Echoes of the Heart: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 2

by Jennifer Monroe

  This evening, Lord Oakley had invited him over for dinner, a lovely broiled salmon and stewed spinach, and they had shared in pleasant conversation with Miss Oakley in attendance. Now, however, they sat in the drawing room, a bright room filled with golds, yellows and browns, sipping brandy and discussing business, and John was glad Miss Oakley had indicated she had matters to deal with elsewhere. Throughout the meal, the Viscount’s daughter had sent him several smiles with which John was all too familiar, and John was well aware that her father had noticed.

  The fact of the matter was, after Hannah, he found Miss Oakley so much like other women, she may as well have been plain. However, he doubted Lord Oakley would appreciate John’s thoughts on his daughter.

  “This is the finest brandy in all of London, would you not agree?” Lord Oakley asked.

  “It has an interesting flavor,” John replied. “May I ask where you procured it?”

  Lord Oakley laughed as he stood before the fireplace, the roaring fire behind him giving him an evil aura. “Now, why would I tell you that?” the older man asked. “In order for you to serve it at a party? I think not.” The man laughed again and went to a chair covered in yellow and brown stripes. “I must ask you, Stanford, why have you not secured a bride?”

  The question caught John off-guard. This man was blunt, to be sure. “The last few seasons, I have not had the pleasure of meeting the right woman,” John said, and an image of Hannah popped into his head. “That is until…”

  “My Catherine,” the Viscount replied for him. “Do not think I did not notice your shared smiles at the dinner table. For the last two seasons, I thought she would find a suitable husband; however, now that she has met you, I am beginning to believe this season will finally be her last.”

  John swallowed hard. If he spoke the truth now, what would happen to the business deal? Yet, how could he allow this man to believe he was interested in his daughter? And how did he keep finding himself in these situations? “I do not think…”

  “No, you are right,” Lord Oakley said with a wave of his hand. “Such matters should be discussed at a later date. You are here for business and I suspect that is where your mind is.”

  “You have read my thoughts,” John replied, relief washing over him. “You mentioned seeking a partner for some businesses you have. What types of matters were you considering?” The man had a vast empire of wine, and John was well aware of the money the man gleaned from his investments. If John could have even the smallest portion of the business, he would be a wealthy man indeed.

  “Each year, the parks and streets become more crowded. Men seeking women and women seeking shops. On Portland Street, I am in the process of securing new properties, which include a jeweler’s and a millinery.”

  “I am afraid I have little experience in those types of businesses,” John said, feeling deflated. “I doubt I would make a wise partner.”

  “The truth of the matter is, I do not need a partner to run them, for I have the proper staff in place already for that. Rather, I am in need of an overseer of sorts. You see, if we were to do this together, you overseeing these new customs would allow me to pursue other business matters elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere?”

  “Indeed,” the man said. “Too many years I have come to London, and I grow weary of it. I would like to spend the rest of my days outside of the city. Many areas outside of London are growing exponentially, and I want to be a part of that.”

  “I agree. Since I was a boy, I have seen villages grow to the extent they are nearly cities.”

  “And they will continue to do so,” the Viscount said. “Therefore, my question is this. Do you plan on staying in London for the foreseeable future?”

  “I do,” John replied. “To be honest, I came this season with plans to remain here.”

  Lord Oakley slapped his knee. “That is wonderful. My Catherine wishes to remain, as well, and is never remiss to mention it. It would be wise to consider courting her, for my hand is in many profitable enterprises.”

  John stifled a sigh. “I will need time to consider it, but I would hope to conduct business with you regardless of my decision of courting your daughter.”

  The Viscount tapped a finger to his lips. “Admirable. I respect your reply, for in truth, it was a test.”

  “A test?” John asked.

  “Indeed,” the man said with a laugh. “It was the very fact you did not say yes immediately that is a testament of an acute businessman, one who does not make quick decisions but rather thinks things through beforehand.” He refilled John’s glass although it was not yet empty.

  “I appreciate you believing so,” John said.

  The older man placed the decanter on a nearby table. “Now that we have gotten that out of the way, I do want you to consider speaking to my daughter again. She will make a wonderful bride.”

  “I do not mean to be rude,” John said carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was offend this man, “but I must…”

  “Father?”

  John turned to find Miss Oakley at the door, and he jumped to his feet.

  “My apologies for interrupting, but I am worried for Lucy.”

  Lord Oakley frowned. “Your lady’s maid?” he asked. “What is wrong with her?”

  “She has a pain in her stomach,” Miss Oakley replied. “Will you come check on her?”

  “I suppose I can,” the Viscount said. “I will return shortly.”

  John nodded. This would give him the opportunity to leave without incident. Unfortunately, Miss Oakley smiled at him as she had in the times prior; however, this time it had a slyness to it that he had not noticed before. He shook his head. Perhaps it was simply his imagination.

  “Have your discussions with Father gone well?” Miss Oakley asked as she came to stand before him.

  “They have,” John replied.

  She moved in closer to him, and he had to fight the urge to take a step back. “I am glad we are alone.”

  “Are you?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said breathily. “That is what I have been wanting since your arrival, and the reason Lucy is pretending to be ill. Now my father is busy with her, and I am here with you.”

  John was at a loss for words. He had encountered many women such as Miss Oakley, and he had enjoyed their company. This woman, however, reminded him too much of another, one whose relationship had not ended so well.

  “You see,” she cooed, “I am a collector of sorts.”

  “A collector?” He went to take a drink of his brandy, but she took the glass from his hand and took a sip. She grimaced. “Father has poor taste. The bottles in my bedroom are far better.” She set the glass aside. “As to my collection…”

  “I believe we have…”

  She placed a hand on his chest. “I must first collect payment.”

  He gaped at her. “Miss Oakley, this is most inappropriate.”

  She smiled as she snaked a finger between the buttons of his waistcoat. “I have seen many men such as you,” she whispered. “Men who believe their smiles and words can woo a woman and in turn win their heart. However, I am no fool. In fact, I know what you seek, for it is what I seek, as well.”

  She leaned in and touched her lips to his, and when she moved away, she held a five pound note in her fingers. “You see, I collect kisses, and I thank you for the payment.” She slid the note into the front of her dress, her eyes sparkling as if daring him to go after it. “Tell Father you have no interest in me for I have none in you.” She then winked, gave a mock curtsy, and left the room, leaving John to gape after her.

  What had just happened? In a way, he wanted to laugh, for if he told anyone about his interaction with the daughter of the Viscount, he would not be believed. And he could not blame them, for he would not have believed it if he had not experienced it himself.

  The truth of the matter was he had been bested at his own game!

  So, why did he feel shame? Had he not done nearly the same to dozens
of women? However, as thoughts of Hannah entered his mind, he realized the foundation of his guilt; if she were to learn of this kiss, whatever relationship they had developed, as limited as it was, would disintegrate.

  “She is well, now,” Lord Oakley said when he returned. “Women are prone to make matters worse than they are. You have yet to endure the wails of a woman in childbirth.” He shook his head as if the memory was unfathomable.

  “Yes, well, if you will forgive me, I must be on my way. I have matters at home to attend to.”

  “Yes, I must complete some work of my own. Shall we meet again?”

  “Yes, I believe we should,” John said, although business was the last thing on his mind at the moment. In fact, all he cared for was seeing Hannah and asking permission to court her. He would have to take a chance, and if she learned of his past, he was confident she would forgive him. After his encounter with Lady Catherine, what he wanted became abundantly clear, and being without Hannah was a punishment he could no longer endure.

  Once outside, he wiped his mouth in disgust on the sleeve of his coat, the thought of what had transpired making his stomach churn. He took a deep breath and stepped into his waiting carriage, ready to tell Hannah what he felt for her.

  Chapter Twelve

  As each minute passed, Hannah began to realize that the writing society was less about writing and more a gossip club. In the beginning, the talk had been interesting, but as they continued to discuss all sorts of sordid matters—gentleman in houses of ill-repute and gambling halls, women who carried children from men who were not their husbands and the like—she became more disheartened. She felt horrible for the actions of many and prayed they were not true, for how could two people swear a life together only to consort with a servant?

  “Her father is quite upset, of course,” Matilda croaked, her black dress giving her already pale skin a sickly look to it. “By all rights, he should be after all the money he spent on her dresses.” The other women nodded, and Ellen smiled at Hannah.

  Her eyes dropped to the book in Hannah’s hands, and as if recognizing her discomfiture, said, “Ladies, I believe our newest member may be here to seek our aid with her writing. Therefore, before we are able to bring this meeting to a close, we should listen and offer whatever advice we are able.”

  Relieved, Hannah smiled. All was not lost after all! She took one last sip of her wine, realizing she had consumed more then was customary for her, for she felt a bit giddy. “It has been my dream for a very long time to become a published author.”

  “As is with many women,” Frederica said, her wrinkled features reminding Hannah of a prune, “you will soon learn that dreams are best left as dreams and nothing more.”

  Not caring for such advice, Hannah ignored the woman and continued. “Currently, the man will ask the woman for her hand, but although the characters love one another, I feel as if an important piece is missing.”

  Dorthea sighed. “You are young, and I understand the problem you are facing, for I came to the same predicament in my story.”

  “You did?” Hannah asked in surprise.

  “Indeed. You see, in these types of stories, the man swears his loyalty to the heroine and promises her all her dreams will come true, but the truth is, no such men exist. Therefore, it makes writing about him practically impossible.”

  “I find that difficult to believe,” Hannah replied firmly. “Surely these novels have some bases of truth?” She looked at each of the women for reassurance in her statement but did not find it. “But what of your writing? Surely you have used some of your own life experiences to create your stories.” The women looked at one another, and Hannah was in shock. “You mean, you have all given up on your writing because you have lost your belief in it? What is a writing society where writing is not the topic of discussion?”

  Matilda looked down at her hands. “We do speak of it from time to time, and some of us still put words to parchment. However, we have come to know that finding anyone willing to publish anything but poetry by a woman is near impossible. Also, if one did find a publisher willing to secure her work, would her husband agree? I tell you, it is unlikely.”

  “I thought the right man would do such a thing,” Hannah said with annoyance. This group was far different than the one she had attended in Albert’s cottage. However, most who attended those meetings were younger, as was she, and therefore saw the world much differently from these women.

  “The hour grows late,” Ellen said, and the ladies began to rise. “We shall meet again next week.”

  Hannah remained seated and forced a smile as the women bid their farewells and left one by one. When only she and Ellen remained, they walked out to a carriage that awaited out front.

  “I suspect our meeting was not to your liking,” Ellen said.

  Should she be honest and risk offending the woman? Had she not been kind enough to allow Hannah to attend? “It was pleasant and I enjoyed myself,” she said. However, the lie did not sit well with her. “I did not expect the advice that was given, if I were to be honest.

  “The others have a way of saying what they think regardless of how it may be received. Although what they said seemed cruel, it was the truth.”

  “That I should give up on my dream?” Hannah asked in shock. “Since I was a child, I have wanted to write stories, and I am so close. I cannot turn back now.”

  “May I give you a bit of advice?” Ellen asked kindly.

  Hannah nodded. “Please.”

  “I, too, was once like you,” the woman said sadly. “I dreamed of writing a novel that would take the world by storm. Then I met my husband, who sadly passed nearly two years ago.”

  “My condolences,” Hannah said.

  “Thank you.” Ellen smoothed her skirts, as if what she said made her uncomfortable. “Although Patrick did not support me in writing, he did not stop me. It was my vow that, after my children were grown and married, I would take it up once again. However, I was not blessed with children before his death, and my days remained busy with other things. Now, if I am honest, the passion I once had left with Patrick’s passing.”

  “I believe I understand,” Hannah replied. How her heart hurt for this woman, but she hoped she, herself, would not be forced to have such an outcome in her life.

  “Do you wish to marry and have children one day?”

  If it had been a month earlier, Hannah would have given an adamant no. Now, however, she was not as certain. “I believe so,” she replied. “I have found myself interested in a man…” She might not have notions of marrying any time soon, but the possibility of marrying John was intriguing.

  “Then your time will be spent with your family. As it should be. My advice is to finish your book before you are wed, for you will have no time once that occurs.”

  “What if he supports me?” Hannah asked. “Surely it will be fine to do so if that is the case?”

  Ellen chuckled and patted Hannah’s hand. “Of course, it would be. However, the point is this. You cannot have two dreams that interfere with one another. Finish your book and then move on to a life as other ladies do.”

  “Is that why Dorthea advised as she did?” Hannah asked. “That my struggle with my novel is not based on enough fact? That once wed, a woman must give up on her dreams? Is that why I struggle?”

  “You struggle because you are innocent, and that is a beautiful thing. Regardless of what you have heard tonight, if you seek to finish and publish your book, then do so. I wish the best for you.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said. “It is my dream, and I will not stop until it is fulfilled. That much I can promise you.”

  “Then we will drink to your success,” Ellen said with a warm smile. “You are welcome to return to any of the meetings, although I believe you have learned what little you can from us.”

  Hannah nodded. “I will think on it. Thank you.”

  The driver opened the door, and Hannah moved toward the carriage, but Ellen grabbed her a
rm.

  “The season can be difficult to navigate, especially the first time. I believe we are friends, and I suspect we will become even more so. You never have to send a card, so please come by my house if you need someone with whom to speak or if you are simply in need of companionship.”

  Hannah placed her hand on top of that of Ellen. “I will, thank you.” She stepped into the carriage in much better spirits. Hannah found Ellen very likable and she was certain they would meet again, and sooner rather than later.

  During her journey to the townhouse, she thought of what she wanted from life. She would finish her novel regardless, but she also could not stop thinking of John. Would he, as he had said, allow her to pursue her dreams? Was he as interested in her as she was in him? Or was she that innocent young girl Ellen mentioned this evening? She could only answer these questions if she spoke to John.

  Once home, Hannah was pleased to see Isabel and Laurence approaching in the foyer.

  “How was your evening?” Isabel asked.

  “It was not what I expected, but I did enjoy myself,” Hannah replied. “I admit I learned much. Thank you again for allowing me to attend.” She glanced toward the drawing room. She wanted to speak to John and tell him of the night’s events. “Is John occupied? It seems he has all but disappeared as of late.”

  “He went to dine at the home of Lord Oakley,” Laurence replied. He reached into his pocket a produced a card. “This came for you earlier.”

  Hannah whispered her thanks and took the card, her heart sinking. She had forgotten John had meant to go to the house of Lady Oakley and her father, and she found the idea of him being with the woman in any capacity made her sad. In fact, it tore at her heart, and she worried the woman had won him over while she, Hannah, played the silly girl.

  “Lord Cecil Cooper wishes to call over,” Hannah said after she read the card. “Do I know him?”

  “I believe you two met at the party Hugh gave,” Isabel replied. “Do you recall the man speaking of museums?”