“M’lady, you must come!” the young maid said, frightfully distressed. “Her ladyship, she’s having her young’n!”
Hannah jumped to her feet. “Oh, my!”
* * * *
Mayfair was abuzz with activity for such an early hour. While the sun had risen hours before, it was unlikely one would meet a noble out until the afternoon, when one’s head was no longer pounding as much from the night before. Andrew could appreciate this at the current moment—the throbbing in his temples was dull, but present nonetheless.
Dusk walked at a steady clip to the side of the cobblestone road, out of the way of the odd carriage or passing wagon. He was thankful that his steed seemed to anticipate their destination and needed little assistance in direction from his master. He was not of the mind to provide it.
Andrew pulled his top hat down slightly, attempting to shield himself from the oddity of the glaring English sun. The action caused his ache little relief. Still, he was not one to wallow for long—his self-pity had achieved nothing. He was simply glad that his butler had had the sense to remove temptation last eve. An extra shilling would be finding its way into the man’s pay this month, and he made a mental note to inform his man of business as such.
As Dusk turned the corner, the sight of Hannah rushing out from her home had Andrew urging his horse into a canter. He chased after her, his headache forgotten, as she ran in the opposite direction down the street with a young woman in tow.
The sudden appearance of an unmoving black wall in her path brought Hannah to a sliding stop. A hand reaching down to steady her from above was a welcome but annoying comfort. Anna was in labour!
“What is wrong?” came a familiar, yet demanding voice from above.
“Sir Andrew, you must let us pass. M’lady is having her young’n!” her friend’s housemaid pleaded before Hannah had the chance.
The man perched high upon his steed snapped his attention to the girl. It only took him a moment to process her words before he reached down, scooping Hannah up under the arms and placing her before him in the saddle. She gasped in surprise, but his horse was already at a steady clip through Mayfair before she could catch her breath in an effort to object.
“Sir Andrew! Put me down!” she demanded, casting a worried look about them, but they were moving at such a speed people would receive little chance to identify them as they passed.
“If Anna is truly in labour, Dicky will be frantic and we have but a moment to waste. She will surely kill him before she births the child.”
Hannah thought on his amused words, and guessed he was likely right, just before his stallion flew down the lane behind her friend’s house. A groom rushed out and took Dusk’s reins as Sir Andrew lifted her down and dismounted behind.
“They are all upstairs,” the boy said, with a nod at the back door. Sir Andrew grasped her hand and pulled her for the house with a firm and urgent hold. She thought for a moment to object, but it was Anna he hurried her towards. How could she object to him assisting her in her goal?
As they entered the house and made their way to the grand staircase, a piercing scream filled the house. Sir Andrew’s step faltered in his ascent, and he gazed up to its source, concern lining his features. Hannah, however, did not pause—if anything, she pushed herself harder as she rushed past him towards the master chamber.
The room was in madness. Maids hovered, their horrified gazes pinned to Anna as she lay on the bed, her breathing rushed. Her husband was beside her, trying to soothe her with soft words. It had never worked in the past, so why the man thought it would help now was beyond Hannah’s imaginings.
“I hate you! You are to never touch me again!” Anna screamed at him, her face morphing into a mask of pain as a contraction took hold of her.
Hannah needed to take control—fast. This was not helping Anna’s labour.
“Out! All of you, now!” she demanded. The maids turned to her, obviously shocked at her unnoticed appearance behind them. She looked to Anna’s lady’s maid. “Cool water and a compress.”
The woman nodded and rushed about the task while the rest departed.
Hannah hurried forward to Anna’s side, as her friend seemed to come out of her pain. “Hannah?”
“Yes, my dear, I am here. All will be well,” she soothed.
Anna shook her head from side to side. “No, I’m dying.”
She could not help but huff a laugh at her friend’s defeated words. How like her own when she had brought Harold into this world they sounded. “Death would be a kinder fate, I know, but alas you are simply giving life to your child.”
Anna moaned, her blonde curls sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead.
“Open the window,” Hannah said, when she noted it closed, and Sir Andrew came up beside Lord Richard.
“One of the maids said you need to keep the room closed so the light does not blind the child,” Lord Richard said.
Hannah gave an unladylike snort. “The child will be born with his eyes closed, and trust me when I say that any morsel of cool air that rushes over her body right now will be a godsend.”
Lord Richard rose and pushed past Sir Andrew to fling the shutters open. “Better, love?” he asked eagerly as he came back.
Anna groaned once, before attempting to strike his crotch, her jaw clenched and her expression hardly reassuring. Both men stepped back, eyeing her warily.
* * * *
Andrew sat by the fire and watched his friend pace the length of the library. He did not attempt to soothe him, as the action would be fruitless. Instead, he tried to simply be a supporting presence in waiting. There was little else either of them could do, anyway.
Anna’s screams no longer pierced the walls. Instead, the occasional moaning was all that filtered from the room above. Hannah’s calm voice occasionally flowed through the ceiling, and Andrew found himself pining for more of those moments. Selfish and wrong, considering Anna’s pain.
The door opened and Anna’s lady’s maid entered. Dicky almost ran into her as he paced.
“Is she well?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Her Grace said to tell you that the birth is moments away, if you wish to be with your wife?”
Dicky did not reply. He simply ran past the girl, taking the stairs three at a time. Andrew followed closely behind.
Anna sat with pillows behind her back and her knees bent in an upright position. She panted her breaths and looked nothing like the sophisticated temptress he was used to. Hannah sat by her, rubbing her back, but moved aside as Dicky came closer to replace her in the task.
“The baby is crowning,” the doctor said.
Hannah looked at Andrew and frowned. “Close the door!”
He looked behind to see several of the staff craning around him. He glared at them before he stepped inside the door and closed it behind him. He instantly regretted stepping inside as Anna moaned, her back arching and her head falling forward in agony.
“The head is out! One more push!” the doctor called as Hannah moved beside him with a piece of linen. “You are doing well.”
A scream pierced the room, followed by a wail that was not from Anna.
“A boy! Anna, you have a beautiful baby boy!” Hannah said. She wrapped up the baby after the doctor had checked him over.
Anna was still moaning, though, and Andrew looked to her in worry, especially when he noted the doctor and Hannah exchanging rushed words.
“What is wrong?” Dicky asked, his voice laced with concern as he held his groaning wife’s hand.
Hannah turned to Dicky and smiled. “Nothing is wrong. I just hope you bought two of everything.”
It took Dicky a moment to comprehend, judging by the perplexed look on his friend’s face.
“I knew I should have made the bet,” Andrew found himself muttering.
Hannah’s gaze moved to him and she hurried forward to pass him the child. “Here, be useful.”
He stared at the now quiet child in his arms. Its full hea
d of hair and chubby cheeks stole his breath. How could he feel an instant connection to someone so small, so helpless? He looked up to Hannah, where she was assisting the doctor with another birth, and could not help but wonder what Hannah’s and his child would look like.
Chapter Four
“Andrew, stop hogging my child,” Richard playfully scolded Sir Andrew while he moved about the room, rocking and cooing to the little girl he held in his arms.
Hannah was so proud of her friend. A boy and a girl! How lucky Anna and Richard were. Both were perfect in every way. A parent could not ask for more.
“Do I get to trade?” Sir Andrew asked teasingly. He walked forward to pass the swaddled child into the open arms of its mother.
Anna had done so well. She was tired, as any new mother would be after birthing one child, let alone two. Yet, when Hannah had said that she and Sir Andrew should leave, Anna would not hear of it, asking that they stay a little while longer.
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” Hannah said, and cooed to the sleeping boy in her arms. He had received his feed and gone swiftly to sleep. A perfect child, a true gift for any mother.
Sir Andrew chuckled and settled on the bed between Hannah and Anna, giving Anna a kiss on the forehead as her daughter suckled. “I am so proud of you.”
Anna leaned into him with a smile as he watched the little girl with an odd look of longing about his face. Soon he gazed up and caught Hannah’s eye, and she forced herself to look away, yet was unable to stop the heat rushing to her cheeks.
How foolish she was. She was not wanton like her friend, not a woman of the world when it came to experience. Gosh, she had seen little more than London and the Holsworthy country estate. She was still a maiden in so many ways, and she was acting it. It was shameful! Her body lusted for a man and his offerings, offerings she still doubted in reality. Yet his touch, the longing it invoked within her body, was so strange, so foreign to anything she had ever felt with the late duke.
Hannah knew that Sir Andrew and Anna held a kinship she did not understand. Could one truly be friends with a man? She had never encountered it. She liked her friend’s husband, but they held nothing in common other than Anna. While jealousy was not the emotion that took hold of her at the thought of Anna and Sir Andrew’s friendship, a certain type of longing or envy moved through her.
“We have something to ask you both,” Anna announced, recapturing her attention.
“Oh?” Hannah asked, and regretfully handed the little boy in her arms to his father, who had motioned for the child.
“Yes. Dicky and I were wondering if you two would be the children’s godparents.”
It took Hannah a moment to get over her shock, but why, she had no idea. Anna was Harold’s godmother, after all. “I would be honoured!” she cried, embracing her friend and almost squashing the child as she fed. “Sorry, little one.”
“I too would be honoured,” Sir Andrew said, shaking Dicky’s hand. “You both know that.”
Hannah watched Sir Andrew as he touched the little girl’s cheek. She had finished feeding, but was not so full that she did not turn to his finger and attempt to grasp it between her gums. Everyone chuckled, including Hannah.
“We’d best be going,” Sir Andrew said, with regret in his tone.
“You will see Hannah home?” Anna asked.
Hannah made a move to object, but he interrupted. “Of course. Do you mind if I leave Dusk here tonight and we take a hackney? It is not far to her residence, but too late to walk.”
She looked towards the window, noting the late hour as arrangements were made for his horse and her escort.
* * * *
The dim glow of the lantern inside the hired carriage did little to illuminate the vivid woman who sat opposite him. The carriage departed, and Andrew could not help but feel regret as Hannah closed the curtain, removing any additional light from the faint street lights they passed. Now, completely alone in her presence, a small part of him thought to proposition her again, but he ignored it. The mere thought of offering her companionship in her bed seemed cheap in comparison to what they had just witnessed. In truth, he wasn’t sure that was all he wished from her. His mind had yet to make sense of it all.
“Twins,” he said, in an attempt to engage her company and distract him from his own thoughts. “No wonder she was so large.”
Hannah offered a tight smile in reply. “Indeed. She did well.”
“Quite.” Silence followed his words. She did not seem eager to converse. Disappointing.
Andrew had never been one to force conversation, and quite admired a woman’s ability to be silent, in reality—especially when all most women seemed to converse over was fashion or gossip. Even the weather at times became a dreary topic. He and Hannah had never conversed regarding any of that. Another oddity where she was concerned. A pleasant one.
Hannah shot lingering glances his way during the all too short ride to her home, but she never held his gaze for long. The idea of being alone this night, after witnessing such a gift at Dicky and Anna’s with the birth of their twins, made Andrew doubly eager to prolong their encounter, not that he hadn’t already been eager beforehand.
The carriage came to a halt outside her home. A pang of disappointment lodged in his chest as his mind worked in an effort to find a reason for him to stay. Sadly, he found none.
He exited and held out his hand for her. She took it and slid gracefully from the bulky but slightly rickety carriage. Because she had seemed not to welcome his contact in the past, and had tolerated it only when necessary, he expected her to withdraw her hand as soon as her feet touched the pavement. However, she did not. Instead, she threaded her arm through his, as if expecting him to accompany her to the door. A smile threatened to lift his lips. Perhaps she was warming to him after all?
“Good evening, governor,” the driver called, as he pulled away from the kerb. Andrew had only offered Hannah’s address and had paid the driver, thinking he could negotiate his travel once he’d assisted her home—though, it seemed, he need not worry at this point.
He watched the outline of her features from the corner of his eye while they proceeded to her door. Her butler appeared before they reached it.
“Good evening, your Grace. Is there news regarding Lady Anna?” he asked on a bow.
“Indeed, Morris. They welcomed twins, a boy and a girl. All are quite well.”
The butler nodded, pleased. “The staff will be happy to hear it.”
“Um, yes. I am sure they will,” she said. Andrew watched her gnaw on her bottom lip.
“Do you require anything further?” her butler asked, offering Andrew a curious glance.
“Um, no. Thank you, Morris. That will be all. Please feel free to retire for the evening.”
The man blinked once, then nodded. He took Andrew’s jacket and hat and placed them on a small side table as he departed the room.
Hannah moved her hand back to Andrew’s arm, before she laid her palm in his. She raised her gaze to meet his, but said nothing. Only her curious eyes—eyes that seemed filled with questions—stared back at him.
He wanted to speak questions of his own, but ruining what he longed for—something he’d wished might grace him but had never dreamed of, which might be happening with her at that moment—was not something he was willing to risk. Was she offering what he thought she was?
She tightened her hand around his and Andrew felt his lips lifting slightly in a pleased tilt, in a way he hoped was also reassuring. Hannah took a deep breath and turned, leading him up the stairs, taking him willingly along with her.
On the second level, she paused at a slightly ajar door. Hannah toed the door open and stepped inside the room, dropping his hand in the process.
A small lantern glowed dimly on the side table. Hannah approached the bed. Harold lay in the centre of the undersized bed, his sheets kicked down in disarray. His chubby little cheeks pushed in and out as his mouth worked about his thumb. His ar
m was curled around a well-loved puppy doll.
Hannah pulled up the boy’s sheets, covering him before she leant down, brushing away a fallen curl from his forehead. The child sighed and rolled over, taking his puppy and sheets with him again.
A mother’s love—the same look he had seen on Anna’s face as she had held her new children—showed on Hannah’s at that moment. It warmed him in a way he had never thought possible.
He stepped forward and placed an arm around her waist as he moved up behind her, aligning his body with hers. She stiffened for a moment before she leant back into him, her head resting for a moment on his shoulder as they simply watched her son sleep.
Andrew could not say how long they stood there, but after some time she shifted her hand to his where it rested over the flat of her belly, taking it in her own. Hannah led them out, leaving the heavy wooden door ajar, as it had been when they had come upon it, then proceeded down the hall.
A lamp sat just inside the final door on the right. Soft yellows and flowers decorated the room upon a quick inspection, but it was the large four-poster bed in its centre that dominated the room and his attention.
Hannah turned once they were inside, and dropped his hand to clutch hers before her. Her gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before she looked up at him. Vulnerability shone brightly in her eyes. It pained him to see it on her exquisite features.
He pushed the door closed behind him. The latch, as it clicked closed, sounded loud in the quiet room. The gentle crackling of the grated fire was all he could hear.
“Did you mean it?” she asked softly.
“Mean what?”
“Pleasure. You can show it to me?”
His heart stopped for a moment, only to kick back with double force. “I did.”
She offered a slow nod, her gaze flicking to the lamp beside him. “Turn it off.”
Trusting the Rogue Page 4
