Chapter 2 #2
Hannah braced herself for a lecture, as Mama would have given, but Della proved to be a more permissive companion. “It’s all right. I saw you at Mr. Corbyn’s table earlier. How is he with the guests?”
Oh goodness. Had Della noticed how much she’d stared at him?
“I see what you mean when you said he was rough,” Hannah finally replied. “He swears like a sailor.”
That was an exaggeration, but he had cursed when he’d apologized for comparing her to Eli. It wasn’t often that anyone used foul language in her hearing.
“Were the ladies very offended?”
“Not really. I think that redhead has taken a fancy to him. The one in the green gown.” Hannah flushed just thinking about it. The woman flirted so shamelessly. What would it be like to have that sort of confidence?
“Miss Berry,” Della said, after a glance to Mr. Corbyn’s table. “She’d best stay well enough away before she ruins her prospects.”
“Why? He’s very low-class, then?” She’d presumed as much from the fact that he was working as a dealer, but he’d seemed gentlemanlike enough aside from the slight problem of his language.
“Not only that. He was dishonorably discharged for fighting with his superior. Your brother could probably tell you more about it than I could, but I certainly wouldn’t be caught flirting with a man like that where everyone could see me.”
I should have flirted with him! Hannah realized with a start.
Why on earth hadn’t she thought of it sooner? It would have been perfect. But it was too late to go back, after the way she’d stormed off.
The truth was, Hannah could never have dared to flirt with someone like Mr. Corbyn.
He was so handsome that half the ladies at his table were vying to catch his eye.
Just look at that mouth. Though it was set in a severe line, his lips were too full to be anything but kissable, no matter how stern an expression he might wear.
And that hair! It fell in golden waves that looked perpetually tousled.
How did he do it? The most talented lady’s maid in the world couldn’t have produced such a masterpiece.
Hannah realized she was staring again, despite the fact that Della had probably been waiting for her to say something for a solid minute.
“Um…by the way, how is your book coming?” Hannah asked, fumbling for some topic of conversation to hide her obvious fixation on Mr. Corbyn. “Is the viscount being kind to you?”
The last time they’d seen one another, Della had told her about her plans to write a lady’s guidebook to the sights of London. The Viscount Ashton was collaborating on the project with her, as he’d already written a similar book meant for gentlemen.
“Very kind,” Della said in a telling voice. She even added a wink on the end, lest there be any confusion as to her meaning.
What?
Hannah’s blood ran cold. She couldn’t have heard right, wink or no. “What do you mean by that?”
She can’t be involved with the man, can she?
Just the other day, Hannah had overheard Jane and Eli discussing their concerns that Della seemed overly attached to her new mentor. She’d presumed it was just Jane worrying too easily, but now the conversation took on a new significance.
Della’s eyes grew wide, offering visible proof of her guilt. “Nothing. I only meant—”
“Are you and he…? But he’s married, isn’t he?”
“No. No. You don’t understand. There’s nothing between us. It’s just a harmless flirtation.”
A harmless flirtation? With a married man? How could Della say such a thing? She was just as bad as Mama, throwing away her marriage vows and driving a family apart to follow her own wishes.
“And he’s been separated from his wife for years,” Della continued, unaware that her every word was making things that much worse, “and she plans to divorce him before Parliament, so she wouldn’t be hurt by it even if there were any connection between us, which there isn’t.”
A divorce!
How could she bring herself to say that word without any shame? They were English, not French! People here weren’t supposed to trade in their spouses the moment they grew bored.
Will Mama and Papa be next?
Hannah could just imagine it. All the ugly things they would say about each other in front of the whole world. Everybody looking on in scorn and pity. There would truly be no going back once they crossed that bridge.
“Not be hurt by it?” Hannah repeated, the words like angry bees stinging her tongue. “Not be hurt by it? You’re carrying on with a married man, and you don’t see anything wrong with that?”
It was so heartless! What if the Viscount Ashton and his wife could have reconciled and been a happy family again? Della was transforming their lapse in judgment into a permanent breach, and she didn’t even see how horrid it was.
“Shhh. What are you saying? Hannah, calm down!”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Hannah snapped. “What a joke marriage is. Don’t you care that you’re driving a couple apart?”
“It isn’t like that. Hannah, please—” Della reached for her hand, but she jerked back.
Hannah couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t pretend there was nothing wrong with the way everyone around her behaved. They all acted like it was perfectly normal to push Hannah toward marriage, while behind closed doors they cast off their vows the moment it suited them.
“Get away from me!”
Hannah ran from the room, heedless of her destination.
She only knew that she couldn’t be near other people right now.
She couldn’t go back to Mrs. Anwar’s, nor did she relish the thought of returning to Jane’s town house to face Mama.
She didn’t even have the money to hire a coach!
She’d left everything she had on the card table when she stormed off without thinking.
Hannah pulled open the only door in the club she hadn’t been through tonight to find a small office on the other side.
Thank God.
She slumped against the wall and let her tears overtake her.
She’d thought Della was a good person. She’d seemed so worldly and independent with all her talk about the club and her book.
Hannah had wanted to be just like her. How could she do something like this?
Didn’t anyone else care about the consequences of their actions?
Sometimes Hannah felt as if she were the only person in the whole world who took things to heart.
After all, Mama and Papa didn’t seem troubled by the fact that they were living apart.
Even her brothers behaved as though it were perfectly normal.
Hannah was the only one who understood that their whole world was falling down; the only one who couldn’t bear to pretend that everything was fine.
She sobbed for a long while before she finally fished a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped her face.
She probably looked a mess, but she didn’t care anymore.
She wasn’t going back out there for anything.
She would hide inside the office for the rest of the night, until she was strong enough to go back to Jane and Eli’s home and face her punishment.
Mama would shout and cry and tell her what a terrible mistake she’d made, no doubt.
But at the end of it all, nothing would change.
She would still be expected to make her morning calls tomorrow, just to find a man who would grow to hate her over the years or carry on with other women like they all did.
This was to be her life. There was no escape.
The sudden click of the latch was the only warning she had that someone was coming. Hannah gasped to find Mr. Corbyn before her, looking just as startled as she was.
Oh no, not him. Of all the people who might stumble upon her while she looked like a half-drowned rat, the dazzling Mr. Corbyn was the last one she would have chosen.
“You’re not the old lady from earlier,” he said, as if this was supposed to mean something.
“Um…no?”
He shook his head, apparently realizing he was talking nonsense.
“Beg your pardon, Miss Williams. I was looking for someone else.” He cast a glance around the room, then back to her.
It was plain that he wondered what she was doing here, but didn’t want to come out and ask.
“Right. I’ll leave you to your… Wait, have you been crying? ”
Hannah wanted to sink into the floor and die. She tried to issue a persuasive “no,” but her nose betrayed her with an involuntary sniffle. This was so humiliating.
“Did someone hurt you?” Mr. Corbyn’s face darkened. Though Hannah knew the threat wasn’t directed at her, she couldn’t stop her heart from quailing. That wasn’t the face of a man one should cross.
“No,” she repeated. Though Mr. Corbyn didn’t know her from Adam, the look in his eyes told Hannah that he would have words (or possibly fists) for whomever he blamed for her tears.
He must feel an obligation to Eli. Even if it was only for her brother’s sake, it felt good to know that someone was watching out for her.
It wasn’t as though anyone else would.
“Then why are you in here crying alone?” he persisted. Those eyes were really too intense for comfort. A steel-blue that could have pierced her straight through.
“I just—” Hannah couldn’t find an easy lie to save herself. Remembering her falling-out with Della, her lower lip began to tremble.
Oh no. She hated crying in front of other people. She was not going to cry in front of Mr. Corbyn. Hannah bit her lip to push the feeling back.
“It’s a long story,” she finally managed, once her voice was steady. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”
He hesitated, as if he didn’t rightly know what he wanted to hear, before he said, “You can tell me if you like.”
The words were uttered in a tone she couldn’t read. Was it reluctance, or a gruff sort of kindness? She didn’t know Mr. Corbyn well enough to judge. But even if he did want to hear her story, he wasn’t likely to understand how she felt. Her own family didn’t even understand her.