At least, that would have been the outcome had it not been for the couple presenting a rather awkward situation for all. How difficult was it to take a cursory glance around the space to be sure you had the privacy you desired? The young woman, Margaret, as Lord Noah had referred to her, had certainly noticed Hannah. But the youngmanwas literally bursting at the seams and could not contain himself for the two seconds it would have taken to glance behind him.
Rather sweet, if a bit callow.
The clattering of wheels had Hannah pulling a handkerchief from her reticule and pressing it to her nose just as a carriage bustled by, emitting another cloud of dust.
“Goodness,” she said, pulling the white cloth back from her nose. “The traffic today is rather relentless. I shall have puffy, red eyes in a moment if it doesn’t subside.”
“We cannot have that.” Her mother pulled her along at a faster clip. “You must make a good impression on the society here.”
“And if I don’t?”
Lines formed about her mother’s eyes as she considered the possibility. “We will not even entertain that idea. We must go forward with the mindset that you shall find a husband. And quickly.”
Yes. Heaven forbid they discover Hannah’s true nature.
Late that evening, after Hannah had settled into the comfort of her bed, her mother’s words rang in her ears.
Please try.
Hannah was brought back to the night after the initial incident. The one which set everything else into motion. It had been Hannah’s first real brush with despair, realizing that much of the circumstances of life were beyond her control.
“What were you thinking, Hannah?” Her mother paced in front of the heavy oak desk, which stood like a monument in her father’s study. It was the focal point of the room, meant to draw attention and respect. Only a man with great wealth and prestige could afford such a monstrosity. It was a statement to all who entered.
Hannah pressed the back of her hand to her cheek, which still burned even to this moment. “I had not thought it through. I was only trying to help.” The window behind her father’s desk seemed to pull all light from the room—the night sky black as pitch.
“Help?” Her mother’s frantic pacing ceased, and she spun toward Hannah’s father. He sat behind the monument, hands clasped over his belly as he watched the proceedings unfold. “Geralt, do you see how that was of any help to anyone?”
Now Hannah knew things were bad. Only when her mother was severely cross did she refer to her father by his Christian name.
Her father opened his mouth to speak, but before a word came out, her mother continued. “It is bad enough that the Gibbons’ wealth originally came from trade. We are under severe scrutiny in society already. But to have you reach up and wipe food off of Mr. Raynard’s face? In a room full of people? They must think you were raised by animals.”
“To be fair,” Hannah interjected, her voice unusually timid, “I had been trying to show him where the food was, but he kept swiping and missing it.”
Her father lowered his head with a groan, and her mother clenched a fist by her side. “That does not mean a young lady should reach up and wipe it off for him.”
Hannah realized this, but in the moment, it had seemed the right choice. Mr. Raynard had looked so helpless, swiping at a bit of jam on his cheek with no success. And then he had looked around with a pink flush on his cheeks.
“I do not think it is as bad as you are making it, Mother,” Hannah said, hunching over in her chair.
“That is where you are wrong.” Her mother crossed her arms. “I can assure you I saw several women watch it unfold, and they were even less impressed than me—Mr. Raynard’s mother being one of them. I am quite sure she thinks you loose in the haft.”
“Mother!” Hannah gasped, her head whipping up. “You go too far.”
“Do I?” She sauntered closer to Hannah. “I am quite sure I did not imagine the whispered conversations that tickled my ear as I walked to retrieve you for the evening. And believe me, they had plenty to say.”
Hannah scoffed. “That is ridiculous. Have they nothing better to do with their time than to aggrandize a simple societal error?”
Her father propped his head in his hand, and he twisted until he successfully buried it in his palm.
“No.” Her mother’s word was harsh. Biting. “They do not have anything better to do. They are waiting for us to make a mistake so they can ostracize us, and you served them up the perfect opportunity.”
“I will make a better impression at the picnic next week,” Hannah said, straightening in her seat. “I have to imagine this will all be over by then."
“I do not hold to such optimism as you, but we shall see what damage is done then. In the meantime . . .”
The tangible silence weighed heavily in the room.
“Please try to behave, Hannah.”
