Chapter 19
Nineteen
Mrs. Williams and Jane had prepared everything required for a wedding breakfast the night before, and they received about twenty people at the town house, mostly friends of Mrs. Williams. Silas had met enough of them during his feigned courtship that he didn’t feel entirely out of place.
As Silas and Hannah weren’t departing on a honeymoon, they dispensed with the usual custom of seeing the newlyweds off shortly after the cake was cut.
Instead, Mr. Williams was the first to leave, pleading the need to begin the long voyage back to Devon before the day got too late.
Jacob shook Silas’s hand and offered his congratulations before he left, though his father couldn’t bring himself to do the same.
No matter. It was such a relief to be rid of the man that Silas wasn’t even annoyed by the snub.
He might have to see Mr. Williams every so often for Hannah’s sake, but if the man spent most of his life two hundred miles from this marriage, it would be the perfect distance.
Everyone at the breakfast was a little lighter without him, particularly Mrs. Williams, who smiled and laughed far more than Silas had ever seen her do before.
“Should we warn her that I’m not buying a commission?” he murmured to Hannah during a brief lull in the activity.
She observed her mother for a moment. “Let her enjoy the day. She’s been waiting for this for twenty-one years. I’ll tell her later.”
Once they’d passed about two hours receiving their guests, Hannah began to show signs of fatigue and Silas offered to take her back to his lodgings. She’d probably had enough of crowds to last her until next year.
Mrs. Williams said her farewells with tears in her eyes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I came with you, poppet? What if you need my help?”
“No, no, we’ve been over this,” Hannah insisted. “Jane and Eli need you far more than I do to watch Gloria in the evenings. And I’m only across the Thames, not the Atlantic.”
“You’ll visit often, though?”
“I promise.” Though Hannah squirmed in her mother’s embrace, her own eyes looked a little bright.
“You’ll take care of her for me, Mr. Corbyn.” Mrs. Williams dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief.
Silas assured her that he would, then ushered Hannah to their carriage.
She collapsed gratefully against the seat, soaking up the silence.
It looked like she could use the rest. Silas didn’t like to disturb her, so he observed Hannah quietly for a moment from his side of the carriage as they began the ride home.
She’d leaned her head back against the leather seat and closed her eyes, her veil trailing behind her like a pillow.
She looked lovely. Silas felt a possessive sort of pleasure to see the opal necklace he’d given her resting just below the hollow of her throat, where her heartbeat pulsed gently.
They were finally alone. He wanted to put his mouth there, but judged it wiser to be patient. He had all the time in the world now.
My wife.
He’d never given much thought to the possibility of marriage before he’d met Hannah.
After all, what use was a wife before one had a fortune to support her?
But the risk that she might have refused him had shaken Silas to his core.
It still did. There had been a moment in the church just before the priest called for objections when he’d honestly wondered if something might still happen to snatch her away.
If someone might realize that he wasn’t fit to stand beside a woman this fine.
But they didn’t. She’s mine now.
Silas had no sooner thought the words than he began to question them. They were married in name, but Hannah’s vow meant little if she’d only given it on the understanding that she would stay behind when he went to Burton.
I’m hers then, he amended. If she held herself back, he would give enough for both of them until she decided she was better off with Silas than without him. He could show Hannah the advantages to being his wife.
A footman had already brought over most of her things while they were at breakfast, so that they found a small tower of chests and trunks in the entrance when they arrived.
James and Marian must have let the servants into the apartments.
Silas thought he’d noticed his brother slip away early from the breakfast, though neither of them were here now.
“Where has your family gone?” Hannah echoed his thoughts.
“I’m not sure. Probably they wanted to give us a little time alone to get settled in.”
Hannah looked at him with mild alarm. Was she worried for the wedding night?
Recalling how instinctively she’d reacted to his touch, Silas suspected things would be easy enough between them in bed.
He’d been imagining it rather vividly since that evening on the balcony.
She wanted him, whether she was bold enough to admit it or not.
But that didn’t mean that he could afford to proceed too rashly. It was important not to scare her off.
Hannah took a few light steps down the hall, then stopped to peer at her surroundings.
She looked too elegant for this place in her lace dress and veil.
The house was tidy and respectable enough for something this side of the water, but it wasn’t Mayfair.
“Where will I be sleeping?” she asked timidly.
“My bedroom is the last one on the right.”
“Yes, but where is my bedroom?”
Oh.
They stared at each other for a long minute before Silas replied, “There are only two bedrooms. I was sharing with James until today, but he’s moved his things to the sitting room now that you’re here. Marian has the other.”
Hannah’s eyes widened, though she didn’t speak.
She probably didn’t know any married couples who shared a room. Her parents couldn’t stand to be near each other, and most of her circle must be so wealthy that they had no need to squeeze together like sardines.
Idiot. You should have realized a woman of her class wouldn’t expect to share.
“It won’t be forever,” he said quickly. “We can rent a larger house in Burton.”
“But I won’t be going,” Hannah reminded him. “I want to stay in London and work at Jane’s club.”
“I know. I only meant—” Silas wasn’t sure how to finish his thought.
What had he meant? That he hoped Hannah would change her mind and stay by his side?
If he pressed her, she might feel like he was going back on his word.
The choice needed to be hers. “Would you like me to bring your things in?” he offered.
“Thank you, Mr. Corbyn.”
“You’re not going to call me that even now that we’re married, are you?” Silas paused halfway through the act of removing his jacket.
“It’s your name. What else should I call you?”
“Silas, of course. Or simply Corbyn, if you must, but not ‘mister.’ At least not when we’re alone.”
Silas bent to lift the first trunk. Hannah followed him into their bedroom, where he set it down near the wardrobe with a heavy thud.
There were more gowns inside than they had room for, most of them far too fine for this part of town, which mostly belonged to publicans, brewers, and tradesmen.
He left Hannah to arrange things to her satisfaction while he brought in the rest. It became clear after about a quarter hour that most of her things were going to have to remain packed away, but she organized the essentials in the space that he’d cleared for her.
“Would you like to rest a while?” Silas offered as she neared the end of her task. “You seemed tired after the breakfast.”
Hannah cast a longing look toward the bed, then back to Silas, her face growing pink. “I–I don’t…”
“I wouldn’t expect anything you aren’t ready for,” he assured her, remembering her look of panic earlier. “You can just sleep for an hour or two if that’s what you’d like.”
But she only pressed her lips together and wrung her hands.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Hannah replied in a whisper, though there was no one around to overhear them. “I can’t get undressed.”
“I beg your pardon?” Silas asked. “I can leave the room if you want privacy.” Though he would have far rather stayed, they might not have reached such intimate terms yet.
“No, I mean I can’t get undressed. I’ve always had a lady’s maid, but I was sharing one with my mother while we were traveling and I didn’t think to ask you to hire someone for me here, with how quickly we decided to be married.
All the buttons are at the back, and then after that there are my stays, and I can’t… ” Her voice trailed off helplessly.
Silas fought with all his might not to smile. She was distressed, and it would be rude to find any pleasure in this. Even if the problem had a very obvious, very gratifying solution.
He put on his most serious face as he offered, “Shall I help you?”
The noise Hannah made was an incoherent sort of nonword, but Silas could only take it for an assent.
What other choice did she have? It was either this or wait for Marian to get back and ask her for help, however long that might be.
Though Silas was determined to be respectful, he wasn’t so gallant that he would suggest that possibility if she hadn’t asked for it.
He circled Hannah as cautiously as if he were trying not to spook a skittish animal, coming to stop behind her back.
She removed the crown of pink carnations from her hair and undid the hairpins herself so that she could remove her veil, which she folded neatly away into one of her trunks.
Her dark hair hung loose down her back by the time she’d finished. Silas’s breath hitched in his chest.
There was something so unguarded about the sight of Hannah this way that he almost couldn’t bring himself to touch her, even as he ached to do so.
He wanted to unwrap all her trappings and ribbons like the most long-awaited present, but he also wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. It was a tantalizing problem.