Hannah looked down to her dance card, which was still tied to her wrist with a little green ribbon that matched the color scheme of the hostesses’ decorations. She had always thought it silly when other girls saved their cards as a memento of every ball they attended, but she wasn’t sure she had the heart to throw this one into the rubbish when the night was done. It was evidence of a perfect evening—one dance from Corbyn and no one else to trouble her.
She could easily get used to that.
“Annabelle, do you know anything about men?”
Her friend blinked at the abruptness of this question. “That depends. I do have a brother, if it helps. But you have twice as many brothers as I do so I imagine it might not.”
“I mean…” Hannah leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, careful to check that no one nearby was listening. “What todowith a man when you’re alone and he wants to—”
“Lord, no,” Annabelle interrupted. “You’ll want to talk to Della about that sort of thing. She has a lovely book with all sorts of herbal remedies.”
“Herbal remedies?” Hannah repeated. “I’m talking about kissing, not horticulture.”
“No, no, they’re for later. Never mind. I see that’s not what you meant. Forget everything I just said.”
That wouldn’t be very difficult, as Hannah wasn’t even certain she knew what they were talking about.
“I need advice, and I don’t know where else to turn,” she tried again. “What does it mean when he…”
Hannah was obliged to let her voice trail off here because she had no idea how to describe what she’d just experienced.
What does it mean when a man kisses you and touches you and makes your whole body feel like it’s on fire and then puts your hand on his nether regions?
Hannah cleared her throat delicately. She couldn’t ask about any of that. Though Annabelle seemed to be taking this subject in stride, her fervent denial made it plain that she had never experienced the shocking impulses that afflicted Hannah. What would she think if she knew?
Better to focus on another aspect of her problem. “If a man kisses you, does that mean he’s in love with you?”
“If you kissed a man, does that mean you’re in love with him?”Annabelle returned, one eyebrow cocked at a dubious angle.
“You’re making me feel very stupid. I only meant… You know, is it easier for men to do those sorts of things even if they don’t have a real attachment, or does it mean that their feelings are true?”
“Anyone can lie about their feelings.”
“But how can Iknow?”
“I hope for your sake that we’re talking about your fiancé.” Annabelle assessed her critically. “In which case, I would imagine that his proposal is better proof of his feelings than a kiss. Anyone can press their lips together, but I wouldn’t agree to spend my life with someone if I didn’t love them.”
Sensible words. Except Mr. Corbyn hadn’t proposed. And Hannah had made it very clear that she didn’t intend to spend their lives together. So where did that leave them?
“Never mind. Thank you.” She would have to solve this herself. The whole knot was too complicated to undo without slicing it in two. Maybe it was safer not to try until after she’d accomplished what she needed to.
Mr. Corbyn had her so mixed up that she was in danger of losing sight of what really mattered. Her father would arrive in town any day now. Hannah had exactly one chance to show her parents that they’d made a mistake by separating and that they should devote themselves to repairing their marriage before it was too late. She couldn’t let anything distract her from that.
Annabelle tipped her chin gently to the left, indicating something behind Hannah’s shoulder. “I think he’s looking for you now.”
Hannah turned. Sure enough, Mr. Corbyn was standing on the edges of the crowd, his eyes roaming over the room.
Her breath caught in her throat. He looked sharp and alert, as if their encounter had infused him with a wild energy. The smooth waves of his hair were starting to escape the confines of the pomadethat had tamed them at the outset of the evening, recapturing some of their former glory.
How could a man as beautiful as that really want her?
But when their eyes met across the ballroom floor, Hannah suffered a pang of longing so intense she was sure he must feel it too. Whatever this was, she wasn’t imagining it.
That doesn’t mean you can trust your future to it.
“I’ll see you later.” Hannah took her leave of Annabelle. She felt firmer after their conversation.
A kiss didn’t mean love. Whatever she shared with Corbyn, it wasn’t more important than her family. She had to focus on what mattered most now. There would be time enough to reason out what she and Corbyn meant to each other once her victory was secure.
