Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

J ames brought his matched set of grays alongside the donkey cart. He'd only just returned from London. An arduous journey, the final length of which he'd made in his curricle, accompanied by his faithful tiger, Bill. They'd been driving toward the Beresfords' house near the Circus when James had seen Hannah Heywood in the street.

And not the shy, soft-spoken Hannah he'd parted from nearly two weeks ago, but a version of her he'd never seen before.

Gone was the blushing young miss unable to meet his eyes. The lady quarreling with the costermonger was standing straight and square, her eyes blazing and her voice commanding. She appeared in that moment entirely without fear. She also appeared rather magnificent.

"Ain't none of your business, sir," the costermonger replied to James. He again reached for Hannah's arm.

"Don't touch her," James said in a tone of dangerous calm.

The costermonger froze.

Giving an unspoken signal to his tiger to hold the horses' heads, James jumped down from his curricle. His hair was disheveled from the wind, his tan cord breeches and blue broadcloth coat dusty from the grime of the road. He paid his travel-worn appearance no mind. His attention was fully fixed on Hannah.

He strode to her side. "Are you all right?"

She stared at him for a moment in wide-eyed astonishment before collecting herself. "I'm perfectly well. It's this poor donkey who is in peril. He's a young lady's treasured pet, stolen from her family's farm last autumn. I recognized his markings at once."

"I didn't steal nothing," the costermonger snapped back. "I told the lass, I bought the little beast at the sales. Cost me fifteen shillings, he did. I've the proof of it at my lodgings."

"I'll give you a sovereign for him," James said.

Hannah started. "Oh, but you?—"

"A gold sovereign?" The costermonger's eyes glittered. "I'll take it."

"Done," James said. He flipped the costermonger the coin. The man caught it in his fist. James called to his tiger. "Bill? Take this donkey back to my stables."

"Yes, Lord St. Clare," the tiger said.

The costermonger's eyes goggled to hear James's title. He scraped off his cloth cap and sketched James a clumsy bow. "Your lordship. Your generosity?—"

"Miss Heywood." James offered his hand to Hannah. "Allow me to see you home."

Hannah looked from James to the costermonger and back again, as if she couldn't decide whether to be grateful for James's high-handedness or outraged by it.

James addressed her in a low voice pitched for her ears alone. "The less time we spend in the street, the less chance this unfortunate interaction will damage your reputation."

A flush of color rose in her cheeks. "Yes, of course." She set her hand lightly in his. "Ernsby? Will you?—"

"I shall take your dogs back to Camden Place, Miss Heywood," the lady's maid said.

"Oh, no," Hannah replied. "They don't know you well enough yet. It would only distress them. I shall take them up with me." She glanced at James as he assisted her into his curricle. "If you don't object?"

"Not at all," James said. "I'll hand them up to you."

He waited only long enough to make sure she was settled on the high seat before turning to retrieve her dogs. He had met both of them last month at Heywood House. The three-legged spaniel was a shy creature. She cringed away as James gently gathered her into his arms. He passed her carefully to Hannah. "Here is Evangeline."

Hannah enfolded the dog in a reassuring embrace.

"And here is Tippo," James said. Unlike Evangeline, the ancient pug was happy to be held regardless of who it was doing the holding. He gave James's cheek a cheerful lick as James relinquished him to Hannah.

"Thank you," Hannah said. Her voice held a vague note of amazement. "I did not expect you would remember their names."

"Naturally, I remember." James vaulted back up into the seat. He took charge of the reins from Bill. The instant the tiger stood back from their heads, James gave the pair of grays the office to start. They surged forward at a brisk walk.

Hannah cast a final look back at the little donkey. Bill was standing beside it as the costermonger unhitched it from its cart. Her lady's maid lingered nearby, staring anxiously after her mistress. "Poor Ernsby. She takes it all very personally. I do hope she won't hand in her notice."

James guided his team into the street. "Takes what personally?"

"Spectacle," Hannah said. "She was hired to safeguard my reputation. She'd rather not be obliged to witness me plunging it into infamy."

"I'd say you'd managed to avoid infamy for the moment," James replied. "But only just."

Hannah gathered her dogs closer. She bent her head to them. Her face was half hidden from James's view. "I thought you'd gone to London."

"I did," he said. "I've come back."

"Your family has already gone from Bath."

"I didn't return for them."

She fell quiet again.

James felt a flicker of uncertainty. Frowning, he expertly guided his team around a slow-moving carriage blocking their way. "I've never seen you as you were today," he said at length. "You looked…"

Perfect.

"I know how I must have looked," she acknowledged grimly. "I don't often consider the propriety of my actions when an animal's welfare is concerned."

"So I observed."

She stiffened. "I won't apologize for it. Had I not seized the moment, that donkey would have been gone. As it is?—"

"He'll be safe in my stable within the hour."

"For which I am endlessly grateful," she said, sounding rather formal. "I will, of course, repay you the gold sovereign you expended on the donkey's behalf."

"You owe me nothing."

"I can't guarantee you will receive reimbursement from the donkey's owner, Farmer Fallkirk. Though he and his daughter will certainly be pleased to see the little fellow. I shall arrange to return him to them without delay."

" I will take him to them," James said. "All you need do is relay their direction to me."

Again, she went quiet. And then: "You're offended by my behavior."

"I'm alarmed by it," James acknowledged. His blood simmered to recall the way the costermonger had reached for her. "That man was about to grab you."

"He didn't, thank goodness."

"If I hadn't arrived?—"

"But you did," Hannah said quickly. "Indeed, your timing was impeccable."

"Miss Heywood—" He paused. "Hannah?—"

"Yes, I know. You're quite appalled, aren't you? And no doubt thanking heaven that I didn't accept the offer you made me before you left for London."

James's hands tightened reflexively on the reins. He was amazed she would reference his proposal. But then, she seemed to have a knack for amazing him. Shy and timid as she was?—

But she wasn't shy, was she? Not in the way people supposed. He'd had a glimpse of her true character that night in the Beasley Park stable. It had been the very thing that had first attracted him to her. And today he'd had more than a glimpse. The strength of her convictions had blazed forth, irrespective of the consequences, reminding him exactly why he'd abandoned London after less than a fortnight in order to return to Bath.

And to her.

"You presume to know all my thoughts," he said.

"No, indeed. But if you believed me unsuitable then, it stands to reason that you must recognize me as being doubly unsuitable now."

James slowed his horses. He'd reflected on the words he'd chosen for his proposal often during their time apart, and had swiftly come to regret them. "Did I say you were unsuitable?"

"Not in so many words."

"In any words?"

"You owned to having misgivings about my suitability, yes. Justifiable misgivings."

He inwardly flinched at the reminder. "It was ungentlemanly of me."

"But honest."

"Regardless, I shouldn't have said it. I hope that, one day, you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," she said.

He drove on, subsiding into silence. When the turning approached for Camden Place, he didn't take it. He continued along the main road.

Hannah didn't question his lapse. She had fallen quiet again too.

"How have you found your season in my absence?" he asked at last.

It was a damnable question. Naturally she would have met someone else. Several someones, in fact. All James had achieved by leaving Bath was to clear the field for them.

"Rather dull," she replied frankly.

Relief coursed through him. He didn't show it. He continued staring straight ahead, not betraying his delight at her pronouncement by so much as a twitch. "Dull, was it?"

"There was a dance at the Assembly Rooms. And, later in the week, a concert. And then—last evening—another dinner party. Thus far, the people have all been the same as attended the Carletons' ball."

"Not all the same," James said.

Color crept into her face as she glanced at him from beneath her lashes—the softest hint of pink. It was the same delicate shade as her cashmere pelisse. "No. Not all the same." There was an endless pause. "Why did you come back?"

"Because of something you said to me," he answered her.

Her gaze jerked to his. " I? "

"That morning when you refused my proposal, as I was leaving you, you said you wished your answer could have been otherwise."

Hannah stared at him.

James hesitated. She'd already refused him once. Had already told him that she wanted a husband with qualities he didn't possess. But the final words she'd spoken that day had been echoing in his head since he'd recollected them last night. It was those fateful words that had ultimately brought him to this very moment, here with the young lady who had uttered them so fatefully.

"Did you mean it?" he asked her.

* * *

Hannah held Evangeline and Tippo close to her as the curricle rolled over the cobblestones. She was grateful to have them with her. Absent their support, it would be just her and James alone. A daunting proposition! It was perilous enough as it was, seated so close beside him, listening to him talk about what she'd said to him in the moments after rejecting his proposal. She puzzled over what he could mean by it.

But there could only be one meaning.

He had come back to Bath, not for his family, but for her. He wanted to find out if he had any reason to hope.

She was fully aware of the implications of giving it to him. At the same time…

She couldn't bring herself to lie.

"Yes," she said. "I did mean it."

He cast her an unreadable look as the horses made another circuit down the road. He was obviously in no hurry to return her home. " Could it have been otherwise?"

"I daresay it could have," she allowed. "If the circumstances had been different."

"In other words, you can envision a set of circumstances under which you might have accepted me."

Hannah couldn't believe they were engaged in such a conversation. What could be served by it? "Possibly," she said. "If we're speaking of hypotheticals."

"Hypotheticals, then." He guided the horses past another carriage. "Perhaps if I'd made a greater effort to show you how well-suited we are."

"I cannot believe that we are well suited," she said. "Our personalities are so drastically dissimilar."

"Not drastically dissimilar. We're both loyal, honorable individuals who hold our families in high regard."

"Yes, but that?—"

"We're principled people as well. And we don't deviate from those principles, regardless of how unpopular they might be."

She frowned. "Yes, I suppose."

"We take our responsibilities seriously."

"Certainly, but…" She hesitated. "You've said nothing of love."

"Love," he repeated.

"It's as important as any other principle. More important when one is speaking of matrimony. My own parents love each other deeply."

"As do mine."

"Then you allow that the emotion is necessary for a happy marriage?"

"I wouldn't say necessary. Many couples deal well enough together without the added burden of being in love."

Her brows lifted. "A burden, you call it?"

"It can be if it overrides rational thought."

Hannah couldn't conceal her disappointment at his bleak pronouncement. "I don't believe love is ever a burden." She paused, adding, "And it is necessary for me. When I marry, it will only be for love."

James's face was inscrutable. "And you don't love me, of course."

Heat flooded her cheeks. She could summon no reply. She hadn't anticipated him being so blunt.

"However, you did admit to liking me very much," he said. "Was that true?"

"Yes." She did like him. Rather too much, all things considered. He wasn't at all right for her, no matter that he was the only gentleman of her acquaintance to make her heart beat so swiftly.

"A strong liking might grow into love, given adequate inducement," he said.

"I expect it could, but…"

"But?"

"I would think it unlikely in this case. We are too different. We want different things of life."

"I want you," he said.

Her pulse quickened.

"All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove I'm worthy of your affections," he said. "If I fail, you may send me away again, and I'll trouble you no more."

"I didn't intend to send you away at all," she said in a rush. "I'd no idea you would leave Bath after I refused you. I was very sorry you did."

"No sorrier than I," he replied with uncommon gruffness. "I hadn't been in London above two days before I realized what a mistake it was."

"I'm glad you came back."

His gaze flashed to hers. "Are you?"

"If you hadn't appeared when you did, I'd have had to summon a constable to deal with that costermonger. It would have been an awful spectacle."

His mouth hitched with wry humor. "Is it only my assistance with recovering purloined pet donkeys that makes you glad of my return?"

She shyly returned his glance. "No," she said. "Not only that."

His eyes betrayed a flicker of warmth. "Do you give me reason to hope?"

Hannah's heart thumped hard. If she were wise, she would rebuff him again. She had plenty of valid reasons to do so. He wasn't sweet enough. Gentle enough. Romantic enough.

But what if he could be?

What if, beneath all that icy sternness and formality was a man to whom she might safely entrust her heart?

It was surely too small a chance to pin her future on, but in these cases, a lady had to go with her instincts. And every instinct in Hannah was whispering only one answer.

"Yes," she said.