by Ayles, Abby
Hannah had anticipated him attempting to get in without so much as an invitation. She shuffled herself round the bed with a candlestick in her hand. Raising it in the air to be ready when the door opened, she bade the vile fiend enter.
Grimshaw for the second time found himself being physically attacked by the tenacious Miss Jacobson.
Luckily as her weapon swung to hit him he dropped his candlestick, extinguishing the light and gripping what he guessed was a fire poker of some sort.
“You rake! You monster!” Hannah yelled.
She hadn’t anticipated Poole catching her blow. She desperately tried to yank the candlestick out of his grasp.
“What is wrong with you, woman?” Grimshaw’s voice shot back.
Hannah immediately dropped the candlestick into his hand.
“Lord Grimshaw?”
“Yes,” he said, exasperated and glad she had released her grip on the object.
He bent down to pick up his candle, now extinguished.
“Why would you tell me to come in only to attack me?” Grimshaw asked in confusion, holding the object close to his face. “And with a candelabra I see. A step up from the book I might add,” he added with humor.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Yes, you keep saying that.”
Hannah turned and found the matches on her hearth. Lighting one, she lit the candle there and brought it to Grimshaw to light his as well.
He was looking down at her, partly gauging if she was to faint again like last time. Luckily she still had her same complexion and instead of fear she seemed alight with purpose.
“Perhaps you would like to tell me who you were expecting instead?”
Hannah pursed her lips close together. She had no desire to tell the earl that David Poole was harassing her.
He may have been kind enough to give her job back but he clearly still didn’t completely trust her. Otherwise why else would he ask to accompany them to Mrs. McCarthy’s house.
If she told him she was expecting Mr. Poole to enter her room in the middle of the night he would jump to his own conclusion before she would even be able to explain the reason.
Grimshaw set his candle down on the nightstand and crossed his arms, looking down on her severely.
“Miss Jacobson, I must insist you tell me. There is something going on here and I demand to know it.”
“Even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. I shall save my breath, thank you. Please tell me what brings you to my room at this late hour and quickly.”
“I will happily do so after you inform me who you are expecting instead of myself?” Grimshaw retorted, willing to match her stubborn nature.
Suddenly Hannah stilled at the sound of more approaching steps. Her eyes fell on the candlestick still in Grmishaw’s hands.
Recognizing her thoughts, he held it farther back from her and gave her a questioning look.
She instantly ran to shut the door and lock it as quietly as possible and then blew out the candles so that they were standing again in the dark.
“Please, sir,” Hannah whispered pleadingly, “the candlestick.”
“I believe all in company will be much safer if I hold this,” he returned in his own whisper, sensing that the guest was not welcome by her actions.
Grimshaw was puzzled by the whole event. But he had little time to register it as the light of a candle shone beneath the door and someone attempted to open the door without even a knock.
He watched as Miss Jacobson tensed for just a moment as the handle was jiggled. She took a step towards him and he couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that she was leaning towards him for protection.
What was it that she needed protection from? He was about to open the door and see for himself since she had no desire to tell him the name of this night intruder. Suddenly he heard the clanking of keys and one being slid into the lock.
“Oh dear,” she said under her breath. “He got a key.”
Grimshaw turned around, keeping Miss Jacobson at his back for protection. Though he was sure he couldn’t possibly need it he lifted the candelabra into the air as several keys were tried in the lock.
Finally the clicking sound of gears turning echoed in the room and Grimshaw stiffened, ready to meet the assailant.
The door swung open and much to his surprise he found before him the shocked face of David Poole. David only hesitated a moment, before turning to run.
In two long steps Grimshaw was out the door and facing the retreating figure of Poole.
“David Poole! I saw your face, man! Return right now or I shall have you arrested.”
His voice boomed down the hall and surely woke the whole house but he didn’t care. What he cared about at that moment was to know why Poole was at Hannah Jacobson’s door and with a key to boot.
Had he been right in his first assumption that they were interlopers? Even worse, was it a far more intimate relationship than he imagined Miss Jacobson would ever have outside of wedlock?
Poole halted at the earl’s words. There would be no chance for him to run now that he was recognized. It wasn’t hard to do so with his fire red hair glowing against the candle light even as he retreated.
“Lord Grimshaw, I had no idea you would…I am afraid we both have been entrapped in a very devious plot.”
Hannah now also exited her room and stood close by Grimshaw.
“Entrapped? What do you mean?”
“Obviously Miss Jacobson asked us both to be here tonight. Normally I don’t condone such immodest behavior,” Poole said, using his quick wit to his advantage. “I am afraid Miss Jacobson was most insistent I come to her room tonight.”
“I was not asked to Miss Jacobson’s chambers nor would I expect her to do the same to any man.”
Grimshaw looked down at the woman to his side.
“Of course not,” she said, surprised that he would even consider to ask.
“I am afraid she is lying,” Poole said with an unfortunate look to his words. “She was most bewitching. I am ashamed to say she convinced me to visit her this night.”
“I would not lie to you, sir,” Poole continued. “I have been a loyal member of your staff these last five years. I have never given you reason to mistrust me.”
Hannah was faltering as she stood. This was why she had not spoken a word to Lord Grimshaw about Poole. She was sure he would believe the man over herself.
“Hannah,” Grimshaw said, turning towards the lady, “tell me the truth of it and I will believe you.”
Hannah searched his eyes for his sincerity and in the dark recesses she found it. She could lose nothing by at least trying.
“Mr. Poole has continued to harass me since my arrival despite my attempt to stop him. I have been forced to lock myself in my room at night for safety and cannot be alone in the house without fearing his attacks.”
“She lies, sir,” Poole said with a scoff.
“I highly doubt that as I myself have been witness to her attempt to fend off an attacker,” Grimshaw retorted.
“I have proof, sir,” Poole said, reaching into his pocket. “Here, a lock of hair that Miss Jacobson gave me as a symbol of her affection.”
He held up the golden lock in the glow of the firelight tied with a piece of twine.
Grimshaw turned to Miss Jacobson for a response. Her face went white as a ghost and for just a second he faltered in his belief of her words.
“He took it from me,” she said weakly. “I was in the garden. Mr. Poole pulled me into a corner, he held a knife to my throat so I wouldn’t scream and took the lock.”
He could see her clenching her fist to stop from shaking from just the simple memory of the event. He realized he knew the time well.
Grimshaw had watched her with the girls in the garden. After the children left he thought he saw her walk into a darkened corner and then Poole walk out.
Now that the prejudice produced by the previous governess’s actions was r
emoved from his eyes he realized she didn’t slip into the alcove but was pulled. It was such a little variance but he knew it clearly as he replayed the memory in his head.
His stomach hit the floor and rage filled Grimshaw all at once. He struggled to know what emotion to stuff down and which one to allow free reign.
Hannah Jacobson had lived in fear under his very own roof these past months. She had been tortured, tormented, and threatened. Worse, she never found it safe to ask for his help.
Would he have believed her had she come to him? In all honesty he couldn’t say he would have. It made him all the more sick with himself.
Grimshaw narrowed his gaze on David Poole and clenched his own fists. Poole swallowed hard and took a little step back.
“You will leave my house this instant. I don’t even want to see you stop to collect your things. I will have them sent,” Grimshaw said in a deep hard voice.
“If I ever see you so much as set foot on my property again I will have you arrested. Do I make myself clear?’
“But…” Poole stammered. “Yes, sir,” he finally sighed with resignation.
He turned to leave.
“Another thing,” Lord Grimshaw bellowed, taking full use of his authority.
He held out a hand in front of Poole, “I believe you have something that belongs to Miss Jacobson.”
Poole walked forward tentatively, not sure if it was a trick. Setting the lock of hair into the earl’s hand he stepped back again.
“The keys too,” Grimshaw bellowed.
He took the ring of keys from his pocket. No doubt someone who actually was trusted enough to have these would be searching for them. He would have to take them to Mrs. Brennon in the morning.
“Now go,” Grimshaw growled.
Poole couldn’t meet the earl’s gaze. He simply turned and walked away. It took all Grimshaw’s civility to let the fiend go and not beat him to a pulp.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lord Grimshaw could scarcely look at the woman at his side. He was far too ashamed with himself. How he had allowed his governess to be harassed all without his knowledge in the safety of his own home was unforgivable.
“Thank you,” Hannah said, putting a hand on his arm. “I wasn’t sure you were going to believe me.”
He pocketed the pilfered items and turned to the lady. He gently put one hand on either of her arms and pulled her closer to him.
She followed his motion till there was just a breath between them. She arched her head up to look into the earl’s face. She could see it wracked with torment and she wondered if he was again debating her worth in the house.
“I wish you would have told me sooner,” Grimshaw finally said with a soft husk to his voice.
“To think how you must have lived these months,” it pained him to say.
He reached a hand up and let the back of his fingers brush along her jawbone. Hannah leaned into his touch unconsciously.
She couldn’t keep up with her own changing emotions this night. But to go from terrified over Poole’s actions to complete comforting bliss at Lord Grimshaw’s touch was the biggest leap for her.
“It hasn’t all been bad,” she said softly as she relished his touch.
“But it could have been far better,” Grimshaw responded with a furrow of his dark brows.
He tilted her head up ever so slightly with the tips of his fingers. She looked deeply into his dark eyes. He dipped his own head down just slightly.
He wanted to kiss her, to feel her soft velvet lips against his. She was ready and waiting for it as well.
Instantly his mind went to Ann and the letter. Grimshaw knew in his heart that Hannah was the one.
She was the lady who would love his children as her own, who would love him as her own. He had already opened his heart to her and let her in. Try as he might to shut her out, she had come in all the same.
Grimshaw still had that hesitation however. That thought of his wife and his loyalty to her. Could he ever let himself love again and not betray his wife?
The words Hannah had spoken to him had made sense at the time. Now that he was in the moment and full of passion for this woman, he wasn’t so sure his late wife would condone such actions.
He let his hand drop and took a step back from Miss Jacobson. She looked confused and hurt for just a second. He supposed she had fully intended that kiss too.
It pained him to see her hurt and denied. It hurt more to put that distance between them when his body and mind was screaming otherwise.
“You came to tell me something,” Hannah finally said to break the tension between them.
“Yes, I did,” Grimshaw said solemnly.
He thought it over. He had come to tell her his feelings. Now he wasn’t sure he could do that. The momentum was gone out of him.
“But I think there has been enough revelation for one night. I will leave it for another time,” Grimshaw said.
Hannah opened her mouth to protest, to encourage him to speak his mind. She could see there was no point to it however.
“Thank you, though,” he said with a soft smile.
“For what?”
“Our talk today. It gave me a great deal to think over.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, too tempted not to do so. Grimshaw kissed it softly, and Hannah took an unconscious step forward bringing them closer together.
“Goodnight, Miss Jacobson,” he said softly.
She kept her eyes on his lips as they brushed the soft skin of her hand.
“I hope you sleep soundly. You are safe now,” he added. “I will verify he has removed himself from the property right now,” he reassured her. “You have nothing to fear at Brighton Abby any longer.”
“Thank you,” Hannah managed to squeeze out in a whisper. “Goodnight.”
He reluctantly released her hand and she made to re-enter her room. She paused at the door for just a moment and looked back at him.
Grimshaw watched her walk away from him. It was torture to see her go without making his feelings known to her.
He was rewarded however when she paused and glanced back at him. She smiled softly, letting those sweet dimples shine before slowly closing the door to her image.
Lord Grisham settled to traveling the length of the hall to his own room. Nothing seemed to have gone the way he hoped that night, but he still couldn’t be too disappointed with it.
“Grisham, what was that racket?” a genteel female voice called.
Grisham stopped in his tracks to find that just as he was passing Lady Tara’s room she poked her head out.
“I thought I heard shouting.”
She stepped out into the hall in her dressing gown.
“Nothing to trouble yourself over, Lady Tara. Let’s just say I had a disgruntled employee but it’s all been taken care of now.”
Lady Tara looked down the hall towards the direction of the house he had come from. She mused she knew the only employee who would reside that way.
“I see,” she said in a satisfied knowing way.
Grimshaw considered correcting her, but he thought better of it. He had little care for what Lady Tara thought.
In the morning he would make it clear to her that he had no intention of marrying her. Grimshaw seriously doubted she would stay long after that.
He was sure of his feelings for Hannah Jacobson, but knew she would need some time to recover from her negative experience with Mr. Poole.
There was also still that pesky feeling of guilt over his late wife. Miss Jacobson had made a lot of sense to him. He couldn’t deny his feelings for her any longer either.
But he was sure he would need to find a way to come to terms with his feelings towards his late wife before he could actually see a future with anyone else.
In a very strange and backwards way, David Poole’s interruption that night had been providential.
His feelings for Miss Jacobson were there, and were sure to stay. Even the distraction of other pros
pects in London didn’t seem to shake her loose from him.
However, until he was ready to let his Ann go he would never be ready to accept another woman in.
Hannah Jacobson settled back into her room. She couldn’t shake the feeling of Sebastian Blackburn’s kiss on her hand.
She had found him so serious and somber when she first moved to Brighton Abby. Now she was starting to truly see him in a new light.
She considered when she had seen him working on his beloved west wing over the spring and summer. He had been breathtakingly handsome.
Hannah saw now that he was more than just a handsome, somber and brooding man. He had abounding love for his daughters.
So much so that he would do just about anything to keep them from getting hurt again, no matter what that entailed.
Hannah smiled at the thought. He was so overly protective of them now. How would he behave when they became of age to attend seasons in town?
She snuggled down into her cover to keep off the chill. She hadn’t lit a fire that night in her room and the cold was finding its way through the stone walls of the house.
Hannah had to keep reminding herself that winters had the potential of being much more severe here than in London. She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.
Luckily she wouldn’t have to. Unlike her childhood in the preparatory school she would be allotted warm fires and heated water to wash in.
This night she was much too exhausted to get up and start the fire. She pulled her covers closer to her. It was much cooler than she was used to lately but nothing she hadn’t experienced before.
She would rather stay in the warmth of her bed than get out. As she lay there she replayed Grimshaw’s actions that night.
She was so sure that he would not believe her words. Now looking back she saw how ridiculous that was.
She was pretty sure her months of torment could have been resolved if she had just gotten up the courage to speak with the earl.
He may have seemed controlling but he was not without common sense. If she had appealed to him at the start, she could have saved herself a lot of pain and suffering.
She would have liked to be free of Poole sooner but she had to admit that with that suffering had also come some growth.
