Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (22 page)

“Can you think of another way?”

“But how would that help? The rumours—”

“Will be much more easily countered if I make you my wife,” he said, reaching for her hand and entwining their fingers. “In light of a courtship, my paying off your father’s debt and providing dowries for your sisters will appear perfectly acceptable. The scandal will soon be forgotten.”

“But . . .” Hannah refused to allow the hope burgeoning in her heart to take flight. While she was overwhelmed by his generosity, such a plan of salvation was not at all fair to William. “But I’m a vicar’s daughter, older
than you and, well . . .
plain
. Everyone will assume you
had
to marry me to prevent a scandal . . . which would be the truth.”

William shrugged. “The end result will be the same, though you’re selling yourself short if you ask me. Quite aside from my battered limbs and scarred visage, you seem to be forgetting I’m the
cursed
Viscount Blackthorn, not exactly the most eligible of bachelors. It’s a measure of your desperation you haven’t run screaming from the room at the mere mention of matrimony.”

Hannah straightened her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of the Blackthorn Curse. My father believes it can be broken.”

“Well, I don’t.” William’s tone cooled noticeably. “Any wife of mine is destined to die in childbirth.”

Hannah sat back. “You expect me to sacrifice my life for my family?”

“No! I should have fully explained my offer. I’m talking a marriage of convenience
only
. I would never
put your life at risk, Hannah,
never
!”

For the longest moment, Hannah wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. William wanted to marry her. No, William was
willing
to marry her to fix the mess she’d made. But she would be his wife in name only, denied a true marriage or the chance of motherhood. To make matters worse, she was in love with him—something that, under the circumstances, he must never discover.

“No one could know the truth.” She felt dizzy at the sheer volume of secrets she would be required to keep. “If the marriage remained unconsummated, it could be annulled. The scandal would be worse than the one we’re now facing.”

“Agreed.” William nodded. “Neither of us expected to wed, so we’d not be depriving the other of the opportunity for a real marriage, and we’ve both already stated an interest in pursuing a friendship.”

“One that would no longer be denied us.” Hannah attempted to enter into the spirit of the negotiation even though a part of her wanted to weep. “And in the matter of your recovery, we’ve already shown we can work well as a team—”

“Your dreadful bullying notwithstanding,” William said, bringing a reluctant smile to her lips. She chose not to make mention of his childlike rebellion when it came to taking his medicine. Her smile faded as she considered his earlier use of her name, something she’d never expected to hear.

“You’re welcome to call me Hannah, if you wish,” she said shyly.

“Thank you.” His brown eyes darkened. “I’d like you to call me William.”

“Very well,
William.
” Saying his name aloud, with his permission, caused a warm glow in her chest.

“We’ll have to show a united front.”

“I wasn’t planning on arguing with you in public.”

William smirked. “I’ll remind you of that. But I was actually referring to the criticism you are sure to face by agreeing to marry me.”

“I can bear it.” Hannah lifted her chin.

“I suppose you can,” he said, his smile fading. “When the alternative is so much worse.”

Chapter 19

Proposal

To William’s frustration, he couldn’t manage his cane, the posy of flowers he’d had Mrs Laws arrange, and the box of chocolates Longbottom had purchased for him in Thornton all at the same time. In an attempt to solve the problem, he tucked the bouquet under his left arm. That left him with the cane, the chocolates, and only one good hand. He could shove the chocolates under his right arm but he might drop the lot and end up looking ridiculous. Well, more ridiculous than he already felt.

“Can I ’elp ye, me lord?” the footman asked as he held the door to the carriage. “I could carry the gifts up to the door for ye.”

William glowered, wishing he could direct the driver to return to the manor. What sort of gentleman couldn’t even go courting without assistance?

A lace curtain fell back into place behind one of the vicarage’s front windows, and he sighed. It was too late to retreat now. His arrival had been noted.

“Yer Lordship?” the brave young footman persisted.

“Very well.” William handed him the flowers and chocolates before alighting from the carriage, cane firmly in hand. The last
thing he needed was for his leg to give way halfway down the path.

Further down the road, some children had suspended their game to stand and stare, as had a group of women clustered together outside a row of cottages. News of his visit would be all over the village before he’d been offered a cup of tea.

Something stronger would be preferable.

Hannah had already agreed to marry him—not that she had any choice in the matter—but he was still nervous about the imminent encounter with her father. It might have been unintentional, but William
had
played a part in ruining the man’s daughter, not to mention scheming to get her back under his roof.

A smile curved William’s lips at the reminder that, if the marriage went ahead, he would have her there permanently.

“Lord Blackthorn to see the reverend,” he said when the Fosters’ new housekeeper opened the front door. “I believe he’s expecting me.”

“Of course, Yer Lordship. Would you like me to bring yer gifts into the drawing room?”

“That would be appreciated.” He followed her through to a cosy sitting room where Hannah’s father was waiting for him . . . alone.

“Lord Blackthorn. Good to see you again.” The vicar rose from his chair, his expression uncharacteristically sombre.

“Reverend Foster.” William bowed.

Once they were both seated, the vicar broke the silence. “My daughter has informed me of the reason for your visit. You have my sincerest gratitude for taking care of my debt to Trowbridge. The man has been a thorn in my side for years.”

“It was my pleasure,” William said. Confronting the large but cowardly gentleman had been most satisfying. Even semi-incapacitated, William was still a lethal opponent, and Trowbridge had foolishly underestimated him. In William’s opinion, slamming against the wall the man who’d threatened Hannah’s good name had not been taking things too far. Although it was probably wise that he had chosen to take Loring along for the visit—not for protection, but to curb any excessive display of retribution William might have been tempted to mete.

“Hannah has also informed me you intend providing her sisters with dowries. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for such a magnanimous gesture.”

William waved his hand dismissively. “It’s the least I can do for my future sisters-in-law.”

“You have my profound thanks. But having said that”—the vicar furrowed his brow—“I own to some misgivings about you marrying my daughter.”

It was understandable, but William was unsure how to assuage the man’s fears without revealing the marriage would be in name only.

“Hannah assures me the two of you are confident you can overcome the Blackthorn Curse,” the vicar continued, his declaration news to William. “I’m pleased to hear you took my sermon to heart, but I’ll admit to being a little surprised at the speed of your conversion. Your faith is unwavering?”

William gulped. His faith was nonexistent, but he didn’t imagine admitting that to his prospective father-in-law would be beneficial to his cause.

“My faith?”

“Yes. Your faith God can lift the curse and Hannah will come through childbirth unharmed. Hannah believes your efforts to rectify the evil inflicted by your forebears have put you in good standing with the Almighty, a conclusion with which I concur. I understand you’re concerned, however, that the very act of taking a wife may cancel out the good you have accomplished. You seek reassurance?”

“Reassurance . . . right.” William tried to keep his tone agreeable while doing his best not to splutter. He appreciated that Hannah had been forced to justify to her father their decision to marry, but a little warning regarding his supposed spiritual awakening would have been appreciated.

“What is your opinion on the matter?” William asked, his curiosity genuine. “Do you believe Hannah will be safe from the curse if we marry?”

“The study of theology is not an exact science.” The vicar’s tone was wry. “But yes, I believe it is
possible
for the curse upon your family to be broken.”

Possible.

There was a hesitancy in the vicar’s tone William had not detected during his sermon, which was hardly surprising. The life of the man’s eldest daughter was now at stake.

“What would need to occur to make it a certainty?” William’s heart beat drumlike in his chest. With his question had come the realisation he was opening himself up to the rather frightening potential for hope
.

The vicar smiled. “If guarantees could be given, faith would not be required. Short of the finger of God appearing to write assurances on the wall, all I can offer is my belief you will be rewarded if you continue on the path of righteousness.”

“Righteousness?” William struggled to hide his cynicism. “While I appreciate your willingness to view my deeds in such a positive light, I feel I should point out I have not attended church since leaving Hartley when I was a boy.”

“Understandably so,” the vicar said. “I well recall my predecessor’s sermons. I’m afraid he took his displeasure with your father’s actions out on you. Returning to a place that must surely have caused you great distress does you credit.”

William shifted in his seat, unwilling to admit both times he’d attended church since returning to Hartley had been due to the lure of the vicar’s daughter.

“Then there’s the matter of your exemplary comportment in the ensuing years despite your harsh beginnings.”

“I’ve just tried to do the right thing.” William shrugged, embarrassed by the unexpected praise.

“Hannah told me of your efforts to rectify the wrongs committed by your forebears,” the vicar said, undeterred. “Combined with your determination to see slavery abolished, it shows a propensity for both justice and mercy. According to the book of Micah, the third virtue required to meet the Lord’s requirements for righteousness is humility, which is evident in your attitude. Other than that, all you need is faith.”

Faith, William mused, fighting a battle between his conscience and his desires. The opportunity to spend his future in a platonic relationship with a woman as admirable as Hannah Foster was a dream he’d not dared envision. But to hope for more? As much as he’d like to believe the curse could be broken, he wasn’t about to stake her life upon it.

Seeing Hannah walking up the hill towards the manor the day before had stolen his breath. He was unsure if it was due to some subtle change she’d made in her appearance or his own infatuated state, but she grew in loveliness every time he saw her. If the risk was to him, he would gladly exchange a long life for a few years or even months of a true marriage with the woman he cared for. But the risk was to Hannah, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her coming to harm.

“Neither could I.” Her father nodded, and William realised he’d spoken his last thought aloud. “My prayers for
all
my daughters have been that their futures would be both happy and secure, an eventuality that was looking less and less likely. It would seem the Almighty has chosen you as the answer to those prayers, my lord.”

William hid his smile behind his hand. He’d never been called the answer to a maiden’s prayers before, or a vicar’s for that matter.

“Please, call me William,” he said. “You knew me as a boy—”

“And look forward to counting you as a son.”

William’s eyes widened. He’d barely come to terms with the possibility of having a wife . . . in any form. That he would also become part of an extended family was not something he’d properly considered.

“Before I give my blessing for the marriage”—the vicar’s expression grew serious—“I have one more question. I realise your offer is a result of wanting to prevent a scandal, but I need to know . . . do you
care
for Hannah?”

William swallowed hard. “Yes I do. I hold her in considerable esteem and not just because she helped save my life. While not having previously contemplated matrimony, I had hoped for a friendship with your daughter.”

There was much more he could have said to sing Hannah’s praises, but he decided to leave it at that. Acknowledging the degree of his affection seemed unwise, as he didn’t want her to feel pressured to return a sentiment she did not feel. Nor did he care to make himself more vulnerable than absolutely necessary.

“Very good. You can count on my continued prayers for the both of you, as I must say, I’m rather looking forward to becoming a grandfather.”

On that challenging note, the vicar left William to await Hannah’s arrival. Aside from all else, William was eager for their reunion and impatient for the day when the two of them would once more share a residence. A few moments later, she entered the sitting room wearing the peach gown she’d worn the previous Sunday, her womanly figure shown off to great advantage.