World of de Wolfe Pack: The Wolfe's Return (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Avril Borthiry

  “To be honest, my lord, I not terribly familiar with his work,” she said, hugging the book to her chest. “Which is shameful really, considering he lives nearby.”

  De Wolfe made no effort to move away. Hannah could have reached up to touch his face without taking a single step closer. Although he still wore the same waistcoat she’d seen earlier, he’d since removed his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt collar. The exposed triangle of flesh at his throat was level with Hannah’s eyes. She made a deliberate effort not to look at it and instead forced her gaze to meet his. The magnetism of the man was palpable.

  “Then I shall look forward to hearing your thoughts after you’ve read it,” De Wolfe said, and gestured past her with a nod of his head. “For now, though, shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

  Comfortable? She frowned and tore her gaze from his, looking for the object of his focus. The sofa? Oh, dear. I hope he doesn’t think…

  “I should make something clear, Lord Nathaniel,” she said. “I may have had a child out of wedlock, but that does not mean I am without morals.”

  De Wolfe blinked and regarded her as though she’d grown an extra head. “Good lord, what do you take me for? Yet again you misjudge me and, dare I say, flatter yourself. I even left the damn door open for propriety’s sake, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Hannah flinched inwardly and cursed her foolishness. She had spoken without aforethought and hadn’t even considered the significance of the open door. Still, the man might have expressed himself in a manner a little less harsh. To suggest she’d flattered herself hurt to the core.

  Then again... You deserved that, Hannah. How stupid are you? Why, indeed, would a man like De Wolfe even consider trifling with the likes of you?

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, struggling to find her voice. “I don’t know what I was thinking. In fact, it seems I wasn’t thinking at all. Your indignation is warranted, of course.”

  De Wolfe shook his head and moved away from her to a spot by the fireplace, where he gazed up at the portrait hanging there. Oddly, it was a painting of a young boy, seated astride a black pony. “There’s no need to pursue this issue with your son any further,” he said. “Griffin is no concern of mine, and you undoubtedly have a valid explanation for him being at Castle Canaan on his own. Besides, my initial misgivings are no longer what they were.”

  De Wolfe’s voice, while not exactly bitter, lacked its previous warmth. Hannah’s heart sank. It seemed she’d pushed him away, yet he had done her no harm. To the contrary, he’d been nothing but gracious and kind. She felt sick at offending him. She closed her eyes and cursed that vulnerable, eternally defensive part of her. And, truth be told, she was not even defending herself.

  She was defending Griffin.

  Bad enough that her son suffered from a physical deformity. But he had yet to experience the repercussions of the shameful legacy she had bestowed upon him—the burden of illegitimacy. That actuality, aside all else, caused her infinite shame and guilt.

  It was a shackle without a key.

  “I usually go with him.” Determined to make amends, Hannah moved to sit on the sofa. “Castle Canaan is his favorite place. But I had promised myself that I’d tidy the garden this morning, so I refused when he asked if we could go. To my utter surprise, he asked if he could go by himself. I refused again, adamantly. But he persisted with his request, and with a vehemence I had never seen before. You have to understand, Lord Nathaniel, Griffin is not able to…” Her voice faltered. “There is much my son cannot do. In the end I relented, because he assured me he could do this one thing. And …and I knew he needed to do it. I could see it in his eyes. Griffin wanted to prove to me, and more importantly to himself, that he was capable. But if you think I had a single moment of peace after he left, you are sorely mistaken, my lord. Allowing him to walk away from me this morning was one of the hardest things I have ever done.”

  De Wolfe heaved an audible sigh. “Nathaniel,” he said, turning to face her.

  Hannah frowned. “Pardon?”

  “Since we’ll be seeing each other frequently from now on, there’s no need for titles when we’re alone. Please, call me Nathaniel. And before you unleash another volley of your defensive arrows, my request is free from motive or proviso. It is merely a gesture of friendship and, frankly, convenience. Unless, of course, you find the familiarity discomforting for some reason.”

  Hannah’s first instinct was to refuse, but another voice told her to put such propriety aside. What would it matter anyway? And she genuinely liked this man. Also, at some point down the road, her future, and that of her son, might well be at his mercy. It wouldn’t hurt, then, to fashion an agreeable relationship with him.

  “Well, it might take some time for me to feel comfortable addressing you so casually,” she said. “But I shall endeavor to do as you ask, my lor—er, Nathaniel.”

  Smiling, he inclined his head. “Your endeavors are appreciated, Miss Hannah.”

  She returned the smile. “I feel I must, then, in good heart, reciprocate. Please call me Hannah whenever we are, um, alone.”

  “Thank you, Hannah.” He settled into an adjacent chair. “And your explanation about Griffin’s little adventure is more than I expected. He’s a plucky little fellow.”

  “Yes, he is. I must thank you again, my—, er, Nathaniel, for seeing him safely home. Until today, he’d never sat a horse. I doubt I’ll hear the last of it for a while. He’s terribly excited about the excursion tomorrow, too. You should know, however, that he’s not able to stand for long periods and tires easily, so I hope he won’t be a burden. May I ask how you mean to travel?”

  “I can assure you, he’ll not be a burden at all,” Nathaniel replied, “and I’ll be taking my aunt’s phaeton. Is that acceptable?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I just wondered.”

  “You needn’t worry, Hannah,” Nathaniel said. “I’ll look after the boy as if he were my own. I’m not unused to children. I have two nephews, aged seven and five, the eldest being my godson, and we get along famously. And I was a lad myself, once.” His mouth quirked. “Spent a summer here when I was six, and became fascinated with the castle ruins, so I can understand Griffin’s attraction to them.”

  “Except in your case, there’s a blood connection.” Hannah felt the stirring of her own blood as she spoke of it. “You might be interested to know that I’ve been delving a little into the De Wolfe line. I found a book written – or perhaps I should say, created – by Lord Parsonby. It started out as a genealogy dedicated, primarily, to the Parsonby line. But it seems he discovered a possible marital link to the De Wolfe family that precedes yours and goes right back to Castle Canaan. Something about it must have caught his interest, because he’s explored the history of the place, and the De Wolfe line, in fascinating detail.”

  Nathaniel’s brows lifted. “I should like very much to see it,” he said, glancing about. “Is it here?”

  “Yes.” Hannah stood, went to the desk by the window, and placed her hand atop a leather-bound tome. “This is it.”

  Nathaniel came and stood beside her. Intoxicated by the musky scent of him, Hannah gripped the edge of the desk, hiding her steadying hand in the folds of her dress.

  This is ridiculous, Hannah. It simply will not do. Make an excuse. Leave him to peruse the book and go busy yourself elsewhere.

  “I don’t suppose there’s a plan of Castle Canaan in here, is there?” he asked, opening the book.

  “As it used to be?” Hannah nodded. “Yes, actually, there is, although it’s somewhat rudimentary. Hand-drawn by Lord Parsonby, I assume, but it’s clear enough. There’s no reference given for his source, however, so I can’t vouch for its accuracy. May I?”

  “Please.”

  Intimately familiar with the contents of the book, Hannah opened it to the relevant page with little hesitation. “It must have been something to see,” she said, moving her hand away again. “Well, it still is, actually.”

 
“Indeed.” Frowning, Nathaniel traced his fingertips over the drawing. “So, the great hall was… yes, of course. That’s fairly obvious. And the stables were over here. Interesting. It’s a rather unusual design.” He glanced at her. “I was hoping to find something like this, but never thought to search for it within these walls. Thank you, Hannah.”

  “My pleasure,” she replied, “although I’m sure you’d have found it without my help eventually.”

  “Perhaps.” He turned his attention back to the book. “I’ll be looking at the ruins with fresh eyes the next time I’m there.”

  “As did I after I’d seen the original plan,” she said. “Actually, if you’d asked Griffin about it this morning, he would have told you exactly how the castle used to be, knights and all. He has a vivid imagination.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Lord Nathaniel chuckled. “I’ll be sure to consult his expertise tomorrow.”

  “Be warned, he can be a real chatterbox,” Hannah said, her throat contracting.

  If for no other reason, Nathaniel de Wolfe, I could love you for the kindness you have shown to my son.

  “The notes on the history of the castle and some of the De Wolfe genealogy begin on the next page,” she said. “It’s actually a very romantic tale, if you like that kind of thing. Er, if you’ll excuse me, my lord, I must take my leave of you. Lady Beatrice is sure to be awake soon and will have need of me.”

  “Nathaniel,” he said, raising those fearless eyes back to hers. “Speaking of romance, has my Aunt finished rounding up the flock of my potential brides yet?”

  Taken aback, Hannah hesitated. “Er, I… I believe so. That is, there is one consideration who has yet to confirm.”

  “Consideration?” Nathaniel gave a bitter laugh. “A rather dismal description for a woman I’m expected to spend the rest of my life with, don’t you think?”

  Hannah searched for a suitable rejoinder to placate, and failed to find one.

  “It’s all right,” he said, heaving a sigh. “I don’t require an answer.”

  Hannah decided to throw discretion to the wind. “For what it’s worth, I happen to agree with you,” she said. “But then again, one of those considerations might turn out to be the love of your life.”

  “Undying love and trust?” Nathaniel arched a dark brow. “You don’t really believe in such things, do you, Hannah?”

  The cynicism in his voice failed to hide the bitterness.

  “Yes, actually, I do,” she replied, with an affirming nod. “But I fear not everyone is fortunate enough to find it.”

  Eyes narrowing, he regarded her in silence. Hannah felt there was more he wished to share. Part of her longed to hear it. Another part feared hearing it, although she wasn’t sure why.

  In the end, the man merely heaved a sigh.

  “I’ll collect Griffin at eight in the morning,” he said. “Weather permitting, of course, which is about the only foreseeable thing that might foil our plans.”

  “He’ll be ready.” Hannah smiled. “And thank you again, Nathaniel.”

  Once out in the hallway, Hannah paused and pressed her book of poetry to her chest. She took a breath and resolved to give herself a good talking-to. Maybe her father was right. Maybe she was wanton.

  “Damnation,” she muttered, and went in search of some tea.

  Chapter Five

  Nathaniel couldn’t get the blasted woman off his mind. Not only was she in his head, but he also felt the burden of remorse on his conscience. Christ, she looked like she’d been struck when he’d accused her of self-flattery. The brief flare of pain in her eyes had gone straight to his heart. He’d been too harsh. But, damn it, she’d riled him, insinuating he had seduction in mind, when all he’d intended was to talk about her son.

  Nathaniel frowned and shifted in his chair. The idea of seducing Hannah Sedgewick was not at all unpleasant, as it happened. Quite out of the question, however.

  “Am I boring you, Nephew?”

  His aunt’s voice jolted him back to the present. Preoccupied, he’d sat through dinner listening to her tales with only half-an-ear. He straightened his spine. “Not at all, Aunt. I allowed my thoughts to drift for a moment, that’s all. I beg your pardon.”

  She lifted her quizzing glass and studied him. “Anything you wish to share, my boy? Do you have concerns about the estate? If you have questions, ask them. There’s much to learn, not that I doubt your capability, of course.”

  “Not about the estate, exactly, no,” he replied. “But I do have questions about someone who lives here.”

  “Who?”

  “Miss Hannah.”

  “Caught your eye, has she? Don’t trifle with her, Nathaniel. I’d be very disappointed if you did.”

  “I have no intention of trifling with her, Aunt. I’m merely curious, that’s all.” He pushed his plate away, picked up his wine glass, and sat back. “I met her son today. Quite by accident, I might add. What’s the story?”

  Beatrice clucked. “It’s an epic, my dear boy, and not one I share with too many people. But to summarise, we have a young, naïve girl who surrendered her innocence to a Dutch noble, who then left her with child, fled to Ireland, and proceeded to drown in a shipwreck. We also have a widowed father who disowned his only daughter as soon as her pregnancy was discovered, and a bastard child born with an unfortunate deformity. Indeed, one could not make this entire debacle up.”

  “An epic, as you say,” Nathaniel said, mulling over the tale. “But what’s the connection to you? There must be one. No offence intended, but you don’t strike me as someone who would open both door and heart to disgraced daughters of the ton without good reason.”

  “Indeed not!”

  “So, why is she here?”

  “Because Hannah’s grandmother, God rest her soul, was a very dear friend of mine. Hannah’s father wanted to ship the girl to some place in Switzerland to give birth, place the baby in an orphanage, and then return home. But the silly chit refused to give up the child and threatened all kinds of foolishness. The scandal leaked out, of course, and provoked the expected response. Fortunately, I was in London at the time and got wind of it all. I’d be surprised if it didn’t reach your ears. Anyway, right or wrong, I decided to take Hannah under my wing, otherwise she’d have been out on the street. Consequently, Griffin was born here.”

  “I never did pay much attention to scandal,” Nathaniel, said, frowning into his wine goblet. It occurred to him that he hadn’t thought about Marielle for a while. Even now, the thought of her with Percy, to his great surprise, came and went without effect. “I’ve been immersed in it, as you are well aware. But I don’t remember hearing about this. I don’t even recognize the Sedgewick name. Who is Hannah’s father? Do I know him?”

  “You’ll know of him, I’m sure. He’s Horatio James Tremayne, the fifth Earl of Bracebridge. Hannah dropped her title and assumed the Sedgewick name to avoid recognition. Sedgewick was actually her grandmother’s maiden name.”

  “Bloody hell.” Nathaniel straightened as the vague memory of an associated scandal teased his brain. “Hannah is Bracebridge’s daughter?”

  “Yes. Mind you, she’s seen neither hide nor hair of him for over five years. I believe she wrote to him once or twice, but had no reply. I’ve heard nothing from him, either. The scandal has long since died down, but it seems Horatio, so far, has been unable to forgive or forget. Understandable, I suppose.”

  “So, she’s no Miss, but a Lady.” Nathaniel let his gaze drift to the window, where the summer’s golden dusk had settled over the countryside. “It must have been hard on her,” he murmured.

  Lady Beatrice grunted. “Don’t pity her, Nathaniel. There’s a price to be paid for imprudence. Hannah broke her father’s heart, and I have no qualms in declaring, that without me, she’d have been in a far worse pickle. That said, I’ve grown very fond of the girl. I enjoy her company and value her as a companion. She’s intelligent and honest and she’s certainly no libertine. In fact, I don
’t believe she ever was. She fell foul of a scoundrel’s lies and paid the price. As for the boy, I rarely see him. They live in Bluebell Cottage at my behest. I drew the line at having a bastard child running around the house. Not that Griffin can actually run, of course.”

  Nathaniel’s mouth twitched as he shook his head. “You have the gift of subtlety, dear Aunt. I can but admire the tactful way you express yourself.”

  “Hmm, I actually do feel some pity for the child, as it happens. None of this is his fault.” Beatrice looked at him, her expression softening. “It’s not the first time I’ve taken on someone else’s troubled offspring, either. I seem to recall another occasion, many years ago, when I gave shelter to a young boy. He’d just lost his mother and was angry at the entire world.”

  Nathaniel’s heart lurched. “Yes,” he said, after a moment. “I don’t believe I ever properly thanked you for that. At the time, I didn’t realize what it meant. The importance of it. I do now.”

  “Let’s not get maudlin, dear boy.” Beatrice sniffed. “Just take good care of the estate after I’m gone. God knows, I’m not getting any younger.”

  “You’ll be around for years yet, Aunt,” Nathaniel said, and drained his wine glass. “Probably outlive all of us.”

  Chapter Six

  “You must do as he says, Griffin, no arguing,” Hannah said, looking out of the window as she brushed her son’s curls into some kind of order. “But don’t be afraid to tell him if you’re tired. Or if your leg hurts. All right? Promise?”

  “Yes, Mama. Ouch!” Griffin winced as the bristles tugged at a knot in his hair.

  “Sorry. And try not to get too dirty. There. You look very— oh, he’s here!” Hannah’s hand shook as she set the brush down. “Put your jacket on, darling, I don’t want you to get chilled. I hope Lord Nathaniel has a blanket with him.”

  Griffin pulled his jacket on and began to button it. Hannah crouched to help him.

  “I love you, my little lord,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Please be careful.”