Oh.Hannah’s eyes grew round as she understood. It wasn’t a rocking chair.
Mr. Corbyn sighed, raking a hand through his hair and setting the burnished gold into messy waves. He didn’t seem surprised. He’d been expecting this.
“Do they…do that every day?” she asked timidly. The lady seemed to be enjoying herself a great deal, particularly given that they’d scarcely been at this for a minute. Hannah wondered what the gentleman was doing to make her shriek that way.
Mr. Corbyn cast Hannah an incredulous look. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No,” she squeaked. “Best not.”
How could he listen to them without feeling embarrassed? Hannah wasn’t sure where to look. But then, Mr. Corbyn probably had no trouble finding a woman to share his bed. That sort of thing must be so commonplace to him that he’d long since lost any sense of shame.
With a start, she realized he was staring at her. As if he’d been reading her thoughts with that penetrating stare of his. No, not penetrating. That was thelastadjective she should be associating with Mr. Corbyn at a time like this. Nor should she be wondering if he knew how to make a woman scream that way.
Hannah tried to swallow, and found her throat had gone entirely dry.
“Well, I’ll be off, then,” she said tightly, before she could embarrass herself any further.
A prolonged groan several feet above her left ear said that the gentleman upstairs was likely off as well.
She couldn’t bear to meet Mr. Corbyn’s eye as she fumbled for the doorknob.
“Wait.” His clipped baritone caught her on the landing like a fish on a hook.
“Y-yes?”
He looked at her for a long time. (Could she describe it as apiercingstare? No, that was just as bad. Why were all the descriptors for stares excessively sexual?)
“Take care not to make things worse for yourself, Miss Williams.”
“Pardon?” She was so flustered, she could hardly follow what he was saying.
His eyes seemed almost softer, as if their icy blue had melted a touch. “I don’t pretend to know what you’re doing, but I’ve seen what it looks like when someone cares more for their own anger than for their safety. It doesn’t end well.”
Oh dear. His voice was so serious, it gave her a frisson. But who was he to give her advice? The only thing that linked them was the fact that he’d been in the right place at the right time to help her outwit her mother. A fortuitous coincidence, but nothing more.
“Thank you, Mr. Corbyn, but there’s no cause for concern. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
It was true. For the first time in ages, everything in her life was going to plan.
* * *
But when Hannah returned to the town house, still giddy with thethrill of her daring adventure to find Mr. Corbyn, she found that nothing was going to plan.
She’d managed her secret excursion in less than an hour and had been hoping that she might escape notice entirely. Instead, she found the whole household waiting for her.
Jane answered the door herself. Their maid, Molly, must be occupied, or else Jane had been on the lookout.
The latter possibility felt more likely as she pulled Hannah indoors and hissed, “Where have you been? Everyone’s worried sick!”
Before she could answer, Hannah found herself shuffled toward the study, where her mother and Eli were conversing in low tones. They broke off as soon as they saw her.
Mama’s face looked pale and thin, the shadows under her eyes more prominent than they’d been since they’d left Devonshire.
“Where on earth have you been?” Her voice didn’t crack like a whip. It was barely the snap of a thin, dried-up branch.
Hannah squared her shoulders. Why should she feel guilty for leaving the house in the middle of the day? Nothing hadhappened. “I just went to pay a few morning calls.”
To a man who makes me feel as though my entire body is on fire whenever I’m near him.
