Page 33 of A Lady of Conscience

Chapter Ten

It wasn’t until Hannah entered Camden Place that she realized she had failed to ask James about his pursuit of his London paragon. She had also entirely forgotten to post her cat article to Mattie Winthrop. The folded pages were still safely tucked in her embroidered reticule, the urgency of them all but forgotten in the face of Hannah’s encounter with James.

Once he had obtained her assurance that there might still be a chance for them, he had promptly returned her to her parents’ house. Hannah had been grateful for it. Their candid conversation had quite stolen her breath away. She didn’t think she could have managed another word on the subject of love, courtship, or marriage—not even a hypothetical one. And she certainly couldn’t have summoned the nerve to broach the topic of Lady Augusta. By rights, Hannah shouldn’t even know about the lady, let alone be questioning James about her.

As it was, Hannah had a dreadful time dissuading him from accompanying her inside. He’d wanted to pay his respects to her parents in person, everything proper and above board. Hannah had ultimately convinced him not to, insisting it was better if she spoke to her mother and father first.

Mama appeared in the entry hall within seconds of one of the footmen admitting Hannah and her dogs into the house. Concern etched her brow. “Ernsby told us what happened,” she said. “Are you quite all right, my dear?”

“Yes, indeed.” Hannah unleashed Evangeline and Tippo. The two dogs gave her mother a cursory greeting before trotting off toward the kitchen stairs. “Lord St. Clare nicely resolved the issue. He purchased the donkey from the costermonger.” She removed her bonnet and gloves, passing them to the waiting footman with a murmured word of thanks. “Although, I really don’t think he should have done, not if it was the costermonger who had stolen the donkey in the first place. But it was the most efficient course, I must say. His lordship has promised to drive the little creature to Fallkirk’s Farm tomorrow and personally return him to his family.”

Her mother’s face registered a flicker of impatience. “I wasn’t thinking about the donkey. I was thinking about you.”

Hannah’s father was not far behind her mother. His cane clacked loudly on the tiles as he came to join them. His expression was even sterner than usual. He scanned Hannah as though checking for damage.

“She’s unharmed, my love,” Mama reassured him.

Hannah experienced a surge of guilt. “I didn’t mean to worry you both. I’m sorry if I did.”

Mama drew Hannah from the hall, away from the servants, and into the privacy of a small, simply furnished anteroom. Papa accompanied them, closing the door behind him.

Hannah looked between her parents with building anxiety. “Are you very cross?” she asked. “I know I should not have created a public spectacle by confronting that costermonger, but you must allow that, given the circumstances⁠—”

“We’re not cross, sweetheart,” Papa said. “Only concerned.”

Mama ran her hand over Hannah’s arm in a gentle pass. “Ernsby told us that Lord St. Clare took you up in his curricle.”

“Oh, yes. He was very kind. He sends his compliments to you and Papa, by the way.”

Her parents exchanged a glance.

“That is very civil of him,” Mama said. “I only wonder what he’s doing back in Bath when all his family has gone. He’s not pressing his case, is he?”

Papa surveyed Hannah’s face. Whatever he saw there answered the question before Hannah could answer it herself. “Of course he is,” he said. “Only a fool would have abandoned the field so soon. Something I suspect the viscount realized the instant he’d returned to London.”

“She’s already refused him,” Mama replied. “It isn’t gentlemanly for him to persist.”

“He hasn’t done anything untoward,” Hannah said, coming to James’s defense. “To be sure, Mama, he was exceedingly polite. He merely asked if I meant something I’d said to him the day I declined his offer. He wondered if he had cause to hope.”

“Which you’ve given him?” Papa asked.

“I have,” Hannah admitted.

Mama was visibly flustered by this news. Papa moved closer to her, setting a hand at her waist.

“It’s her choice, love,” he said.

“And our duty to advise her,” Mama replied to him. She turned her attention back to Hannah. “You find him outwardly pleasing, I don’t doubt. And, given the generosity of your heart, you hope he might become the kind of gentleman you would be willing to marry. But a man doesn’t change his character, dearest.”

“I don’t expect him to change his character,” Hannah said. “My hope is that, given time, he’ll reveal it.” She made an effort to explain what she didn’t fully understand herself. “I have been in his company so little since we met. We scarcely know each other at all. And he isn’t an easy man to know, I confess. But perhaps, given time…”

“You are an optimist,” her father said. “Like your mother. Always seeing the heart of gold beneath the gruff exterior—in humans and animals.”

“A cold exterior is a very different thing than a gruff one, Arthur,” Mama returned.

“I don’t believe him cold,” Hannah said. “He’s merely…controlled.”

“Controlled,” Mama repeated dubiously.