Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) Read Online Free

who would provide the coinage if the viscount were to die. The caretaker’s meagre allowance barely covered the cost of the elderly couple’s survival, and Hannah had no money to speak of.
    “I’ll set some broth to simmering on the stove while I’m at it,” Mrs Potts added, and Hannah smiled her thanks before returning her attention to her patient. Her stomach knotted when she considered what she was about to do. Despite having assured her father she was up to the task of nursing the returned lord, she owned to considerable misgivings at the prospect of undressing and bathing him. To make matters worse, he regained consciousness while she and Mr Potts were attempting to wrestle his greatcoat and jacket from his body.
    “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He sat up in the bed, shoving Hannah and her frail assistant aside with alarming ease.
    “Undressing you so I can assess the extent of your injuries.” Hannah picked herself up off the floor and returned to his side.
    “My injuries are fatal. Let a man die in peace.”
    “You may be right, my lord,” she said, her tone sympathetic despite the buffeting she’d just received. “But at least let us make you more comfortable.”
    Glowering, he gave a reluctant nod, and Hannah set about divesting him of his coat, jacket, and breeches while doing her best to ignore his muttered imprecations. She felt no compunction about cutting the torn and stained shirt from his body, but once it was out of the way, her breath hitched.
    Lord Blackthorn had grown into a well-developed specimen of a man. His muscled torso bore a light spattering of hair that formed an inverted triangle in the middle of his chest before trailing in a line down his belly towards the waistband of his undergarments. She lifted her gaze to his face and was relieved to note his eyes were now closed, his dark lashes standing out against his ashen cheeks. Being caught admiring the man’s body would have been mortifying to say the least.
    Assuming a more professional air, she catalogued his injuries, fear causing her heart to race at their extent. A savage and barely healed wound on his thigh explained the limp, whilst sundry older scars marred his long and otherwise well-formed limbs and torso. But it was the injury to his shoulder and upper arm that was cause for concern. After carefully unwrapping the soiled bandage, she recoiled at the sight and smell of the suppurating wound.
    “Oh, dear,” she murmured, and the viscount slowly opened his eyes.
    “You’re wasting your time. Should have just left me at the grave.”
    “I suppose we could have dug a hole next to your father and pushed you in.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “But we’re not heathens, my lord, even if we are beneath your notice.”
    Frowning, he shrugged, the action inducing a moan. Hannah’s conscience pricked; the viscount wasn’t responsible for the actions of his father and grandfathers before him, and she could hardly blame him for keeping his distance.
    It wasn’t a good sign when his eyes rolled back into his head, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved. Sponging down his too-warm and very bare flesh while he was aware of her actions would have made the task even more unsettling than it already was. Although she gave Mr Potts the task of bathing the viscount intimately, she was forced to help him dress their patient in clean underclothes that had once belonged to the previous viscount. The elderly caretaker couldn’t manage alone, and Hannah saw more than she should. There was nothing to be done for it, and Mr Potts let her know with a look that her secret was safe with him.
    Having exhausted her healing skills, Hannah didn’t bother to hide her relief when Grace arrived later that afternoon. With her long black hair, fair skin, and green eyes, the young healer had a fey quality to her appearance that belied her studious dedication to her craft.
    “Is there any hope?” Hannah asked while her friend