Chapter
21

Two days later, Hannah tidied her belongings in the large suite she now shared with her husband, still amazed at the size of the space. Their quarters made her former room upstairs look like a closet.

When she was finished, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror above Nolan’s washstand. Her cheeks, still flushed from an afternoon encounter with her husband, glowed with a health that belied her constant nausea. Several strands of hair had come loose from her bun. She quickly re-pinned the pieces and walked out to the sitting area.

Nolan had gone out to the stables to check on his horse, and Hannah now found herself at a loss, adrift in unfamiliar waters. By all rights, she should be down in the kitchen helping Edna prepare the evening meal. But Nolan insisted that from now on she was to act as his wife, not one of the estate maids. And to do so, he thought it better that she avoid the servants’ area belowstairs. How did she make this transition? What did one do with one’s time if not working?

Hannah’s thoughts turned to Molly. Though Aunt Iris had objected, Hannah thought it best that Molly return to her position in the scullery for now. Until matters got sorted out, it would give the girl something to focus on. And in case things didn’t work out, there was no point in letting her get accustomed to living in luxury.

After stoking the fire in the hearth, Hannah made a quick decision to slip down to the kitchen before Nolan got back. She would check on her sister and Edna, then make sure Aunt Iris was faring well. She hoped her aunt was resting in the guest room, well out of the earl’s way. Though his lordship’s initial resentment at finding an uninvited duchess in his home had given way to polite tolerance, Hannah didn’t trust him to remain cordial.

As she descended the stairs, Hannah recalled the way she’d left Stainsby Hall in such a panic, and a wave of remorse hit her. She’d surely worried poor Edna to death, springing her secret marriage on her in a fit of tears and quitting her post in one fell swoop. She owed the dear woman a well-overdue explanation and an apology. Edna would want assurance that she’d returned of her own accord.

The kitchen bustled with activity when Hannah arrived. Steam rose above the pans on the stove. The aroma of freshly baked rolls teased her nose, and despite her unsettled stomach, she found herself hungry for the first time in days.

Edna stood in the midst of the mayhem, cap askew, shouting orders at the other maids. Upon spying Hannah, she threw up her arms and rushed to embrace her. “Hannah, my girl. I was so happy to see Molly and to hear that you’d decided to return.”

Hannah managed a genuine smile. She’d missed this down-to-earth woman more than she knew. “It’s good to be back, though strange not to be helping you prepare the food. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to come down and see you.”

“Well, you’re a grand lady now. You need to be learning the ways of a future earl’s wife.”

“All in good time.” Hannah scanned the kitchen for her sister. Perhaps she was out in the larder.

“If you’re looking for Molly, I’ve sent her up to the dining room to collect the silver. It needs a good polishing and will keep her busy for the evening. All she can talk about is the Duchess of Hartford and her dog. Head in the clouds, that one.” Edna clucked her tongue. “She must be daydreaming up there. She should’ve been back ages ago.”

Hannah patted the woman’s plump arm. “Never mind. I’ll go see what’s keeping her and send her down straightaway.”

“You’re a good girl. Come back when it’s quiet and have a cup of tea with me.”

“I’d like that.”

Hannah frowned as she made her way upstairs. What was Molly thinking? She should be paying more attention to her post and less time woolgathering. She prayed Molly had not broken any of the heirloom china or crystal. Maybe that’s why she was taking so long to come back, afraid of the consequences.

Hannah quickened her steps until she reached the dining room. As she was about to enter, a deep voice floated out to her, chilling the blood in her veins.

“You are every bit as pretty as your sister, Miss Molly Burnham. How lucky we are to have you to brighten up the scenery.” Timothy Bellows’s chuckle held an ominous quality that made the hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck rise.

She pushed open the door and looked from the dining table to the long sideboard. Timothy had Molly trapped against the cabinet, his lecherous mouth fused to her neck. Struggling against his arms, Molly’s terrified eyes sought Hannah’s.

A rush of intense anger burned through Hannah. “Take your hands off her, you rotter.” She raced across the room and began to batter him with her fists.

She’d put up with the randy footman’s advances for far too long, never wanting to make a fuss or jeopardize her position. But she would let no one harm Molly.

Hannah’s fury climbed as she continued to flail his back. Finally the man’s grip slackened, and Molly managed to break free.

With an angry roar, Timothy whirled around, swinging hard. His elbow connected with Hannah’s head.

She screamed as the force threw her across the room where she landed with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in her skull, then everything went dark.

Nolan left the barn and headed up to the front door of the manor. He was still not completely comfortable using this entrance and half-expected Dobson to reprimand him for not utilizing the rear servants’ door. Strange how one small detail could signify such a huge change in status.

As he entered the main hallway, a terrible scream split the air.

Hannah!

His heart took off at a gallop as he raced down the corridor, trying to determine which direction the cry had come from.

Molly burst out of the dining room, her face wild with fear. “Nolan! Hurry! Hannah’s been injured.”

Nolan barreled through the door, coming upon a scene that chilled his blood. Timothy Bellows knelt over Hannah’s limp form on the floor.

Murderous rage pounded in Nolan’s ears. He stormed across the room, grabbed Bellows by the back of his shirt, and wrenched him away from Hannah. “What have you done to her?” he shouted.

Bellows stumbled and grasped the edge of the table, glaring at Nolan with undisguised hatred.

Fury pumped through Nolan’s chest. The impediments that had previously held him back from dealing with the reprobate no longer existed. He was the earl’s son, and he would not tolerate anyone threatening Hannah.

“You piece of scum.” He charged, plowing his fist into Bellows’s face, satisfaction soaring at the crunch of his nose.

Bellows roared, ignoring the blood that streamed from his nostrils, and lunged at Nolan. Nolan swung again, this time connecting with Bellows’s jaw. The thug went down hard and lay unmoving on the ground.

Breathing hard, Nolan rushed to Hannah’s side and gently lifted her head onto his lap. A large purple welt had already formed on her face, the only color visible against the deathly pallor of her skin. Blood oozed from a nasty gash over her ear. Desperate, he gripped one of her hands in his. The light fluttering of a pulse barely registered under his fingertips.

“Hannah, love, can you hear me?” He smoothed her matted hair off her forehead. With her lashes lying in wet spikes on her cheek, she looked like a wounded angel.

His chest heaved as he fought for air. Please, God, don’t take her from me now.

The muffled sound of frantic voices came from the hallway, then someone came up beside him.

Lady Hartford’s anxious face bent over him, her skin as pale as chalk as she took in Hannah’s injuries. “You must call a doctor immediately,” she said. “I believe Hannah is carrying your child.”