“Are you and he…? But he’smarried, 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 thereisn’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 behurtby it? You’re carrying on with amarried 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 handkerchieffrom 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 fromAdam, the look in his eyes told Hannah that he would have words (or possibly fists) for whomever he blamed for her tears.
