Echoes of the Heart: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 2

by Jennifer Monroe

  John nodded and walked away, stopping near the entrance to the foyer. In times past he had entertained himself with women such as Frances in establishments such as these. Now, however, he realized those times were behind him. He was uncertain what lay ahead, but as he stepped out into the night, he knew he had to decipher it. And soon, for it was not in his nature to pass up a free kiss!

  ***

  The wood crackled in the fireplace and the flames danced as Hannah took a sip of her wine. She had never been one for drinking spirits, unlike Juliet who seemed to have an endless supply on hand, but the wine relaxed her and gave her an excuse to sit in the parlor as she did now to wait for John to return.

  Since her attempt to fall into his arms, the man had changed. Perhaps it was that inner change of which Sally had spoken and it needed more time to develop, but since that night at the party, John seemed to avoid her. When they went out, he engaged in conversation with her, yet he lacked the same interest he had possessed initially. In fact, when they visited the museum, the man had smiled only once during the entire outing. And she had missed that smile, for when he did so, her heart soared and her legs grew weak.

  What a woman such as she would be doing having romantic notions for any man was beyond her. However, she could no longer deny the fact that she was attracted to him, and she enjoyed the warmth such feelings profited. Perhaps it was time for her to allow them to blossom, for many of the books she read said that few women could fight off such attraction.

  One question still remained, however. Would she be able to balance her growing affection for John and maintain her love of writing? For her writing was her first true love, and she was unsure if she was ready to give it up just yet.

  The sound of the front door opening made her sit up straight as a rush of excitement came through her. The last few nights when they had returned from one outing or another, John had rejected her invitation to join her for a drink. Therefore, she decided that she would already be waiting upon his return this evening. If he came to the library, he would have no excuse not to stay.

  As expected, the door opened, and John entered the room. “Laurence, I must ask your advice on something.” He stopped when he saw her sitting in the room. “Oh, my apologies for disturbing you. I thought my cousin was here.” He turned to leave, but Hannah called out to him.

  “Please, stay,” she said. “That is…I could use the company.”

  John seemed to study the open door, but much to her delight, he turned and made his way to the liquor cart. “Another glass of wine?” he asked.

  Hannah nodded. “Please.” She was thrilled he had taken notice of what she was drinking. It meant he took notice of her.

  “I am surprised you are awake at this hour,” he said as he poured the drinks.

  “I found I could not sleep and decided to come here to read,” Hannah said, which was partly true. “I assume your evening went well?”

  “Well enough,” he said, although he winced before he replied. He handed her the drink and took a seat in the chair opposite her.

  She had hoped he would sit beside her. If she had not fallen into his arms as she had, making a complete fool of herself, she would not have chased him off. How confused he must be! This was not what she wanted for him.

  What was she doing? She could not stop the guilt that grew inside. Had she already given up the woman she was for the first man in whom she had found an interest? It was so unlike her! Yet, was that not exactly what the heroines did in the books she read?

  “I am pleased to hear,” she replied. “A gentleman must be allowed time alone in order to partake in what he enjoys.”

  He raised his brows. “Is that so?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, when I am to marry one day, my husband will be able to do whatever he pleases with my blessing. As long as he is willing to allow me to do the same.”

  “I thought you were not concerned with marriage,” he said with a small smile. “You told me as much.”

  Hannah’s cheeks burned. “Well, that is true. I was merely speaking in theory.”

  He chuckled. “I see.” He turned to look at the fireplace, appearing as if his mind were somewhere else. Had she done the right thing in asking him to stay? He had said the evening went ‘well enough’. Did that mean it did not go well?

  How selfish I am, she thought. “Is there something bothering you?” she asked. “If you need someone to confide in, I would be happy to listen. I promise I will keep whatever you share to myself.”

  “I appreciate you saying so,” John replied. “That is what makes you a wonderful woman.”

  Hannah grasped her glass tightly to keep from beaming, but she was certain her blush had to have given away her feelings, for she could not seem to control the heat in her cheeks.

  John leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair. “To be honest, I am well enough. It is just that I am burdened with a choice I must make.”

  “Oh?” Hannah said. “What sort of choice?”

  “Business, of course,” he replied and then sighed. “It is a business decision that I must make, and although the rewards may be great, I find myself a bit concerned if I accept. There is a chance the other party may be hurt in the process.”

  “I wish I knew more of business,” Hannah said with a shake of her head, and she spoke the truth. If there was one thing she hated it was the manner in which men thought women too senseless to understand anything beyond embroidery or playing the pianoforte, something Hannah had been forced to learn but despised. “Regrettably, I know nothing about it. If you need advice on a book to read or something of a literary nature, I may be of help, however.”

  John smiled. “Your listening ear is most helpful,” he said as he placed his glass on the table. “Well, I must be off to bed. Thank you again for lending your ear.”

  “Wait,” Hannah said when he rose from the chair. “How might you hurt this associate?”

  He looked down at his hands. “In the past, I made a bad decision that caused me to lose much and someone suffered in the process.”

  “And you feel badly about this?” Hannah asked as she studied the man before her. How often had she and her sisters disagreed on one thing or another? Conducting business could not be much different.

  “I do.”

  “If it is a mistake,” she said firmly, “and you mean not to make the same again, then you should move forward with confidence.”

  “And if I were to fail again?” he asked, his voice earnest. “Or if the person learns of my previous lapse and becomes angry that I had not divulged that information sooner? What do I do then?”

  Why did he not simply tell her the details of this deal? It would make it much easier for her to give advice. Unfortunately, she could do nothing more than shrug. “Perhaps the person will understand.”

  He tilted his head and gave her a considering look. “I will think on your words,” he said. “Thank you again for listening, and good evening to you.” He bowed and left the room, leaving Hannah to stare after him.

  Isabel would have the wisdom to advise him, she thought. However, despite his unwillingness to share in his problem, she could not help but notice the twinge of pain in his eyes. Perhaps there would be some way in which she could lend him aid. If only he would tell her what problem on which he was working! Men!

  Chapter Eleven

  The more time Hannah spent in London, the more she found the city a bright and vibrant place. In the two weeks she had been there, she had attended not one but two parties, a dinner with a distant relative of Laurence and a late tea with a friend of Isabel’s. Besides the busy social calendar, she had purchased two new dresses that would be delivered in another week, a new pair of shoes, new gloves, and a variety of silk flowers to add to her hats. Although her initial reaction had been one of disdain and aversion, she found that she rather enjoyed her time here.

  She would be the first to admit that the reason behind her enjoyment had more to do with the time she was spending with Jo
hn than the outings themselves. They shared in similar interests, and he was ever so handsome. Yet, it was the manner in which he made her feel special that brought about this strange feeling of pleasure at every turn. He told her often that he admired her desire to write, which increased her belief that perhaps some men did not view women writers in the same way as most men did.

  Although she had spent most of her time indulging in the interests of others, tonight was for her alone. She and Isabel were on their way to a secret meeting for writers; Isabel had spoken with certain people in order to gain an invitation. In her hands she clutched the ledger that hid her writing.

  She watched the passing brick buildings with their ornate archways leading to the homes of the ton. Many would be preparing for one party or another hoping to find a suitable partner. She could have been one of those people, but luck had been on her side when fate placed John into her life. She had come to accept the fact that she was more than simply intrigued with him; not an easy feat when she had been so opposed to such a union for so long.

  “You are quiet,” Isabel said from the seat across from her. “Are you already thinking of the meeting tonight?”

  The meeting. The reason for her agreement to come to London in the first place had now become secondary to why she wished to stay. John was the first. How strange that life could change so quickly.

  “I am,” Hannah replied. “You must tell Laurence how thankful I am for allowing this. He is very kind, even more than I had first thought.”

  “I will tell him,” Isabel said. “He thinks much of you and Juliet; although, I do tend to disagree with him.” She wore a tiny smile as she said this, and Hannah flicked her hand at her playfully. “I hope this meeting will help you with your book. Are you any further along in completing it?”

  Hannah sighed. “No. We have been so busy, and, I am unsure how to explain it, but I am struggling to finish it.”

  “Certainly you have not lost interest?”

  “Oh, most definitely not,” Hannah replied. “I have grown to love the characters, yet now that the man is to propose to the woman, I find it difficult to write.” There was more to it than she included in her explanation, but how could a woman who had never even considered love write such an idea into a story? Nothing she attempted felt right.

  “I am unsure what to say, save this. Enjoy the meeting this evening, and perhaps the society will be able to lend you aid.”

  Hannah nodded. “That is my hope. It is why I seek their guidance. So many are far more experienced and have a greater knowledge than I.”

  Isabel laughed. “I would doubt that.”

  “Oh, but it is true.” She leaned forward in the seat. “Albert was very…” Her words trailed off and she closed her mouth. Guilt overtook her as she recalled the kind man and his offer of marriage. Perhaps she should write another letter giving him her answer.

  “What is it?” Isabel moved to sit beside Hannah. “I can see it clearly on your face.” She sat back and raised her brows. “Do you care for that man?”

  “No, not in a romantic sense. You see, before we left for London, I was unsure if I needed him.”

  Isabel frowned. “Needed him? I am not sure I understand.”

  “What I mean is, although I did not want to marry him, I thought it best to leave that option open.”

  “Oh, Hannah,” Isabel said with a sigh. “What did you tell him exactly?”

  “That I was undecided and would give him my decision upon my return.” She said the words in a near whisper, for she now understood how horrible she had been to the man. “I did not mean to give him false hope; honestly, I did not. And now I regret the manner in which I treated him.”

  “Then you must make it right,” Isabel replied firmly. “Tonight, after dinner, you will write him a kind letter explaining that you wish to refuse his proposal. Make certain it is thoughtful; you do not want to hurt him further.”

  Hannah nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  Isabel placed a hand on Hannah's. “You are a good woman, and it will be a testament to your upbringing how you handle this situation.” The carriage slowed, and Isabel glanced out the window. “Now, enjoy your evening. Lady Ellen has offered you her carriage when the meeting ends.”

  “I will,” Hannah replied. She gave her sister a hug and then grabbed her book. “Thank you again for this.”

  Isabel smiled, and Hannah alighted from the carriage. The townhouse belonging to Lady Ellen Bismark had a bright red door and looming windows, and as she steadied her breathing, all thoughts of John and the London season dissipated from her thoughts. Now was the time to seek aid in fulfilling her dream.

  With confident steps, she made her way to the door, which opened before she was able to knock. A butler, who was quite young for such a position, stood at attention.

  “Miss Lambert,” the man said with a bow. “Lady Ellen is expecting you. Please follow me.”

  Hannah stepped into the house. It was smaller than she expected, but it might have been due to the deep red walls that peeked from between so many paintings, it was as if they were fighting for space. Along the walls sat numerous tables, each with some sort of sculpture or figurine, and between each table stood a potted tree. Hannah felt as if she were walking through a dense forest, a well-decorated forest, as she followed the butler to a set of double doors, each with a wreath hanging from it.

  With heart racing, she waited as the man opened the doors. How many members would be in attendance? Had any of them published before? Would they be able to help her with completing her novel? Did she have the nerve to even speak?

  “Miss Lambert,” the butler announced when he opened the door.

  The room differed from the foyer only because the walls were white rather than red. Five women, two in clothing that was all black, sat in several club chairs and a settee, each with a glass of wine in her hand. By no means ancient, most had more gray in their hair than any other color.

  “Ah, here she is,” a woman said as she rose from her chair. She was the youngest of the group, perhaps only a few years older than Hannah, with pretty blond hair and blue eyes. “Hannah, we have been expecting you. I am Ellen; we do not use titles in our little group. We find it much too restrictive.”

  “Thank you for having me,” Hannah replied.

  Ellen walked over to a corner, the skirts of her red dress flowing around her ankles, to where several bottles of spirits were displayed. “A glass of wine, my dear?” she asked, although she was already pouring.

  “Yes, please,” Hannah replied.

  “This is your first season, is it not?” Ellen asked.

  “It is. I was ill last year and therefore unable to attend.”

  Ellen gave her a small smile. “A mystery illness?” she asked with a wink. “It seems to inflict many select women in their first season.”

  Hannah could not help but laugh. The woman made her feel comfortable, and she had a suspicion the two would become good friends.

  “Now, ladies,” Ellen said, “I would like to introduce the newest member of our society. Hannah.”

  The ladies gave polite smiles, and Hannah felt awkward standing as they seemed to appraise her.

  “This is Diana. She has not written a word in, what is it, dear? Four years?”

  The woman named Diana, her hair gray with touches of brown, nodded. “I believe that is so. However, I wonder why you must remind me at every turn.” She spoke in a teasing manner, and Hannah could see the camaraderie the two women shared

  When the remainder of the introductions were made—Dorthea, Matilda and Frederica were very polite and had a whimsy about them that matched that of Ellen—Hannah was finally offered a chair. When Ellen returned to hers—a club chair covered in the deepest red Hannah had ever seen—her skirts seemed to disappear into the fabric. Hannah had to purse her lips to keep from laughing.

  After a few more minutes of polite conversation, Ellen raised her glass and called the meeting to order. “We have importa
nt matters to discuss this evening, and I feel we are safe speaking of them in the company of our newest member.”

  Hannah could barely contain her excitement. “Yes, I shall tell no one of the matters of which are discussed here. You have my word.” This did surprised her; women meeting to discuss the craft of writing would not have been widely accepted, and she would do nothing to undermine its existence.

  “And there we are, ladies,” Ellen said with a wide smile. “She is to be trusted.”

  Hannah took a sip of her wine. Although she did not know these women, she decided already she liked them.

  “With that being said,” Ellen continued, “we must discuss Lord Hudson.”

  The other women nodded, but Hannah paused. Did this Lord Hudson own a publishing business? Perhaps he had a connection that allowed the women to gain an audience with other authors.

  Ellen leaned forward as she lowered her voice and said, “He was spotted on St. James Street, and the establishment he entered was questionable indeed.”

  The women gasped in unison.

  Hannah was confused. “Do you mean a publisher’s office?” she asked.

  Several of the women laughed, and Ellen replied, “No, my dear. St. James Street is where men spend the majority of their time, and there exist some men’s clubs where gambling and prostitution reign. Let us just say that Lord Hudson went into a house not inhabited by nuns.”

  Hannah’s eyes went wide as the realization of what this woman meant, and Ellen continued her story. Although her reason for attending the meeting had nothing to do with such matters, she found herself intrigued by the stories. All women enjoyed sharing in the latest news, and Hannah had to be patient, for she suspected the discussion would eventually turn to their writing. Therefore, as she sipped at her wine, she listened with interest.

  ***

  John regretted few things in life, and telling Laurence he had no interest in any sort of relationship with Hannah had proven to be one of the greatest. He should have spoken up and told the man the woman had captured his interest, and that these new feelings inside him were overwhelming. However, Hannah deserved better than he, and therefore, John kept his thoughts to himself.