So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  Ever since seeing Hannah those few days past, a ticking had begun within him, the slightest shift he could feel but not distinguish. If only she knew how truly he cared. She had grown—changed so much. Though in other ways she’d not changed at all. Even ten years later she was still willing to succumb to a man such as Joseph Wythe.

  Staring across the ballroom floor, the hatred he’d nurtured for the man who’d ruined his daughter, the devil who’d cheated her life away from her, loomed like a haunting apparition. Joseph and Ensign had prepared this scheme together for some time, that was clear. Hannah didn’t know herself—she couldn’t make decisions for her future. Joseph didn’t deserve Eaton Hill, and he didn’t deserve Hannah.

  Philo alone must own the land that was meant for him from the beginning. Ensign’s pretended benevolence be hanged.

  “Reverend Young, allow me to offer my condolences.”

  Philo twisted back, questioning the tall soldier in front of him. “I’m sorry?”

  “Forgive me. I am Captain Higley.” He nodded forward. “I refer to your brother. I grieve for your loss.”

  Who was this man, and how did he know of Ensign’s supposed death? As if a stranger would care. For all he knew this was the very man who’d tried to kill Ensign. Philo lifted his chin to tip away the sarcastic thread. “I thank you for your kindness. He shall be most sincerely missed.”

  Ensign had been so close to heaven’s gate last evening. Was he already there? Perhaps he had been denied entrance for his treatment of Philo these past years. Such wouldn’t surprise him.

  Though the moment the thought found the center of his mind, a niggling discomfited his belly. If anyone was to get to heaven, ’twould be Ensign. Somehow he could hear his brother’s voice behind him, reprimanding Philo’s stiff-necked ways. He should tell Hannah that Ensign had been living…in fact, that he might in this moment still be breathing. Philo shook his head. Surely he wasn’t. If he was, Philo’s purpose would be thwarted, and he’d come too far to turn back now.

  He glanced over his shoulder, spying Hannah as she kept her back to him, speaking with a gathering of musicians and several other women keen on garnering attention with their flapping fans.

  If nothing else, this evening he would harness the future for himself and his daughter, as he should have done long ago. She would not be pleased with the outcome. But ’twas for the best. And that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Joseph tugged on his waistcoat and then his jacket and bound up the front steps, his nerves tumbling like a rowdy bunch of schoolboys. The agony in waiting until dinner had long past made him almost writhe, but he’d endured, and at last he could make his appearance.

  The doors of the large house were fast, and he was about to knock, when they creaked opened.

  A wigged man appeared from behind the door and gestured him in. “Good evening, sir. Your name?”

  He cleared his throat. “Joseph Young.”

  “Aw, yes.” The man shut the door. “I saw your name on the list.” He started down the hall. “This way.”

  Joseph’s limbs buzzed. So his name had been on there. He stretched and curled his fingers to ease the building tension. Would Hannah be pleased to see him? Upset? She would be surprised of course, as she didn’t know Higley had told him to come. He prayed her reaction would be one of acceptance if not pleasure, but he doubted the latter. She’d looked near to tears when they’d parted.

  He spied the immense portraits in the hall, the detailed rug at his feet, and situated his mind on the person who would surely detest his arrival. Stockton likely hoped to enjoy the evening with Hannah to himself. But that was about to change.

  At the entrance of the ballroom, the man motioned for Joseph to enter. “You have arrived just in time. It appears the dancing will soon begin.”

  Joseph bowed and entered, grateful his arrival seemed to go unnoticed.

  As if tugged by unseen hands, he turned and was struck motionless. In the far corner stood Hannah with Mrs. Pitman and several other women. The lot of them seemed nearly giddy with their lively conversation, while Hannah’s posture and thin smile conveyed something else entirely. And he was to blame.

  He hadn’t intended to speak so tersely with her. ’Twas shock that had stripped him of his civility—his soul so violently shaken he could not then, and still could not, find the words to express how he felt and how desperately he wished to hold her. To tell her he held her no blame. To ask her in humility to tell him everything, so that in some way, if ’twas possible, he could try to make it right.

  Scanning the room, his vision landed on Stockton and Higley, and he made straight for them, loathing how he must make this last report instead of take Hannah by the hand and lead her immediately away from this place. The heavy scents of wine and candle smoke stung his nose. There were many reasons he was not drawn to such gatherings, and the decadence was only one of them.

  “What the devil are you doing here?”

  Stockton’s greeting, though churlish, was less hostile than Joseph had expected. A good omen perhaps?

  Joseph inclined his head. “Good evening, Major. Captain Higley.” He looked up and froze when the last man turned toward him.

  Philo.

  Devil’s spit. What was he doing here?

  Stockton shifted his weight over his feet. “I don’t remember you receiving an invitation.”

  Joseph opened his mouth to respond, but Higley’s answer cut off his own.

  “’Twas my doing, sir.” Higley rested a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “I must ask your pardon, but I had supposed you would wish a report after…” He looked to Philo, then stopped and swallowed. “After he finished his duties. So…I invited him to attend.”

  Stockton’s glare reddened, that twitch under his eye starting up as it did when he was irked. “I’m surprised at you, Captain.” He sighed with gruff resignation, then motioned to Philo. “Being that you two are family, I do not need to make introductions.”

  “Indeed.” Joseph dipped his chin, his stare cutting through the stream of hate that poured from Philo’s small eyes. He prayed the man would keep his mouth shut and not reveal the true nature of their strained past.

  Why was he here? Sandwich was no small distance away… The thought smacked him across the head, and he set his jaw. Eaton Hill.

  Philo’s ever-abiding disgust stabbed, but Joseph parried with his own. If the man thought to better him, he would soon see his folly. Joseph’s own brother had treated him thus for so many years. He was well acquainted with how to take command of one who attempted to control and demean.

  “Well?”

  Stockton’s singular question stepped between the fight, and Joseph swallowed, battling the urge to see if Hannah peered his way. Did she know her father was here? Perhaps ’twas the very reason she chose to stand at the other side of the room.

  Taking a full breath, Joseph rolled his shoulders back. “’Twas successful.”

  Stockton’s eyes narrowed, then eased, as if he understood the reason for Joseph’s laconic answer. In place of a response, Stockton offered only a brief grin before looking away.

  Joseph followed the man’s gaze to Hannah, and his muscles hardened. The musicians were beginning to take their places.

  Bowing, he stepped away. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  He would not allow Stockton near her again. From now on ’twas he who would be at her side. Tonight and forevermore.

  * * *

  “Merciful heavens!” The woman beside Hannah tugged at her arm. Though Hannah had known her all of three minutes, the woman acted as if they’d been friends since girlhood. “Who is that man?”

  She pointed across the room, and Hannah’s blood drained from her face. Knees suddenly more weak even than before, she gripped the woman’s arm in return, staring.

  Joseph.

  When had he arrived? What was he doing here? Though she pleaded with herself to look away, it was impossible to turn her eyes fro
m him as he stood with Higley and the others. His blond hair was fastidiously tied and contrasted perfectly with the dark-gray jacket that seemed to strain against the muscles beneath. Taller than all but Higley, he demanded attention simply from the way he held his broad shoulders and angled his head.

  “Have you seen him before?” she asked again.

  Hannah could not respond, but only watch him. By the goodness of God he hadn’t looked her way. Or perhaps he had and she hadn’t seen him.

  The woman tried again, this time entreating the hostess. “Dottie, dear, who is that dashingly handsome fellow speaking with the major?”

  “Oh!” Dottie stepped beside her, face aglow. “My goodness, this is a surprise.” She faced the all-too-enchanted stranger at Hannah’s side. “That is Miss Young’s cousin.”

  The woman gasped and pressed a hand to her large bosom. “My dear, do tell me he isn’t married.”

  “Virginia!” Dottie’s voice sounded surprised, but her expression was gleeful.

  Not at all shamed by her exclamation, Virginia waved her fan. “Is it so sinful for a single woman to be interested in a single man?”

  Hannah’s palms grew clammy. “He is…” Keeping a disinterested sound in her voice proved futile. “He is not married.”

  “Really!” Virginia leaned in and prodded further. “Spoken for? Courting? I pray not, for I must have my chance at him.”

  Hannah clung to the sudden and healthy stream of irritation that buoyed her draining strength. She breathed in deep for the first time all evening. “Nay, neither, but I do think he may have someone in mind.” The last came out with more force than she’d intended.

  The overly endowed woman reached for Joseph with her eyes. “Oh, Dottie, do you think you could bring him over here? I crave to know how he dances.”

  “Certainly, darling, but first—”

  “Mrs. Pitman, are you ready?”

  One of the musicians bent forward from his place on the stand, eyes keen and violin in hand.

  “Oh, aye, aye.” Dottie waved her hands. “You may begin with the cotillion, Billy.”

  He smiled, her flightiness likely known to all from the way he offered a polite and patient nod. “Of course, Mrs. Pitman.”

  Over their heads, the violins began singing, and Virginia gripped Hannah’s arm, her pinched whisper spraying into Hannah’s ear. “He comes! He comes!”

  Hannah spun around, and her heart stopped.

  From across the room, Joseph walked toward her, stride determined, eyes hungry but gentle. Her pulse went from stalled to charging. Virginia’s fingers squeezed and then released as Joseph neared and stopped before them. Virginia curtsied low, but Hannah’s knees wouldn’t bend.

  “Hannah.” He bowed at the waist, his gaze holding her like a warm embrace.

  Her throat ached. “Joseph.”

  Eyes still upon her, he extended his hand. “Will you do me the honor?”

  Her mouth was dry, her mind vacant. She couldn’t. Could she? She glanced to Dottie and Virginia, who gazed at Joseph with soft smiles and tilted heads.

  Hannah blinked, her heart bound by so many sorrows she could hardly move her lips in response. Unbidden, she reached for him, and instantly his fingers folded over hers.

  Guiding her to the floor, Joseph stood opposite her as the other dancers took their places beside them. She shouldn’t do this. ’Twas dangerous to be so close to him, to engage thus when her longing for him was already on a cliff’s edge, ready to fall backward at the slightest breeze. She braved a glance, and the look Joseph gifted her swung around her and pulled her fears to safety.

  He did not hate her then? Where was the hurt she’d seen in his eyes, the shock and anger?

  Lyrical and melodious, the music began, her body remembering the gentle movements as easily as she remembered the feel of Joseph’s touch. Curtsying, she dipped down, then back up, her breath chasing wildly at the longing that glowed from him when he bowed, his stare never leaving her as they began to dance. Close together, away again. Fingers brushing, air curling around them as they circled one another. They danced as if they had never been apart. Again he drew near, his gentle touch on her hand as intimate as a kiss.

  Her breath stalled, while her heart fluttered in beautiful rhythms. Whispering, her lips spoke what her mind had wished to refuse utterance. “Why are you here?”

  At that moment, they parted and stood opposite as two others danced around them. She read his silent, mouthed response. I came for you.

  ’Twas their turn, and they moved together. Circling her, he whispered. “I cannot think of anything but what you told me.”

  Again they parted, moving around the others before standing in place once more. Regret pooled in his pained expression, the pleading so heavy she could feel it in his stare. Hannah’s skin flushed. His were not the eyes of a man who hated.

  Pivoting, four of them took hands in a line, lightly moving up and back, releasing and crossing paths to wait at the other side.

  When she met Joseph again, he drew her with his yearning, his quiet beseeching almost more than she could bear.

  Bodies nearly touching as they turned, he whispered, “If I had known…”

  There was no accusation, but still she felt it. “How could I tell you, knowing you had changed your mind—the idea of marriage being so disdainful to you.”

  His frown was instant as he took her hands to turn her. “I wanted nothing else. But you hated me, and I would never force you to—”

  “I never hated you.”

  The floor wobbled, and she hurried back to her place before the other couples began. Standing motionless, the truth she once believed fell in severed pieces at her feet. Hannah raised her eyes to where Philo stood, and her blood chilled. Lord in heaven.

  The dance continued around her, but her mind was stolen. All this time she’d believed one thing when the truth had been buried alive in a deep and loathsome grave. How had she never seen it before? How could he have done it?

  “Hannah?”

  Joseph spoke her name, but she couldn’t move. Her vision wavered, and her eyes burned, the stays around her chest growing ever tighter.

  Losing balance, she put a hand to her chest and hurried from the ballroom, heedless of the chatter that whispered behind her. Let them think what they would, though they no doubt believed she fled to a fainting couch. And in truth she did, her lungs gasping for air as the cracks in her understanding flooded with cold realization.

  “Hannah!”

  She made it to the door, when strong hands held her shoulders, steadying her.

  Joseph’s tone was warm with concern. “Come. There is a couch just here.”

  He led her into the library and helped her to sit. Crouching in front of her, he kept one hand beside her, the other at her knee. “What can I get you? A drink, a cool cloth?”

  She closed her eyes against the dizzying thoughts, but the darkness only filled them with life. Like a book of paintings, the past sorted through its ignoble portfolio, flashing visions of grief and unanswered questions, as if hoping this new revelation would at last provide the resolution it had long sought but never found.

  Her breath came quick and shallow through her mouth. Somehow, her tight throat allowed a few words free. “He did it.”

  “Who, my darling?” Joseph leaned toward her. “What do you speak of?”

  She raised her eyes to his, grasping at the strength that flung to her from his gaze. “My father.”

  In a swift motion Joseph rose and looked to the door, then sat beside her, taking her hands in his. “What did he do?”

  The facts were nearly too painful to voice, their blades cutting up her throat as she spoke them. “I see now what I had not seen before.” She spun her head toward the man she loved. “He made us each believe…” Nay, ’twas too harrowing to comprehend.

  The breath she inhaled was shallow, choppy. “He told me you came to the house when I was out. He said you wished to bid me farewell, that you r
ealized after our…our indiscretion that you didn’t want to marry. That you wanted a life free of vows. That you never wished to see me again.”

  Joseph stood and spun to face her. “I came to tell you I was ready to marry you. That very day.” Shock pulled his brow low and his posture straight. “I came to tell you I didn’t care what your father or anyone might think—that I knew we had done wrong but I wished to make it right. I wished to be your husband as we planned. But he…” His face reddened and fists curl. “He told me you hated me. That you despised me and blamed me for what had happened. That you never wished to see me again.”

  “Nay!” The ugliness of such a lie jerked her from her seat. Her head shook, the disbelief consuming to such a degree ’twas as if her body attempted on its own to fling the bitter revelations from her mind. “I never hated you. Even after I lost our son…”

  “You never hated me.” Tender and draped in longing, Joseph’s whispered statement cracked her fragile composure.

  “I wanted you.” Her chin quivered, and she pressed a hand over her mouth, the pains she harbored for so long finally bursting free, unwilling to stop their wild run to freedom. “I believed you would return to me.” She moved her hand to her chest and met his gaze. “’Twas that belief that kept me living. I almost lost my life along with the child, but I saw you returning so many times, and such a dream, however vain, was what kept my soul from slipping away.” Her voice wobbled. “For three years that hope lived within me. I could not believe you could have loved me so strong only to abandon what we had shared. But then…you never came.”

  Motionless, Joseph stood rigid, his arms at his sides, eyes red rimmed and jaw ticking madly. Rage prowled in the back center of his stare. “I am taking you away. Away from this place, away from him.”

  Pools of tears filled her eyes, then drained over her cheeks in hot streams. “You really loved me?”

  In a single stride he was beside her, his arms encircling her as he held her firm against him. Lips and nose against her hair, he whispered through a voice fraught with love. “My darling, I have only ever loved you.”