“You have no right to act superior after the way you behaved in there.” She threw out the accusation to protect herself, a shield against his silent judgment. “Arealgentleman would have held his temper, even if someone at the table offended him.”
Corbyn stiffened. “I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you.” A bitter edge crept into his voice. “But you knew I wasn’t a gentleman from the start, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Hannah raised her chin, unflinching. “I did.”
He twisted his lips into a shape that couldn’t be called a smile. “Now you have your reason to release me. I’m sure even your mother can’t believe there’s any hope for me after that display. I’ve done everything you wanted.”
Hannah couldn’t bring herself to reply. He was right; itwaswhat she’d wanted. But she felt too miserable to take any pleasure in her victory.
When she’d imagined the conclusion to their charade, it had always been a happy scene. After she’d secured her parents’ reunion, Corbyn would do something carefully ridiculous, she would release him and pay him his money, and they would all go back to their oldlives, a little better off than when they’d started. All the upheaval of her removal to London would be undone.
But when Hannah looked around her now, all she saw were ruins.
Corbyn was still watching her, as if waiting for something.I have nothing left to give you, she wanted to protest.Nothing at all.
When she still didn’t speak, he bowed very slowly, held her gaze for one last moment, and marched from the house for good.
Sixteen
Hannah awoke the next morning feeling utterly miserable. She’d hardly slept a wink all night, though it was hard to say whether the blame lay with that utter disaster of a supper or her mother’s ice-cold feet kicking her every time she’d almost drifted off. Then she’d woken so late on account of her poor sleep that she found the room empty and the sun streaming in through the windows when she called for her breakfast.
I’ll have my bed back when Papa returns to Devonshire without us, Hannah thought grimly. Without her engagement to keep him in town, she didn’t see how she could persuade him to stay.
Maybe he would take her with him. There was nothing left for Hannah in London now. Or more accurately, there had never been anything for her in London. It was only that sometime over the past few weeks with Mr. Corbyn, she’d grown too preoccupied with their scheme to remember that.
After he’d left last night, Hannah had calmly informed her family that her engagement was off. No one had protested. How could they, after the spectacle they had just witnessed? Though Jane and Eli hadfussed over Hannah and seemed reluctant to leave her alone, she had assured them that she was perfectly fine, and only wanted to retire in peace. The only person she’d expected might have some words about it was Mama, but she’d been strangely silent for the rest of the evening, not even saying a word when she’d slipped into bed beside Hannah a little while later.
Whether Mama felt a certain righteousness at being proven right about Mr. Corbyn all along or whether she was disappointed to see Hannah relegated to perpetual spinsterhood, it was impossible to say.
Papa had posed no such puzzle to read. He’d gone to his bed still muttering indignant commentary on Mr. Corbyn’s morals, parentage, and Mama’s utter failure to find an appropriate match for their daughter despite the fact that it was her only real responsibility in life.
He’s a browbeater, Hannah. He enjoys making other people feel small.
She wished she could shut the accusations out of her head, but they echoed again and again, complete with Mr. Corbyn’s final look of pity as he’d left her in the entryway.
Why couldn’t she stop seeing his face, and why did she feel so horrible?
Corbyn was wrong about them. He didn’t know her family. Yes, Papa hadn’t been at his best last night, but anyone would be short-tempered if their wife ran off. If Corbyn hadn’t called attention to it and started a row, they might have patched things up.
Hannah found herself inexplicably close to tears, but shook the feeling off with a rough toss of her head. She couldn’t afford to give in to self-pity. She had to figure out her next move.
Once she’d eaten and dressed, Hannah went to her father’s room. She knocked, received a gruff, “What is it?” and tiptoed inside.
“Oh, it’s you, poppet.” Her father didn’t smile exactly, but he didn’t seemdispleased to see her. That was a good start.
“I wondered if we could talk for a moment.”
His eyes grew guarded. “There’s nothing else to say about that ruffian. You were right to cast him off. Your mother should have known better than to allow you to form an attachment to someone like that. A midshipman! Honestly!”
“Not that,” Hannah assured her father quickly, before he could work himself into more of a state. It wasn’t yet ten in the morning. “I meant about what your plans are now. I hope you might stay in town a little longer. I’m sure that Eli and Jane would love to have you.”
That might not be strictly true after how badly supper had gone, but there would be no chance to repair the damage if he left on a sour note. She had to convince him to fix things.
“Oh.” Papa was visibly taken aback by this. “I might stay a day or two, but you know I can’t abide the city. I don’t know why your brother insists on living here year-round. The air isn’t fit for anyone, least of all a baby. That girl will grow up with weak lungs, mark my word.”
Hannah was used to Papa’s little ruminations on whatever subject took his attention. It was just his way. They generally faded into the background of her notice—like the sound of carriages rolling past or crickets chirping or any other sound one heard so often that it ceased to be audible at all, but now Hannah couldn’t seem to ignore them.
She kept imagining what Mr. Corbyn would think if he were here.
