Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (41 page)

“I suspect it’s the combination.” William smiled. One without the other wouldn’t be the same.

“I’m glad your offer of an alternative to celibacy was accepted,” Loring added in a voice just loud enough for William to hear.

“Believe me, so am I.” William’s smile took on a slightly different cast. He’d thanked his friend for his advice some time back, and assured him all was going well without giving any details.

“So it’s all smooth sailing on the marital front?”

“I don’t know if I’d go quite that far.” William laughed, recalling a few of the more volatile altercations he’d had with his wife. Fortunately, her feistiness was still very much a part of her appeal. “The waters can be quite treacherous at times, not that I’m complaining. Learning to navigate them is half the fun. I believe there’s a reason sailors ascribe feminine tendencies to the vagaries of nature.”

“Your wife is prone to disagreeable moods?” Loring looked towards Hannah in alarm.

“Aren’t we all?” William shrugged. Dark moods had plagued him for as long as he could recall, generally brought on by memories of his accursed existence and miserable upbringing. Since Hannah had come into his life, they occurred sparingly and were far more easily dissipated, her charms and the new and varied distractions available to him proving beneficial. In light of the joy she’d brought into his life, William could hardly begrudge the fact his wife’s temperament took a capricious turn around the time of her courses. Three months into their marriage and he was discerning a distinctive pattern, one Mr Potts had warned him to expect the first time Hannah had been reduced to tears by its appearance.

“Ye need to be extra sensitive to yer wife’s feelings at this time,” Mr Potts had cautioned. The Pottses’ marriage was both long and happy from what William observed, and he’d discovered the elderly caretaker to be a wealth of valuable advice in matters unrelated to class. Of course, he’d been unable to admit to his newfound mentor the majority of Hannah’s distress was caused by William’s refusal to accommodate her wish for a child. The second and now third time his successful avoidance of conception had been confirmed, William was careful to modify his reaction. While his relief was no less profound with each passing month, he had no desire to offend his wife’s occasionally fragile sensibilities.

True to her word, she’d not reacted waspishly again, but neither could she completely mask her disappointment. When her courses had arrived a week late this time, he’d been forced to hide his rising sense of panic while deflecting comments from the staff that a celebration might soon be in order. His relief at the false alarm had been tempered by the knowledge that, as the months passed without Hannah conceiving, the pressure on her would mount. The woman
was invariably blamed for infertility, and his wife had no recourse with which to defend herself.

“I’m surprised to hear you describe Lady Blackthorn as capricious, as I’ve always found her quite congenial.” Loring gave William a pointed look. “Are you sure the fault for any contrary disposition doesn’t lie with you?”

“Undoubtedly,” William said, his tone droll. “I blame my years as an officer. I’m used to being obeyed without question, and my wife has a well-developed capacity for independent thought.”

Loring snorted. “I’ve noticed. Her sisters are much the same, and as for her friend, Miss Daniels . . .” The shudder that ran through him seemed excessive to William. Not for the first time he wondered at the reason for Loring’s antipathy towards the young midwife.

“But I take it the occasional conflicts are not too difficult to resolve?” Loring asked, returning the focus to the state of William’s marriage.

“As long as one doesn’t hold too firmly to one’s pride. Offering a suitably contrite apology for any perceived insensitivity is a small price to pay to regain marital harmony.”

“I imagine it must be.” Loring nodded thoughtfully. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re a lucky man, Blackthorn.”

William didn’t disagree, though he’d consider himself even luckier when Hannah’s courses finally ended. The previous month they’d lasted only a few days, but on this occasion they seemed to be stretching interminably—eight days already.

“Are you sure
your courses haven’t finished?” he asked that evening while they were preparing for bed. As soon as the words left his mouth, William regretted them. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.” He winced in anticipation of Hannah’s perfectly justifiable indignation. Expecting to be harangued regardless of his apology, he was surprised when she wrapped her arms around him instead.

“I miss being able to make love also, and I know
you don’t think I would deliberately set out to deceive you.” She raised her brow questioningly, and William was quick to assure her he believed no such thing.

“Have you any idea how much longer we’ll have to wait?” he asked, tempering his tone to avoid sounding like a petulant child—he hoped.

“I have every confidence tomorrow night will be fine,” Hannah said, and William sighed with relief, until he recalled they were due to attend the Wescotts’ autumn dance. While he’d discovered that, with Hannah by his side, it was possible to enjoy social engagements, balls and country dances were his least
favourite events. He was limited to only the slow, less-complicated quadrilles, the faster-paced affairs beyond his capabilities. As for waltzing with Hannah, the idea was relegated to a secret dream.

“I don’t need to dance. I’d much rather stay by your side,” Hannah had said on several occasions, but William was loath to see his wife’s enjoyment curbed due to his lack.

Despite being saddled with a less-than-perfect specimen for a husband, married life appeared to suit her also, her happiness with their arrangement reflected in a newfound confidence. Her smile was brighter and her countenance quite brilliant. Combined with her fashionable new wardrobe and the jewels he insisted on showering upon her—despite her equal insistence his generosity was excessive—the previously drab vicar’s daughter had transformed into Blackthorn’s most enchanting leading lady.

Hannah accused William of outrageous bias, but the gentlemen of the district agreed with his opinion. No longer ignorant of his wife’s superior charms, the men who’d once shunned her were now drawn like moths to a flame. He suspected their interest was heightened by the rumours regarding the viscount’s unconventional marriage. Combined with the fact his wife didn’t treat him with public disdain, she must seem extraordinarily appealing.

Smug in the knowledge Hannah’s flirtatious smiles were for him and him alone, William didn’t begrudge his wife her new status. As long as her admirers didn’t behave in an overly familiar manner, or fall into the fatal trap of assuming Hannah might be open to dalliance, he saw no need to intervene. Which didn’t mean it was easy to stand on the sidelines. Watching her be partnered by other gentlemen in the reels and line dances was a torment he endured with little grace. He hadn’t expressed an opinion, but he was relieved Hannah chose not to dance the waltzes.

There was only so much a man could endure.

Unfortunately, William surpassed his limit at the Wescott ball. Hannah looked more beautiful than ever in a taffeta gown of deep burgundy, her dark, golden hair piled high, and the Blackthorn rubies glittering against her creamy décolletage. Having been forced to suppress his need for her for almost nine days, his anticipation for what she’d promised would come
after
the event was excessive. In a vain attempt to manage his impatience, he allowed himself several more glasses of wine than was his custom, and then a couple more when he caught sight of the way Hannah was being ogled by his peers.

Since drinking to excess was not a habit of William’s, the effect on his faculties was marked. It did little to moderate his desire for his wife and served only to amplify his irritation at the overtly fawning behaviour of the local gentlemen. When an obtuse young fop insisted on pushing the boundaries despite William’s darkening glower, his patience was expended. New to the district, the man either had a death wish or was unaware the sixth Viscount Blackthorn was not a man to be trifled with. To disrespect—or make a play for—his viscountess was to do so at one’s peril.

At the sight of the man’s hand placed low on his
wife’s back, followed by her halting mid-dance and scolding him for his impertinence, William saw red. It was only Hannah’s intervention that prevented a murder.

“Darling, why don’t we get some air out on the terrace?” she suggested after rushing to William’s side when she saw him striding across the dance floor.

He’d been reliably informed that, in full fury, he was an intimidating sight, and William wasn’t surprised when her dance partner made a hasty retreat. Ignoring his wife’s suggestion, he continued in the direction of his prey, fully intent on punching the idiot in the nose . . . repeatedly.

“William?” Hannah persisted, desperation in her tone.

“It’s cold outside,” he said, practically dragging her in his wake. “I don’t want you falling ill.”

“Then why don’t we just go home?”

Her second suggestion held merit, and he was annoyed to hear himself say, “It’s not yet midnight. Isn’t it rude to leave before two?”

“Aren’t you always telling me that, as the highest-ranked couple in the district,
we
set
the trends? It’s ludicrous staying out so late in the country. I, for one, would prefer an earlier bedtime.” Lifting up on her toes she whispered close to his ear, “Wouldn’t you?”

William scanned the watching crowd for their hosts, planning on thanking them for their hospitality before making a quick exit. It was only as they were heading towards the door that he remembered their responsibilities.

“Your sisters and Miss Daniels.” He groaned. “They won’t want to leave just yet.”

“It’s all right. Mr Loring has offered to escort them home. There’s nothing keeping us.”

William was surprised Hannah had convinced Miss Daniels to attend the event, their relationship still somewhat strained. He was even more surprised his estate manager was willing to have the young woman in his carriage, considering the ongoing hostility between the two. It was testament to how volatile the situation had become, and William called himself all manner of idiots for imbibing too freely. He’d never been drunk before but suspected he might be close. It was appalling how like his father he’d become, his heart set on mayhem . . . but someone should have warned that young idiot to leave Viscount Blackthorn’s wife well alone.

William stumbled several times on their way across the cobblestone courtyard, and he cursed his leg for choosing now to fail him. It was only when he’d made it safely inside the carriage that it dawned on him they had a forty-five minute drive ahead . . . and would be completely alone. Watching Hannah lock the door, stoke the brazier that kept the interior warm, then remove her velvet cloak, his breathing quickened.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

After discarding her slippers, she reached beneath her gown to remove her pantaloons. “If you’re thinking that you are quite desperate to be intimate with your spouse and couldn’t possibly wait until you reach home . . . then yes.”

William’s head began to spin for lack of blood, desire having directed it elsewhere. Speechless, he watched as Hannah lifted her skirts, straddled his lap, and began undoing the buttons on his jacket and vest.

“I need to feel your skin against mine,” she murmured, and it was a wonder he didn’t pass out. Wrenching at his cravat, he almost succeeded in strangling himself, as the damned thing was tied in such a complicated fashion.

“Let me.” Hannah deftly undid the knot he had tightened before he suffered permanent injury. Between the two of them, they managed to remove his tightly fitted jacket and vest without damaging either. But the buttons on his shirt were no match for his impatience, and they were sent skittering to the four corners of the carriage when he ripped it open.

“That’s better.” Hannah sighed, running her fingers over his heated flesh. “I’ve missed touching your bare skin.”

“You don’t have to deny yourself,” he said, struggling to undo the covered buttons that ran down the back of her gown. On those nights when they couldn’t make love, he was more than happy to accommodate her with whatever she would
like to do. The chaste kisses he gave her clearly weren’t enough, but he’d been hesitant to do more. There was no point in
both
of them losing sleep due to pent-up passion.

When her gown opened at the back without the fabric tearing, William smiled, pleased to have shown a modicum of finesse. The capped sleeves slid down to her elbows, and the bodice fell to her waist, leaving her breasts bare. She wore no chemise, and the realisation she was quite bare beneath the gown sent a jolt of pure desire directly to his already aching groin. He imagined her stockings must be held up by one of the exotic-looking garter belts she occasionally wore, and he offered up a prayer of thanksgiving.

“Stunning,” William whispered, feeling like a child in a candy store—overwhelmed and unsure where to begin.

Taking matters into her own hands, Hannah leaned forward to rub her breasts against his chest while her mouth captured his in an uninhibited kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth, something she’d plucked up the courage to attempt only recently, while her nimble fingers undid his breeches, pausing between buttons to stroke his rigid member.

His wife had turned out to be a quick learner and every bit as inventive as the outrageous books that had supplied his initial inspiration. He hadn’t bothered with them in weeks, as Hannah’s innate sensuality and unfettered responses supplied all the stimulus he could possibly need.