How to Care for a Lady

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  “Yes, our announcement. My sister…” He gestured toward the ballroom. “She’s inside.”

  Hannah looked back and forth from Graham to Grace, and decided, in the end, to let it go. Whatever they were up to, they weren’t going to be forthcoming about it, clearly. “Well, we shouldn’t leave everyone waiting, then, should we?”

  “Indeed we should not,” Graham said, and then proffered his arm for her.

  Hannah took it, and with Grace at their heels, they walked back into the ballroom. Well, they walked, Hannah limped. As they entered the space, packed with people, butterflies began to beat about in her stomach. Goodness, were they really going to announce it here? In front of all these people? Did these people even care? She’d thought it was to be a small gathering of close friends—but Hannah barely recognized any of the faces here.

  “Are you all right?” Graham asked, and only then did Hannah realize she’d come to a stop just inside the doors.

  “Perhaps we should do this another time,” she suggested.

  Graham rounded on her, so they were face to face. “Are you not feeling well?”

  She clutched his hands and stared up at him, in awe of the calming effect he seemed to have over her. “Just a bit nervous is all.”

  “I imagine that’s completely normal,” he replied. “Though I can’t speak from experience.”

  “Come, you two!” Grace shouted from ahead, having just realized she was alone on her trek across the ballroom.

  “I don’t think I have much of a choice now anyway, do I?”

  Graham laughed, and the sound made her heart skip a beat. “Probably not.”

  They caught up to Grace and all together, walked to where Graham’s sister stood beside her husband. They were whispering to one another, and Daphne lowered her fan to let out a laugh, just before the group approached.

  “Ah! My dearest brother,” she said, going up on tip-toe to kiss him on the cheek.

  Graham looked to Lord Wolverly. “How much champagne has she had tonight?”

  “Oh, hush!” Lady Wolverly swatted at Graham with her fan. “I’ve barely had any. I’m just giddy over how wonderfully everything is going tonight. It really couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “Well, I do believe your brother and my sister-in-law are ready to make their announcement,” Grace put in.

  “Oh, of course! Look! The quartet is just standing for a break—the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Darling, you will get everyone’s attention?”

  Hannah suddenly felt as if she might toss up her accounts. Goodness, she was nervous. And yet, she knew, without any doubt, that this was right. It was what she’d always wanted—what she wanted for her future. He was everything to her, and the smile he cast her told her he felt the same way.

  Graham took her hand and led her toward the raised dais, upon which the quartet had just finished their second set for the evening. At the same time, Lord Wolverly clanked a spoon to his glass, and slowly, the ballroom descended into silence.

  Daphne took her place beside them. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I must first extend my thanks to all of you for joining us tonight, and I do hope everyone is enjoying themselves to the fullest. I am thrilled to announce that my brother, Dr. Graham Alcott, has asked the esteemed Lady Beeston to be his bride, and she has said yes! I know you will all join Lord Wolverly and I in congratulating the happy couple!” Grace lifted her glass of champagne toward them. “To you!”

  Shouts of “Here, here!” and “Many felicitations!” rang out through the ballroom, though Hannah was certain she’d heard a few gasps here and there as well. But it was out there now, and there was nothing anyone could do or say that would change her mind about marrying this wonderful man.

  Chapter 18

  “Are you happy?”

  “Don’t I look happy?” Hannah’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, for she was, indeed, very happy. The happiest she’d ever been, to be truthful. When she thought of how she’d gone from her mother’s home—the cold, unfeeling, strict home that it had been—into Beeston’s home, which offered even less in the way of comfort, it was hard to believe she’d landed here, with Dr. Graham Alcott. A kind and generous man, who cared for her like no one ever had.

  He bent down and captured her lips, further assuring her that she’d made the right decision in accepting his proposal of marriage. He was firm and coaxing, and she opened easily, gladly for him, allowing him access not just to her mouth, but to her soul.

  “If you would be so kind as to tear yourselves apart.”

  The sharp voice from the doorway sent Graham and Hannah stumbling away from one another. Hannah had to tighten her grip on her walking stick to keep from crashing to the ground.

  “Mother,” she said, her breathing belabored. “You ought to have announced yourself.”

  “Oh, ought I?” Mother sauntered into the dimly lit room, her black bombazine swishing loudly, the high, stiff collar making her look like some dark Elizabethan queen who had a penchant for chopping off heads. “As it turns out, this is a public area, where anyone might be permitted to go. I know you are engaged, but you wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re fast, would you? Of course,” she looked Hannah up and down with a shrewd eye, “such speculations might have already been drawn from your choice of attire.”

  It was remarkable how this woman still had the power to make her feel small and ashamed, even after all she’d been through. “Clearly, you’ve something to say, Mother.”

  Her mother sucked in a sharp breath through her pointed nose and turned her attention to Graham. “I’ve only to say, welcome to the family, Dr. Alcott.”

  Well, that was unexpected.

  Graham dipped his head. “Thank you, Your Grace. I must admit, we weren’t certain how you would feel about our union.”

  “Which would explain why I found out with the rest of the masses, when it was too late to have a say in the matter.” She turned a pointed look on Hannah.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered, Mother,” she said, puffing up her chest in hopes of feeling slightly braver. “I’m a widow, not a debutante. The choice is mine and mine alone.”

  “And you’re certain you wish to marry a doctor?”

  “I am.”

  “And lose your title?”

  “Nothing will make me happier than losing Beeston’s name.”

  A hint of a smile turned the corners of Mother’s lips up, but she did her best to hide it by casting her glance downward. “Well, then that is that, isn’t it? Grace and I will be leaving soon. She’s looking a bit peaked.”

  Hannah was feeling a bit tired herself. She glanced to Graham, and he seemed to read her thoughts. “Go with them,” he said. “I much prefer to retire at a reasonable hour, myself.”

  “Very good,” Mother said. “Come and find us when you are done here.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  They stood in silence as the dowager swished her way out of the room, purposefully leaving the door open. Once she was out of earshot, Hannah turned to Graham, the breath whooshing out of her.

  “My heart is pounding,” she said, clutching her hand to her breast.

  “Your heart?” Graham replied. “That woman is quite terrifying.”

  “I’m well aware.” Hannah moved closer to him. “I know I didn’t need her approval, but it makes things easier to actually have it.”

  “Agreed. Otherwise, I might have had to steal you off to Gretna.”

  She smiled up at him, losing herself in his gray-green eyes. “I would have gladly gone.”

  And then he lowered his head to hers and claimed her lips again. He was so tender it made her heart ache. All she’d ever wanted and longed for was wrapped up in this brilliant man.

  At last he pulled away, a smile gracing his lips. A smile just for her. “Now, go,” he said. “Lest someone think you’re fast.”

  Hannah couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh, we wouldn’t want that.”

  Then he pulled her close for one last kiss. “G
oodnight, my love.”

  “Goodnight.”

  As much as Graham wanted to spend every waking moment with Hannah, he was desperate to track down Beeston and…

  And what? Kill him with his bare hands and sit in Newgate the rest of his life? Or worse, face the gallows? Deliver him to the magistrate and demand justice be served? Justice for what? For being a boorish husband? If that were the criteria for being locked up, most of England’s men would be there with him.

  Dammit. Somerset was right. Graham needed to look after Hannah and let him deal with Beeston. The thought made him ill. He wanted to do something, not just sit about waiting to hear the fate of the degenerate. But devil take it, there was nothing for it. He would look after Hannah as planned. Make certain she was safe when her family wasn’t about.

  But what was he to do now? The thought of going home and reading documents about diseases of the liver held very little interest to him tonight. His mind would never be able to focus. Not after simultaneously becoming engaged and learning his fiancée’s husband was still bloody alive.

  He banged his fist on the desk.

  “I do wonder what the desk ever did to you?” came a slow, familiar drawl from the doorway.

  Graham turned to find Sidney Garrick leaning against the threshold, his blond hair shining in the candlelight, his grin sly and mischievous, as it had always been. Wolf’s oldest friend, he was also his opposite in every way. Where Wolf was mature, Sidney was boyish. Where Wolf was responsible, Sidney was reckless. And yet, they’d been friends since their earliest days at Eton.

  Graham sometimes wished he had such a friend, but he’d always kept to himself, and kept most people at arms’ length. Perhaps the fact that he dealt with people’s mortality so often made him less inclined to form intimate relationships.

  Of course, he’d had little choice with Hannah. The thought of losing her terrified him half to death. But the thought of never loving her was even worse.

  “Garrick,” he said at long last. “I saw you on the dance floor earlier. Quite impressive, you and your bride.”

  Arms folded across his chest, he sauntered into the library. “She forces me to practice the waltz at least four times a week.”

  “Is that so?” Graham replied, unable to picture Sidney Garrick being forced to do anything.

  “I’m afraid it is.” He plopped down onto one of the chairs and put his feet up on the coffee table. Graham was certain Daphne would scold him for such a thing, but Graham wasn’t interested in acting as nursemaid to Garrick. “But don’t worry…she always rewards me for it.”

  Of course, Garrick would turn the conversation to something lewd. “I shall have to take your word for it.”

  “What are you doing hiding out in here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be dancing attention on your new fiancée?”

  “She’s going home with her mother and sister-in-law. I was just trying to plan what I was going to do with myself.”

  “Well, don’t look at me. Tilly will have me dancing until the wee hours and then…well, you know.” He winked at Graham.

  “You enjoy, my friend. I think I shall see myself home, after all.”

  “Before you go…”

  Graham stopped on his way to the door and turned around to face Garrick, who had removed his feet from the table and now sat forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “There are rumors.”

  Damn. It seemed everyone knew about the bloody rumors. “Beeston?”

  Garrick nodded. “I haven’t seen him, but Quent and Bradenham have. In broad daylight. It’s as if he wants the rumors to circulate.”

  “He’s a rather sick man, from what little I’ve heard. It is impossible to understand the mind of a mad person. They do odd things, and for no apparent reason.”

  “Just be careful,” Garrick said, and it suddenly became clear why he and Wolf had remained friends all these years. He was a good man with a genuine heart, no matter how childish he seemed at times. This was what it meant to have a true friend.

  “Thank you,” Graham said, and he meant it. “You will send word if you see him?”

  “Immediately.”

  Graham nodded, and with that, set off for home.

  Chapter 19

  Hannah couldn’t decide if it was unfortunate that she’d forgotten her shawl in the library, or fortuitous. For if she hadn’t gone back to retrieve it, she never would have learned that Beeston was still alive.

  She’d run from the room once she’d heard all she could stomach, making a beeline straight for the ladies retiring room. It was blessedly empty, and she was able to toss up her accounts in peace. Well, as much peace as her churning mind and stomach would allow.

  Dear God. How could this be? He was dead. Mother and Evan, they’d told her so. They’d come to her room, heads hung, a note in Beeston’s own hand, saying goodbye forever. She’d been conflicted at the time—riddled with both guilt and joy simultaneously. He was gone, but was it her fault? For months she’d toiled over that question. It had kept her up at night—another reason for the heavy doses of laudanum.

  Oh, how she wished for some now. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget any of this had ever happened.

  Tears rushed down her cheeks, and she stifled her sobs as best she could, but fear and anger and sheer sadness engulfed her. How would she get through this? How would she get past Beeston? How would she ever forgive her brother and mother for deceiving her in this way?

  And Graham. He knew, and yet he’d not come rushing to tell her. He ought to have. She needed to know he was out there, that he could strike at any moment.

  The thought of going back to Beeston made her wretch all over again. If he found her, and claimed her, there was very little anyone could do. She was his wife, so long as he was living. And no doubt he was angry now, after being forced to relinquish her. God help them all if he heard about her engagement.

  Oh, God. The engagement. The announcement. She had to stop it from being printed in the papers tomorrow. But what good would that do now that so much of the ton knew firsthand that they were getting married? The news would fly through the ton tomorrow, whether in the papers or not.

  Goodness, it was all scandalous enough, wasn’t it? The barely widowed baroness finds love with the doctor who nursed her back to health after her boorish husband shot at her. What a tale she had weaved. It would be a fascinating one for generations to come, if only she were able to bear children.

  Only then did the thought occur to her that Graham might want children. Heavens. What if he wanted them? She hadn’t been terribly forthcoming with him about her situation. Would he still want her if he knew she was barren?

  The tears wouldn’t stop, not now. Not when she’d made such a mess of her life. It had been pathetic before, but now that she’d tasted a bit of true love, a hint of what true happiness was, it would be positively unbearable.

  Voices out in the corridor drew her attention, and she swiped at the tears that moistened her cheeks. Blast it all, she had to pull herself together. What if someone saw her like this? She didn’t want anyone to think her tears had to do with Graham, but she also didn’t want to admit she knew Beeston was alive. She would sound mad to those who thought him dead. She sounded mad to her own self. It was all madness, and the thoughts threatened to send the tears rushing again, but she choked them back. A skill she’d perfected over the years. How many times had she hidden her tears and heartache behind a smile? More times than she wanted to count, really. But the practice would come in handy tonight.

  She approached the mirror and took several deep breaths as she stared at her reflection, willing the redness out of her eyes. “You will get through this,” she said to her reflection, thinking of that day many months ago when she’d stared at herself, and noted the sadness in her eyes. But lately, the sadness had been absent, replaced with the sparkle of youth she’d once had, long ago, before Beeston. Before she’d known what kind of man Beeston was, what kind of cruelty he was capable of. />
  Graham. He was not like Beeston at all. He was the kind of man Beeston most likely poked fun at. Quiet, kind, a man who revered women rather than viewing them as some thing he could use when it was convenient for him and toss them away a moment later. He was more man than Beeston would ever be.

  By the time Grace barged through the door of the retiring room, clutching her chest and sighing with relief as she collapsed onto a tufted stool, Hannah’s eyes were dry and white again, her resolve quite set.

  “Grace!” she said, whirling to look at her sister-in-law properly rather than through the mirror. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Grace puffed. “I just…I didn’t…that is…”

  Hannah smiled at her. Did she know about Beeston? Had she been worried that Hannah had been abducted by the blackguard? No, he wouldn’t dare come here, would he? He would pounce when she least expected it. “Catch your breath,” she said.

  Grace took a moment to do just that and after a few moments, said, “I was looking for you.”

  “Goodness, I am sorry,” Hannah said. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I needed the, um…” She glanced to the partition, behind which sat a chamberpot.

  “Of course,” Grace replied, her color returning to normal. “I’m just glad, that is…your mother is ready to depart.”

  “As am I.” Hannah grabbed her sister-in-law’s hand and pulled her up to stand. She was fully prepared to pretend she knew nothing about Beeston, and to excuse her sister-in-law’s odd behavior, but then an idea formed in her mind. An idea that would require…assistance. She could accomplish it on her own, of course, but it would take longer and be much more difficult. Not to mention, trying to hide it from her entire family whilst living beneath their roof. An ally would be most helpful. “Grace,” she said, catching Grace’s gaze.

  “Mm-hm?” Poor girl looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, what with her wide eyes and pursed lips.