Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) Read Free Page A

trustworthy candidate.”
    “That devil will do whatever suits his own needs,” Naomi muttered, earning a warning look from her father though he didn’t dispute her assessment. “What can I do to help?”
    Hannah shot her more sensible middle sister an appreciative look. “You can pack my portmanteau and make sure it finds its way into the cart, as I don’t fancy having to carry it all the way up to the manor.”
    “You plan on staying with the viscount?” Her father followed Hannah out the door, donning his coat on the way.
    “Mr and Mrs Potts won’t be able to care for him by themselves, and Grace is far too busy to sit at his bedside.” Hannah didn’t add that her friend wouldn’t neglect her many other patients just because Lord Blackthorn was of a higher station.
    “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you tending to a young gentleman.” Her father shook his head as they strode briskly along the path to the cemetery.
    “Who else is there, Papa? I’ve done my fair share of nursing, and it’s not as if I’ve a reputation to uphold . . . well, other than as your daughter, the dutiful spinster.”
    Her father’s expression softened, but Hannah had no time to regret her bitter tone. As they approached the Blackthorn plot, her priority was the man lying propped against his father’s tomb. The viscount’s condition appeared to have worsened during the short time she was away. His breath came in harsh pants, and his complexion, though tanned by some distant southern sun, was grey and waxen. Wary of the sling she saw tucked beneath his greatcoat, she gave his uninjured shoulder a gentle shake.
    “Lord Blackthorn? William?” Hannah took the liberty of using his Christian name in the hopes of garnering a response. To her relief, his eyes opened. “I’m Miss Hannah Foster, and this is my father, the Reverend Foster,” she said, not sure he would remember them after so many years. “We’re going to take care of you.”
    His heavy-lidded gaze followed her hands as she removed a bottle from her bag and poured a pungent liquid into a tumbler.
    “If you could drink this, please.” She raised the glass to his mouth.
    “No laudanum,” he muttered, turning his head.
    “It’s just willow bark and some herbs to help with the fever,” Hannah assured him.
    After studying her for a moment, he opened his cracked lips. The brew contained both sugar and liquorice to try and disguise the bitter taste, but he grimaced after taking a sip.
    “You need to swallow it all,” Hannah said, using her best no-nonsense tone.
    A shudder ran through him as he finished the tonic, his expression decidedly aggrieved.
    “My horse.” He gestured weakly towards the tree line.
    “Don’t worry. He’ll be taken care of,” her father said as Hannah looked to see the miller, Mr Jenkins, and his sons cresting the hill.
    “Your carriage has arrived, my lord.” She winced at the sight of the sturdy cart being pulled by Mr Jenkins’ heavyset horses. “It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it was the closest vehicle at hand and the most suitable for the purpose.”
    The viscount attempted to push away from the tombstone but fell back with another groan.
    “Don’t try to move,” Hannah scolded. “The miller and his sons will lift you.” Shifting to make room, she hesitated when the viscount grasped her forearm.
    “You’ll accompany me?”
    “Yes, of course,” she said, her tone softening. The poor man must fear abandonment. “I won’t leave you alone.”
    “Good.” His hand fell from her arm as he succumbed to unconsciousness once more.
    It was a mercy, Hannah concluded, as manhandling the injured lord onto the back of the cart was not easily accomplished. After being helped aboard by the miller and her father, she covered the viscount with a blanket before cradling his head on her lap to protect it from the jouncing, springless cart ride. Naomi arrived just in time to deliver Hannah’s bag and offer assurances she