was he saying the Blackthorn Curse could be broken?

Uncertain as to the man’s motives in issuing such a provocative statement, William chose to concentrate on the sound of Hannah’s voice as she led the congregation in the final hymn.

“Well, that was fascinating,” Naomi murmured dryly after the benediction was given. “Do you think the message may have been for you, my lord?”

Saved from responding when the vicar came to thank him for attending the service, William’s eyes lit up when Hannah’s father extended an invitation to join his family for supper some evening.

“I’d be honoured,” William said, blinking in surprise.

“Excellent.” The vicar smiled broadly. “I’d like to discuss the issues raised in today’s sermon in more detail, my lord. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to the congregation.”

“Certainly.” Not at all comfortable with the ideas the vicar had presented, William kept his reply short, fearing a more detailed response might not be fully reasoned or particularly civil. False hope had been his father’s undoing—though his mother had paid the ultimate price—and William had no intention of travelling down that path.

Separated by the milling crowd as they made their way out of the church, William was able to catch only fleeting glimpses of Hannah. She was wearing a gown he hadn’t seen before—peach-coloured with cream trim and a matching cream bonnet. He knew little of fashion but thought it rather fetching.

“She wants to speak to you,” Naomi said in a quietly worded aside, confirming his secretary’s missive. “But may I suggest you wait until later to approach her? Now that this lot have got her ear, she won’t be available for an age. It’s a weekly ritual. Half of them require her to fawn over them to boost their egos and the other half to listen to their woes. Although there are those who simply enjoy the pleasure of her company.”

William raised a brow at the young woman’s irreverent disclosure. “I wouldn’t want to cause your sister any distress by drawing undue attention.”

“That’s probably wise, my lord. Why don’t you pay your respects to your parents’ graves? It
was
what you were attempting to do the day you arrived, was it not?”

William nodded, and Naomi continued with her obvious plotting.

“It’s Hannah’s practice to visit our mother’s grave on Sundays, usually after
the midday meal, but I’m sure I can convince her that a change in her routine would be beneficial. The crowd will have cleared in less than half an hour. Are you up to standing for that long?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” he said. If Hannah wanted to speak with him, he’d sit on a damned tombstone while he waited for her if necessary.

William was greeted more warmly after the service than he’d been prior. The roof not falling in at his presence had probably helped. A number of gentlemen appeared keen to renew their acquaintance, mostly to discuss recent events and William’s plans for the district. But the invitations that would typically have been proffered to the most senior member upon his return were thin on the ground. The exception was a Mr Kingswood, prompted by his rather strident wife, who requested he visit them for tea at his earliest convenience. One glance in the direction of the man’s terror-struck daughters and William kept his reply vague.