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

would manage the running of the household.
    “ Promise you’ll keep an eye on Rachel?”
    “I’ll tell her to be careful,” Naomi said, gripping Hannah’s fingers.
    Hannah hoped their younger sister would heed the warning, as Rachel had a tendency to be somewhat cavalier when it came to her reputation. Hannah wouldn’t put it past Mr Trowbridge to attempt to compromise the girl, thereby forcing her to accept his hand.
    “Don’t worry.” Her father reached to pat Hannah’s shoulder as the horses strained to get the heavy cart moving. “The Lord is watching over us.”
    While Hannah admired her father’s faith in the Almighty’s providence, she feared his tendency to ignore their grim reality would lead to their downfall. With a muttered prayer to a God she sometimes struggled to trust, Hannah hoped her family would be fine without her. She’d stayed away for a night or two before, assisting a new mother in caring for her brood. But one look at her patient and she imagined her stay at the manor could be prolonged . . . that was if the viscount lasted the night.
    “I’ll inform Mr Grantham of Lord Blackthorn’s return,” her father said, walking beside the lumbering cart. “And I’ll arrange for his horse to be stabled at the smithy. The Pottses will have more than enough to contend with caring for the viscount, even with your help.”
    “I’m sure they will.” Hannah nodded then waved her sister and father goodbye.
       
    The Pottses, to their credit, took their employer’s unexpected arrival in their stride and rushed to prepare the master suite. It was one of the handful of rooms in the enormous, grey-stone mansion they kept in partial readiness in anticipation of the young viscount’s unlikely return.
    Appointed to oversee William’s affairs upon his father’s death, Mr Grantham had wasted no time in dismissing the rest of the staff and closing up the manor after William’s departure years before. Hannah was one of the few members of the local society to visit the dark and imposing edifice. Unlike the local villagers, her concern for the aging caretaker and his wife—left to manage with minimal funds and virtually no assistance—overrode her apprehension. While she gave due respect to the curse that not even her father discounted, she refused to be intimidated by something that could have no possible bearing upon her.
    Twice whilst being carried up to the master suite, Lord Blackthorn roused and groaned in pain.
    “Don’t be alarmed.” Hannah patted his arm when he began to thrash about. Attempting to sit up, he grabbed hold of her sleeve.
    “Where am I?”
    “You’re home, my lord, at Blackthorn Manor.”
    He slumped back, his eyes fluttering closed, and memories of the boy she’d played with as a child overlaid the image of the man lying on the old door they were using as a stretcher. As far as anyone knew, the viscount had never married and was all alone in the world. Hannah was surprised he’d made the effort to return, considering his condition. Maybe he had nowhere else to go.
    “It’s a wonder all the rough ’andling didn’t wake ’is Lordship,” Mr Potts mused after the viscount had been transferred to the bed that dominated the enormous room.
    “It’s the fever.” Hannah said.
    After dismissing Mr Jenkins and his sons with a word of thanks, all three eager to depart the fearful surroundings, she wasted no time wrestling the viscount’s knee-length boots from his feet.
    “Mrs Potts, could you heat some water? I’ll need to clean His Lordship’s wounds.”
    “Of course, Miss Hannah.” The motherly woman bustled for the door, clearly dismayed at the sight of the man they all remembered as a lanky but otherwise healthy-looking lad now in such a sorry state. “I’ll have Mr Jenkins send his youngest lad to assist us with the to-ing and fro-ing. The family will be glad of a little extra coin.”
    “I’m sure they will.” Hannah nodded, privately concerned about