Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (40 page)

“I’d best not keep them waiting.” She sighed, taking a moment to tuck a few stray strands of hair into place.

“Hannah, my dear, dear girl.” Lady Cromley approached with arms outstretched. Technically, Ladies Cromley and Wescott should now address her as Lady Blackthorn, followed by
my lady
or
ma’am
, but Hannah let the familiarity slide, considering their long association.

“How lovely to see you,” Hannah said when she was finally released from Lady Cromley’s embrace. “And you, too, Arabella and Margaret. You’re both looking well.”

“As are you.” Arabella sounded shocked. “I thought we’d find you weeping up a storm.”

Hannah flinched. If they’d arrived an hour earlier, the description would have been quite apt.

“Well, obviously it’s a
little
disappointing not to have better news,” she said. “But the viscount and I have only been married a fortnight. One must allow more time for these things to occur.”

“What things?” Margaret asked. “Mother wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, just that you were in grave distress and we must come and offer you comfort.” The girl pouted, reminding Hannah she was even younger than Rachel and had probably been far more sheltered. Unsure whether she should speak more bluntly, Hannah looked to her mentors for advice. Lady Cromley gave a slight shake of her head.

“There’s no need to upset the girls,” she said, though why Hannah’s not
being with child would do so she couldn’t fathom. “Since you are not in
acute
distress—though we are aware of how dreadful your circumstances and how great your suffering must be—let us take tea together. Afterwards, Arabella and Margaret can amuse themselves at that rather wonderful looking pianoforte while you tell us
everything
.”

With a sinking feeling, Hannah perceived the purpose of the visit. Sure enough, once their two daughters were out of earshot, the mothers pounced.

“You poor girl.” Lady Wescott patted Hannah’s hand. “We did warn you, but one expects one’s husband to at least
attempt
to behave like a gentleman.”

“It’s not surprising.” Lady Cromley tut-tutted. “For all their wealth and standing, the Blackthorns were never
true
nobility. They didn’t come over with the Normans, but rather virtually
purchased
their title a mere five generations back.”

“Instead of taking it by force while raping and pillaging?” Hannah raised a brow. “What exactly is my husband guilty of?”

The ladies exchanged glances.

“Of invading your bedchamber on a
nightly
basis”—Lady Wescott shuddered—“and staying until morning.”

“Quite
late
of a morning,” Lady Cromley added. “We don’t know how you’ve borne it. Importuning one’s wife at all hours is nothing less than monstrous, but I suppose it was to be expected of a Blackthorn.”

“That’s quite enough.” Hannah surprised both herself and her visitors with her rebuke, but she could not sit by and allow them to disparage William’s name. “My husband is a good man—a
gentleman—
who treats me with nothing but consideration and respect. There’s absolutely no cause for alarm or reason to impugn his character.”

“You deny the rumours?” Lady Cromley asked.

“I have no
interest
in rumours.” Hannah’s stare was steely. “Whatever occurs between my husband and myself in the privacy of our bedchamber is nobody’s concern but ours.”

“Well, I never,” Lady Wescott said with a huff. “Did you not listen to a word of the advice we gave you?”

“I fear you are headed down a treacherous path, my girl.” Lady Cromley shook her finger. “Don’t you realise your reputation is at stake?”

“For trying to be the best wife I can possibly be?” Hannah’s tone was more bemused than demanding. Despite her indignation, she was wary of alienating Blackthorn society’s two most important ladies.

“If your mother was alive, she would discourage you from indulging your husband in such a forward manner,” Lady Cromley warned. “You will come to regret it. Mark my words.”

Seeing a potential lifeline, Hannah decided to hide her offence at the lady’s reference and use it to her advantage. “Actually, it was talk of my beloved mother that led my husband to offer to keep me company at night. As you’ve both mentioned on numerous occasions, I wasn’t raised with such a prestigious position as viscountess in mind and have found it rather daunting. William has been most solicitous and not at all
beastly
. That the servants choose to interpret his kindness in a salacious manner is distressing. In fact”—Hannah put on her most entreating expression—“I would appreciate any advice you might have to offer as to how I can curb the staff’s propensity to gossip. It’s disloyal and shows such poor character . . . don’t you think?”

Hannah couldn’t wait to enlighten William about how she’d trumped her opponents. The suitably chastened ladies had left with promises to take no further part in prurient discussions pertaining to the private life of the new viscount and his bride. But then Hannah recalled her relationship with her husband was still somewhat strained. Seeing as he’d apologised for his harsh words, she was inclined to be forgiving, but when she went looking for him, he was nowhere to be found.

“His Lordship rode out an hour ago, my lady,” Houghton informed her when she asked after her husband. “He said to let you know he would be back in time for dinner.”

Thwarted in her plan, Hannah’s ire resurfaced. She’d have thought William would come and check on her after she’d so obviously been reduced to tears by their encounter. At a loss as to what to do with the rest of her day, she considered calling for a carriage and heading into town. But the only person she wanted to see was Grace, and she wasn’t sure of her welcome, especially in light of the current round of gossip.

Dinner was a subdued affair with neither William nor her doing the meal justice. While contemplating dessert, Hannah decided she owed him an apology. She’d told him she understood the reason for the restrictions he’d placed on their marriage, then undermined him whenever her disappointment got the better of her.

“I’m sorry for my surliness this morning.” She reached for his hand across the table, relief welling within her when he grasped it without hesitation. “I meant what I said. I won’t bring it up again.”

He nodded, but his expression was still sad. “I wish things could be different, as I fear it will come between us in time.”

“We won’t let it,” Hannah said firmly, hoping her words and not his would prove prophetic.

“How was your day?” he asked, his smile a little ragged though she appreciated his effort to lighten the mood.

“Surprising,” she said, going on to provide him with an edited version of events. Hannah feared if she were to repeat her visitors’ insulting accusations, she would hurt his feelings—or incite his anger.

“Well done for putting the old bats in their place. I imagine once we begin appearing in public, and it’s apparent we’ve neither grown two heads nor completely forgotten our manners, much of the talk will die down.”

Hannah hoped William was correct, but she didn’t share his confidence that interest in their doings would dissipate so readily. After dinner, they looked through the veritable mountain of invitations that had piled up since their wedding, deciding which to accept and which to decline. Hannah had socialised little in previous years and couldn’t help feeling intimidated by the schedule they’d be required to keep. If it wasn’t for the fact she would have William by her side, she’d have been thoroughly daunted.

Unable to stifle her yawns after an emotionally draining day, she sadly bid William good night earlier than usual.

“You don’t wish me to accompany you?” he asked when she reached the doorway.

Hannah’s mouth dropped open, and she closed it with a pop. Uncertain how to respond, she decided her annoyance with his tiptoeing around the issue earlier in the day had been a little unfair. It was a difficult topic to discuss. “You do understand we cannot . . .” She spread her hands.

“No, of course not. I didn’t mean
that.
” An expression akin to horror appeared on his face, and her annoyance returned. She wasn’t contagious.

“Well, what did you mean, then?”

“Your parents,” he blurted, leaving her none the wiser. At her raised brow, he continued, speaking slowly, as if he was choosing his words with care. “You mentioned your parents shared a bedchamber, that they’d only the one. I assume, therefore, it is
possible
for a husband and wife to cohabit
when the wife is indisposed? I thought you might appreciate the company, but if you’d rather be left in peace, I understand.”

Hannah’s vision blurred. “That’s very kind of you. I’d appreciate the company if it wouldn’t bother you to share a bed when we can’t—”

“Not at all.” William crossed the room and gathered her into his arms. “I’d just like to be with you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Hannah was embarrassed by her teariness, but she allowed that it had been a trying day. The thought of spending the next six or seven nights apart from William hadn’t been at all appealing. It was only after she mentioned to Marianne her husband would be joining her, and saw her shocked expression, that she realised how his actions would be interpreted.

“To
sleep.
To keep me
company
,” she clarified, exasperated that it was necessary to explain herself at all.

“Of course, my lady.” Her maid bobbed a curtsy and exited in a rush, leaving Hannah to sigh in frustration.

“I’m worried what the servants will think,” she said to William after they had climbed into bed together, uncharacteristically clothed.

“To hell with what they think.” He nestled her against his side. Relieved he wasn’t going to allow the opinion of others to drive them apart, she didn’t scold him for his language. “This is
our
life,” he added grimly, “and we’ll live it how we see fit. Besides, I’m sure they’re astute enough to figure out what is and
isn’t
going on, not that it’s anyone’s business.”

Despite thinking him a tad naïve, Hannah cuddled into his side.

“Maybe we can set a new trend?” she suggested in an effort to be optimistic. Raising his head, he eyed her curiously. “By proving noble marriages can be happy ones,” she continued. “That husbands and wives can treat each other with affection, and the empire won’t crumble.”

Chuckling quietly, William kissed the top of her head. “A cause I gladly endorse,” he murmured before reaching over to douse the light.

Chapter 32

Declaration

Observing Hannah work her magic on her father’s parishioners after Sunday service, William smiled indulgently. She made an exceptional viscountess in spite of her fears to the contrary.

Fortunately, his assurance that public censure of their less-than-conventional relationship would ease over time had proved correct. As he’d suspected, a generous and benevolent lord could be forgiven a great deal, including the occasional lapse when it came to showing affection for his bride. He was also pleased to observe Hannah’s tendency to kowtow to the
tonnish
ladies had diminished. She was the most highly positioned female in the district, after all.

“Married life appears to suit you,” Loring said, coming to stand at his side. “Or should I say, your
wife
suits you?”