Her mother’s eyes went wide, and Hannah thought her heart would break. She wanted to apologize but found the words caught in her throat.
“I have always wanted the best for you,” her mother said, her voice breaking. “Sometimes, in love, we must hurt those around us in order to do what is best for them. That is the cost of love.” Without another word, her mother closed the door and left Hannah standing in the darkness of the hallway.
Hannah returned to her room. She felt disgusted by the horrible words she had said to her mother. Her anger was not only with her mother, however. Albert had placed a kiss on her lips without her permission, and that was how this anger began. How could she have taken it out on her mother in such a horrible manner?
The truth of the matter was she had two choices. Either she could defy her mother and run away with Albert. They would marry, and she would become the wife of a sheep farmer, but at least she would be able to write.
Her other choice was to accompany Isabel to London for the season. There she would be forced to attend boring parties and endure the boorish manners of men who would see her as a choice cut of beef rather than as the woman she was.
Lying in bed, her eyes grew heavy. She had no idea what choice to make, but whichever it was, she had only three days to make it.
Chapter Two
There were two things expected of a marquess. The first was to secure a healthy bride who would produce an heir. The second was to act and remain a gentleman at all times in order to maintain a powerful standing and gain the respect of those in society.
Unfortunately, at the age of one and twenty, John Stanford had failed in both. It was not that he did not try to find a bride, for, in fact, he had attended the season for the last three years in order to do just that. However, with the numerous women who smiled his way, it was difficult to choose just one.
As to the second expectation—to be a gentleman—he was, in fact, such a man, contrary to what those in Cornwall said. If a gentleman happened to be taking his leisure in a pub and a fight ensued, whether it be over issues with gambling or some other disagreement, said gentleman had every right to defend himself.
His greatest challenge, however, was that more problems than normal came his way, unexpected ones like the one that now forced him to take a carriage to the home of his cousin, Laurence Redbrook, Duke of Ludlow.
Laurence, who in all reality was a second cousin to John, had married just a few months earlier, and John did not understand why the ceremony had been so small, or why it had been rushed. In truth, he was hurt he had not been invited, for he and his cousin shared a special bond. Not only had they attended the same schools, Laurence had gone to Cornwall in order to offer condolences when John’s father died.
Regardless, it was not the affront over the lack of invitation to the wedding that placed John on this journey. No, it was something far worse. Trouble unlike any he could have imagined had come his way, and, unwilling to deal with the consequences of his actions, he ran.
The carriage hit a rut, and John sighed as he grabbed the inside walls. Hiring a carriage at the last moment had been a mistake. The driver was inept, and John wondered if the man had as many years’ experience as he touted. His control of the vehicle certainly did not demonstrate it. Yet, there had been no alternative, for his departure from his home had been swift.
His plan was simple and, he thought, wise. He would arrive at the home of his cousin and find a way to join him and his new wife for the season. Laurence had never attended before, but John had received a letter one month prior that included the man’s plans, which had surprised John that Laurence was leaving behind the life of a recluse for the gaiety of parties and balls in London. Yet, the manner in which the Duke spoke of his wife intrigued John. He was curious to see what kind of woman could make as dramatic a change in the man as she had.
Drawing back the dark blue curtain, John glanced out at his surroundings. It had been a few years since he had visited Camellia Estates, and he was genuinely looking forward to a visit. As the carriage made a left, a bit faster than John expected, his face slammed into the window, and he grabbed his nose to see if he was bleeding. Luckily for the driver, he was not.
He took a deep breath to relax himself. It was imperative he not draw his cousin’s suspicions—or that of anyone else, for that matter. He had to maintain a cool demeanor, an air of unconcernedness, for if word reached Cornwall he was here, all would be lost.
The carriage stopped in front of Camellia Estate, much to John’s relief, and he closed his eyes for a moment in order to collect himself. By the time the door opened, he was much calmer.
“We’re here, my Lord,” the driver said with a bow.
“So we are,” John said in a clipped tone. “At least we arrived alive,” he added in a mumble.
“What was that, my Lord?”
John sighed. “Never mind.” He might need the man longer if things did not go well with Laurence, and there was the chance the man would return to Cornwall and reveal where he had taken John despite the fact John had paid him a hefty fee for keeping such information to himself. “Wait here. I shall return shortly.”
The man bowed again. “Yes, my Lord.”
Camellia Estates had not changed much since the last time John had visited. It still had its neat row of hedges that ran alongside the house and out to the stables to his left. However, no other extravagance was spent on the front gardens. If he remembered correctly, the former Duke and Duchess had focused more on the larger back gardens, which had always left John dumbfounded.
As he made his way to the front door, John rehearsed once more what he would say when he spoke to Laurence, but the door opened before he reached the bottom step. Laurence peered out as if not recognizing John, and then a woman joined him.
So, that must be his wife, John thought. The woman was beautiful with her blond hair in ringlets around her face and bright eyes filled with concern.
“There is no need to hurry to greet me,” John called out with a laugh when they stopped at the top of the steps.
“John?” Laurence asked. “Is that you? What on Earth are you doing here?” Then the man laughed. “I’m sorry, it is good to see you. I was not expecting you.”
“I’m pleased to see you, as well. I apologize for coming unannounced. I hope you do not mind.”
Laurence came down the steps to greet John; his limp did not appear as bad as John remembered. “Let’s have a look at you.” He placed his hands on John’s shoulders. “You have not changed much. A bit older, but we could say that about us all, could we not?” He turned to the woman. “I would like to introduce my wife, Isabel.”
The woman came to stand beside Laurence and offered a kind smile and a bend to her head. She had a regal stance but lacked the haughty air of many of the ton. He immediately felt relaxed in her company.
“Isabel, this is my cousin, John Stanford from Cornwall. I believe I have mentioned him.”
“Second cousin,” John corrected with a laugh. “But close enough to almost be considered firsts. My pleasure.” He kissed the top of her hand, and she smiled again.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
“Trust me, it is an honor to meet the woman about whom my cousin boasts in his letters.”
Isabel blushed. “It is good to finally meet you, as well,” she said. “It is true; Laurence has spoken of you often.”
John glanced down to see a letter clutched in her other hand before she pulled it behind her back. That piqued his curiosity. He made no inquiry, nor would he, but it would be interesting to learn what secrets this lady held.
An awkward silence fell around them. Would Laurence not ask him in? They had not parted ways on bad terms, not that John remembered.
“Isabel,” Laurence said, “you should be on your way.”
“But your cousin. I cannot be rude…”
Laurence gave her an even look and she fell silent. “If you are not back by five, I will meet you at the house. Otherwise, please g
ive my regards to your mother and sisters.” He made a gesture to a man John had not noticed standing beside one of the hedges. “Your driver is welcome to rest either with the stable hands or he may go in through the kitchen. I am certain Mrs. Brantley can get him a coffee or some tea if he so desires.”
“He is not my driver,” John said. “That is, yes, I hired him, but my own driver took ill and I was forced to hire him for my journey.”
“Where is it you are heading?” Laurence asked. “And what brings you this way?”
“London,” John replied, his heart racing. The next few minutes would be crucial, and he needed to keep his story straight. “I have no friends who are able to attend this year, as most are otherwise already engaged or married.” He let out a deep sigh. “I thought seeing you before I left on my own might lift my spirits. You know how I hate to be alone.”
“You will be staying at your London house alone?” Laurence asked in clear surprise.
John nodded. “It will be fine. If I am lucky, I may receive an invitation or two for dinner.”
Laurence clapped John on the back. “Well, no cousin of mine will be left alone, especially during the season. I have more than enough room for ten cousins—and their servants.”
Laurence pulled John toward the door, but John stopped him. “I cannot intrude on you and your wife’s first season together.” He sighed again. Sighing always helped make a point. “No, I shall wait alone and pray that a friend might turn up. I will be no nuisance to anyone.”
“Nonsense,” Laurence argued. “Your friend is already here. Let us have your belongings brought inside. We have much on which to catch up, and I have many questions to ask.”
“And I shall answer every one of them,” John replied. Inside, however, he worried. What would he ask? Perhaps he would not be as forthcoming with some questions as he would others.
John paid the driver to bring in his belongings. “Well, I am glad to have that journey end. That driver was a bit callous in his driving.”
“Many have little or no experience,” Laurence said as they headed inside. “So, tell me, how is life in Cornwall?”
They entered the foyer, and John turned to face his cousin. “It is the same as it always is, I suppose. Between working and caring for Mother, I find little time for myself. And you? Forgive my curiosity, but is everything in order? Isabel seemed…distressed.”
Laurence sighed and shook his head. “Isabel is well. It is her sisters who have caused us worry.”
“Perhaps sharing over a glass of brandy is in order?” John said with a wide grin.
Laurence laughed. “You and your brandy,” he said, although he headed to the study without pause. “At least I now have an excuse to have a few more drinks than I usually do.”
***
John spent the next hour answering his cousin’s questions about life in Cornwall. Although he did not inform him of everything—leaving out certain parts John did not wish to share—he told enough to satisfy the questions the man asked, or so he assumed by the smile he wore.
They were on their second brandy, and Laurence, being a light drinker, loosened his tongue and was sharing life as one married to a member of the Lambert family.
“So, let me see if I understand this correctly,” John said. “There are two more sisters?” When Laurence nodded, John added, “And a cousin who is more a sister than a cousin?”
“Yes. In the manner in which I see you as a brother? That is how they see Annabel.”
The kind words sent a spear of guilt through John’s heart for the lies he had told his cousin. Well, not lies outright but more omissions. Regardless, he could not help the feeling of remorse.
“Juliet is the youngest of the three sisters and is prone to mischief. When Isabel told me this morning that it was Hannah who had left the house in the middle of the night, we were both shocked.”
“She does not typically do such things?”
“Certainly not,” Laurence replied. “Or rather, we would never have suspected such behavior from her. She is intelligent, well read, and far from one who would engage in that type of mischief.”
John suppressed a smile. He had known many societal women who had done things such as drinking or sneaking from their homes at night. However, this Hannah, who by all accounts Laurence had described as a bluestocking without using the term, intrigued him much. Where would a bluestocking go at night?
“With the season nearing,” John said after taking a sip of his brandy, “she will soon be married. Then her wild ways will be left behind. It will be good for her. In London, she will be far too busy to find trouble. This is her first season, I presume?”
Laurence glanced around as if someone would overhear before leaning toward John and lowering his voice. “Do not tell a soul, but last year right before the season was to begin, Hannah came down with a mysterious illness. The doctor could find nothing wrong but recommended bed rest. It was only recently that I learned she had fabricated the whole thing so she would not have to attend.”
John laughed. “She feigned illness to escape the season? This woman is quite the mischief-maker!” When he took notice of the frown Laurence wore, he added, “My apologies. I meant no disrespect to the woman.”
Laurence sighed. “Yes, I realize this. It is just that Isabel worries for her sisters as a mother would her children, and I find myself worrying for all of them. Hannah is a wonderful woman, and the plan is to see her find a husband. However, I fear her stubbornness and intelligence will make it much more difficult than it should. It is not her wish to find a husband from what I understand.” He stopped and tilted his head at John. “Why have you not married, or become engaged at the very least?”
John, who had just taken a sip of his drink, erupted in a choking cough. “Sorry, it went down the wrong way,” he managed to say. He cleared his throat and set the glass on the table before him. “These things a man must do in order to find a bride are such a cumbersome burden. But in truth, I have not found a woman to my liking.” And that was the truth, for although many women sought his attention, and he theirs, he could never seem to dedicate himself to just one. Each woman had something to give that he enjoyed, but he had yet to find that one woman who possessed it all.
Laurence gave him a thoughtful look. “I thought I would remain alone,” he said. “That is, until I met Isabel. Many women in this world possess strength, and a man is fortunate when he finds one.”
“I truly am happy for you,” John said, glad the conversation had moved on to a new, and safer, subject. “Perhaps you two shall provide the influence Hannah needs this season. When she sees your happiness, she might just put her wild ways behind her.”
“That is our hope,” Laurence replied. “However, she will need convincing from someone other than ourselves. If she could see that the season is indeed a festive time to celebrate…” his words trailed off and a smile came to his lips. “John,” he said with a thoughtful look, “might I ask a favor of you?”
“Of course,” John replied. “There is nothing I would not do for you.” Laurence was the kind of man who had more than once given John aid, and if giving this man a favor meant John could spend the season with him and leave behind his troubles in Cornwall, he would do anything the man requested.
“Hannah. Would you make her feel…wanted?” Laurence shook his head. “My choice of words is poor. What I mean to say is…that is…”
“You are asking your handsome cousin to feign interest in her?” John asked with a grin. “Perhaps give her a boost of confidence so she will be more willing to accept further invitations from other men?”
Laurence laughed. “Yes, exactly that. I was hoping to say it in a more, let us say, delicate, manner.”
“I would be happy to assist you in this endeavor,” John said as he raised his glass as if to toast. “For the first few weeks, the woman will believe I cannot breathe unless she is in my presence. Her spirit will be lifted to such heights, every eligible man will gaze to
the sky in order to see her.”
Laurence shook his head. “You certainly have a high opinion of yourself.”
“Not at all,” John said with a chuckle. “I am simply the pedestal on which Miss Hannah will stand in order to be noticed by someone more…appropriate. I am handsome for a reason, after all.”
“You have never been modest concerning your appearance. If it serves you well, then I believe you have the right to brag.”
Although on the outside John wore a smile, inside he trembled. His handsomeness, as it were, was exactly the reason he was in his current predicament; it had caused him more problems than good as of late.
“You must understand one thing,” Laurence said, taking on a serious stance. “Isabel and her sister’s happiness mean everything to me. You must not allow Hannah, or Isabel for that matter, to learn of this arrangement. It is crucial that Hannah find a suitor this season, for Isabel and I both fear she may try to avoid doing so once again.”
John lifted his glass once more. “Have no fear. There is nothing with which to worry concerning Hannah. She will suspect nothing, and, with my help, I may even be able to guide her to a gentleman worthy of marriage.”
“Thank you,” Laurence replied. “You have no idea how much relief this gives me.”
The two men raised their glasses, and as John took a sip from his, his mind began to wander. It would not be difficult to get Hannah under his spell, for all women were easily prone to it. Yet, there was more to gain than the gratitude of his cousin. Although he would honor his word and find her a gentleman by the season’s end, he would also have the woman pay him for his generosity.
And as the plans began to develop in his mind, his smile widened all the more.
Chapter Three
Hannah sat on Juliet’s bed listening to her sister explain to their cousin Annabel how she had injured her ankle. It had been Hannah’s intention to seek advice for her dilemma with Albert and the upcoming season, but she was interested in how the girl—no she was now eighteen, no longer a girl but a young woman—had ended up in bed rather than readying herself for her first season.
Echoes of the Heart: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 2 Page 3
