Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (47 page)

“Why don’t you take a hot bath then I’ll rub some unguent into your leg?” Hannah suggested when he hobbled in the front door.

“I’ll get Dawkins to do it,” he muttered as Houghton removed his coat. He hated for her to see him in such a weakened state, despite the fact his being in a far
worse
state was what had brought them together. Ignoring the hovering servants, Hannah put her arm around his waist and urged him to lean against her as they headed towards the stairs.

“No, that’s all right.” He pulled away from her embrace. “You shouldn’t be assisting me in your condition.”

“Oh
pfft
.” She lifted his arm and pulled it around her shoulders. “I’m only taking a little of your weight, just helping you to balance.”

“But I’m the one who’s supposed to be caring for you, not the other way around,” he grumbled.

“You do, William. You cosset me terribly, and you need to allow me the same privilege. I
like
taking care of you,” she said before reaching up on tiptoe to whisper close to his ear, “but if you’d rather Dawkins’ hands on your body than mine, far be it from me to intervene. Although I do have rather fond memories of massaging your thigh. I could join you in the bath to get a head start on your therapy, if you’d like.”

William’s step developed an unexpected spring, one he’d gladly pay for later.

They had made love often since Christmas, but only
at her instigation, as he didn’t want her to feel pressured in any way. But for the better part of a week, she’d been too tired at night, and he wasn’t about to wake her in the morning, as he was determined to see she received all the sleep she needed. Only the day before, she’d grumbled that it was a pity it wasn’t socially acceptable for her husband to join her in taking an afternoon nap, as it would have been the perfect time because she was neither plagued by the queasiness that still occasionally bothered her of a morning, nor overly fatigued.

Social acceptability be damned
, William thought as he called for their bath to be drawn. He’d always wanted to share a bath with Hannah—that and an afternoon nap sounded like just what he needed.

“How’s the leg?” Hannah murmured some time later when they lay sprawled on William’s bed.

“Never better.” He pulled the covers over them and nestled her close to his side, his left hand resting on the curve of her belly. His arm, too, had benefited from the hot bath and even steamier lovemaking, with not a muscle in his body retaining any tension.

“You do realise we’ve scandalised the staff again.” Hannah sighed, the movement drawing his gaze to her beautiful breasts, made even more luscious by the weight she’d gained from her confinement. Despite feeling a distinctive stirring in his loins, William resisted the urge to repeat his earlier caresses. He was well satisfied, and her nap had been delayed long enough.

“I wouldn’t fret about the staff.” He nuzzled her brow while her fingers trailed through the curls on his chest. “They’re a forgiving bunch.”

“Especially since receiving their generous Christmas bonuses,” she said dryly.

William chuckled before wondering if she was bothered by her oft-repeated concern. “Are you worried about the harridans of Hartley hearing about our latest escapade?”

“I should be, I suppose.” Hannah shrugged a smooth, bare shoulder, the languorous after-effects of their lovemaking clearly tempering her response. “But considering all the other outrageous goings-on around here, I doubt our indulging in an afternoon interlude will create much of a stir . . . or come as any great surprise.”

“True.” William smiled, recalling her uncharacteristic timidity when she’d first broached the idea of moving the nursery from the second floor to the first, the same as their suites. It was a novel idea, one he’d not disagreed with. But when she’d suggested positioning the baby’s bedroom in the same wing of the house as theirs, just up the hallway, in fact, his eyes had widened.

“You can always sleep in the master suite if the crying is a problem, as I’ll put the baby’s room on the other side of my suite,” she’d said, her hands clasped together in entreaty. “I just don’t want to be away from him at nighttime . . . or from you.”

“And I suppose, when he’s older, you envision him crawling into bed between us on those mornings when we don’t
lock the door, just as you did with your parents?” He’d surprised them both by speaking of the future, one where their family was intact.

Hannah’s face had lit up with a smile so wide, he’d had neither the heart nor inclination to deny her request or admit his query had been an aberration. In reality, he foresaw a far grimmer future where father and baby son comforted each other in their loneliness by night.

Encouraged by his response, Hannah had gone on to broach an even more heretical possibility, one that would undoubtedly shock the local ladies to near insensibility when word got out. William, on the other hand, had been touched by her intention.

Tightening his arm around her, he cuddled her delicious curves into his side. “You’re still determined to nurse the baby yourself?” he asked. A part of him felt guilty for continuing with the ruse that he possessed any degree of confidence her plans would come to fruition. But he justified his actions with the knowledge Hannah appreciated his optimism, feigned though it might be.

“I know it’s scandalous for a viscountess to consider putting her baby to her breast, but my mother never had the benefit of a wet nurse, and we all turned out fine.”

“Exceptionally fine,” he said and kissed her forehead. The image that formed in his mind of Hannah nursing their son caused a burning sensation at the back of his eyes, just as it had the first time she’d raised the possibility, and he blinked away the tears that had remained embarrassingly close to the surface since their reunion.

“I thought it the loveliest thing to watch her feeding my sisters,” Hannah continued. “I’d fetch Mama a cup of tea while she nursed Naomi, and then I kept Naomi occupied when it was Rachel’s turn two years later. Grace assures me that a healthy, well-fed mother—which I most definitely am—can provide greater nourishment for a babe than a tired-out wet nurse, which is far more important to me than obeying society’s decree, especially one that makes little sense. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Wholeheartedly.” Having heard her arguments a time or two before, he hoped to reassure her with his tone.

“I’m not overly busy with engagements here in the country, and I’m sure I can fit in the events I must attend around the baby’s feeding times once I’ve developed a schedule. Of course, I’ll employ a wet nurse to assist me if I find it too taxing, plus I’ll have a nanny—my mother certainly didn’t have one of those.” She looked thoughtful. “Are you sure you don’t mind waiting another year to take your seat in the House of Lords? I know how important it is for you to involve yourself publicly in the fight against slavery—”

“Not as important as you are to me,” he said with a soothing stroke of her arm. William doubted his support for the cause would extend beyond the financial, as he couldn’t see himself leaving Blackthorn to face the
ton
without her.

Hannah’s smile returned, one he was determined should grace her lovely features as often as possible.

Chapter 37

Surprise

Something was wrong with William, something
other
than his unsuccessful attempts at hiding his fears for her safety. When winter finally gave way to spring, Hannah hoped his restlessness would ease, and it did . . . to be replaced by an odd furtiveness and sense of suppressed excitement that permeated the entire household.

“Have you any idea what’s going on?” Hannah asked Marianne after a strange encounter with William in his study. Upon noticing her presence, he’d rushed her from the room much the same way he had the day she’d come across him reading his father’s risqué books in the library.

“There’s
something
going on,” she insisted at Marianne’s uncharacteristic silence. “I’m sure of it.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my lady,” the Frenchwoman said, busying herself with collecting pins for Hannah’s hair. “What could possibly be going on that you wouldn’t already know about? Certainly nothing that
I
would know anything about, nothing gossip-worthy . . . not that I’m one to gossip. Which is entirely moot, because there isn’t anything going on, well, other than the usual goings-on, of course.”

Hannah stifled a laugh and changed the subject before the poor woman dug herself an even deeper hole. Something
was
going on, and she suspected it might have to do with her upcoming birthday. Relieved William had something to occupy his mind other than worrying about how she was coping with her confinement and the risks surrounding their baby’s birth, she had no intention of spoiling his fun by revealing her suspicions, which grew as the days counted down to the middle of March.

“Surprise!”

Hannah gasped, her reaction only partially feigned at discovering the gold drawing room filled with so many of her favourite people. She’d assumed whatever secret event William was planning for her birthday would occur later that evening, not midafternoon when she came down from her nap.

“Happy birthday, darling.” William took the hand that had risen to cover her mouth in his before leaning in close to ask, “It’s not too much is it? I was worried the shock might be a problem.”

“It’s fine.
I’m
fine, and thank you,” Hannah whispered before smiling at her well-wishers.

Her father and sisters were the first to approach, and Rachel awkwardly embraced Hannah around her very pregnant belly.

“Happy birthday,” Rachel said, her smile and greeting echoed by those standing nearby. “This is a bit more exciting than last year, when you wouldn’t let us make the slightest fuss.”
 

Hannah pulled a face at the memory of the day that had started so dismally, then ended with finding William close to death in the graveyard, a bittersweet occurrence.

“Of course she didn’t want any fuss back then,” Naomi said. “She was staring down the barrel of a life spent in spinsterhood and servitude.”

“Naomi.” Their father gave her a mild look of reproof before kissing Hannah’s cheek. “Are you well, my dear? You certainly look well. In fact, you look as wonderful as your mother did whenever she was increasing.”

“Increasing is the word.” Rachel did the almost unthinkable and patted Hannah’s protruding stomach—in public. “Are you supposed to be this big at six months? You’re enormous.”

“Rachel!” Hannah tugged her sister away from the group, shooting her non-family members an apologetic glance. “Don’t say such things. Quite aside from its inappropriateness, William is worried enough about the baby’s size without you making insensitive comments.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel’s face fell. “I agree with Papa and think you look wonderful. There’s no real cause for concern is there?”

“Your sister is doing marvellously.” Grace approached and greeted Hannah with a quick kiss. “Now stop monopolising her, as her guests are growing restless. I fear some of the local ladies will have a conniption fit if they don’t receive their due attention forthwith.”

Hannah looked up to see a veritable receiving line of locals, society and common, waiting to offer their congratulations, Ladies Cromley and Wescott and their daughters front and centre.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” Hannah whispered in an urgent aside. After convincing her to attend the Wescotts’ autumn dance the year before—the first time she’d socialised with her estranged stepmother and half-siblings since her banishment—Hannah had promised not to put her friend through anything like it again. “I don’t know what William was thinking inviting them.”