Chapter 10
Ten
“What happened?”
“Are you engaged?”
“What did their house look like?”
The moment he walked in the door, Marian and James pounced on him with their questions like two excitable kittens sharing the same frayed string.
“Enough. Let me breathe first.” Silas waved them away as he undid his cravat and shrugged out of his tailcoat, which had begun to feel confining about three hours ago.
Marian took the trappings of refinement from his hands to speed his progress, but made no move to take them to his bedroom.
“Could you please hang those up?”
“I’m not your maid.” She snorted. “Stop trying to distract me and tell us what happened.”
Silas had been trying to distract her, and suffered a pang of regret that it hadn’t worked. He’d spent the entire journey home imagining how they might take the news that he was engaged—at least on paper, once the announcement ran. James was going to be insufferable.
A bare recitation of the facts was probably best, if there was no way around it. Silas resolved to lay out his situation in the briefest possible terms.
“She wants me to pretend to want to marry her and then behave so badly that her mother will have no choice but to press her to release me. I asked her for another two hundred pounds in exchange. Her mother’s putting an announcement in the papers, and I’ll need to attend a few society events to play my part. ”
He didn’t mention the way he’d haggled for a portion of her dowry if the marriage went ahead.
It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his actions—really, it was nothing more than self-preservation, lest he find himself unable to escape the net Miss Williams had woven around them both—but there was simply no need to mention it. It wasn’t likely to come to pass.
He was more than capable of mucking things up so badly that Mrs. Williams would reverse course and forbid their marriage. Hannah Williams must have sensed as much, or she would never have chosen him.
She knows I have some practice destroying my own life. Was that why she’d kissed him? Had she sensed his potential for wanton destruction even from their first acquaintance?
James whooped at this news, oblivious to his brother’s darkening mood. “Two hundred pounds! Blimey. Do you think she’ll really pay?”
If she doesn’t, that’s what the dowry is for. The thought brought him little comfort. Silas didn’t want to know how far he was willing to go. With a minimal amount of effort on his part, the issue would never arise.
How hard could it be to make a fool of himself?
Marian observed him with more trepidation than James, her hazel eyes wary. “How do you feel about all this?”
“It’s everything we wanted.” Silas took his coat and cravat back from Marian, striding to his room to put them away. He’d said everything that mattered. There was no need to dwell on it.
But his cousin followed him, James trailing behind.
“Why does she want you to make her mother angry?” Marian pressed. “Couldn’t she just jilt you herself?”
“She seems to think that if the decision comes from her mother, it will make it easier for her to avoid marriage altogether.” Silas hung his coat in his wardrobe and brushed out the wrinkles.
“You sure she don’t intend to keep you?” James caught up to them, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe.
“Her feelings aren’t my concern,” Silas said shortly, refusing to look at his brother’s grinning face. That knowing tone was grating on him. “She’s asked me to do a job, and I intend to do it. All that matters is the pay.”
“But what about your reputation?” Marian had a furrow between her brows. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you behaving badly about town to try to goad some woman into forbidding your engagement.”
“What reputation?” Silas couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. He regretted the words almost immediately. He didn’t want to invite a debate on whether or not his name was ruined beyond redemption, so he repeated the only essential point: “All that matters is the pay.”
James seemed inclined to say more, but at Marian’s sharp look, he shut his mouth again.
“We’re grateful to you,” Marian said. “Don’t hesitate if you need our help with anything.”
“There won’t be anything to help with,” Silas assured her. “It will be over and done within a week.”
* * *
As it turned out, the molding of Mr. Corbyn into a proper gentleman was to be quite a drawn-out affair. Hannah had expected it to begin with their attendance at Mrs. Godfrey’s wild rose party on Friday and end with the arrival of Papa in London the following week. Easy come, easy go.
As it turned out, her father wrote back to say that he had a fishing trip planned with the Lamburns this week and he didn’t want to cancel, so he would come to London the week after.
And Mama hadn’t even told her! Hannah had to find his letter on the desk and read it for herself.
It was really very difficult to plan a false engagement and lure her parents back together when no one saw fit to inform her of anything!
In keeping with this habit, Mama took it upon herself to outfit Mr. Corbyn in a new wardrobe without so much as a by-your-leave from anyone.
“I can’t bring him to Mrs. Godfrey’s in that ill-fitted suit,” she announced, after ordering their driver to ready the carriage the morning after their supper.
“He needs to look more presentable if we’re to persuade the ton that this is a good match for you.
I don’t like the expense, but there’s no help for it. ”
Hannah still couldn’t decide if her mother was baiting her, or if all this was genuine. The references to money seemed designed to provoke a sense of guilt, and thus a confession.
I refuse to feel guilty for any of it. Hannah put on her best walking dress and a pair of matching gloves. It isn’t my fault Mama’s decided to turn Mr. Corbyn into her idea of a perfect groom.
They descended upon the unsuspecting man’s doorstep, where Mama only paused long enough to wrinkle her nose at the country relatives who answered before ordering Mr. Corbyn into the carriage and on to a tailor’s.
If he protested, it was more in the set of his mouth and shoulders than with any words. Whatever his true thoughts on this intrusion might be, Mr. Corbyn kept them to himself as he obeyed her mother’s commands in stoic silence
Now he sees what I’m dealing with.
Hannah had never been inside a men’s tailor’s before. She tiptoed in with some hesitation, though Mama suffered no such qualms as she marched up to the gentleman at the counter.
“He’ll need some black formal wear, a few trousers and waistcoats, and at least three morning coats.
That should get him through the next two weeks.
” She turned abruptly to Mr. Corbyn after delivering these instructions, as if only just remembering that he was there.
“Oh! Do you have a better top hat? Silk, I mean. Not that felted thing you wore at the house the other night.”
Mr. Corbyn looked as though he were biting his tongue. Hard. “No, ma’am.”
Mama frowned. “I suppose we’ll have to go to the haberdasher’s as well. This promises to be a long day.”
“May I show you a few fabrics, madam?” The tailor motioned hastily to his apprentice, having quickly identified the paying customer in their number. “Blues and browns are very practical colors for a morning coat. There’s a lovely check to this one that gives it some depth, do you see…?”
While Mama was thus occupied, Hannah inched closer to Mr. Corbyn.
“I’m sorry about all this fuss.”
Her apology did nothing to soften the stern line of his jaw. Was he still angry with her for last night?
“Look on the bright side,” she tried again. “You get a new wardrobe.”
“That I’ll never wear after this farce is over,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s wasteful.”
All right. There was no point in trying to make peace with him this morning. Perhaps she would do better to stick to business.
“If you don’t have any use for your new clothes, you could always sell them and take it from what I owe you. These are expensive fabrics.”
He narrowed his icy blue eyes. “I’d rather have banknotes.”
“Well so would I, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one holding the purse strings.” Hannah tipped her chin in the direction of her mother’s back. “So if you want to be paid anytime soon, you’re going to have to help me find excuses to get at those funds.”
Mr. Corbyn looked as though he might have something more to say about this—and nothing complimentary, from the storm brewing in his eyes—but Hannah’s mother called her over before he could share any unkind words.
“Which do you like best, poppet? The medium blue or the navy?”
“Oh. I—” Hannah edged forward. “Mr. Corbyn, wouldn’t you like to choose?”
“Whatever you like best…darling.” The endearment made Hannah’s heart pound, no matter that he was being sarcastic. He’d drawn out the word in a slow, deliberate rumble. Like a rough hand sliding down the line of her spine.
Hannah shivered.
Fine. If he doesn’t care, I will choose for him.
She glanced at the wools that had been set out for the morning coats. The muted navy was certainly more practical, but the other choice was a vivid cobalt that seemed to shine. She could picture it on Mr. Corbyn easily. It would suit his eyes.
“This one, please.” She let her finger alight on the more striking fabric.
After all, this was the only time she would ever walk into a gathering with such a beautiful man on her arm.
Even if she wasn’t really going to marry him, she might like to show him off.
Just a little. “Do you think you could have it ready by Friday morning?”