Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (24 page)

“Well? Are there?” Rachel asked.

“Yes,” Hannah admitted on a sigh. “I care for William a great deal.”

“Does he feel the same way about you?”
 

Hannah shook her head. “All he wanted was a friend, and now he’s to be saddled with me as a wife. It’s all right,” she added at her sisters’ looks of alarm. “He never planned on marrying, as he assumed the curse could not be broken, but he said he’ll appreciate the company. My biggest concern is living up to the role of his viscountess. I wasn’t raised with such a position in mind.”

“You’ll do fine.” Naomi came and sat beside her. “Besides, I don’t think Lord Blackthorn is a typical viscount. I can’t see him rushing up to London to take his place in the House of Lords.”

Hannah’s breath hitched. “Actually, he might.” She swallowed, not having considered the possibility. “He’s a staunch supporter of Wilberforce and the abolishment of slavery. His military career kept him from taking an active role, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to play his part in trying to change the laws, once he has things in order closer to home.”

Rachel perked up. “Goodness! You’d have to be presented at court. We could have a proper season in London with gowns and balls and everything. You will take us with you when you go?”

“Of course,” Hannah murmured, quelling a sudden bout of nausea with a hand to her stomach.

Leaving the house early the next morning, Hannah was determined to speak with Grace before her friend heard of William’s visit through the grapevine. Several times on her way, she was intercepted by villagers asking after her well-being in a pointed fashion. Mrs Brown, the butcher’s wife, even went so far as to question her about the viscount’s visit. Speaking the truth, she told the renowned busybody that William had come to speak with her father. Thankfully, the woman jumped to the conclusion the topic was the minister’s most recent sermon.

“So the viscount’s going to try and break the curse, then.” Mrs Brown looked thoughtful. “ ’is father didn’t ’ave much luck gettin’ rid of it. Mind ye, ’e consulted with some mighty strange folk. I’m sure the vicar will be able to ’elp. ’e seems to know wot ’e’s talkin’ about.”

“I’ll let my father know you have confidence in him,” Hannah said before hurrying on her way.

Sally Martin, the farrier’s wife, intercepted Hannah for the purpose of singing William’s praises—a welcome respite from the usual fear and negativity. With her little one bundled in her arms, and her young friend, Maggie Thomas, at her side, she caught up to Hannah not far from Grace’s cottage.

“The viscount might be awfully fierce in appearance with that dreadful scar on ’is face, but ’e’s a very generous sort.”

“I think ’e’s right ’andsome even with the scar. All dark and brooding, with those big, broad shoulders.” Maggie winked.

“Maggie. Don’t say such things. Yer embarrassin’ Miss Foster.”

“That’s quite all right,” Hannah murmured, as she could hardly fault the girl’s assessment. William did have exceedingly broad shoulders, and there was something to be said for his dark eyes though, personally, she was taken by his smile.

After explaining she was in a hurry, Hannah took leave of the two young women. Walking briskly but with her head down, she was determined to reach Grace’s cottage without further delay. Directed by Grace’s elderly aunt, she found her friend decocting tinctures in the shed at the back of the yard, behind the extensive herb garden.

“You’re out and about early,” Grace said when she spotted Hannah in the doorway, her cool tone revealing their argument was far from forgotten. “What’s happened? Is someone ill at the vicarage?”

“No, everyone is well. I just didn’t want you hearing this from anyone else, so I’ve come to give you my news in person.” Hannah raised her chin defensively. “I’ve agreed to marry William.”

Expecting a blistering lecture, she was shocked to see tears pool in her friend’s eyes.

“Oh, Hannah,” Grace whispered. “I feared it would come to this.”

“It’s going to be all right,” Hannah assured her. “Papa is sure the curse can be broken.”

“What about you? Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Hannah only briefly averted her gaze, but it was enough to give away her insecurity. “There are no guarantees in life, Grace, but you said yourself William’s survival is a miracle.”

“And now we must wait and see if the two of you shall be granted another.” Grace’s shoulders slumped. “
Please
tell me you genuinely care for him?”

Hannah stepped closer. “You know I do. William and I already have the beginnings of a friendship, and we work well together. That’s more than can be said of many couples.” Hannah kept her tone light, not wanting Grace to discern how deeply she desired William to return her affection. Before meeting him, she’d not hoped for more than marriage to a man she could respect who tolerated her in return. To pine for something as ephemeral as love, both then and now, was the height of foolishness.

“I’d offer my congratulations, but I’m too afraid of losing you,” Grace said.

“You won’t lose me.” Hannah decided to tell her friend the truth. Grace could be trusted not to gossip, and she needed someone she could confide in. “William has decided it’s to be a marriage of convenience only.” She went on to explain the events that had precipitated the agreement.

“So he’s not a monster after all.” Grace’s expression lightened. “I’m sorry for the accusations I made. Will you be satisfied with the arrangement? I know how much you’ve always wanted children of your own.”

Hannah hesitated before answering, the idea still in its infancy and her chances of success exceedingly small.

“I hope to talk him around one day.” She rushed ahead with her explanation before her friend could object. “If I’m successful, I’ll need your help. Quite aside from the obvious, I’m not as young as most brides. I’ll be at least twenty-eight if and when the time comes, a little old to be having one’s first child. You would assist me, wouldn’t you?”

“Hannah, no.” Grace shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. Do you know how many women die in childbirth
without
having a curse working against them?”

“Papa believes the curse can be broken.”

“It’s your father’s
job
to believe, but faith is too nebulous a prospect in which to put your trust. You wouldn’t know if your endeavours were successful until it was too late to do anything about it. I’m sorry, but I can’t support you in this, Hannah. If you choose to go down this foolhardy path, I won’t walk it with you.”

“I see.” Hannah stepped back. “Then there’s not much more to be said.”

She’d intended to ask her friend to stand as witness at her wedding, but under the circumstances, she decided it would be best if Naomi took that role.

The following evening, the entire Foster family dined at Blackthorn Manor. Buoyed by the discovery of the size of her new dowry, Rachel vowed to keep her concerns regarding Hannah’s safety to herself.

After a brief discussion, the date for the wedding was set for six weeks hence. A betrothal of less than one month required a special licence, which in turn required powerful connections and a hefty payment to the local bishop. It was considered a sign of both wealth and position to arrange for one’s nuptials to be rushed, but William assured them he felt no compunction to display either.

“It’s not necessary to our cause.”

“In fact,
not
rushing may be wise,” Hannah said, alluding to the rumours doing the rounds.

“Excellent.” Her father smoothed over the awkward silence that followed her comment. “That will give William and me plenty of time to dissect all angles of this dreaded curse and make sure we have the thing well and truly defeated.”

“How exactly do you propose we do that?” William eyed her father warily.

“Exegetical study of the scriptures, deep discussion, and prayer,” the vicar said with alacrity. “And fasting, of course.”

“Of course. Fasting. How wonderful.” The look William sent Hannah’s way was at odds with his tone.

“My apologies,” she whispered while her father and sisters were donning their coats at the end of the evening. “I’ll tell Papa it’s too soon after your recovery for you to be missing meals. He’ll understand.”

“If your father deems it essential, I’m sure I’ll survive, but my new cook won’t be happy.” William shrugged. “Ah well. Your father is a congenial fellow. Hopefully my sentence won’t be too onerous.”

Hannah shared his smile, but it quickly faded and both of them averted their gazes. It had been that way all evening with a constraint existing between them that hadn’t been there before. Hannah knew why. William was appalled by her response to his kiss. She should offer another apology but decided to leave it to him to raise the matter. She was saddened enough by the knowledge it would most likely be her one and only experience with intimacy.

Two days later, the notice of their betrothal appeared in the papers, and the visitors began to call.

“I’m just so worried for ye.” Mrs Darrow struggled to contain her tears. “Don’t mistake me, Miss Hannah. I think the viscount is a wise man to recognise yer worth, but this curse is a worry. I just ’ope your father ’as the right of it.”

Hannah did her best to reassure her friends from the village, preferring their genuine concern to the reactions she received from the local society members. Mrs Kingswood went on the attack the minute Hannah showed her into the sitting room. “How could you? I made it exceedingly plain I wanted the viscount for my Lucille or Genevieve, either girl a much more suitable match for a viscount than a . . . a
vicar’s
daughter. I bet you didn’t even inform him that two far lovelier and exceedingly more accomplished girls were available for matrimony.”

The task she had supposedly been assigned was news to Hannah, but she harboured no regrets. She couldn’t imagine William tolerating either girl’s presence for long. They would bore him to tears.

“The last I heard, you were concerned by the mere possibility Lord Blackthorn had intentions of seeking a wife.” Hannah came as close to rebuking her superior—Mrs Kingswood’s husband being the younger son of a baron—as she dared.

“Not at all. I specifically mentioned how prestigious it would be to have a grandson who was heir to a viscountcy. Besides, my misgivings were resolved when I discovered your father had devised a way to break the curse,” Mrs Kingswood said, her brows furrowing. “How dare the two of you withhold such vital information? You probably tricked the viscount into believing marriage to you was his only option.”

Shocked by the viciousness of her guest’s accusation, Hannah paled.

“That’s quite enough, Mrs Kingswood,” her father said from the doorway. “Neither I nor my daughter have done anything requiring apology. What we
have
done is to offer Lord Blackthorn our unconditional support from the moment of his arrival.”

The vicar’s pointed words slid off the matronly woman like water from a duck’s back, and she left in a flurry of indignation.

Lady Cromley, Grace’s erstwhile stepmother, and Lady Wescott were a little more circumspect in expressing their opinions.

“Miss Foster . . . Hannah
dearest . . .
you’re taking a horrendous risk. Are you sure you’ve considered the ramifications?” Lady Wescott’s tone was sympathetic, but Hannah maintained her guard.