“Thank you,” Corbyn murmured, his voice devoid of any clue that might help her judge whether he had been annoyed by her display or whether he had already dismissed it as part of their act.
Hannah’s hand was trembling as she brought it safely back to her side. She wished she could be half as indifferent. It seemed nothing moved Mr. Corbyn.
While they’d been distracted by the refreshments, they’d crept up on a trio of ladies just before them on the path to the roses, and now snatches of their conversation reached Hannah’s ears.
“Discharged in disgrace, I heard. After a fight with his superior officer. I wouldn’t let a man like that nearmydaughter.”
“I’m not sure she had much choice in the matter. The genie’s already been let out of his bottle, as I understand it.”
Mr. Corbyn stiffened. He’d heard them too.
“Um, let’s take this path, instead.” Hannah steered them down a little fork to the right instead of continuing past the gossiping women. They walked until they were sheltered from view by a hedge wall that bordered this section of the garden. Mr. Corbyn released her armas they stopped to rest. It was almost peaceful here, with the gentle breeze bringing the scent of the flowers to her nose. If only she could forget about all the people on the other side of the hedge. “I’m sorry about that,” she said softly.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Mr. Corbyn frowned. “You’re the one I’ve ruined.”
He said that as though he’d forgotten that she’d asked him to do the ruining.
“Yes, well, you wouldn’t have to hear them talking about you that way if my mother hadn’t insisted you come.”
“I know what people say about me, whether I’m there to hear it or not.” He almost looked indifferent. The matter-of-fact assessment and his expressionless face combined to form the image of a man who didn’t care what anyone thought of him. That was certainly what he meant to convey.
But his thumb was still running over his fingers in that same nervous motion. Maybe some things did move him, after all.
Hannah reached for his hand before she could think better of it, the impulse born out of a sudden twinge of concern.
“What really happened?”
Mr. Corbyn jerked in surprise, though he didn’t snatch his hand back. He was looking at Hannah as though he’d never seen her before.
“What do you mean, what happened? I punched my superior officer. There was an entire court-martial over it. There’s no mystery here, Miss Williams.”
“I don’t believe that.” Hannah wasn’t sure when she’d come to doubt the story, exactly. It might well have been on that first night, when he’d found her crying and been kind to her. “It doesn’t fit with your character.”
“What do you know of my character?” His challenge didn’t foolher. It felt as feigned as his indifference—a shell she might crack open with the right pressure. She was beginning to know him well enough to understand that.
“You might be a bit dour, but I don’t believe you’re violent. And you said you joined the navy when you were eleven. It doesn’t make any sense that you could rise from cabin boy to midshipman without a blemish on your name and then one day suddenly attack your superior.”
Mr. Corbyn said nothing to this, his silence the clearest confession she could ask for.
“I can’t force you to tell me if you don’t wish to speak of it,” she conceded, “but I wanted you to know that I don’t believe the rumors. In—in case that matters to you.” She was starting to feel a bit self-conscious at his ongoing silence. Carrying on like this when he hadn’t wanted to talk about it in the first place.
But to her great astonishment, Mr. Corbyn began to speak. Far from his usual brusque manner, his voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. “I did punch him,” he began. “It was only that he deserved it. Which the navy wasn’t much interested in hearing.”
“What did he do to you?”
“To me?” Corbyn echoed. “Nothing worse than any captain. He was strict and would dole out punishments quickly, but I never gave him cause to whip me, so I had less to complain about than some.” The muscles in his jaw tightened as if he were chewing on his words before he spat them out again. “One night at port he had too much to drink and decided he wanted the attention of a local girl who didn’t much agree. I stepped in long enough for her to get away from him.” His eyes filled with a dangerous mixture of fury and regret. “And that was the end of my naval career.”
“But that’s disgraceful!” Hannah gasped. “A captain shouldn’t behave in such a manner. Wasn’t there anyone who could tell thecourt-martial you weren’t to blame? The tavern owner or another serviceman?”
“Those who’d seen what happened didn’t want to bring trouble on their own heads. He was a gentleman. His word was worth more than mine.”
“But it isn’t fair!”
“Life often isn’t.”
Hannah fell silent. Her outrage sounded childish when compared to Mr. Corbyn’s stoic acceptance.
“Maybe not,” she admitted softly. “But just because that’s the way things are doesn’t make it any less horrid.”
