The Wolfe's Return

by Avril Borthiry

  She followed him to the front door and then trailed behind as he limped down the path.

  Nathaniel de Wolfe stood beside the phaeton with Ghost, as always, at his heels. “Good morning, young man,” he said, and gestured to the carriage. “Up you go.”

  “Good morning, Lord Nathaniel,” Griffin replied, and paused as he eyed the step. Hannah frowned, wondering why Nathaniel hadn’t moved.

  Well, don’t just stand there! Help him. It’s too high. He cannot possibly—

  Griffin took a breath, grabbed the rim of the carriage, and hoisted himself, albeit clumsily, into the seat. Then he looked back at Hannah, his face beaming with pride.

  “’Bye, Mama!”

  Hannah’s sight blurred. “Goodbye, my love. Behave yourself.”

  Nathaniel glanced at her, a devilish smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, Miss Hannah, he’s in good hands,” he said. “I’ll have him back this afternoon.”

  * * *

  Hannah glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was almost half past two.

  They surely should have been back by now.

  “Your move, my dear,” Lady Beatrice said, sitting back from their third game of draughts. Hannah had lost the first two, and this one seemed to be heading in a similar direction. She stared at the board and made her move.

  Lady Beatrice gave an audible sigh, and jumped her black king over Hannah’s remaining pieces. “Put the game away, Hannah,” she said, rather sourly. “It’s no fun playing with an unwilling opponent.”

  Hannah had the grace to blush. “I do apologize, Lady Beatrice. Please forgive me. Lord Nathaniel took Griffin to the farm today, and I’m just a little worried.”

  “Why?”

  “Well,” Hannah looked at the clock again. “They aren’t back yet.”

  “Did Nathaniel say when he’d be back?” Lady Beatrice asked. “He never mentioned a time to me.”

  Hannah’s blush deepened. “He said it would be in the, um, afternoon.”

  “Which is not yet over. For Heaven’s sake, stop fretting. It’ll give you wrinkles.” Lady Beatrice rose to her feet. “Come, I’d like to hear you play. It’s been a while.”

  In silent obedience, Hannah followed Lady Beatrice to the great hall. The room was, by far, her favorite in the house, since it retained much of the original character.

  Time had bestowed a rich patina on thewood-panelled walls, and the fireplace, a sculpted sandstone monstrosity, was big enough to stand in. The diamond-paned, leaded windows scattered sunlight like jewels, throwing them across the walls and tiled floor. Central to the space was a massive oak dining table, able to seat twenty guests with ease. Several large tropical plants, placed here and there, offered a contrasting sense of place and time.

  At the far end, from a more recent era, a set of large French doors opened up to the rear terrace, which was large enough to host a party of its own.

  “I love this room,” Hannah said, glancing about. “It has such an incredible atmosphere. It simply begs to be used for gatherings and celebrations.”

  “I share your love of it, my dear,” Lady Beatrice replied. “Imagine, if you will, how many celebrations have taken place here over the years.”

  Hannah suppressed a sigh. In little more than a week, it would be hosting Lady Beatrice’s guests. Indeed, preparations had already begun. The rugs had been removed for beating and the candelabras whisked away for polishing. The scent of lemon oil and beeswax hung in the air.

  Hannah had played the harp since childhood, but had not been able to bring her own when she’d come north. Lady Beatrice had procured another, which now stood in the corner by the window, next to the pianoforte. Hannah strode over to it and unlaced the dust cover. Lady Beatrice, meanwhile, had installed herself into one of the armchairs by the fire place.

  Hannah took her seat, nestled the harp against her shoulder, and ran her fingertips over the strings. The purity of the sound was like a balm for her stretched nerves. She understood why angels were commonly depicted playing the harp. To Hannah, the instrument’s song had a divine quality.

  She began to play, her fingers plucking the strings as if possessed of their own memory, wholly independent of hers. Time, as always, passed unnoticed, the world beyond unseen until at last she finished the piece. Then Hannah closed her eyes, let her hands drop, and drew a deep breath.

  “Brava,” a familiar male voice said. “That was most enjoyable.”

  Hannah gasped, and her eyes flew open to see Nathaniel standing beside his aunt, who was nodding her agreement. “It was indeed,” Lady Beatrice said, rising with some obvious stiffness. “You have a wonderful talent, my dear.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah stood as well, searching Nathaniel’s face for the slightest hint of foreboding. “I trust you had a good day, my lord?”

  “We had an excellent day, Miss Hannah,” Nathaniel replied. “So, you can take that anxious look off your face. I handed the little fellow over to your maid a short while ago. I’m certain he must be tired, and he’s perhaps not quite as clean as he was this morning, but he’s in fine spirits. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it when you see him later. I’ve arranged for some refreshments in the front parlor, Aunt.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll be taking them without me,” Lady Beatrice replied, huffing as she straightened. “I shall be in my sitting room, having a nap. Hannah dear, wake me at four, will you? Now that your nerves are no longer frayed, I’d like to go over some correspondence with you.”

  “Of course, my lady.” The weight of worry now lifted from her shoulders, Hannah tamped down an urge to smile. She glanced about. “Where’s Ghost?”

  Nathaniel grimaced. “Having a bath.”

  Hannah capitulated to her smile. “He had a good day too, then?”

  “Yes, he did,” Nathaniel said. “May I escort you to your sitting room, Aunt?”

  She waved him away. “No need. I’ll see you at dinner, Nephew.”

  “Very well.” A brow raised, Nathaniel regarded Hannah. “Will you join me for some afternoon sustenance, Miss Hannah?”

  “I’d love to,” Hannah said, in complete honesty. “And thank you again for today. I’m sure Griffin had the time of his life.”

  * * *

  Nathaniel wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Until the previous day, when he’d gone in search of his aunt’s mysterious companion, he hadn’t realized who she was. Only when he’d seen her reaching for a book, candle in hand, had he once again recalled the strange experience in his brother’s library. Recognition had hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d even echoed her unladylike exclamation.

  Bloody hell.

  His vision had been real after all. She sat not even a stride away, pouring his coffee into a white china cup, a slight flush of pink on her cheeks. Her eyes, a darker blue than those of her son, were protected by a thick fringe of lashes. Errant tendrils of her hair curled around her face and neck, softening her profile. The delicate gold chain she wore suited the slender, graceful line of her throat. Her lips, perfectly shaped, had a slight pout to them.

  Hannah’s unadorned façade attracted little attention – a calculated strategy on her part, no doubt. But when one looked closely, the woman was, Nathaniel thought, quite lovely. An ungilded lily. Bedecked and bejeweled, she’d be utterly stunning.

  Even in her austere state, she aroused him, and he now doubted it could be blamed entirely on his recent celibacy. Besides, it went beyond sexual. Something about the girl stirred deeper feelings within him.

  Despite what his aunt had assumed, however, Nathaniel did not feel sorry for Hannah. There was a price to be exacted for her indiscretion. The girl had shamed her family and brought disgrace upon herself. But it occurred to Nathaniel that by keeping her child, Hannah had chosen a more challenging route. A moral route. And he could not help but admire her for that.

  She passed him his coffee, the expression on her face questioning. He’d been staring at her, he realized.

 
“You should know that my aunt told me who you are,” he said, keeping his tone free from any hint of censure. “I know what happened and why you’re here.”

  Hannah frowned, lowered her gaze for a moment, and then raised it again. Nathaniel steeled himself, half-expecting another defensive rebuff.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without her,” Hannah replied. “What we would have done.”

  The unexpected disclosure suggested trust, and Nathaniel’s heart sped up a little. “You would have kept Griffin, no matter what?”

  “I would have died sooner than give him up, yes,” she replied. “I don’t regret my decision, not for a moment. I only wish…”

  Nathaniel leaned forward. “What?”

  She sighed. “That my father could find it in his heart to forgive me. I truly believe he’d love Griffin if he met him.”

  “I must agree. Griffin is a fine young fellow,” Nathaniel said. “And, with respect, I think you underestimate the boy’s physical abilities. He’s awkward, but not incapable.”

  “I know I’m overly protective of him.” Her mouth quirked. “To be honest, I was horrified this morning when you made no effort to help him into the phaeton.”

  “Yes.” Nathaniel feigned a shudder. “I caught your glare. Quite terrifying.”

  She laughed. “He managed, though.”

  “He achieved, Hannah, which is what he strives to do.” He set his cup down. “And you should laugh more often. It suits you.”

  The blush returned. “Would you like some more coffee, Nathaniel?”

  “No, thank you.” What I would like, Hannah, is to take you in my arms and kiss you. Taste you. Touch you. Feel your body pressed against mine. Make love—Nathaniel bit down. This was ridiculous. He needed some air. He needed to submerge his head, or some other body part, in cold water. He needed to leave. “Actually, I’d better go and see if Ghost has behaved himself,” he said, rising. “Please excuse me, my lady.”

  “Of course.” A shadow of uncertainty crossed her face. “Er, thank you again, for being so kind to Griffin.”

  * * *

  A week went by, a week of restless nights for Hannah. Nathaniel de Wolfe had not entirely ignored her, but his demeanor toward her had most definitely changed. He was always polite – even charming – but the little gestures, the sense of friendship she had previously felt from him seemed to have vanished.

  He no longer sought her out, and he always addressed her as Miss Hannah, even on the rare occasions when they might have been alone for a moment. At such times, he made no effort to stay and converse with her. Quite the contrary, in fact.

  True, it had been a busy time. Allonby Chase was preparing to host twenty-plus guests for four days. The house had fair bustled with activity. Maybe Nathaniel de Wolfe was dreading the weekend too.

  * * *

  The weekend arrived, warm and muggy.

  Beneath a cover of threatening skies, the guests arrived at Allonby Chase on the designated Friday. Other than a brief visit during the morning to tune her harp, Hannah had stayed away from the house and been happy to do so. Her presence was hardly required, anyway, on a practical basis. Lady Beatrice was not about to lack for company or entertainment.

  But Hannah could not hide away for the duration. On this damp Saturday afternoon, with the evening festivities looming, she had to think about her upcoming appearance at dinner that evening.

  Her stomach had been in knots all day.

  She’d dug a dress out of her closet a few days earlier, one she hadn’t worn since before Griffin’s birth. Style-wise, it was somewhat dated, but the color – a delicate apricot, suited her complexion and accentuated the rich, copper glints in her hair.

  Florrie helped to style the latter, brushing it till it shone before pinning it into a soft French twist. Then the maid loosened a few strands, teasing them into perfect ringlets to further soften the overall effect. A small pearl pendant and matching ear bobs finished it off.

  “Och, but ye do look fine, milady,” Florrie said, a glint of emotion in her eyes. “Verra fine indeed. Do ye no’ think yer Mama looks verra fine, wee Griffin?”

  Griffin gave an enthusiastic nod. “You look like a princess, Mama.”

  “Thank you, both.” Hannah felt a fresh flutter of nerves in her belly as she took her ivory lace shawl from the chair. “I have to go. They’re eating at seven, and I don’t want to be late. Be good for Florrie, sweetheart.”

  With her son’s assurance echoing in her head, Hannah left for the evening. Somewhere, off in the distance, a rumble of thunder rattled the skies. She quickened her step.

  Although a couple of hours of daylight still remained, the windows of Allonby Chase already glowed from within, lit by the flicker of many candles. Hannah entered and nodded a silent greeting to the doorman. A lively buzz of chatter drifted out from the great hall, and a faint haze of tobacco smoke hugged the ceiling.

  As arranged, yet feeling a bit like an intruder, Hannah slipped into Lady Beatrice’s sitting room to wait for her summons. She perched on the edge of the sofa and took several slow, deep breaths. A slight headache lingered behind her eyes. A result of the stormy weather, most likely. She concentrated on the tick of the clock, and tried to settle her nerves.

  “Hannah.”

  Hannah gave a startled gasp and shot to her feet, only to be overcome by a wave of dizziness. She reached for something to steady herself, grabbing at air.

  A moment later, a strong, supporting arm curled around her waist. “Easy,” Nathaniel said. “Forgive me. I seem to make a habit of startling you. Take a moment.”

  A moment? Yes, Hannah would take that little scrap of time. She wanted forever with this man, but knew that could never be. She breathed in his familiar scent and leaned into him. He had called her by her name, she realized.

  The moment passed.

  “Thank you, I’m all right,” she said, and he released her. “I stood up too quickly, that’s all. Is my presence required?”

  “Always.” His heated gaze wandered over her. “You look beautiful, Hannah.”

  Please don’t. Please don’t do that.

  “Thank you again. Methinks, however, your tongue has been sweetened by some of Lady Beatrice’s elderberry ratafia,” she said, with feigned levity. “Mine has not, my lord, but I must, nevertheless, admit that you look exceedingly dapper this evening.”

  A smile touched his lips. “I appreciate the compliment, my lady. The guests are seating themselves, and my aunt sent me to find you. Have you eaten? Had anything to drink?”

  “At the cottage, yes.”

  He presented his elbow. “Then may I have the honor of escorting you to your harp?”

  She smiled and tucked her hand in his arm. “You may, my lord.”

  “Don’t be nervous,” he said, as they headed down the hallway. “So far, I’ve seen no sign of claws or daggers among our guests. They all seem to be very pleasant, actually.”

  Hannah smiled over a twinge of dismay. Or was it jealousy? She’d have preferred to hear a different opinion from Nathaniel. One where he didn’t sound quite as impressed with those in attendance. How unkind of me, she thought, a moment later. And childish.

  The buzz of conversation lessened when Hannah entered the hall on Nathaniel’s arm. Curiosity turned heads their way, and Hannah swept a swift glance over those gathered there. The perfumed air brought back memories of such gatherings at her father’s house. As did the colorful splendor of the ladies’ gowns and the handsome attire of the men.

  The great hall itself looked breathtaking.

  Dull evening light cast a silver pallor over the space, usurped by the glow of dozens of candles. Crystal glasses sparkled and silver shone, and a massive flower display filled much of the space in the hearth.

  “Beautiful,” Hannah murmured.

  “Yes, indeed,” Nathaniel replied, as he released her. He bent his mouth to her ear. “By the way,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck, “I have yet to t
aste the ratafia.”

  Hannah frowned and pretended to inspect her harp. It seemed Nathaniel de Wolfe’s warmth had returned. Or perhaps she’d merely imagined his recent indifference toward her. Or maybe, tonight, he was simply reacting to the buoyant atmosphere.

  Under the pretence of another casual glance around the room, Hannah watched him take his seat between two young women. One in particular, seated on his right, was a beauty to behold, with flawless skin and rich, dark hair, styled in an elegant, Grecian fashion. It contrasted perfectly with her pale-lavender dress as well as the jewels – amethysts? – that sparkled at her throat and ears.

  She said something to Nathaniel, who laughed and shook his head. Hannah sighed and searched for Lady Beatrice, finding her seated at the head of the table, overseeing the proceedings like some ancient queen. The woman looked utterly splendid in a green satin gown, silver hair piled into a stylish chignon, and embellished with a black ostrich feather. Her gaze met Hannah’s and she gave a small nod. You may begin, it said.

  Hannah sighed again, this one more deliberate, intended to calm.

  Play, Hannah. Just play.

  When the music began, a hush descended on the guests. Then, as the dinner service proceeded, the conversation gradually built up again, and Hannah’s music simply became part of the backdrop. For Hannah, in contrast, the clink, clatter, and chatter disappeared as she sank into the sweetness of the sound. To avoid early fatigue, she played softly, taking the occasional break as the dinner service continued.

  Hannah played, on and off, till the meal was over. Then, her limbs stiff, she rose and pushed a gentle arch into her spine. Lady Beatrice looked over and nodded her apparent approval, underlining it with gesture of quiet applause. And from the corner of her eye, she saw Nathaniel approaching, Lady Cynthia at his side.

  They made a striking couple, she thought, forcing a smile on her face.

  “Miss Hannah,” Nathaniel said, “allow me to introduce Lady Cynthia Scarborough. Lady Cynthia, my aunt’s companion, Miss Hannah Sedgewick.”

  “A pleasure, Lady Cynthia,” Hannah said, purposely avoiding eye-contact with Nathaniel.