Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (30 page)

The invitations were piling up now he and Hannah were married and would need to be offered in return once accepted. William had made sure his secretary was in no doubt the newlyweds were not to be disturbed for at least a fortnight after the wedding unless there was an emergency—a
dire
one. Loring had been similarly charged in matters relating to the estate.

“I don’t need another present,” Hannah said, though her tone was light. “You’ve spoiled me enough. What else could you possibly give me?”

“This . . .” He gestured with a sweep of his arm. “Something that will give us both a great deal of enjoyment.”

Hannah gasped and walked across the room as if in a dream. “A grand pianoforte. Oh, William. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll play it for me . . . and sing. I love the sound of your voice. The day I returned to Hartley, it was your singing that drew me into the church. I never would have entered otherwise.”

Pausing, she stared at him over her shoulder. “How fortunate you did, as was my finding you in time.”

He assumed she meant before he had expired at the side of his father’s grave, but he couldn’t help wondering if there was more to her words.

That night, after spending the day enjoying her new toy, as he teasingly named it, they retired to their sitting room. More convinced than ever he must keep Hannah with him for as long as possible, he maintained his distance . . . or attempted to. His resolve faltered when it came to saying good night, his justification that as long as it was only kisses they shared, all would be well.

The next few days passed similarly in conversation and shared activity. William couldn’t recall a more congenial companion or a more pleasant passing of the time. But the evenings grew increasingly fraught.

“William, stop,” Hannah said, five nights after their wedding, her eyes bright with unshed tears. His good-night kiss had begun without even a semblance of restraint and, within moments, they were half lying upon the leather couch. If Hannah had in any way rejected his advances, it might have been easier to maintain his control, but she came willingly into his arms. Not that he held her actions against her. Without artifice, she was ardent in her responses . . . until she wrenched herself from his embrace.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said, her voice shaking. “Never knowing when you’re going to call a halt.”

He didn’t think she meant to slam the door behind her when she ran from the room, but the sound stayed with him long into the night. The next day, the atmosphere between them was strained. He hoped the change of scenery might relieve the tension, but Hannah declined his invitation to take a carriage ride into Thornton for the afternoon.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve not been sleeping well.” The shadows beneath her eyes lent proof to her words. “I think I might take a nap this afternoon.”

“Of course. I’ll see you at dinner?”

After offering a barely perceptible nod, she left to go to her room. William’s afternoon was spent attempting to catch up on estate correspondence, though his mind was consistently elsewhere. He took his lead from Hannah that evening, in particular her efforts to appear unaffected, but their conversation faltered. After dinner, they ascended the stairs in silence, and Hannah hesitated when they reached the landing.

“You don’t want to spend time with me?” William couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want
to . . .”

“Come.” William tugged on her arm, relieved when she didn’t resist. Once inside their private retreat, he faced her.

“I thought you said kisses were enough.” He didn’t mean to sound accusing, but fear coloured his tone. “I thought you understood
why we can’t take things further.”

“I
do
understand, but that doesn’t mean I agree. Nor did I know kisses could be so . . . so . . .” She spread her hands helplessly.

“What then? I must keep my distance altogether? We can’t even have this between us?” He drew her against him and captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. She came willingly, responding without reservation but, once again, she was the one to break away.

“No more. You can’t do this to me every night. I can’t sleep. The agitation is unbearable.”

William groaned in frustration, both physical and emotional.

“So it’s all or nothing? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I don’t know.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with confusion. “Why are you so convinced the curse is still in effect? You and Papa spent hours together . . . talking . . . praying. I thought you were in agreement. Was it all an act on your part?”

“No more than you acted a part when you said you agreed to the terms of our marriage,” he countered. “Do you not understand what is at stake, Hannah?”

“Every woman who bears a child is at risk, William. As I’ve said before, there are no guarantees in life.”

“There is one,” he said bitterly. “If you die giving birth to my heir, then he will carry the stigma of the Blackthorn Curse for the rest of his life. Is that what you want for our son? To be demonised for something over which he has no control?”

“It wouldn’t be like that. You wouldn’t be alone . . . my family would support you. My sisters would gladly help raise our son. You would be a good father, caring and just. Our son’s life would be different from yours. He would be
loved
by his family from the moment he was born
.
”

“And as soon as he was old enough to understand, he would know he was hated and feared by everyone else. Do you know what it’s like to be shunned, Hannah? To know you were instrumental in killing your own mother? I won’t do that to a child of mine.”

“That’s not necessarily what would happen, William. You just need to have a little faith.”

“I don’t have any faith!” he roared, losing his temper. “And I won’t change my mind.”

Hannah flinched. Then she raised her chin and eyed him for a long moment, her expression a mixture of pain and disappointment.

“Then I can’t keep playing this dangerous game, as we’ll end up getting carried away by our desires. I don’t want our coupling to occur accidentally, as if the consummation of our marriage is some furtive, dishonourable thing. I’m your
wife,
William. I deserve better.”

William was unsurprised when Hannah sent word she would be taking breakfast in her room the next morning. He could hardly blame her for not wanting to see him. Their argument had ended on an impasse, though he took heart from the fact she’d lifted up on her toes and swiftly kissed his cheek before departing. He had stood with his palm to the place her lips had touched for a very long time before retreating to his room, where sleep eluded him once more.

With no appetite of his own, he called for his horse to be saddled and left word he was going to visit Loring on estate business. It was only a partial truth, as there were far more important matters he wished to discuss with his friend.

“So how’s married life treating you, Blackthorn?” Loring ushered William into his office in the estate manager’s residence. “I understand if you’d rather not talk about it . . . none of my business and all that.”

“No, it’s all right. I’ve come seeking advice.” William seriously considered asking for a brandy, but since it was well before noon, he resisted.

“You’ve come to
me
for marital advice?”
 

“Sorry to importune.” Colour rose in William’s cheeks, but he continued regardless. “You’re the only friend I’ve got in the region and the only peer I can trust to give me a sensible response.”

“I’ll do my best, though I don’t know how much help I can be.” Loring shrugged. “The advice I was given was next to useless, but I’ll pass it along for you to decide its value.”

“I’d appreciate it.” William had presumed Loring’s marriage had been a happy one, that he’d grieved his wife’s passing. But his friend’s grim expression had William questioning his assumption.

“Caroline was very young when we married, and we hardly knew each other,” Loring began. “After the wedding night, she could barely stand the sight of me.”

“What went wrong?”
 

“Everything.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what she’d been warned to expect, but she was terrified. She began weeping as soon as I entered her bedchamber. I did my best to reassure her, but it made little difference. I only lay with her a handful of times before she became with child a few weeks into the marriage. She barred the door against me after that, or so her lady’s maid informed my valet.” Loring’s tone was neutral, but William suspected his friend’s indifference was feigned. “Caroline understood her duty was to provide
two
sons, but neither of us was in any hurry to repeat the experience. I barely saw her after Peter was born, only returning home on leave occasionally.”

William was stunned by his friend’s accounting and curious as to what could have precipitated such a disaster. “What advice
were
you given?”

Loring snorted and then listed on his fingers. “That ladies consider intimate relations with their husbands an abhorrence—you won’t hear any argument from me on that account. That a gentleman should not visit his wife’s rooms more than once a week, twice at the very most in the beginning and only until she becomes with child. That when he does engage in intercourse, he should make it quick, clean, and as painless as possible. It’s the same advice I was given for dispatching the enemy.”

William swallowed hard. He’d operated under a similar motto on the battlefield and had certainly never expected to hear marital relations described in such terms.

“I had high hopes things would be different for you and Lady Blackthorn—as I’ve said before, she seems such a sensible sort—but you wouldn’t be here if it was all smooth sailing.” Loring’s expression was rueful. “Did it go badly? You might need to leave it for a while. The first time can be painful for the woman. She probably just needs time to recover.”

William grimaced. “We haven’t actually gotten that far.”

“Oh.” Loring sat back. “I wouldn’t have taken your wife for the missish type. You’re wise to take it slow if she’s that apprehensive. When the time comes, I’d keep the lights low. Hopefully, if she does get a glimpse of your naked form, she’s mature enough not to faint in fright. Awakening one’s bride from unconsciousness to claim your conjugal rights is hardly the best way to promote marital bliss. In hindsight, I should have waited for Caroline to overcome her fears . . . though I’m not sure that would ever have happened.” He shrugged despondently. “Has Lady Blackthorn given you any sort of time frame for when she might be willing? One does have a duty to consummate the marriage.”

“My wife is not unwilling.” William sighed. “I am.”

For a long moment his friend stared at him blankly before comprehension dawned.

“You don’t believe the curse is broken.”

“It cannot be guaranteed.” William snapped the words, his suppressed emotions simmering like acid in his belly.

Loring’s oath was profane, but it summed up the situation perfectly.

“Does she know you love her?”

William shook his head. “She considers me a good friend.”

“That’s more than many can boast, but you’re running a hell of a risk keeping the relationship platonic. If knowledge of this ever got out . . .”

If anything were to happen to William, the marriage would be annulled and Hannah disinherited . . . and disgraced.

“You’re the only one I’ve told, and I trust you not to say anything.”

“Then what’s the problem? Is your resolve wavering and you don’t know how to tell your bride you’d like more from the marriage?”

William hesitated, wary of painting Hannah in a light that might be perceived as negative.

“She wants more, too. The frustration is affecting us both.”

Loring sat back. “Well, I’ll be damned. The affection is mutual?”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.” William pulled a face. “I know it’s unfashionable, but I think there’s something to be said for marrying a grown woman rather than a girl barely out of the schoolroom. Hannah has maturity on her side. She received the same stultifying advice your Caroline was given, but she had enough wisdom to disregard it.”

“Extraordinary.” Loring shook his head, clearly impressed. “You’re a blessed man to have a wife who is not afraid of passion.”