“It’s the sarcasm I don’t like,” Hannah tried to explain, feeling more flustered by the second. “If you keep speaking to me that way, people are going to notice that it’s a hoax.”
“Are you asking me to call you ‘darling’ like I mean it?” Themovement of Mr. Corbyn’s throat told Hannah that he’d swallowed. Of course, this made her look up, which was a terrible mistake.
He was staring right at her. That piercing blue that threatened to swallow her whole.
When he spoke again, his voice was scarcely above a whisper. So soft that it seemed to brush against the rise and fall of her nervous breath in a slow waltz. “Like this…darling?”
She never should have said anything. This wasfarworse than sarcasm. Even though she knew he was still mocking her, the gentle endearment brushed over her body like a caress. Hannah couldn’t move a muscle, her heart pounding in her ears. How could he make her senses dance like puppets on his string when she knew it was all an act?
“Wemustdo something about that hair.”
“Oh!” Hannah nearly jumped out of her skin. How had Mama crept up on them so quickly? Had she overheard anything incriminating? She couldn’t have, or she wouldn’t be speaking with such a casual air.
“It’s far too long. Once we’ve finished here, why don’t you go to the barber while we get you a new top hat?”
“We’re not cutting his hair!” Hannah protested, her voice shaking.
How could Mama suggest such a thing? It would be like chopping up the golden fleece to make a pair of socks. Sheer butchery.
“Of course we are. He needs to look like a gentleman, not a highwayman.”
“He doesn’t look like a highwayman. He looks perfect.”
Oh no. Had she really just said that aloud? Mr. Corbyn’s lip twitched, the only sign of amusement to break through his icy exterior since the morning started.
Hannah’s face grew so hot, she was sure that she was about to combust. Mama fixed her with a long stare before she finally grumbled, “We’ll see about a haircut later.”
If Hannah was being tested, there was no doubt she’d performed convincingly just there.
A touch too convincingly for her own dignity, but never mind that. Maybe she could persuade Mr. Corbyn that she was only pretending to love his hair, the same way he was only pretending to love her.
Perhaps he had a point about how long it was taking her father to come to town. Every day that she passed with Mr. Corbyn made it more difficult to tell which of her feelings were part of their act and which were true. It was far safer to get this over with quickly, before it got too confusing.
Eleven
“Stand up straight,” Mrs. Williams hissed, as Silas handed her down from the carriage before Mrs. Godfrey’s house two days later. “No slouching.”
“I wasn’t slouching,” he protested. “I was offering you my arm.” It wasn’t his fault the woman was seven inches shorter than him.
“A gentleman should be upright as a stone pillar, even when offering his arm.”
It was all he could do not to snort. But gentlemen didn’t do that either.
Silas kept himself stone-pillar straight as he accompanied the pair of ladies up the approach to the Godfreys’ residence. Mrs. Williams was equally rigid, though her daughter was a good deal softer, both in her carriage and her manners.
Hannah Williams fit neatly against his side as she took his other arm. Her rosewater scent was so faint that Silas found himself tilting his head to catch it before he had the good sense to stop.
What are you doing?
Ever since James had put the notion in his head that MissWilliams might really be fond of him, Silas had started to notice little details about the woman that he would have rather ignored. He had a heightened awareness of her presence, as if his senses had tuned themselves to her.
“You look very well in your new clothes,” she offered. Silas was wearing the morning coat and trousers the tailor had sent over this morning, his errand boy no doubt wondering why such fine things were going to an address in Southwark with a trio of misfits inside. Putting on the new clothes hadn’t made him feel any more prepared for this party, though he’d noticed the way Miss Williams’s eyes had widened when their carriage arrived to collect him.
She liked what she saw.
There was that heightened awareness again. What did it matter if she liked the way he looked in his new clothes or blushed when he’d called herdarlingor anything else?
“Thank you.” Silas didn’t look at her as he spoke. The more he noticed about Miss Williams, the harder it was to focus on what he was supposed to do this afternoon. Make his introductions and make a good impression today, so that he could set it all ablaze tomorrow. Or whenever Mr. Williams arrived.
