Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (31 page)

William didn’t disagree, his friend’s complimentary tone assuaging his fear the other man would think ill of Hannah.

“She wants a baby, of course, but I
cannot
risk losing her.”

“I assume you know there are ways to prevent conception?” At William’s fervent nod, a slow smile twitched Loring’s moustache. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I’ve heard of different methods, but I’ve no experience with their implementation. I hoped you might be able to enlighten me as to what would be most suitable for my situation, that’s
if
I can get Hannah to agree.”

“That’s a big if. She’s a vicar’s daughter, not a camp whore wary of producing another mouth to feed. But first things first. Let’s weigh your options.”

One thing William had always appreciated about his senior officer was his practicality. Over the next half hour, William learned more than he’d ever wanted to know about preventing conception. French letters, a barrier method, were expensive—not that cost was an issue—and deucedly difficult to get hold of since they were predominantly manufactured in a country with which they were currently at war. They also sounded unpleasant. Made from the stomach lining of various animals, they required soaking in hot water to gain the required pliability for use, somewhat of a passion killer, William imagined.

“Revolting things, really.” Loring shuddered. “They minimise sensation—takes half the fun out of it—but they do help avoid some of the nastier diseases.”

“Disease is not an issue,” William said, bemused by the unlikely nature of their conversation. “Is there anything less unsavoury?”

“I’ve heard some prostitutes insert a sea sponge soaked in vinegar. It’s quite effective, apparently, but I imagine that would be a bit much to ask of one’s virgin wife.”

“Just a tad.” William rolled his eyes. “What of herbs? Do you know of anything?”

“Not for prevention. I’ve heard there are concoctions—illegal of course—that can be administered after the event to prevent the pregnancy from proceeding. But I highly doubt your wife would be agreeable to such a notion, and there’s considerable risk involved.”

“Not an option.” William shook his head.

“Then I fear you’re left with the time-honoured method of withdrawal. You do know to what I’m referring?”

William nodded, having overheard his men boasting of their exploits. “Is it foolproof?”

“Depends on the fool.” Loring shrugged. “I’ve heard of couples using it for spacing their children safely, but it’s a matter of discipline. Mistakes can be made in the heat of the moment, but if one is well motivated . . .” He raised his eyebrows, but William was in no doubt as to his meaning.

Had there ever been a more motivated husband than the sixth Viscount Blackthorn?

Chapter 25

Alternative

Hannah’s stomach lurched when she thought about facing William after their argument. They’d drawn lines in the sand she feared would be difficult to cross. His fears were not unfounded, but the half-life of thwarted desire he had condemned them to was not one she could imagine enduring indefinitely. Unfortunately, the alternative—retreating behind walls of polite respectability—was even less appealing.

Turning her back on the view of the lake, Hannah reentered her bedroom from the balcony. When she’d been informed William had ridden out, she’d considered walking into town to visit her family. But they knew her too well and would easily pick up on her distress. Without being able to explain, she worried they would misinterpret its cause and think badly of her new husband.

If circumstances were different, Grace would have been her first choice for a confidant. But Hannah had no desire to admit her attempts had failed to convince William they should have a child. Ironically, if she
had
been willing to ignore her conscience, she would probably get her wish. The limits of her husband’s self-control would surely be breached at some point if she allowed them to continue on the path he’d set. But she didn’t want their making love to be cause for regret.

“Foolish woman,” she muttered, donning the pearl necklace William had given her during their betrothal. Her scruples had accomplished little more than estrangement from her husband and an even greater degree of frustration than she was already suffering.

Hannah forced a smile to her lips as her lady’s maid entered the room.

“His Lordship asked if you’d be joining him for dinner, my lady, and I took the liberty of answering in the affirmative,” Marianne said, her tone uncertain. “He asked after you . . . whether you might be unwell?”

“I was just a little tired this morning. I should have let my husband know there was nothing to worry about.”

Hannah knew she didn’t have to justify her actions to her maid, but she was still unaccustomed to dealing with servants, especially one she viewed more as a friend.

“Will I do?” she asked, turning this way and that to better view her sapphire gown in the floor-length mirror. As a married woman—and a viscountess—she was entitled to wear stronger colours and more sophisticated fabrics and designs, but this was the first time she’d dressed so formally for dinner.

“You look lovely, my lady.” Her maid deftly arranged a curl to nestle against the curve of her exposed shoulder. “His Lordship won’t be able to resist you.”

Hannah froze. Marianne knew, of course, that William hadn’t come to his wife’s room since their wedding night, but she saw no malice in the French woman’s expression. She would have to remind William to visit her again before too long or the servants would become suspicious. When he did so, however, Hannah would not attempt to seduce him. She had stated her case and refused to humiliate herself further.

“Did the viscount look well?” she asked. He’d only recently returned to riding, and she worried he might have strained himself.

“Mr Houghton said His Lordship’s limp was more noticeable when he returned late this afternoon. He arranged for his bath to be filled with extra hot water, and Corporal Markham called for another tub of Miss Daniels’ special unguent.”
 

Hannah sighed, in no doubt that William’s leg had required massaging. She hoped he wasn’t suffering too badly.

“His Lordship looked well when I saw him just now,” Marianne added. “A little impatient to see his wife, perhaps?”

The maid was correct in her assumption, as William was waiting for Hannah at the bottom of the stairs. She suspected he’d been pacing, but he stood transfixed as she slowly descended. Uncertain how to proceed, Hannah waited for him to approach, relieved when he reached for her hand.

“I missed you,” he said, surprising her with the admission . . . himself also, if his expression was anything to go by. “I was told you mostly kept to your room today. Are you unwell?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled, hoping to let him know she wanted to lay their disagreement to rest. William was right—in his way. She
had
agreed to a marriage of convenience, and she must find a way to make it work.

“Did you have a profitable day?” she asked, curious but not wanting to pry. It would take time for her to be sure of her place. William had been far more inclusive than she’d expected, asking for and appearing to value her opinions and ideas. Still, she was wary of overstepping the mark.

“I had a
very
profitable day,” he said, linking their arms and escorting her to the small dining room he’d had converted for their use. The candlelit room now held an oval table that could comfortably seat ten, with a matching mahogany buffet. Deep burgundy walls contrasted well with the gold filigree trim and burgundy, navy blue, and gold Persian rugs, giving the room an opulent yet intimate feel. The fireplace, unlit at the moment, would be very welcome in the winter months.

Hannah was pleased to be seated at William’s right rather than the opposite end of the table. She liked being close enough to see the light reflected in his brown eyes and the little lines that crinkled in the corners when he smiled.

“I gather Mr Loring has estate matters well in hand. Is his son feeling any better?” The retired major’s young son was very poorly, but his father continued to place his trust in the visiting physicians who seemed intent on bleeding the lad dry.

“He’s still opposed to consulting Miss Daniels where young Peter is concerned,” William said with a shrug. “Doesn’t trust the ‘witchy professions,’ I’m afraid.”

“Pity,” Hannah murmured. “The poor boy is so frail-looking and very small for his age. Grace might be able to help if his father could get past his prejudices.”

“I agree.” William took a sip of his wine. “I’ve sung her praises in regards to my own recovery, but Loring can be unmovable when his mind is made up.”

Not unlike someone else I know
, Hannah mused but kept her thoughts to herself.

The meal passed pleasantly enough, but the tension rose as it drew to a close.

“Would you like me to play for you this evening?” She gestured towards the home of her wonderful new pianoforte as they exited the dining room. “I discovered some old music scores in the library you might like to hear . . .” She faltered at his expression. It was dark, and dangerous, and it stirred the desire that hummed just below the surface of her skin.

“Maybe another time,” he said, steering her towards the stairs. “There’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you, but it’s of a somewhat delicate nature. I’d prefer we retire to the privacy of our sitting room.”

Hannah’s curiosity was tempered with apprehension as William escorted her to their retreat. Once inside, he motioned for her to take a seat before taking one opposite rather than beside her. She waited as patiently as she could for him to begin, his hesitation increasing her sense of unease.

“Please, just tell me what’s wrong.” She wrung her hands when the silence dragged unbearably. “If it’s about last night, I’m sorry for my outburst.”

He shook his head. “You have nothing to apologise for. You only spoke the truth.”

“But you were correct. I
did
agree to our marriage operating under certain constraints. It’s not right for me to pressure you to act differently after the fact, especially not in a way that would contravene your conscience—”

“I may have found a compromise.”

“Oh.” Hannah sat back. “How so?”

For a long moment, William didn’t respond, his jaw clenched tight.

“William, please. You can’t make a statement like that and then not continue. It’s not fair.”

“Not much of our agreement is fair to you. No lady who wasn’t forced into it would put up with such a situation.”

Hannah’s heart began to pound loudly in her ears. “I don’t mind,” she said, wary of his direction. She didn’t believe he would take such action lightly, but with the marriage still unconsummated, he
could
request an annulment
.

“I wish I could give you what you want . . . children of your own . . . a family.” He raised a hand to silence her when she would have responded. “Sadly, I cannot. But if you’re willing to compromise, I do see a way for us to have at least a semblance of a normal marriage.”

Hannah’s mouth had gone dry, and she licked her lips before gesturing for him to proceed.

“It’s obvious our passion for one another is mutual.”

She blushed but didn’t deny his claim.
 

“In light of our shared attraction
,
” he continued, “I’d like you to consider an alternative proposal to the one I made before our wedding.”

“Go on,” she urged when he hesitated once more.

After taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and drew her attention to the breadth of his shoulders, he met her gaze head on.

“You might already be aware of what I am about to tell you through your association with Miss Daniels. Feel free to stop me if I am covering familiar ground.”

Perplexed, Hannah nodded for him to continue.

“It is
possible
for a couple to engage in marital relations without the wife becoming with child.”

“Of course it’s possible,” she blurted, relieved to have William say something to which she could finally respond. “There are any number of causes for infertility, but that’s hardly relevant.”

“It’s relevant if there is a way for
us to be intimate and for you
not
to become with child.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying? I’ve no more reason to believe I’m infertile than you have . . . unless you were plagued with a terrible case of mumps as a boy, and I think you would have mentioned that already.”

Groaning, William dropped his head into his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then you need to speak plainly, for I’ve no idea what it is you
are
saying.”

“I’m saying there are ways to prevent conception from occurring.” He looked up at her through his long, dark lashes. “If a man and woman take certain precautions, they can be intimate without risk of pregnancy.”

Hannah contemplated his statement for a long moment before speaking, her words sounding as if they came from a distance. “You want to know if I would take such precautions.”

“I realise under normal circumstances it would be reprehensible of me to ask.” William reached to clasp her trembling fingers. “But if you’d be willing for us to utilise certain
methods,
we could engage in marital relations without risking your life.”