“Somewhat, yes, but not an unwelcome one.” Boscombe filled his lungs. “The air here, while damp, is far preferable to that of the city. And I’ve spent many a summer at the De Wolfe estate in Northumberland, so I’m not unused to the more rural quarters of England.”
“You’ve been with Lord Nathaniel most of his life, I understand.”
“Since he was four years old. I daresay I know him better than he knows himself.” Boscombe paused at the gate to Bluebell Cottage, released her hand from his arm, and turned to face her. “Now then,” he said, with a note of firmness in his tone. “As I said earlier, my lady, I am quite certain your departure this evening will have been noted. And along with that certainty comes a compulsion to inform Lord Nathaniel of your whereabouts and well-being, which I intend to do upon my return to the house. All else will remain confidential.”
Hannah sighed. She couldn’t very well ask him to keep tight-lipped about his involvement in her little exodus.
“As you wish,” she said, “and thank you again for your kindness.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced back at the house. “And please don’t worry yourself. I’m sure his lordship will quite understand when I explain how you developed a sudden headache, and sought me out for assistance rather than bothering him and taking him away from his guests.”
Hannah gasped. “That’s what you mean to tell him?”
Boscombe raised a brow. “Is that not the truth of it?”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “Not quite, sir. In hindsight, perhaps I acted hastily, leaving the way I did. Perhaps I should have stayed and looked them all in the eye, but I have to think of Lady Beatrice. And I fear I am not as strong as I used to be.”
“Sometimes, retreating is the wisest option. It allows us to regain our composure.” Boscombe nodded. “Get some rest, my lady.”
Chapter Eight
The next day, around mid-morning, as Griffin was repeating his times-tables, the rumble of passing horses and carriages drifted into the cottage.
Griffin ran to the window. “Look, Mama! There are so many. Who are they?”
“Those are the guests I told you about,” she said, moving to stand behind him.
“Where are they going?”
“To Castle Canaan, I think. Then the village.”
The final carriage she recognized, as did Griffin. Nathaniel was laughing, obviously sharing some amusing tale with his beautiful passenger.
“It’s Lord Nathaniel’s carriage,” Griffin squealed, pressing his nose to the window pane. “He’s with a lady. Who is she, Mama? Oh, and there’s Ghost. Did you see him?”
“Yes, I did.” Hannah turned away. “Come and finish your times-tables, Griffin.”
He returned to his seat. “But who is she?”
“To be correct, you should say ‘who is the lady’,” Hannah said, “and the lady is a friend of Lord Nathaniel’s.” She patted the exercise book on the table. “Five threes?”
“Are fifteen.” Griffin scowled. “Is he going to marry the lady?”
Hannah gasped. Where did the boy hear such things? Florrie was the only suspect. “That is none of your business, young man. Six threes?”
“But, if he does, will he not spend time with me anymore?”
Hannah groaned inwardly. She remembered her strange sense of fear the first time she’d seen Griffin perched high on Pilot’s back, wearing a smile that would light up a room. At the time, she hadn’t quite been able to identify the reason for her fear. She identified it now.
“To be honest, I don’t know, Griffin. Six threes?”
“Eighteen,” he said, disappointment etched on his face.
Hannah sighed. “I have to leave in a little while, but listen. If it stays fine, how about we have our dinner up at the castle tonight? Just you and I. I’ll have Florrie pack us a basket of food. Some pork pie, maybe, and egg custard. With a bottle of lemonade to wash it all down. How does that sound?”
His face brightened. “Dinner outside?”
“Why not?” Hannah smiled. “We can take a blanket to sit on. You’ll have to help me, mind. I can’t possibly carry everything by myself.”
Griffin nodded. “I will, Mama.”
“Good. That’s settled then,” Hannah said. “Seven threes?”
* * *
Hannah went to the house that day unsure of what to expect. As it happened, Lady Beatrice showed no indication that anything untoward had happened. Quite the contrary.
“The meal was a resounding success,” she said. “I received many compliments, including several about the musical entertainment. Thank you for your efforts, my dear.”
“I’m glad it went well, my lady,” Hannah said. “I wonder, though, if I might be excused for the next few days while the guests are here?”
At that, Lady Beatrice had lifted her quizzing glass and regarded Hannah with a concerned expression. “Why? Did someone say something to you?”
Hannah shook her head. “Everyone was quite gracious, my lady. But I fear my continued presence can only result in questions being asked about my past. I would prefer to avoid such questions, if possible.”
The quizzing glass stayed in place for a moment, and Hannah felt her cheeks warming under the scrutiny. She hadn’t exactly lied to Lady Beatrice, but the woman had a keen ability to sniff out the slightest hint of deceit. “Very well, Hannah,” she said, an undertone of disappointment in her voice. “They’re not expected back till later. You may leave then and not return till Wednesday.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Hannah said, assuming a brighter expression. “I must say, it appears Lord Nathaniel is quite taken with Lady Cynthia.” Why did I ask that, for Heaven’s sake? Do I really want to know?
Yes, she did. But she wanted to hear a negative answer.
“It does indeed,” Lady Beatrice said, her expression brightening also. “They make a handsome couple. He said he wanted to talk to me about something when he gets back today. I suspect I know what. In the meantime, I fancy a game of Backgammon, my dear. Set it up, will you?”
* * *
The guests arrived back shortly after three o’clock. Hannah waited till the hubbub of their return disappeared before leaving.
“If you happen to see my nephew on your way out, ask him to come and see me,” Lady Beatrice said, “I’m curious to know what he has to say. I fear I shan’t be able to nap otherwise.”
Hannah nodded. “As you wish, my lady. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
She stepped out into the hallway, thankful to see it empty, and headed for the front door. Nathaniel’s sudden appearance in the doorway of the study startled her.
“May I have a few minutes of your time, Miss Hannah?” he asked, his tone somber.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said, pasting a smile on her face. “I trust you had a pleasant day. Actually, I’m just on my way home. Lady Beatrice is eager to speak with you, however. She’s in her sitting room.” She lost the smile and continued toward the front door, eager to make her escape.
“Hannah, please.”
Nathaniel’s plea, so grave in its tone, halted her mid-stride. She turned and met his gaze. He looked tired, she thought. Then again, he’d probably been up half the night.
“Very well,” she replied, with more enthusiasm than she felt. She could no longer trust him, it seemed. Lady Cynthia had apparently turned his head and his heart. Even so, she uttered an apology. “And please forgive my hasty departure last evening, my lord. I felt a little unwell.”
He gave a brief smile. “Boscombe explained on your behalf. I trust your headache is better today?”
“It is, yes. Thank you.”
“Good.” He stood to the side and gestured to the study beyond. “This won’t take long.”
Hannah breathed in his familiar scent as she passed; sandalwood, tobacco, and a subtle hint of citrus pomade. A touch of heat arose in her cheeks and she drew a slow breath, trying to gather her thoughts and composure.
G
host, stretched out on the floor, lifted his head as she entered, welcoming her with a yawn and a wagging tail.
Nathaniel closed the door, isolating them. Something he had never done before. Indeed, something he had always been careful not to do. Hannah made no effort to correct him. The risk of scandal was now his. Not hers. In truth, it had never been hers. As she had been so recently reminded, her reputation had been sullied long ago, so what did it matter?
Of course, being this close to him, and alone with him, had its usual effect. But, despite the churning in her stomach, she loosened her shoulders, clasped her hands in front, and gave him a bold smile. “How may I be of service, my lord?”
“We’re alone, Hannah. You don’t need to—”
“Ah, yes. Forgive me.” She took a breath. “How may I be of service, Nathaniel?”
He frowned. Perhaps he’d heard the drop of acid in her tone. The frown vanished, replaced by a half-smile. He stepped over to the window and stood with his back to her as he gazed out. Hannah had the impression he wasn’t actually seeing anything beyond the glass, however. His stance suggested contemplation.
“I would like your opinion on a rather delicate matter,” he said, after a pause. He turned to face her. “And I hope you will provide it with your usual forthrightness.”
“I shall try, certainly,” she replied, genuinely curious.
He approached, stopping less than a stride away. Despite his purported dismissal of her the night before, Hannah couldn’t help but be drawn into the depths of his gaze. And, to add to the torture, she remained aware of more than that; the soft folds of his ivory-silk cravat, the way his chest rose and fell beneath the dark blue of his waistcoat, the intoxicating smell of him.
Dear God, how she wished things could be different. She yearned to be held by him, to be encased in his arms. To feel his strength. To feel safe. Hannah blinked and cursed her silly thoughts. Heaven forbid the truth of her feelings showed in her eyes. She also willed her wretched heart to quieten its loud, relentless thud.
“Last night’s rather splendid gathering did much to dispense any previous reservations,” he said. “As a result, I’ve decided that I do, indeed, wish to marry, and soon. Given the disastrous outcome of my last betrothal, however, I need to be certain that the character and integrity of my intended is beyond reproach. And that is where you, I hope, might provide some insight.”
Hannah’s frown came and went. “Insight?”
“Yes.” Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Of all the young ladies present at Allonby this weekend, who, do you think, would be most suited as my wife?”
He might as well have thrown a cup of cold water in her face, although Hannah managed to stop short of wincing. Instead, she gave a false, light-hearted laugh.
“Do you mock me, my lord?”
He looked perplexed. “Absolutely not. I merely value your opinion.”
She laughed again. It was either that, or capitulate to tears. “I’m not sure I’m willing, or even able, to offer such insight. Your choice of whom you wish to court as your future wife is yours to make, and yours alone.”
He grimaced. “I’m not asking you to choose for me, Hannah. I’m simply asking for your impression. A woman’s outer beauty is indisputable. A man need only use his eyes to see it. But physical beauty can sometimes be nothing more than a façade, one that blinds foolish men to what actually lies behind it. Take Lady Cynthia, for example. She is quite exquisite to look upon, and her demeanor appears to be beyond reproach. But is what I see a true representation? Or a skilful, feminine, masquerade? What do you see when you look at her? Is the woman honest or deceitful? Is she gentle-natured, or possessed of a harsh tongue? Tell me, Hannah, do you think the diamond is as flawless as it appears to be?”
Hannah drew a breath. Flawless? A diamond, certainly. Beautiful and bright. With a mother who would see me and my son cast off the Allonby estate as soon as possible.
Yet, in all fairness, Hannah couldn’t blame Lady Scarborough for wanting her gone. The majority of the ton would see it as quite reasonable, if not desirable. Allonby Chase had always been a sanctuary of sorts. But it was never meant to be permanent.
And, oh, the irony! Of all the ladies at the soiree, Hannah was probably the most deceitful, the one who hid behind the falsest façade. She wore it even now. Nathaniel de Wolfe would never know how he made her feel, or the things she’d wished for, hoped for, and dreamed about. An agonizing ache squeezed Hannah’s heart and her façade wobbled.
“We all have flaws, Nathaniel,” she said, reaching for some levity. “And that includes your illustrious self.”
“The Devil you say.” Nathaniel’s mouth twitched. “You must tell me what they are sometime. I’m curious to know what it is about me you find less than perfect.”
Until last night? Nothing, actually. Nothing at all.
Hannah’s cheeks warmed as she moved past him, taking the place at the window where he had stood minutes earlier. “To expect perfection in anyone is unrealistic,” she said, gazing out across Allonby’s emerald lawns. “It would appear, however, that Lady Cynthia is, indeed, a diamond of the first water. I highly doubt her to be capable of any sort of impropriety. And she is, of course, very beautiful.”
“A worthy consideration, then,” Nathaniel replied.
“Consideration?” Hannah laughed. “I believe you once declared that to be a dismal description of a future wife, Nathaniel. But yes, I’m certain Lady Cynthia possesses all the qualities you seek.” Collected, she turned to face him. “As do all the noble young ladies under this roof, no doubt. Lady Beatrice is more than diligent. She would never present you with anyone unsuitable.”
“No,” he said, his expression softening as he regarded her. “Now you come to mention it, I don’t suppose she would.”
The mantel clock began its hourly chime, drawing Hannah’s gaze. Four o’clock. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” she said, heading for the door, “I really must go.”
“You’re not coming back?” Nathaniel asked. “I was hoping you might join us for dinner. Perhaps play the harp again. It was an exquisite performance last night.”
Hannah managed to hide her shock. Was he mad? How could he ask such a thing after what had been said?
“Thank you, but regretfully, I cannot,” she replied, her tone cool. “I have a rendezvous this evening, actually. With a handsome young man.”
A frown flitted across Nathaniel’s face. “Do you, indeed.”
“Yes. We’re dining out at Castle Canaan. Got the idea from your outing this morning. Pork pie and egg custard is on the menu, I believe, as well as a bottle of vintage lemonade.”
“Ah, I see,” he said, his mouth relaxing into a smile. “A prospect entirely preferable to dining with a group of lords and ladies.”
“Yes, frankly, it is,” Hannah replied, as she turned to leave. “Lady Beatrice is awaiting your pleasure, my lord.”
She stepped out into the mild air and breathed deep, finding some comfort in the caress of the breeze and the symphony of evening birdsong. She needed to slow her heart and calm her mind. Lord Nathaniel’s betrothal announcement, by the sound of it, would soon be made.
The gravel crunched underfoot as Hannah gave her thoughts freedom. Her place at Allonby Chase was no longer assured. Reality, in its ugly, naked form, demanded her attention. The time had come to begin searching, in earnest, for a future elsewhere.
But where? Where might a fallen-from-grace daughter of an English Earl, and her baseborn son, find refuge? She had some money put away, but not much. Her father wouldn’t take her back – at least, not unless she surrendered Griffin, and she would rather die than do that. Perhaps she could try to find work as a governess, but it would not be easy with a child in tow.
Unless I lie. Claim widowhood. No. Too risky. If I was ever found out…
The surrounding landscape blurred as tears filled her eyes. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. “God, please. Help us.”
; “Mama!” Griffin came scooting out of the garden gate and galloped toward her in his beautiful, clumsy way. He’d obviously been watching for her. Waiting for her. The bright smile on his face declared his utter delight. “Miss Florrie packed our basket. Can we go right away?”
Hannah blinked the tears away and held her arms out in welcome. “Yes, darling. Of course.”
Nothing else mattered but Griffin. In the end, she had little choice, really. She could afford neither pride nor propriety. If and when the time came, she would throw herself on Nathaniel de Wolfe’s mercy and offer to work as a scullery maid if need be. She’d do anything. Anything to keep a roof over her child’s head and food in his belly.
Hannah kept out of the way till the following Wednesday, when she awoke to the sound of traffic outside her bedroom window. The guests were leaving. Later that morning, she returned to Allonby Chase, and sought out her patroness, not knowing quite what to expect.
“The entire gathering was very successful,” Lady Beatrice answered, in response to Hannah’s query. “Everyone left this morning in high spirits. Don’t expect too much of me this week, though, my dear. I’m rather tired.”
“I’m certain you are, my lady,” Hannah said, fiddling with a tassel on her shawl. “I expect Lord Nathaniel has spoken to you about his plans?”
Lady Beatrice gave her a sharp look. “Yes, indeed, at some length. He’s made a fine choice and I’m delighted for him. I’m sure everything will be settled once he returns.”
“Returns?” Hannah frowned. “Where has he gone?”
“I didn’t ask him for an itinerary, Hannah,” she replied, frowning. “He said he had some things to take care of with regards to his future bride, and he’d be back in a week or two.”
“I see.” Hannah took a breath. “Forgive me, Lady Beatrice, but did he happen to he talk to you about me and my son? About… about us having to vacate Bluebell Cottage?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. And I had to agree with him. It wouldn’t be proper for you to remain there once he’s married. But try not to worry. As I said, it will all be settled once he returns. You aren’t about to find yourself on the street, my dear.”
The Wolfe's Return Page 9
