Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (20 page)

Outside the front of the church, he managed to capture Hannah’s gaze on two occasions. The first time, he offered her a brief nod, the second a smile. Both times, she frowned and looked away, her reaction not boding well for their reunion. When he was finally able to take his leave, William made his slow but steady way up the hill to his family’s plot, impatient for Hannah’s arrival. A cemetery wasn’t the ideal location for meeting with a young lady, but at least the outlook to the forest was pleasant. After spending a moment at his father’s grave, he looked down upon the one that held the remains of his mother.

What little he knew about the lady who gave him life had come from the Pottses, as his father had refused to speak of her and reacted with a typical degree of violence when quizzed. Dark-haired and with brown eyes, like William, she was only sixteen when her father—on the verge of ruin due to gambling debts—had traded her to see them cleared. As a boy, William hadn’t been contacted by a single member of his mother’s family, not once. As a man, he’d returned the favour, having no desire to meet the people who’d abandoned his mother, and her child,
to their fate.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, William watched Hannah walk up the hill towards him. Stopping some feet away, she curtsied, her smile noticeably absent.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lord Blackthorn. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

His body moving in direct disobedience to the dictates of his conscience, he closed the distance between them. Bowing low, he brought her fingers scandalously close to his lips.

“Good day to you also, Miss Foster,” he said upon straightening. “I trust you are well?”

She stared at him for a moment before responding. “Surely
I
should be the one asking
you
that particular question?”

“As you can see, I am greatly recovered. Well, as much as I shall ever be, I suspect.” He demonstrated the feeble pincer movement the fingers on his left hand were now capable of making.

“You may yet regain more strength,” she said, the compassion in her gaze warming his heart.

“It’s not completely useless.” William shrugged. “Certainly better than no hand at all, and my leg is vastly improved. I have much to be grateful for . . . and
you
to thank.”

“No thanks are needed, my lord. Certainly no more than have already been given. As to the matter of your excessive generosity—”

“Might I be so bold as to comment on your lovely gown?” he said, hoping to preempt any offer she might make to return his gift. “The colour suits you admirably.”

“It does?”

Hannah stared down at her dress, and a surge of anger rose within William at the realisation she was so unused to receiving compliments on her appearance that his words had perplexed her.

“It’s a new outfit.” She smiled hesitantly. “Naomi and Rachel helped choose it. The three of us went shopping with some of the money you gave us.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.” William put as much assurance into his tone as he could. “The bonnet is particularly fetching. The colour of the braid brings out the gold in your eyes.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open for a moment before she snapped it shut.

“Thank you,” she said, colour rising in her cheeks. “You look exceedingly handsome in your formal attire.”

A guffaw erupted from William’s lips. “Now, now, Miss Foster. My compliment was given with all sincerity and not to elicit a highly improbable one in return.”

“But I meant it,” she said, and his head jerked back. It would seem he was no more used to receiving compliments than she was.

“There was something you wished to speak with me about?” he asked, deciding further attempts to distract her—and delay the inevitable
—
would be excessive.

“Your generosity to my family is greatly appreciated, but I fear a gift of one hundred pounds is open to misinterpretation.”

Her words confirmed his fears, and he frowned. “It was not my intention to cause you difficulty. If it’s too much, you can give the excess to the poor, I suppose, but I’d rather you kept it for yourself as a token of my gratitude and esteem.”

“It’s not
just
the money, my lord. The favour you have shown my family has people assuming there is, well, something between us.”

She looked so distressed by the notion William took a step back.

“I’ve stated plainly that this is not the case, as I want nothing more than friendship. Maybe I should have an announcement made informing the general populace I am not now nor ever will be in the market for a wife.”

Hannah flinched.

“What?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone. “Is friendship out of the question also?”

“Not if it was up to me.” She raised her chin. “But society doesn’t allow for friendship between those of different genders, not when the parties involved aren’t closely related by marriage or blood.”

“Do their opinions mean that much to you?” William gestured towards the church where the few remaining parishioners could be seen making their farewells.

“In as much as they impact upon my family, yes, their opinions
do
matter. Without dowries or connections, my sisters cannot afford any scandal becoming attached to our name.”

“I see.” William took another step back. “I thought your having reached the age of spinsterhood protected you from censure.”

“So did I, but it appears I was wrong.” Hannah’s lower lip trembled, and he inwardly railed at being unable to offer her comfort.

“So that’s that, then?” he asked, pain making his tone harsher than he’d intended.

“Yes. I’m afraid so. Maybe after some time has passed—”

William cut her off with a slice of his hand. “If there’s one thing I have learned about the
ton
,
it’s that memories are long and compassion nonexistent. I’ll let it be known my interest in improving the church and vicarage is self-serving. I find your father’s preaching surprisingly tolerable—today’s topic notwithstanding—and I don’t fancy having to look for a new vicar if the current one succumbs to illness due to a leaking manse. Nor do I want to sit in a church that’s at risk of losing its roof. We can blame my newfound religious fervour
on my recent brush with death. Will that do?”

Hannah nodded in reply, and William offered a stiff bow.

“Goodbye, then, Miss Foster. I’ll leave you to visit your mother’s grave alone. Escorting you would be the more gentlemanly thing to do, but we wouldn’t want anyone to see us together.”

“Yes, that’s probably for the best.” Blinking rapidly, she lowered her gaze. “Thank you again for your generosity, my lord.”

“It was nothing.” Hannah wiped her eyes, and William’s conscience berated him for his curtness, his anger dissipating like floodwater after a desert storm. “I apologise for causing you distress, and I want you to know my offer still stands. If you’re ever in need . . .”

She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. “Thank you, my lord. That’s very gracious of you.”

There was nothing gracious about the state of William’s roiling emotions as he turned and limped away.

Chapter 18

Reputation

Hannah was hard-pressed to keep up a pretence of normalcy upon her return home. William had every right to be hurt and angry. To accept his offer of friendship and then reject it was a dreadful thing to do.

With the vague hope her father might have a solution to her dilemma, she sought his company. But he was busy interviewing a young couple who wanted him to officiate at their wedding. By the time he’d finished, the new housekeeper her father insisted they could now afford had arrived. The rest of Hannah’s afternoon was taken up helping Mrs Turner settle in and discussing the woman’s responsibilities.

“Ye will be employing a kitchen hand and chamber maid?” the middle-aged woman queried. “I don’t know how ye’ve managed all alone, Miss Foster, for I know I shan’t be able to.”

“There are a handful of girls coming to be interviewed in the morning,” Hannah said, and the housekeeper released a sigh. Hannah couldn’t deny her own relief at having the load she’d borne for so long lifted, though she worried her father was overstretching their newly adjusted budget. Finding him alone later that afternoon, she broached another of her concerns.

“Papa, there’s something I have to tell you. The viscount gave me a larger amount of money than either Grace or the girls.”

“Really? How much are we talking about?”

“One hundred pounds.” She rushed to continue at her father’s stunned expression. “I tried to return it this afternoon, but he told me to give the money away if I don’t want it. I thought if I kept thirty pounds for myself, the same amount he paid Grace, I could give you the rest to assist with the family finances.”

“I see.” Her father stared at her over the rim of his reading glasses. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but in light of this I need to know if anything untoward
occurred between you and the viscount during your stay at the manor.”

“Papa! You know I’d never do anything to discredit you or the girls.”

“Not intentionally, but talk around town is that the viscount is showing preference to our family because he has developed an attachment to you, which we both know is out of the question.”

The breath caught in Hannah’s throat. “Because I’m a spinster and completely undesirable? I’m well aware of that fact.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Her father rose and came to stand before her, grasping her gently by the shoulders. “You’re a lovely young lady and only two years the viscount’s senior. What I was referring to is his determination not to pursue matrimony.”

“Oh,” Hannah murmured, regretting her overreaction. “We had hoped to be friends. He didn’t mean anything inappropriate by his actions.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” her father said. “But appearances can easily be misconstrued.”

Hannah’s hopes faded. “Don’t worry, Papa. I’ve informed Lord Blackthorn that friendship is out of the question.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Despite her father using the exact same phrase she had spoken to William, Hannah took no comfort from his words.

Tossing and turning for hours, Hannah wondered how her once-comfortable mattress had acquired so many lumps. Giving up on the previously longed-for opportunity to lie in, she rose early and went downstairs to assist Mrs Turner with breakfast. Hannah had just returned from freshening her appearance in preparation for conducting interviews for additional household staff when there was a knock at the door. The first applicants must have arrived early.

“I’ll get it,” she called, as Mrs Turner was busy with bread-making and the girls were off visiting friends. After opening the door, she froze at the sight of Mr Trowbridge on their doorstep.

“Take me to the vicar,” he said, pushing past her.

“The vicar is busy.” Hannah rushed to catch up. “You can’t just barge in here. You need to arrange an appointment.”

“It’s all right,” her father said, coming to the door of his study at the commotion. “I can make time.”

“You’ll make more than time.” Trowbridge crowded the vicar so that he was forced to step backwards. “I’ll have your youngest daughter’s hand in marriage without any further delay, or I’m calling in your loan.”

Hannah normally would have left her father with his guest, unwelcome though he might be, but his threat drew her into the room behind them.

“You can’t do that,” she said. “We’ve got the money to make the overdue loan repayments.”

“Your father has fallen behind more than once, nullifying our original agreement. I’ll not be thwarted this close to claiming my prize.”

“My sister is not a
prize,
and she has no desire to marry a man who would threaten her own father.”

“I don’t give a damn what she desires.” Dismissing Hannah with a sneer, Trowbridge turned back to her father. “I expect you to set a date for the wedding one month from now.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” Her father stood up to the bullish man despite being half his size. “I will not force my daughter to marry a man more than twice her age and for whom she has no tender feelings. Do you really want a wife who holds you in contempt?”