Lady Hannah's Holiday (Spirited Storms #5) (The Spirited Storms)

by Jane Charles

  He laughed. While Ashton would never say anything against her mother, he understood the need to avoid a parent. And, the shocking statement took her focus from the storm for a moment. “There were times I took long rides to avoid my parents as well.” Usually when he was home from school and needed to be away from their constant bickering. With the number of estates his father owned, wouldn’t they have both been happier living apart?

  With the reminder of his parents nightmare of a marriage, Ashton retreated from Lady Hannah, though he tried not to make his actions obvious as he settled on the opposite wall to retrieve the bottle of rum.

  Yes, Hannah was beautiful and desirable and the urge to kiss her quite strong, but he’d not be forced into a marriage. In all likelihood, she’d come to hate him when she realized he could not provide for her. As long as he retained his distance and explained to the brothers, hopefully they’d be reasonable and not call him out or declare a betrothal.

  “Might I have a bit more.” Lady Hannah held out her empty glass, her hand shaking, and Ashton placed his hand over hers to keep it steady as he poured.

  Warmth spread up Hannah’s arm and her nerves began to calm. There was strength and comfort and as improper as it may be, Hannah wished that Wingate would hold her until this storm passed.

  As soon as Wingate let go of her hand, the unease returned and Hannah glanced to the front of the house, expecting it to collapse at any moment from the wind and debris striking the building. With shaky hands, she lifted the glass to take a sip, the warmth returned as the liquid caressed her tongue and glided down her throat. She was beginning to understand why this was Sam’s drink of choice, as it was much better than brandy.

  “There is nothing to be afraid of.” Wingate once again settled on the wall beside her and when his shoulder touched hers, Hannah’s pulse began to slow. At least she wasn’t alone. Had he not been here when she arrived, who knows how much time she would have spent snooping around and then would have been stuck here by herself.

  What the blazes was wrong with her? Hannah had never suffered from a nervous or anxious state in her life and had little patience for the women who must always have smelling salts within reach. The quaking in her limbs and the inability to calm her anxiety gave Hannah pause. Perhaps she had misjudged all those other ladies.

  Something crashed, shattering windows in a room above and Hannah glanced up, half expecting the upper floor to collapse on them.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she repeated, a whisper to herself. “This house has probably sustained several violent storms, possibly even hurricanes and still stood so there is no reason for it to be destroyed now.” And, if she kept repeating those facts over and over, she might even come to believe them.

  “It’s been standing forty years or more from what I understand,” Wingate offered. “And has survived worse storms than this, I assume.”

  Oh! She must overcome her fear. It wasn’t like her to be a ninny and she was leaving a very poor impression on Lord Wingate. If she didn’t calm, he might never call on her again and that would never do.

  After taking in a deep breath and blowing it out, Hannah sipped the rum and willed her heart and pulse to calm as she tried to think of something to say. Surely if they were conversing, she might be able to block out the storm. After all, she was with Wingate, the only gentleman she’d ever wanted to spend more time with, and she was ruining the opportunity.

  “Have you visited Barbados often?” Though, he clearly hadn’t in the last year and a half or this home wouldn’t be in such disrepair.

  “Never. I wasn’t aware my father owned this plantation.”

  This took her by surprise. Weren’t heirs educated on their inheritance so that they could be properly managed once the former lord was no longer of this world?

  “There was much he didn’t tell me,” Wingate admitted. “I believed I knew of all our holdings, but surprisingly, I found I owned this plantation.”

  “Why didn’t he tell you?” She could think of no good reason to hide such a property, except, it had been left to run to ruin.

  “I suspect it is because we would have argued on how it was managed.”

  Would a son do such a thing? She tried to think back to the relationship her oldest brother, Benjamin, shared with their father, but couldn’t recall them ever disagreeing.

  “I never fully understood his position until I came here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Father first argued against abolishing the slave trade, he then argued against punishing smugglers of slaves by sending them to Botany Bay. We had many arguments, but I never understood why it was so important to him. We lived in England. All of our holdings were in England, and we employed servants.”

  “When was this?” Hannah knew so little about slavery and the laws. It wasn’t talked about at home and it wasn’t something that touched her family in any manner. She wasn’t proud of her ignorance, but she was just as certain that she wasn’t alone in lacking knowledge of atrocities taking place in other parts of the world.

  “The abolishment was in 1807. The punishment of smugglers came about in 1811.”

  “I don’t understand. If it was abolished, why are there still slaves.”

  “Slave trade was abolished. Owning slaves was not and there were those who turned to smuggling for profit.”

  When Hannah thought of smuggling, it was whisky from Scotland, or brandy and lace from the Continent. Not humans from faraway places in Africa.

  “Now I know why he was so adamant. Father purchased this property in 1780, and though it was profitable for a time, the revenue disappeared after the revolt.” Wingate shook his head. “He used to tell me that one day I’d understand why my ignorance, and those who agreed with me, would end up costing our family a small fortune. As I didn’t know about this plantation, I thought him rather mad to think the laws would affect us.”

  “Do you now understand?” Hannah asked after a moment, not certain if she wanted to know if the acquiring of this property had changed his mind on the issue.

  “I understand, without question, why my father wished the slave trade to continue. However, I’ve not changed my position on the matter. I want no part of the inhumanity. Had I known, I would have traveled here myself, taken over and ended the practice immediately, sugar and profits be damned.” His voice had risen in anger. It was not being directed at Hannah, but at what his father had done, and Wingate clutched his glass so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

  He glanced up. “I apologize. I shouldn’t use such language.”

  “It’s quite alright,” Hannah assured him. He was passionate in his beliefs and angry at his father. She was also pleased that he didn’t hold to the practice of slavery because if he did, her opinion of him would lessen dramatically.

  His shoulders dropped, as if he relaxed. “Perhaps it’s best if we discuss more pleasant topics.”

  In that she concurred. “Tell me, did you enjoy any novels during your crossing?”

  Novels, books, and even poems were a pleasant distraction from what his father had done, and might take her mind off the storm, if only for a short time.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Hannah jumped at the loud noise and struggled to sit up, blinking at the light. The storm was over, and sunlight filtered into the alcove from the parlor.

  Goodness! When had she fallen asleep?

  She and Wingate had talked long into the night discussing books, what little she knew of politics, horses, farming and all manner of things and she’d quite enjoyed herself. At one point he had retrieved blankets, even though it wasn’t cool, and pillows from above before they both made a pallet on the floor, far enough away from the other to be respectable, so that they could rest. But, even after the lamp was turned down and the candles spent, they’d talked quietly in the darkness until she’d finally drifted off.

  She’d enjoyed the intimacy of the night, not that they were intimate, but a shared exper
ience that she’d treasure. Wingate had made her feel safe. He’d kept her safe and Hannah would be forever grateful.

  If the storm had come to an end, what noise had awakened her?

  “If I cut myself on this window and she’s inside, I’ll blister her backside.”

  Hannah sat up at Nate’s voice.

  “I hope to God she’s inside,” Sam said. “It’s the only shelter between my plantation and the Hildegards. I swear to God when Mrs. Hildegard told me that Hannah had never arrived, I lost at least ten years off my life. There is no way she could have survived that storm if she hadn’t found shelter.

  “If she’s not within, we’ll search the stable and other outbuildings,” Nate insisted. “I’m in,” he called a moment later. “I’ll unlock the door.”

  As his heavy footfalls crossed to the entry, panic rose in her chest. They were going to murder her. Not only had she not made it to her destination, but she’d caused them worry.

  Hannah quickly glanced to where Wingate had rested last night, realizing that her brothers may take even more issue that she’d not been alone. However, the only evidence that Wingate had been there was a rumpled blanket and discarded pillow. Not far away was a bottle of rum and two empty glasses beside the lamp and spent candles. She’d hide the evidence of his presence, but there wasn’t enough time.

  Then she frowned. Where had he gone?

  “What the blazes are you doing here?”

  Hannah jumped at Sam’s tone and pushed the blanket away so that she could stand. “I took shelter from the storm.”

  “Obviously, but why not at the Hildegards?” Nate asked.

  “I rode here first, curious…” she couldn’t tell them that she hoped to find Wingate. That would get her further in trouble. “The storm came up so suddenly that I didn’t want to chance returning or continuing on.”

  Nate crossed his arms over this chest and nodded to where Wingate had slumbered. “Who was with you?”

  “That would be me,” Wingate announced coming from the library.

  Color rose in Sam’s cheeks, which didn’t bode well for Hannah or Wingate.

  “Am I to understand that the two of you spent the night together and alone.”

  “It’s not what you are thinking,” Hannah rushed to explain. “We were both stuck here. We talked until we fell asleep.”

  Wingate hadn’t even attempted to kiss her, much to Hannah’s disappointment.

  “The horses are secure and the stable survived the storm,” he said to Hannah.

  “In that case, you need to return home, Hannah,” Sam said without looking from Wingate. “Nate and I will be along shortly.”

  She glanced from her brothers to Wingate and back again, not certain what she should do. There was an underlying current, a tension, she wasn’t certain she understood, other than she had the need to remain and possibly defend Wingate since he had not done anything wrong.

  “I’ll saddle your horse,” Nate strode past her. “The stables are out the back?” he asked.

  “Yes, through the library and what is left of gardens.”

  She just stood there; not certain she should leave Wingate alone with Sam.

  “Wait out front, Hannah,” Sam ordered.

  She opened her mouth to speak, to object, but the hardness in his green eyes gave her pause. Her brothers had mentioned taking her over their knee, not that they would, of course, as she was an adult woman. But what if Sam did something far more foolish, like call Wingate out?

  “I’ll call on you later, Lady Hannah,” Wingate assured her.

  “I’d like that,” she murmured, hoping that he was still alive to do so.

  “Hannah!” Sam warned.

  “Yes, I’ll go, but don’t…”

  “Don’t what?”

  Her throat tightened at his harsh, clipped demand.

  Oh, she’d not be intimidated by Sam. It was bad enough that he was telling her what to do, which she hated. With a notch of her chin she leveled her gaze on her brother. “Don’t be irrational!” she stomped away, exiting through the front door and out onto the porch. However, she maneuvered herself beside one of the broken windows and strained to hear what was being said.

  Blast it all, they weren’t talking, at least not that she could hear, but neither did she hear fighting, or worse, gunshots, so perhaps she was worried for nothing.

  “Your horse,” Nate barked as he led the beast from behind the house. “Go straight back to Sam’s. Do not dawdle and do not leave until we return.”

  Goodness, she’d never seen either of her brothers behave in such a manner. Would they have preferred she remained in the violent storm and tried to make her way back to Sam’s plantation and probably be killed in the process?

  “You are making far too much out of an innocent situation,” she insisted.

  “We will be the judge of that.” He held the reins toward her. “Do I have your word that you’ll return directly to Isabella and Jillian?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled as she marched forward so that Nate could assist her onto the horse, all the while wondering how much she’d have to apologize for the twins behavior when Wingate did call on her later. If he didn’t change his mind.

  Chapter 8

  “How did Hannah come to be here with you, alone, all night?” Samuel demanded.

  Ashton thought the reason was fairly obvious. “She stopped to visit, not that I invited her nor was I expecting her.” It was important that he know that no assignation had been arranged. “We spoke for a few moments, outside on the lawn, and I did suggest that she should continue on as it wasn’t proper that we were here alone.”

  “Why didn’t she?” Nathaniel demanded as he came through the front door.

  “I’d barely spoken the words when the wind began to gust,” he defended. “Before we knew what was happening, the storm was upon us.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I made certain that she got inside before she could be harmed then saw to the horses. By the time I gained the house, it was too dangerous to step outside again.”

  “How did the two of you spend your time?” Samuel wandered forward and picked up the bottle of rum.”

  “Talking,” Ashton bit out. “She only had a few glasses, over the entire night, as we had nothing else to eat or drink.”

  Nathaniel did a slow turn taking in the alcove where Ashton and Hannah had spent the night. “You slept there?” he pointed to Ashton’s discarded blanket.

  “Yes, and far away from your sister.” He pointed to where Hannah had slumbered after she’d finally drifted off. As for Ashton, he’d not slept at all. It wasn’t so much the storm that kept him awake, but the need to keep Hannah safe as there was really no protection for them.

  He also feared this very situation and had hoped that she’d be able to return home without anyone knowing they’d been together. This was his biggest fear. The Storm twins standing before him and about to demand that he marry.

  Not that Ashton blamed them. If Ashton had found his sister, Eve, in the exact predicament, his first question would be special license or crying of the banns?

  “What did you do before you slept?” Nathaniel demanded.

  “Talked.”

  “That is all?” Samuel Storm quirked an accusing eyebrow.

  “That is all!” Ashton bit out. “I was a gentleman. I made no advances. Of that I can assure you.”

  The twins shared a look as if they were trying to decide what they should do with him, or if they even believed him. Finally, Nate turned and studied Ashton. “You showed an interest in courting Hannah last spring.”

  “I did.”

  “Is that still your intention?” Nathaniel asked.

  It was his intention for the coming spring, if he could manage to right his financial situation, however that was not the best response to offer at this juncture. “It is.”

  “Why didn’t you court her last spring?” Samuel questioned.

  “Mother had the servants inform him that Hannah
was not at home,” Nate advised. “I learned only as they were to leave Town.”

  “Bloody hell, that woman is a menace. What did she object to?”

  “The location of his estate.” Nathaniel answered.

  Samuel looked back to Ashton. “My advice would be that after you and Hannah marry that you settle here so you can be far away from Mother. She’ll meddle at every opportunity.”

  Ashton’s stomach tightened. Even though he accepted the possibility that the brothers would force marriage, he’d not really been prepared.

  “Courtship,” Nathaniel announced.

  “And marriage,” Samuel insisted.

  “I trust that nothing untoward occurred last night and the two of them were caught in circumstances not of their making,” Nathaniel argued.

  “They spent the night together,” Samuel insisted.

  “Only we are aware of those facts,” Nathaniel reminded him. “Allow the courtship but do not force a betrothal at this time.”

  Samuel planted his fists on his hips. “Why not?”

  “Stubbornness,” he answered. “The moment Hannah believes that Wingate is marrying her because we insisted, she’ll dig in her heels and book passage on the next ship back to England.”

  This did not bode well if his potential bride bolted at the very idea of betrothal. “She doesn’t want to be courted by me?” Ashton finally asked. Had she only been polite when he asked to call on her.

  “It’s not that. Hannah chafes at being told what to do, by anyone. If we announce a betrothal, she’ll decide it is because we forced the issue,” Nathaniel explained.

  Which they were doing.

  “She won’t even pause to consider what she might want, or if it is a circumstance in which she’d be happy. She’ll be blinded by stubbornness,” Nathaniel added.

  “She can be quite contrary,” Samuel shook his head. “I pity you and your future with my sister.”