Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (26 page)

Hannah had enjoyed their kiss.

Her reason for requesting it had been perfectly understandable, and he’d been more than happy to oblige her. But Hannah
had been the first to let her lids flutter closed. She may even have whimpered, though he couldn’t be sure, as his groan of pleasure had overwhelmed whatever sound she’d uttered. Of one thing he was certain—
he
had been the one to end the kiss, not her.

The evidence led him to believe she might not be averse to a repeat encounter. Whether that meant she cared for him personally or had merely been affected by her first experience of intimacy, he couldn’t say. Regardless of her motivation, the knowledge she might welcome his advances was both a comfort and a torment.

At a movement at the entry of the church, the two recently retired officers stood to attention. Naomi was first to appear in the sunlit doorway, looking lovely in a light green gown with a bouquet of cream roses in her hands. She walked at a steady pace to the front of the church, and William spared her a brief smile before returning his attention to his bride, escorted by her father and walking slowly down the aisle.

While William had long since amended his first impression Hannah was merely handsome, he couldn’t recall a more alluring sight. The pearls embroidered into her gown and woven through her hair glittered in the sunlight streaming through the church windows, while the gold of her gown complemented her colouring. After her father delivered her to his side, William broke with tradition and bent to murmur in her ear, “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After their kiss, he’d worried about maintaining his control and took advantage of their diligent chaperonage to keep a physical distance. But when a tentative smile smoothed the apprehension from her brow, William regretted the barriers he’d erected between them during the weeks of their betrothal.

Facing the front, he saw Hannah’s father had taken his place before the altar, ready to perform the ceremony.

In another break from protocol, William had ignored the insistence from his peers that a viscount should be married by a bishop, preferably in a cathedral or abbey. Having no desire to deal with the pomp and pageantry of a London wedding, he’d readily agreed when Hannah had expressed a wish to marry in the church at Hartley. Since he was intent on denying her the chance of motherhood, it seemed fitting he fulfil at least one of her girlhood dreams. The only problem with their choice was the church couldn’t hold all of the guests, so most of the village folk were relegated to waiting outside due to a lack of space. The compromise bothered Hannah, but there were only so many conventions they could flout.

Standing in front of the congregation with Hannah at his side, William listened to her father’s words of wisdom. Their vows echoed his admonishment that they were to treat one another with respect, patience, kindness, and forbearance. Promising to have and to hold one another brought a lump to William’s throat when he considered what they would be denied. But it was with all sincerity he vowed, whether rich or poor, in sickness or in health, through triumph or tragedy, to love, honour, and respect Hannah until death they did part. Although doubting she meant them quite the same way, William savoured her vows to do likewise.

He’d never heard words of love nor expected to speak them himself, and he briefly contemplated telling Hannah of his true feelings. But the vicar’s prayer that God would bless them with a long and
fruitful
life together, reminded him of his limitations.

After running the gauntlet of nobles and gentry intent on offering their congratulations, William and Hannah emerged into the sunshine as man and wife to be met by a spattering of rice and the well wishes of the local villagers and manor staff. That some continued to eye him with suspicion was no less than he expected.

Determined not to exclude the people who had supported her during the years when, by virtue of her endeavours, she’d lived more like a commoner than a gentleman’s daughter, Hannah had insisted an afternoon tea be provided for
all
those who attended their nuptials. Consequently, at Lord and Lady Blackthorn’s wedding reception, dowagers found themselves sitting side-by-side with dressmakers, and lords were required to mingle with labourers.

The manor’s largest and most opulent drawing room was put to good use, its doors thrown open, and its cloth-covered tables and velvet-padded chairs spread out across the manicured lawns. Six weeks had been just long enough for the small army of gardeners William now employed to transform the grounds overlooking the lake, the perfect setting for a celebration the Blackthorn district would not forget in a hurry.

When they were forced to separate, William’s gaze followed Hannah as she mingled with their guests. The genuine affection in which she was held, especially by those of the working class, spoke volumes of her character. Unlike most of his peers, William had progressed through the officers’ ranks on merit, not patronage. Winning the respect of the men who served beneath him had been his priority, and discovering the supposedly common man had a great deal to offer by way of practical wisdom had been a lesson he was determined not to forget. That he and Hannah were like-minded in their opinions augured well for their union, or so he hoped.

To placate the local society, a formal dinner for one hundred invited guests—the cream of Blackthorn and surrounds—was held in the early evening. William’s staff did him proud. The grand dining hall, already an opulent room, was decorated with an abundance of blooms, the side tables adorned with exotic ice sculptures. The multiple-course dinner was a gourmet’s delight. However, William’s favourite element of the evening, other than having his new bride at his side, was the string quartet employed to play softly in the background. He would be sad to see them go and considered keeping them on permanent retainer—an expensive exercise but one he could easily afford. Dismissing the idea with a shake of his head, he could imagine Hannah’s response to such extravagance.

Her shoulders slumped as they waved off the last of their guests. The procession of lantern-lit carriages making its way down the long, winding driveway was a mesmerizing sight, and she released a sigh.

“Tired?” William asked. Tempted to embrace her, he made do with linking their arms.

“A little.” She looked up at him, the smile she’d worn since the ceremony beginning to fade.

“Did you enjoy the day?” he asked as they made their way inside their shared home.

“Of course,” she said, but he detected sadness in her eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing really.”

When he halted them in the vaulted foyer and looked into her eyes, she said, “I’m just a little disappointed Grace didn’t stay for dinner. At least she came to the wedding and afternoon tea.”

Hannah wouldn’t reveal the reason for her estrangement with her best friend. William had suggested she inform Miss Daniels of the true nature of their union, so as to rid her of any concern she might possess for her friend’s safety, but Hannah had murmured something about having tried that already. William was aware the majority of their society held Miss Daniels’ illegitimacy against her while making good use of her skills when they were needed. Suspicious she might fear rejection once her friend was a viscountess, he’d taken a moment to assure Grace she would always be welcome in his home.

“I’m sure Miss Daniels will come around in time. At least Rachel is no longer eyeing me like I’m the devil incarnate. That must count for something?”

As hoped, his comment brought a smile to Hannah’s lips.

“A yearly allowance of five hundred pounds has altered her perception considerably.”

William refrained from comment, not wanting to rekindle their earlier disagreement about her sisters’ dowries.

He turned them towards the stairs while a group of footmen began lowering the chandelier that hung from the three-storey ceiling above them, so they could douse the dozens of candles that illuminated the foyer.

“So what happens now?” Hannah asked softly.

“It’s getting late. I suggest we retire.”

“The servants will know if we don’t spend time together on our wedding night.” She glanced at him then looked away. “Shall I come to your room or will you visit mine?”

“I’ll come to you. It’s traditional.”

William considered apologising to his new bride for the unconventional nature of their union, but she was well aware of his reasoning. Just when he thought he must say
something
to ease the tension, she made a surprising confession.

“My parents shared a bedroom. Did I ever tell you that?”

William shook his head, intrigued by the disclosure.

“The curate’s residence where I was born wasn’t much more than a cottage, not that the average vicarage boasts separate suites for master and mistress.”

He smiled at her wry tone as they slowly made their way up the stairs. It had been a long day for him also. While he’d managed it without his cane, his leg was feeling the effects.

“My bedroom was next to theirs,” Hannah continued. “I used to lie awake just so I could hear the murmur of their voices. Sometimes, I’d hear them laughing together in the middle of the night. It was the most wonderful sound.”

“I imagine it was.” William could barely comprehend such a thing.

“If I awoke before they’d arisen, I would try the door to their room. Sometimes it was locked.” She eyed him knowingly, and he raised his eyebrows. “But other times it wasn’t, and I would sneak inside and climb onto their bed. I’m sure they knew I was there the whole time, but it was a lovely game we played. When they awoke they would pounce on the ‘intruder,’ tickling me until I laughed so hard I would beg them to stop. Then they’d tell me stories. Rachel gets her imagination from our mother,” she added in an aside, although William thought Hannah’s ability to tell a captivating tale was not to be discounted.

“What happened when your sisters arrived? You were seven when Naomi was born?”

Hannah nodded. “Mama lost two babies in between, both boys. I think my parents were worried I’d be jealous of Naomi, but I was so happy to have a sibling . . . and to see the smile on my mother’s face. I was quite the doting older sister.”

“I’d wager you were quite the little
mother
.”

Hannah’s smile faded, and William regretted his flippancy. She was a born nurturer, and he hated that marriage to him had denied her the opportunity for motherhood, not that she’d had any other offers. The men in the district were fools.

Upon reaching the top of the landing, they both hesitated.

“Could you wait a while before coming to my room? Even with Marianne’s help, I suspect it will take me some time to remove all the pearls and braids from my hair.”

“Certainly.” The image her words conjured caused William’s chest to tighten. He wanted her to let her hair down rather than braid it as he expected she would, but he’d surrendered the right to make such requests when he’d denied them the possibility of a true union—another sacrifice he lay at the feet of the Blackthorn Curse. Despite the many hours he’d spent with Hannah’s father, William wasn’t convinced the thing could be beaten. While there was even a shadow of a doubt, he must act as if it was still a deadly threat.

Chapter 22

Possibility

“Thank you, Marianne. That will be all.” Hannah dismissed her lady’s maid with a smile.

Against her mentors’ specific instructions, she was becoming friends with the French woman. Marianne du Chaud was an enigma, her English surprisingly good—much better than Hannah’s French—and her level of education far surpassing what was expected of one in her position. Hannah suspected Marianne had an interesting story and hoped, in time, the woman would trust her enough to reveal what had led her to her current career.

“You’re not nervous are you, my lady?”

Hannah’s rueful smile acknowledged the validity of the maid’s concern.

The nightgown and matching robe she’d donned were quite daring for a new bride, a gift from one of the premiere London dressmakers now vying for her patronage. If this was a typical wedding night, Hannah doubted she’d have been bold enough to wear the ensemble that revealed almost as much as it concealed. In hopes of adding to her allure, she’d left her hair unbraided after it had been brushed to a silken shine, and had even dabbed a few drops of cologne at her wrists.