When John was gone, Isabel rounded on Hannah. “We must speak,” she said, using that tone Hannah recognized as her voice of authority. Oh, she was in quite a pickle! Her sister grabbed her elbow and directed her to a place behind a bench. “What made you believe you could leave a party and be seen alone with a man?”
“It was just John…”
“I do not care if it was John or any other man! Few here know you, nor do they know he is a guest in our home. Perception is everything.”
“I…was not feeling well and needed…”
“Fresh air?” Isabel asked. “And much to your eternal gratitude, somehow you convinced John to escort you lest you faint?”
Hannah nodded. “Yes.” She had never been so embarrassed in all her life. Who was this woman she becoming?
“When Mother told me you sneaked out of the house, I was mortified. Now you are sneaking away from a party! You cannot do such things. It is unladylike and will cause embarrassment not only for John but for yourself, as well.”
“I know,” Hannah said with a heavy sigh. “But I was concerned.”
“Concerned? About what?”
Hannah swallowed. “John. I find I enjoy his company; however, there are other women who would like nothing more than to be in his company, but for reasons that are not proper. I am sorry, but I feigned illness in order to save him.”
Isabel shook her head. “I do not understand. Save him from whom?”
“Other women,” Hannah replied. “You see, there are some who would think him handsome…” She paused. Would Isabel truly understand? Did she herself truly understand? “I believe some of these women may have an interest in John for reasons that are…deceptive.”
And I do not wish to see him with someone else, she added silently. Then she paused. What was she doing? This was not the person she truly was! How had she become this petty debutante? A woman reminiscent of Juliet?
However, Hannah could not stop the odd feelings that picked at her mind like a hen at the ground.
“Come with me,” Isabel said, taking Hannah by the elbow and leading her to a nearby bench. “I must ask. Do you have feelings for John?”
Hannah sighed. “I am unsure,” she replied. “It is all so confusing. I worry John will be taken by a woman who is completely wrong for him.” She raised a hand to stop her sister from responding. “I realize it is unfounded and that he is not my responsibility; however, I cannot seem to help myself.” Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. She would cry for no man! “What is wrong with me? I am a woman of reason not a romantic fool!”
Isabel seemed to study Hannah. “I see what is happening here,” she said. “I suspected something like this might occur, but I did not expect it to be so soon.”
“What is that?” Hannah asked.
“I believe you have become enamored by John.”
Hannah shook her head. “No! I refuse! I cannot, and will not, be interested in any man. I have my book to finish and…”
Isabel chuckled. “It happens when we least expect it. But remember this. You have yet to experience the season. Do not put all your eggs in one basket. Allow other men to ask you to dance and enjoy in conversation, but you must remain a lady at all times. No more feigning illnesses or attempting to be alone with a man. It would devastate Mother if she learned how you behaved tonight.”
Hannah sighed. Her sister was right. “I am sorry,” she said. “I understand and swear it will never happen again.” Shame overwhelmed her, and she hoped her face was not blotchy from the tears she had failed to stop.
“I do not say this to be cruel,” Isabel said as she dabbed Hannah’s face with a kerchief. “Like Mother, I only want the best for you, and I will do anything I can to assure your life is as perfect as it can be.”
Hannah embraced her sister. “I know. And I will do my best to act in the manner in which I was raised.”
Isabel smiled. “Good. Now, what are we to do about John?”
“I honestly do not know what came over me. Now that I look back on the past couple of days, I find myself more embarrassed than ever. The best thing to do is to focus on my writing and keep my head about me.” Then she giggled. “You know, I cannot take full responsibility for my actions this evening.”
With wide eyes, Isabel said, “Oh? And why is that? Do you wish to place blame on me?”
“No, not you,” Hannah said with a laugh. “It is Juliet. The years of listening to her stories have been a bad influence on me.”
Isabel joined in her laughter. “One of her is quite enough, thank you,” she said as she rose from the bench. “Come. Let us end this night with fun and speak no more on this matter.”
As the night grew later, Hannah considered how she arrived with the sole goal of catching John’s eye. Unfortunately, she struggled to keep her thoughts from the man. How she gone from a deliberate intelligent woman to a lovesick fool, she did not know.
***
When John returned to the townhouse, the others retired for the night; however, John went to the drawing room to have a final measure of brandy. The night had been strange. Not necessarily abysmal, but rather odd. He had given Miss Tambling and Miss Wellington his best smiles and had thrilled in the blush on their cheeks. It was an act he had sworn off, and yet he had done it anyway, for it came so naturally, as easy as breathing.
It was the moment when Hannah appeared, that was when his night had begun to unravel into the confusion that consumed him now. Not because she had interrupted, however, but because he found her an enigma. How did one explain the type of woman Miss Hannah Lambert was?
The woman was a bluestocking, that much he had ascertained. Yet tonight she had acted the braggart, which he had not expected from her. Other women, those such as Miss Tambling, in fact, had those tendencies, but Hannah did not seem the type.
It was not only her behavior that was in question, but his, as well. He had escorted her outside—alone! She was not the typical privileged lady to be left alone in the company of a man; however, no other choice was to be had, not if she had taken ill.
And therein lay the next part of his confusion. When she told him she was unwell, it had somehow frightened him. Why would he become overly concerned for Hannah? Yet, when she fell into his arms, he had an overwhelming desire to protect and care for her that he could not explain.
With her in his arms, he felt strong and protective, and, he had to admit, he enjoyed the embrace to the point he did not wish to release her. In fact, he had dared to consider kissing the woman such was his immediate reaction to her. What had begun as a favor to his cousin to feign interest in the woman was becoming much more, and he no longer saw it as a game, which was what had him sitting alone in the drawing room drinking yet another brandy and unable to sleep.
By all accounts, he knew that women could not resist his smile, and therefore, he was confident he could choose any woman he desired. Hannah was far different from his typical conquest with her love of animals and books, and he found it difficult to not think of her as he did other women. In truth, he wanted to choose her, and that did not sit well with him. What had brought on this strange desire for a woman so unlike the others he had pursued in the past? A woman so unlike himself?
Perhaps he wanted to pretend interest to the point he had tricked his own mind. He considered this as he took another drink of his brandy, its liquid like fire as it soothed his throat. Now that he was driven by something beyond pleasing his cousin, should he continue this strange pursuit? As he imagined spending more time with Hannah, doubt crept into his mind.
He had done many things that, if she learned of them, she might just turn and run. Run as far from him as she could, just as he had run away from that problem he prayed would never find him. Yet, for whatever reason, he knew Hannah was kind; she would understand.
“I am glad you are awake.”
John started and turned to see Laurence standing at the door.
His cousin shot him a wide grin. “You, my
favorite cousin, have made me quite happy.”
“Oh?” John asked as Laurence poured himself a drink. “What is it that I have done to merit such an esteemed title?”
Laurence laughed and walked over to refill John’s glass. “My Isabel is happy, and that is all I care about.”
“Well, that tells me little,” John replied.
“You see, I told you how Isabel’s mother wanted Hannah to attend the season, yet she did not want to?”
John nodded. “You did.”
“It seems that Hannah has become a bit enamored with you. Isabel believes she will want to remain in London, and I have you to thank for that.”
So, it was as John had suspected. “You are most welcome,” he replied. “I did not mind.” In fact, he wished to tell Laurence the truth, that he had come to enjoy the woman’s company, as well, but he was unsure how to approach it without sounding a cad. His cousin had not asked him to woo the young lady, after all, but to make her more pliable for someone more appropriate for her.
Laurence chuckled. “I am glad you enjoyed the task. Now, your work is done. There is no need to continue with the charade.”
“Well,” John said, choosing his words carefully, “concerning that matter, I have realized that Hannah…” He paused. Could he risk the woman’s heart if she came to learn of his past? The mere thought of her hurt or upset pained him. Yet, could he stop himself from seeing her?
Laurence gave him an expectant look. “Yes? What is it?”
John juggled his thoughts. No, he was not the best man for such a woman as Hannah. “I am glad to have made her happy,” he replied with reluctance. “Now, with the season before us, I do hope she finds happiness.”
“Look at you,” Laurence said with a wide grin. “Always thinking of others before yourself.”
John forced a smile, but he wished he would be honest for once in his life.
“So, tell me of this Miss Oakley,” Laurence said. “You met her at the inn?”
“I did,” John said. He remembered his initial thought of considering stealing a kiss from the woman, and he felt a sudden sense of guilt. He had never had such a reaction when he thought of winning a kiss! “We engaged in pleasantries, and now it appears her father is eager to do business with me.”
Laurence shook his head. “I cannot believe your luck! Do not forget your cousin who invited you when you consider making a business deal with the man.” He laughed and lifted his glass.
“I will not,” John replied, lifting his glass, as well.
As Laurence chatted, John weighed his options. As much as he had grown to enjoy Hannah’s company, he knew that he would not be the best match for her, nor she for him. They were simply too different from one another. Of course, she was unaware of that fact, for she only saw the man he presented to her. It would be best if he focused his energies on Lord Oakley and his business ventures rather than on a lovely bluestocking with beautiful blond hair and deep blue eyes.
Despite this decision, however, he could not stop his mind from turning to that particular woman and her being in his arms, and he realized that ridding himself of that memory would be much more difficult than he ever anticipated.
Chapter Ten
For the week following his decision to distance himself from Hannah, John came to the realization that he had made a wise choice, even if it was not necessarily the choice he wished to make. He continued to engage Hannah in conversation whenever he joined her and his cousins for one outing or another, but as soon as they returned home, he made whatever feeble excuse he could to leave whenever Hannah invited him to join her in the library or made other attempts to speak to him alone. Unfortunately, all this did was confuse him more, for out of all of the women he had pursued, Hannah was the only whose feelings he cared if he hurt. That fact still tickled the edge of his mind as he walked down St. James Street.
It was late evening, and most of the shops had closed for the day. However, there were certain establishments still open, establishments that would provide a gentleman with a glass of brandy, gambling, and provide for other needs he might wish met. John had frequented such places often over the past four years, but now he was unsure if he wanted anything beyond a drink. In truth, he wanted to be near Hannah, but that was impossible, for he doubted he would be able to trust himself in her presence.
The endless cycle of frustration caused his shoulders to draw tight, and he came to a stop before a particular establishment which bore the name ‘The Noble Gentleman’. To any passersby, the sign was meant to convey a sense of regard and esteem; however, the reality was far from respectable.
How often had I been ‘far from respectable’ myself by frequenting such a place? he wondered. More often than he cared to admit.
With a sigh, he opened the outside door, which opened to a small foyer where two men flanked a second door, their bulging muscles making it clear to anyone entering that foolishness was not tolerated. They offered no words as John walked past them, nor did John them.
As soon as he passed through the inside door, he was assaulted by the strong odor of smoke, the sounds of laughter or the shouts of anger, and the faint tune of a dulcimer somewhere unseen. Tables scattered throughout the room held groups of men playing cards or dicing. Women, also referred to as ‘companions’, smiled, laughed, and encouraged whichever man gave them his attention—and his coin.
John made his way to a long bar where a burly man quite older than he asked, “Whatcha havin’?”
“A brandy,” John replied. He produced a coin and placed it on the bar before he turned to study the room. One of the men playing cards stood, raised a fist, and began shouting at another. Two chaps stalked over, grabbed the screaming fellow, and removed him from the building.
“Here ya go,” the barkeep said.
John thanked him and took a sip of the brandy. He was always surprised at the quality of the drinks in this place; the club was not of the highest standard, although it was not of the lowest, either. Despite what took place there, it managed to stay open. He wondered how many palms were greased in order to keep it so.
Yet, was that not the manner of the London season? So many of the ton walked about with their noses in the air only to later scurry away in secret to partake in acts that were less than acceptable. It was hypocrisy at its best, and John was no better than any of them.
“The last time I saw such a handsome man, he told me I was beautiful.”
John turned at the voice he recognized and chuckled. “Frances,” he said with a smile. “It has been what? A year? And yet you look exactly the same.” What he said was true. Her flowing red hair and blazing blue eyes caught the eye of many men, which in turn paid for the white gown and the sapphire necklace she wore.
“I shall take that as a compliment, my Lord,” Frances replied. “Although, I do wonder if I am pretty enough to be bought a drink?” She gave him an easy smile, and he laughed.
“A wine for the lady, please,” he called to the barkeep and then looked Frances up and down.
She blushed, and John felt a bit better. Yes, he had foregone never to do these actions again, but he had to admit that making a woman, even one such as Frances, blush was something that brought on a pleasant feeling.
When the glass of wine arrived, Frances took a sip. “Lovely,” she said. “Much like you.” She twirled a lock of her hair around a finger before taking another sip of her wine. “Every season you come here, drink and gamble, and yet you still have no woman on your arm.”
“I may have a woman and simply have yet to tell you about her,” he said.
A smile played on her lips as she took a step toward him. “I do not believe that,” she said in a light tone. “You are a good man and would not be here if a woman caught your interest.”
He chuckled. “You may be right,” he said and raised an eyebrow at her. “Or perhaps I am a rogue who cares only for himself.”
“Are you not a kissing bandit?” she asked with a feigned air of innocen
ce.
“A kissing bandit?” John asked with a laugh. “And why would you believe that?”
She smiled. “How often have you offered me nothing more than a kiss when you could have had so much more?”
He chuckled. “I suppose I could be at that.”
Frances set her glass on the bar and fingered his cravat. “Then do as you did last season and kiss me.” She wore a coy smile. “Or have you forgotten how?”
John finished off the remainder of his brandy. Yes, he had kissed this woman in the past, and often she asked for more, as had many women before and after. However, it was the pursuit that always held his fancy, not the capture. Furthermore, Frances was one of the few friends he had, even if they shared in a kiss or two, and he had always enjoyed her company more than whatever else she had to offer.
Therefore, with confidence, he placed a hand on her cheek as he had done countless times before only to find that he could not bring himself to do it now.
He dropped his hand to his side. “I am afraid I cannot.”
Frances raised a single eyebrow and leaned on the counter. “Whoever this woman is, you must go to her, for establishments such as these will be of little help to you.”
“Who says there is a woman?” John asked defensively, although he had to admit that Hannah had captured him as easily as a fox could capture a hare. He was uncertain how he felt about that, for he was the one who did the pursuing on most occasions.
Frances chuckled as she retrieved her wine glass. “Never have you denied me a kiss,” she said with that same sly smile she had worn so often before. “I have known many men, my Lord, and those who do not wish to share in a kiss have found a woman who has stolen their heart.”
John considered her words. She was right, of course; he was not one to withhold a kiss. So, why was that the case now? He chuckled. “Perhaps next time I see you I will have a kiss for you.”
She leaned over and touched his cheek. “If you ever need a friend, I am here. Now, leave and do not let me see you again.”
Echoes of the Heart: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 2 Page 9
