The Langley Sisters Collection 2

by Wendy Vella

  Then there was the ugly scene at the breakfast table between Hannah and her father. His insistence that she marry, and soon, was now a major obstacle between them, and consequently was disrupting the harmony in the Wooller household. She had attempted to reason with him when he had told her he had increased her dowry; but he had roared that his heart could give out at any time, and he wanted grandchildren before it did.

  Hannah knew his words were motivated by fear, because she too had spoken with his doctors and been told her father’s heart was failing, but she had no wish to be sold like a mare with sound bloodlines, and purchased by the highest bidder.

  If that was not enough to send her back to her bed, she then had to slip from the house to pay the man who had been blackmailing her for the past year, with money she had worked hard to earn!

  It’s lucky I’m not of a nature that would fall about the place having fits of vapors, Hannah thought sourly, looking down at the man before her.

  She was now at the Lowry ball, trying to extricate herself from a sticky moment with one Mr. Sutton, who was intent on claiming her hand and thus her now considerably larger dowry. Obviously, word had gotten out about her father’s generosity—or stupidity, depending which side of the fence you sat.

  “I am enamored of you, my dear Miss Wooller. I can see no future without you in it.”

  All she’d wanted in escaping outside for a brief moment was some solitude and a chance to draw breath; alas, that did not seem to be in her immediate future.

  “I have no wish to marry you, Mr. Sutton, and cannot imagine why you are asking for my hand now, when we have barely spoken two words to each other. Unless of course it is because my father has increased my dowry?”

  The man on his knees before her was certainly not ill-favored, but neither was he someone she wished to converse with across the breakfast table for many years to come. She doubted he even knew the meaning of the word wit, nor how to talk to a lady who did not spend hours on ladylike pursuits such as watercolors and the pianoforte. He would no doubt faint were she to tell him that she managed her own finances. He had a kind of boyish charm, she supposed. His blond fringe flopped over his forehead and his eyes were eager in a pale round face, but he reminded her more of a puppy than a future husband.

  “I have admired you from afar, Miss Wooller. Your beauty has captured me night after night. Your grace—”

  “Yes, yes, I take your meaning,” Hannah said, easing her hand from his grasp. “However, yours is not the only attention I have received in the last few days, which would suggest that news of my father’s generosity has reached all corners of London. One can only hope it does not reach farther afield, or I shall be inundated.”

  “I have no idea to what you refer.” Mr. Sutton tried to look confused, but his face was flushed with color, and he would not meet her eyes. “I have always found you a beautiful, intelligent woman, as have many others.”

  “We have danced twice in three seasons, Mr. Sutton. That would suggest you are either shy or not telling the truth. My bet is on the latter.”

  “I-I h-how could you—”

  “Come now, Mr. Sutton, I will not wed you so you may as well leave while you have your pride still intact.”

  The color in his cheeks deepened to a dull red, confirming Hannah’s suspicions that he was indeed pursuing her for her dowry. For three days she had been besieged with callers at her father’s home, and every time she stepped foot inside a ballroom or event, she was tripping over men, when usually they wanted little to do with her. Hannah loved her father, but she could wring his neck for this latest attempt to see her wed and him with a grandchild.

  “I assure you it is your beauty alone that has called us to your side, Miss Wooller,” Mr. Sutton said taking her hand again, redoubling his efforts for a final assault.

  “Mr. Sutton, let me assure you that being wed to me would be a hideous fate. I am not a comfortable woman, nor do I intend to take direction from my husband if and when I decide to marry; therefore your efforts are wasted.”

  “B-but it is a woman’s role to take direction from her husband.”

  Mr. Sutton looked confused, as if she had sprouted horns and started speaking some ancient dialect.

  He would be easy to manipulate, Hannah supposed, but then did she want a husband who could be stomped all over? Within three days of marrying her, he would regret it, because Hannah was not one to compromise. She had things in her life she would never give up, especially for a husband she did not want.

  Hannah had not been raised among nobility and was advancing on twenty-five years of age, both contributing factors as to why she had not secured a match. Her father came into his title late in life and was in trade. He was an outspoken man that some people liked because he had a large fortune and others because he was too powerful to snub. Unfortunately, Hannah did not receive the same reception as her father.

  “If I could take you driving perhaps…” His words fell away as Hannah shook her head. Mr. Sutton then released her hand before taking a step backward. Obviously the look in Hannah’s eyes told him she meant business, and any further attempts to secure her hand were futile.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sutton.”

  “Miss Wooller.” With those words he skirted around her and disappeared back through the doors and into the ballroom.

  “Bloody hell,” Hannah blew out a frustrated breath. Her life was far too complicated to have to deal with suitors right now. She wandered along the balcony slowly, attempting to rein in her anger, while other guests milled about chatting, flirting, and finding darkened corners for chaste kisses. If she were being honest, Hannah would not mind a chaste kiss or two, but the opportunity had never presented itself. It likely never would, especially if society every found she was also in trade, Hannah thought, wondering why she even cared any longer what anyone thought of her.

  “Bloody fools, all of them,” she muttered.

  “Talking to yourself is considered a sign of instability of the mind, and may I remind you yet again not to curse in public, especially when there are no fewer than two hundred people only a few feet away.”

  “Go away, Alex.” Hannah looked at the man walking toward her and refused to acknowledge the little flutter in her chest. Tall, broad shouldered, he was the epitome of an elegant nobleman in his tailored midnight jacket and scarlet waistcoat. The color should make him look like a fop, but instead increased his masculinity. Teamed with a white shirt and evening trousers, it made her want to sigh at the picture of male perfection he presented. Of course she didn’t; that was not how things worked between Alexander Hetherington and her. They bickered, argued, and generally disagreed with each other at every given opportunity.

  “Good evening, Alex, so lovely to see you looking handsome as always,” he said, stopping before her.

  Hannah poked out her tongue, refusing to acknowledge the twinkle in his blue eyes. The man had an ability to make people feel at ease that she would never have, and was pursued by women wherever he went. Men sought his company simply because he was pleasing to be with. Considered handsome, some even said beautiful, he had money of his own, and a powerful marquess for a brother just added to his appeal. In fact, unlike her, Alex could do no wrong in the eyes of society, and she refused to feel bitter about that.

  “The Countess of Herring is wearing puce with mustard, Grecian trim, and heavy lace. It’s hideous.”

  “Hmmm,” Hannah said, wondering how she was going to get her father to stop pressuring her into marriage.

  “Did you hear what I said, Hannah? I have chosen the countess for my worst dressed this evening.”

  Hannah waved a hand in front of her face. “Yes, yes, it’s perfectly horrid, I’m sure.”

  “What’s wrong?” Alex lowered his head to stare into her eyes.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You just agreed with me, so something is most definitely wrong.”

  He was suddenly serious, his eyes narrowed, jaw jutting. Th
e line of his cheekbones seemed even more pronounced at this angle. He really was far too handsome, Hannah decided.

  “I wish Ben had broken your nose.” The words left her mouth before she could swallow them, which was another failing in a long list of them she’d had since birth.

  “I rather like my nose just as it is, thank you, Miss Wooller.” Placing his thumb and forefinger on either side of it, he traced the shape. “Dare I enquire as to why you want my twin to thump me hard enough to disturb its position on my face?”

  She had to say something. “It would improve your looks. Make you less—” Hannah waved a hand about. “—pretty.”

  His dark brows rose into his hairline. “I know that’s not a compliment.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I’ve always wanted you to singe your eyelashes,” he said, bending closer so their faces were mere inches apart. “They’re long and curl to create this frame for your beautiful eyes, and suck a man into believing you’re sweet and malleable, which we both know is far from the truth.”

  Hannah felt as if something were suddenly obstructing her breathing. She could smell him, the blend of masculine scents that he’d always worn, and she fought against its allure like she always had. They were business partners, and… friends? Well, perhaps not quite that, but she had no business feeling anything else for this man. Not now or ever.

  “That’s not a compliment either, so we’re even. Now go away, I have to think.”

  “About what?” He didn’t move, just leaned closer.

  Should she ask him what the talk about her was in his club? Were men discussing her large dowry? Should she force her father to reduce it? Not that he would listen to her, but she could try. Alex was a man, after all, and there was every possibility he knew about her sudden rise in popularity. Perhaps she could persuade him to offer a few negative comments about her, dissuade any man intent on pursuing her. Hannah waited for a couple of guests to pass them before speaking.

  “Have you heard anything about me from anyone, Alex?”

  “In what capacity?”

  “Any capacity.”

  He straightened, his eyes going from her to above her head, where he looked out at the London sky while he contemplated what she’d said, before returning to her face once more.

  “I heard Phoebe say you were the most frustrating woman she knew, and it was likely she would be forced to shoot you one day to shut you up.”

  “That is nothing new, Alex. I was there when she spoke those words, and you know very well that’s not what I meant.” Phoebe was Alex’s sister-in-law, and Hannah’s best friend. They were always saying things like that to each other.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Hannah, as you have not enlightened me.”

  “Have men said anything about me?” Hannah clarified.

  “Ben said appearances, in your case, were definitely deceiving. As you have an angelic look, almost ethereal, and look as if you would be sweet and pliable, when in fact—”

  “Yes, yes, I understand, thank you, Alex. But that is not what I meant either.”

  “I like that neckline on you, it’s very becoming and enhances your—”

  “Alex!” Hannah snapped, drawing his eyes back to her face. “You will not continue that sentence.”

  “Beauty, I was going to say, and am insulted you would think otherwise. Especially as I am a gentleman and to speak of such things is not done. Well, not around a lady anyway.” His smile was wicked.

  Hannah, Phoebe, and Alex were business partners in Madame Alexander’s, a modiste that boasted many of society’s leading ladies as their clientele. Thus far they had kept their identities a secret, because people would be scandalized were they to learn their gowns were designed by nobility.

  “Focus please, Alex. Have you overheard any men mention my name in conjunction with my dowry when you went to your club or anywhere else?”

  “I have only just arrived back in London, Hannah. I have had no chance to hear anything. If you will remember, I was in Scotland, chasing the maker of the lace you simply had to have. Furthermore, why would men be speaking of your dowry now?”

  “Yes, well, you’ve been back a day, and father has increased it in the hopes of coercing a man to offer for me,” Hannah said ungraciously.

  “For pity’s sake, why would he do that?” Alex scowled. “What is he thinking? Does he want your future husband to only have eyes for money and not his future wife?”

  “Precisely what I said to him, but he wants a grandchild and will stop at nothing to obtain it.”

  “There is more to it than that, surely?”

  “Yes,” Hannah sighed. “His heart is not strong, and fear is also motivating him.”

  Before Alex could speak, Lord Drummond appeared before her.

  “Miss Wooller, may I have this dance?”

  “I am sitting out this dance, my Lord.” Hannah looked at the man who had come to stand beside Alex.

  “Your father said you loved to dance, Miss Wooller, and told me not to take no for an answer as you are shy.” Lord Drummond smiled through his thin lips. “An admirable trait in such a beautiful lady.”

  Hannah suddenly found her fingers in Alex’s grip as Lord Drummond reached for her hand, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the man.

  “I believe Miss Wooller is disinclined to dance this evening, Drummond.”

  His tone was civil, but Hannah heard the hint of menace. Seeing an argument brewing, she quickly retrieved her fingers. “It’s all right, Mr. Hetherington, Lord Drummond is right; I do indeed like dancing, and shall be happy to accept his invitation.”

  “Hannah—”

  “Really, Alex, all is well,” she said, managing a smile before letting Lord Drummond lead her away.

  Lord Drummond waxed on through the entire dance about how beautiful she was until Hannah was tempted to box his ears, yet as she was currently surrounded by some of the more affluent members of society, she refrained.

  “Thank you, Lord Drummond,” Hannah said after he’d led her back to where Lord and Lady Ryder stood.

  “The pleasure was mine, dear lady, and I shall expect another later in the evening.”

  “Not if I can avoid you, you won’t,” Hannah muttered to his retreating back.

  “You’re frowning, Hannah.”

  Olivia Ryder was Hannah’s best friend, Phoebe’s eldest sister, and a woman she liked and respected very much. She wore a gown of bronze silk Alex had designed for her that made her lovely strawberry-blond hair glow.

  “I’m suddenly popular, Livvy. It is a most unusual occurrence, and wholly centered around the fact that my father has increased my dowry. I have been beseeched with morning callers, all men, and have had two proposals in as many days.”

  Livvy frowned, her delicate brows drawing together as she looked at Hannah in concern. “Of course you’re beautiful, but we both know that for these fools that is often not enough, and while I understand your father believes he is doing the right thing because he loves you, it is very bad of him to have put you in such a position.”

  Relieved that Livvy understood her dilemma instantly, Hannah huffed out a breath. “I have tried to dissuade the men of course, but they tell me it is simply my beauty that has drawn them to my side and not my dowry. Which I pointed out was strange, considering I have been in society for several years and they are only just noticing now.”

  “I bet you did.” Livvy smiled. “And I can understand how vexing this must be for you, Hannah, but try not to insult too many men as you dissuade them, as you have no wish for people to start talking about you for an entirely different reason.”

  Hannah sighed. “It is not easy to hold my tongue, given my nature.”

  “As my middle sister is natured the same, I completely understand, Hannah, but do try all the same.”

  “I will, and thank you for your understanding, Livvy. Now, I wish to know how Bella is doing. Tell me, is she well?” Livvy and Phoebe’s youngest sister was expectin
g her first baby.

  Livvy’s smile told her everything. “She is wonderful; in fact, it is Luke who is suffering. He follows her around all day until she is forced to send him away. It’s a wonderful sight, the tough Luke Fletcher brought to his knees by impending fatherhood.”

  Hannah felt a small betraying stab in her stomach at the thought of another friend having a child. It was not that she wanted a baby especially, just the opportunity to have one in the future. Of course, she needed a husband for that, and that was not going to happen anytime soon, given the men who were offering for her were money-hungry fools.

  “I am so pleased for them both and cannot wait to meet your little niece or nephew.”

  “Hello, Hannah.”

  “Hello, Will,” Hannah sank into a curtsey as Livvy’s handsome husband arrived at her side.

  “Have you missed me, darling?”

  “No, and you should not call me darling in front of your wife,” Hannah said, giving him a cheeky smile.

  Livvy giggled.

  “I meant my other darling,” Will drawled.

  Hannah watched as he gave Livvy a smile that he seemed to reserve only for her. She’d noticed this about couples that truly seemed to love each other. They communicated silently, and often forgot anyone else around them. It was not that she wanted that exactly, she just wanted the chance to have or not have it. And that made no sense to anyone but you, Hannah Wooller.

  Elegantly dressed in a black jacket and black waistcoat threaded with gold, he was a tall handsome man Hannah was lucky to call friend. Lord William Ryder was a ruthless businessman and a doting family man and friend to many. It always gave her a little jolt of pleasure when she realized that he and his large family all included her in their circle now. She’d never really felt accepted by anyone until she’d met Phoebe and then the rest of their family.

  “Will, would you do me a favor?”

  His eyes were suddenly guarded as they looked down at Hannah, and she had the feeling he knew exactly what she was going to ask of him.

  “In what capacity?”

  “Would you attempt to persuade my father to reduce my dowry?” She watched him closely as she spoke, saw the slight panic flare in his eyes. He looked trapped. “He respects you and may just listen.”