Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (45 page)

Hannah flinched, and he rubbed her arm. Upsetting her was the last thing he wanted, but now was not the time for beating around the bush.

“My examination was conclusive.” Miss Daniels’ voice was surprisingly calm for someone delivering a coup de grace. “I would have suspected she was further advanced in her confinement, but Hannah insists she is only three months along.”

“Thirteen and a half weeks to be exact,” his wife said in a small voice. “The baby was conceived on September the seventh.”

William stared at her in disbelief. “How could you possibly know the date?”

“It was the night of the Wescotts’ autumn dance.”

William sat back. That was the night he’d foolishly overindulged . . . the one he only remembered in part.

“Oh God.” He shook his head. “In the carriage on the way home?”

“On that note, I’ll leave you two to come to terms with your news,” Miss Daniels said, heading for the door.

“Don’t go.” William stood. “I have questions for you . . . multiple questions.”

“Which I shall happily answer if they relate to your wife’s confinement. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not be party to discussions regarding the conception.”

“Very well.” Appreciating the awkwardness of the situation, William rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you give us a moment? You can wait over by the window.”

Miss Daniels did as requested, though not before issuing a quiet instruction. “Tread carefully, my lord. Hannah is quite fragile at present, both physically
and
emotionally. She doesn’t need to be bullied.”

“I am not in the habit of
bullying
anyone,” William said, grinding the words between his teeth. “And I am quite capable of taking care of my wife.”

Miss Daniels raised a brow. “So it would seem.”

Huffing in exasperation, William returned to sit beside Hannah and took her hand once more. Waiting until she raised her head to meet his worried gaze, he repeated his question in a less accusatory tone. “In the carriage on the way home?”

She nodded and rubbed her brow. Her tired hazel eyes looked bigger than usual in her pale face, reminding William—as if he could forget—just how unwell she was. Speaking softly, he continued, “You obviously remember what happened, but I don’t. Would you mind enlightening me? Whatever occurred, it’s not your fault,” he added when his wife’s shoulders slumped in resignation.

“You told me you loved me for the first time,” she whispered.

William closed his eyes. To have forgotten such an important event was unforgivable.

“Go on.”

“I told you I loved you also, and then we made love. I guess we got caught up in the moment, because when you started to . . . to . . .” He nodded his understanding, and she continued, “I should have said something, or tried to move away. But you normally take care of that side of things, and you were holding me so tightly.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and William sought to reassure her. “Hannah, I don’t blame you, but I don’t understand why you didn’t you tell me what had happened the next day.” Keeping his tone reasonable was a challenge considering his racing thoughts.

“I didn’t want to worry you unless it was absolutely necessary.”
 

Groaning, he hung his head.

“What difference would it have made?” she asked, and William eyed her wearily, overwhelmed with regret for what might
have been.

“If I’d known, we could have done something about it before it was too late.”

She frowned. “Done what? What are you saying?”

William beckoned Miss Daniels over and waited until she was in earshot before asking. “Mr Loring told me there are herbs that can prevent conception from continuing, though they’re not without risk. Do you know of what I speak?”

Miss Daniels’ eyes widened, and she took a moment to respond. “I do, though one wonders why Mr Loring would have such knowledge. Why do you ask?”

William’s eyes burned, and he blinked back tears. “It’s too late now, but I was explaining to Hannah we might have been able to fix this if she’d told me sooner.”

“
Fix
it?” Hannah blinked. “Do you mean by deliberately triggering a miscarriage?”

“I don’t imagine it would have been as risky in the beginning, but this far along . . .” He shook his head before turning to Miss Daniels. “Can it still be done?”

“It’s possible
.
” She nodded slowly. “It would be risky, plus there are the legal and ethical concerns.”

“But there’s a chance Hannah would survive?”

As far as William was concerned, the Blackthorn Curse gave no chances whatsoever.

“She’s weak,” Miss Daniels said with a frown. “We would have to act quickly.”

“You won’t act at all!” Hannah wrenched her hand from William’s grasp and rose to her feet. When William rose and would have steadied her, she pushed him away. “How could you even think of such a thing?”

“To save you, I’d do anything.”

“Because you don’t have the faith to believe the Blackthorn Curse is broken.” Hannah’s eyes were filled with hurt and anger. “Well, I do, and even if it isn’t, I’ll not let either of you harm my
baby. Do you hear me?”

“We only want to keep you safe, to keep you
with
us,” Miss Daniels said. “I wouldn’t do anything unless you agreed.” She reached towards Hannah but was equally rebuffed.

“You don’t know me at all if you think I would ever
agree to such a thing.” Hannah’s voice broke, her hands clutched protectively over her slightly swollen belly. “You know
how much I’ve longed for a child of my own.”

“A child you won’t be around to raise,” Miss Daniels said.

“So say the two of you, but you can’t know that for sure.” Hannah backed slowly away, her eyes darting between her husband and her best friend as if they were her enemies. “I didn’t intend for this to happen, but now that it has, I will do everything in my power to keep my baby safe. I’m going to my room . . . alone.”

Her final comment was aimed at William, and he flinched.

“Hannah, wait. Don’t leave.” William would have gone after her, but he hesitated when Miss Daniels stayed his arm. He could have easily shaken the young woman off, but instead he watched helplessly as his wife walked stiff-backed out the door.

“Let her go,” Miss Daniels said. “I fear we’ve gravely miscalculated. It will take some time to regain Hannah’s trust.”

Time that was suddenly limited, William believed, surrendering all hope of convincing Hannah not to go through with her confinement. Her maternal instincts were too strong. She would never
put her life before the life of her child . . .
their
child. He shouldn’t have suggested it, but he was motivated by desperation.

“I’ll leave instructions with Mrs Potts for Hannah’s care,” Miss Daniels said as she collected her things. “If I know Hannah, she’ll need time to recover from this insult. If you’re open to advice, I’d suggest you let her come to you when she’s ready.”

“You think she will?”

“She cares deeply for you. She won’t be able to stay away for long.”

Even a short time apart from his wife would feel like an eternity, but William had little choice. Composing himself as best he could after Miss Daniels’ departure, he informed Hannah’s family and the senior staff the reason for his wife’s ill health. Their congratulations were cut short by the bleakness of his demeanour. Naomi and Rachel were eager to join their sister, while their father asked for a word in private.

“I take it you’re not overjoyed by this news. Is it the timing? I know you’ve only been married a short while—”

“It’s not that,” William said. “I have to admit my confidence in the Blackthorn Curse’s destruction may have been overstated. I’m afraid of losing her.”

The vicar patted William on the back. “That’s a common fear for first-time fathers. Don’t worry, all will be well. This is cause for celebration, not mourning. Cheer up, man. You’re going to be a father, and
I’m
going to be a grandfather!”

William mustered a smile in respect for the other man’s enthusiasm, but as the days progressed, he was unable to hide his dismay. The lead-up to Christmas was abysmal, and the staff—and surrounding district—were soon aware something was seriously amiss between their leading lord and his lady.

Hannah sent word via her maid that, due to her continuing gastric distress, she would prefer her husband utilise the master suite for the time being. There was no point to both of them losing sleep, she justified, though William knew full well that wasn’t her true motivation. She didn’t come down for meals, nor did she request his presence. Not that he blamed her. Her predicament was entirely his fault.

Rumours abounded, the most popular ones reported back to William by his secretary and valet.

The viscount is worried for his wife’s health as her confinement is turning out to be particularly arduous.

True, but not the whole story.

The viscount is angry with his wife for falling pregnant so early in the marriage, though how she was supposed to time it better, no one really knows.

False, and ridiculous.

The viscountess is upset with her husband for endangering her life, though surely she knew what she was getting herself into when she married him. Doesn’t she believe her father’s assertion that the curse is broken?

Again false
and
defamatory, but there wasn’t a great deal William could do to protect Hannah’s reputation.

And finally . . .

The viscount didn’t truly believe the Blackthorn Curse was broken when he married the vicar’s daughter. Neither did he expect the pairing to become a love match. It makes his unexpected distress at her confinement understandable but his behaviour otherwise despicable.

True, though he’d known he was in love with Hannah when he married her. As for his actions, there was no denying it—he was a monster for endangering his wife.

A week after receiving the news he was going to be a father, William spent another sleepless night alone. He’d taken to spending the night hours in the chair Hannah had slept in when she was caring for him. Having spent almost every night since they’d wed in Hannah’s bed, his was too big, and too lonely.

A movement caught his attention, but he didn’t look up from where he was staring sightlessly into a glass of water. Alcohol would never pass his lips again, no matter how much he might be tempted.

“Can’t sleep?”

He imagined the voice was Hannah’s but didn’t even flinch. Too many times he’d spun towards the door to the mistress’ suite only to be disappointed.

“William?” Her voice was closer this time, and he leaped from the chair.

“Hannah!” He winced at the volume of his cry. The entire household was on tenterhooks, and it wouldn’t take much to rouse them.

She stood in the middle of the room dressed only in a long, flowing gown. He’d allowed the fire to die down, the cold biting at his barely covered skin a just reward for his wrongdoings. After grabbing a blanket that lay across the end of the bed, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

“What is it? Are you unwell? Who’s meant to be watching over you?” He put his arms around her to protect her from the cold and because, after a week apart, he couldn’t resist.

“I’m fine.” She lifted her gaze to his, and he tensed in anticipation of her rejection. Rather than pushing him away, she placed a hand against his chest. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I needed some time, but I’ve missed you so much.”

Her voice broke, and he held her as she cried. The tears he’d been doing his damnedest to hold at bay for the previous week welled in his eyes, and his shoulders began to shake. William hadn’t wept since he was a boy, and the pent-up tears burst free with the force of a flooded river breaking its banks. All the hurt and loneliness Hannah’s presence in his life had assuaged—and his fear of losing her had caused to resurface—poured out of him. Embarrassed, he tried to stifle the wrenching sobs but, once unleashed, the onslaught of emotion was determined to run its course.

When William finally regained control, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his nightshirt and met Hannah’s worried gaze, grateful he’d left only the one candle burning.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” she asked, soothing his hair back from his forehead in that way she had . . . the one that made him feel loved and cared for and wanted all at once.

“For being an idiot,” he said with feeling. “For lacking the courage to tell you I love you without first becoming inebriated.” He shook his head at the shameful admission. “For not remembering I’d lost control.” Cupping her cheek, he imbued his next words with all the sincerity that was in his heart. “For being scared witless and thinking you would
ever
do anything to endanger our baby.”

“Oh, William.” She leaned into his hand. “I understand your fear, but you made me so angry. What
ever
happens, it’s not the baby’s fault. You do see that, don’t you?” He nodded, and she continued, “I need to know, if the worse comes to the worst, you will be there for our son or daughter. That you will love our child regardless.”

A shudder ran through William at the dreadful image her words inspired . . . of him standing alone with a tiny babe in his arms beside her grave. Another sob rose up in his chest, but he forced it down. “I promise I won’t blame the baby. But Hannah, I’m so afraid of losing you.”