Chapter Eleven
“WEREN’T YOU RATHER hard on your poor husband at dinner last night?” Hannah asked Rebecca the next day as the two women strolled down to visit the babies. Peter scrambled along ahead of them.
“Perhaps a little,” her friend conceded with a mellow, musical chuckle. “I fear it may be a failing I picked up at school, being too quick to criticize. Fortunately Sebastian has learned to put up with my faults as I have with his. We do not love each other any less for them. As fine a man as he is in so many ways, he often forgets that other people may have reasons for behaving in ways of which he does not approve.”
Hannah nodded in sympathy with the viscount. “I share his difficulty.”
She lowered her voice so the child would not overhear. “When I first came to Edgecombe, I formed a very poor opinion of Lord Hawkehurst. He was away at war while the countess was here and so kind to me. I came to blame him for all her unhappiness, without knowing or caring why he acted as he did.”
“Do not expect me to reproach you.” Rebecca reached for her friend’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I was the same when I met Sebastian. I believe I wrote you about him after our first meeting when he mistook me for Hermione.”
Hannah nodded. “And you did not correct his mistake.”
“Not one of my finer moments.” Rebecca grimaced. “It amazes me that we ended up in love and so happy together after such an unlikely beginning to our acquaintance.”
“But you are happy?” Hannah asked. “You both certainly appear to be.”
“Happier than I ever expected.” Rebecca’s smile sparkled like rays of summer sunshine through the leaves. “Happier than I deserve, perhaps, but it is a blessing I shall never take for granted. I only hope all my friends can find such happiness of their own someday.”
Was she happy? Hannah had been far too busy to stop and ask herself that question. Surely she could not be so soon after the death of dear Lady Hawkehurst. But when she examined her heart, Hannah was surprised to find herself considerably happier than she ought to be under the circumstances. Perhaps it was seeing her friend again after all these years that had lifted her spirits. But Rebecca’s talk of her love for Lord Benedict made Hannah fear it might be something more.
Fortunately they arrived at the tenant cottages before Rebecca had a chance to notice her friend’s preoccupation. Because the day was so warm, Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Wilkes were happy to let Hannah and Rebecca take the twins outside in the shade of a towering oak tree. While Peter poked about nearby searching for acorns and other small treasures of nature, the women cuddled and cooed over the babies. The little ones responded by gurgling, smiling and otherwise contriving to steal Rebecca’s heart.
“I have never been around infants much.” Rebecca abandoned the proper decorum of a viscountess to rub noses with little Alice. “Hermione was an only child and half-grown by the time I became her governess. I envy you having charge of these two little darlings. I can hardly wait to have children of my own.”
“You will be a wonderful mother.” Hannah held Arthur to her shoulder and patted his back. “In the meantime, you will have the opportunity to enjoy the company of all the young Chases when you visit Evangeline in the North Country. She has her hands full with five to care for, but if anyone can rise to the challenge, it is our intrepid leader. I envy you the opportunity to see her and Leah again.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m sure Lord Hawkehurst could spare you for a week or two if you asked. And think what a surprise it would be for Evangeline to see us both!”
Much as the idea appealed to Hannah, she shook her head without great regret. “I am needed here at Edgecombe. A certain young gentleman has had too many upheavals in his life of late. My presence has been the one constant, and I cannot take that from him. Besides, I fear I would grow sick with longing for the little ones if I had to go more than two days without seeing them.”
There was another reason she could not bring herself to leave Edgecombe now, even for a week. What if the earl received a reliable report of Bonaparte’s whereabouts? If she was not here to prevent him, he might ride off to Dover and board a ship for France in spite of his physician’s warning.
“It is all very well to be so devoted to the children you care for,” Rebecca replied as she rocked little Alice in her arms. “I would expect no less of you. But do you never yearn for a home, a husband and little ones of your own?”
Hannah dismissed her friend’s question with a shake of her head. “There is already one from our group married, which is more than our teachers predicted. If any more of us make it to the altar, it will likely be our beauties, Grace or Evangeline.”
Rebecca laughed, prompting a delighted squeal from Alice. “Grace will never attract a husband in that hideous cap and spectacles, and I am not certain either Leah or Evangeline would accept a proposal if they received one. You know how they value their independence. But I always thought you would make some fortunate man an excellent wife, Hannah. You must not leave it too late, though, or you will lose any chance of finding a husband worthy of you.”
Checking to make certain Peter was not too near, Rebecca lowered her voice. “Once the earl’s children grow a little older, perhaps when he remarries, you should come and stay with us in London. Then I can introduce you to some suitable gentlemen.”
Rebecca’s offer made Hannah’s heart race and her stomach feel quite hollow. Which dismayed her more, the thought of leaving Edgecombe to seek a husband or the notion of Lord Hawkehurst marrying another woman to take the place of his first countess?
“That is very kind of you, Rebecca, but I cannot think of leaving Edgecombe as long as his lordship needs me.” In truth, she could not imagine leaving Edgecombe or the earl, under any circumstances without a shadow of despair threatening to blight her future. There was only one man she could conceive of marrying with any prospect of happiness.
That thought possessed Hannah so suddenly she almost dropped little Arthur. She’d had hints of the nature of her feelings for the earl before. But she had thrust them from her mind, hoping they were only foolish fancies bred of fatigue or a reaction to her grief. Seeing Rebecca’s love for her husband and their joy in each other’s company, Hannah was now forced to recognize her feelings for what they truly were.
Suddenly she understood why people spoke of falling into a romantic attachment. She had never intended such a thing to happen, never believed it possible. But the emotional ground had shifted beneath her heart, plunging it to a frightening depth. Perhaps if she had experienced such feelings before she might have recognized the danger signs and been able to stop herself before it was too late.
Rebecca might not have taken their teachers’ harsh predictions to heart. But Hannah’s prior experiences had disposed her to believe they were right in claiming she would never be good enough to attract a husband. To protect herself from the pain of their inevitable rejection, she had avoided men her own age and focused on the faults of those few she did encounter. Like Aesop’s fox and the sour grapes, she had convinced herself she was not missing anything by remaining unwed. Could that be why she had formed such a poor opinion of the earl and concentrated on the problems in his marriage?
“Hannah?” Rebecca’s anxious voice called her back from her troubling realizations. “Are you quite well? You’ve gone so pale. I hope I have not upset you. I know how much a part of the family a governess can feel, especially when the father is widowed. But children grow up far too quickly, as I discovered with Hermione. Once these little ones do, even after all your loyal service, you would be expected to go elsewhere and begin again in a new household.”
Much as Hannah wanted to pretend that would never happen, she knew better. “I am well aware of what being a governess entails. Edgecombe was not my first position.”
She had been employed by another family before coming here, some distant relations of Lady Hawkehurst. Though she had grown fond of her pupils, she’d scarcely heard from them after they outgrew the need for her services. Peter had been such a dear little fellow and the countess so welcoming that she had not minded putting her earlier attachments behind her. The thought of that happening with the Romney children, and their father, shook her.
“At least promise me you will think about my offer,” said Rebecca. “You need not decide right away. The earl’s second countess may not be so congenial, especially when she learns you were close to his first wife. Then you might not be so sorry to leave Edgecombe as you would be now.”
“What makes you certain his lordship will remarry?” Hannah heard her voice growing sharp, quite against her will. That, and perhaps her preoccupation, made Arthur begin to fuss.
“Of course he will remarry.” Rebecca cast her friend a puzzled glance as if bewildered by her sudden irritation. “For the sake of his children, if nothing else. It would be a shame if such a fine man remained alone for the rest of his life.”
From wondering how she could ever leave Edgecombe, Hannah began to question how she could bear to stay, feeling the way she did about Gavin Romney. Her situation could only get worse if he did as Rebecca predicted and took a new wife.
“It was good of you to invite me riding while the ladies have some private time,” said Lord Benedict as he and Gavin made a leisurely circuit of the estate. “I suspect there are subjects they might wish to discuss without a gentleman listening in.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Gavin inhaled a deep breath of warm summer air scented with leather and horseflesh. “I have been looking for an excuse to get back in the saddle. I cannot recall the last time I went so long without riding.”
“Does it bother your wound?” asked the viscount. They had talked about Gavin’s experiences at Waterloo after dinner the previous evening.
“Only a twinge now and then,” he confessed. “Though I would consider it a great favor if you would not mention that to Miss Fletcher. She seems determined to swaddle me in cotton wool.”
“You may depend on my discretion,” Lord Benedict assured him. “Rebecca tells me Miss Fletcher was very close to your late wife. Perhaps she feels obliged to look out for your welfare as the countess would have wished.”
Was that why Hannah Fletcher had gone to such pains to care for him—because it was part of the vow she’d made to Clarissa? The thought did not sit well with Gavin.
His face must have betrayed his feelings for Lord Benedict cried out, “Forgive my confounded thoughtlessness! It was not my intention to distress you by speaking of your wife while your loss is so fresh. I do not know how I would bear it if any harm should come to Rebecca. You have taken such pains not to dampen our spirits with your grief, yet I should have considered how you must be feeling.”
Gavin could not let the poor man reproach himself so severely over an innocent remark. “Do not fret, sir. Your mention of my wife did not cause me the grief you suppose. I wish it did. Hard as that would be to bear, at least it would be a clean wound that might heal properly in time.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Gavin regretted not holding his tongue. How could he expect a man who clearly adored his new bride to understand the complicated, burdened relationship that had been his marriage to Clarissa?
The last thing he expected was for Lord Benedict to reply with a sympathetic murmur, “Even tainted wounds can heal if treated with the proper medicine.”
Gavin wondered if he had misheard.
Marking his puzzled look, the viscount explained, “Rebecca is not my first wife. After my previous marriage I neither expected nor wanted to try my luck again. I am grateful that Providence decided otherwise.”
“Then you do understand.”
The viscount nodded. “I contracted my first marriage for all the wrong reasons. Thankfully, I made my second for the only reason that truly matters.”
How well Gavin knew about wedding for the wrong reasons. It was like trying to construct a house on an unstable foundation. The higher one built and the longer the house stood, the more likely it was to collapse.
They came to a narrow stream shaded by towering elms. The horses waded into the water and dipped their heads to drink.
Sebastian patted his mount’s neck. “I was a besotted young fool the first time—taken in by looks and vivacity. She did not care for me, only for what I could give her. Unfortunately, men in our position seem to attract such women.”
Perhaps so, but Gavin knew the troubles in his marriage had been quite the opposite of Lord Benedict’s. He sensed it was not a subject about which the viscount confided in many people.
“When I first met Rebecca,” Lord Benedict continued, “I was trying to break the engagement between my brother and her former pupil. I was convinced any marriage between two people of unequal fortune must be doomed to failure.”
“Yet you married a governess.” Judging the horses had drunk enough, Gavin urged his to move on at a sedate walk.
Lord Benedict gave a rueful chuckle as his mount followed Gavin’s. “Only after she refused me for making trouble between Claude and Hermione. Our present joy is a blessing I hardly deserve, yet I am all the more grateful for it on that account.”
Like the blessing of his life and his beautiful children? Gavin wondered. Those gifts had been purchased for him with the lives of others. He was grateful for them, without a doubt. But that gratitude was tainted with a dram of bitter guilt.
“Forgiveness was the key to making peace with my past,” Lord Benedict continued. “Once I tried to understand what made my late wife act as she did, anger and resentment gradually loosened their hold upon me until I was able to break free. Even if I had not succeeded in securing Rebecca as my wife, I would be far better off than I was before she taught me that priceless lesson.”
Pleased as Gavin was that matters had worked out so happily for two such fine people, he felt once again that Lord and Lady Benedict’s situation was the opposite of his. There was nothing for which he needed to forgive Clarissa. The fault for her unhappiness lay with him. Again and again he had failed her as a husband. It hardly mattered whether that was because he was not cut out for marriage, as he liked to believe, or because he had not tried hard enough, as Hannah Fletcher would claim. Either way, the result had been the same. And now it was too late to atone, even if he could have found a way.
Hard as it might be to forgive others, Gavin feared it would be far harder to forgive himself.
The days of Rebecca’s visit passed in a swift blur of pleasure for Hannah. Because Lord Hawkehurst and Lord Benedict got on so well together, the ladies had plenty of opportunities for long, intimate chats. They shared memories of their girlhood at the Pendergast School. Harsh as life there had been, they now found themselves remembering the rare happy times and the supportive camaraderie of their circle of friends that had made the difficulties bearable.
“I am not certain how I would have gone on after Sarah died if not for you and the others,” Hannah admitted one evening after dinner as they waited for the gentlemen to join them in the drawing room. “I felt as if I had gained a whole family of sisters who needed me.”
Rebecca reached over to squeeze her hand. “Sarah was a dear child. I must confess I envied you having someone who had been with you for a very long time and would remain close to you always. When you lost her, I began to think I was better off without such close attachments to lose.”
Hannah understood her friend’s conviction. It had ruled her heart for many years. Yet when she thought of Rebecca denying herself the possibility of love, it seemed wrong somehow.
The unhealed grief that throbbed in her heart, fresh and raw, warned Hannah of the terrible power love could wield. “I should have taken better care of Sarah so she did not sicken and die.”
Eager as ever to defend a friend, Rebecca shook her head in vigorous denial. “You did as much for her as anyone could in that awful place. Sometimes even our best efforts are not enough to prevent bad things from happening. I am certain Sarah would not have wanted you to reproach yourself or think of her with guilt and regrets.”
She might have said the same thing to any of her friends in such a situation. But it was easier said than done to absolve herself of her long-held sense of responsibility for her sister’s death. Her father had commended Sarah to her care when he’d sent them to live with Aunt Eliza. If only she had made herself indispensable to their aunt, she and Sarah might not have been sent away to school. Once there, she should have done more to keep her delicate sister warmer and better fed, so Sarah might have survived the epidemic of typhoid when it broke out.
“Lady Hawkehurst reminded me of Sarah,” Hannah mused as she gazed around the elegantly decorated room that had been one of the countess’s favorites. “She relied upon me quite as much as my sister did. But in the end, I could not save her either, poor lady.”
Thoughts of the earl’s late wife brought Hannah even more regret now that she recognized the true nature of her feelings for him. After the countess’s death, she had become like a mother to the dear little twins. Now, with her friend visiting Edgecombe, it was as if she had also assumed the role of lady of the house.
She’d never intended to do that. Indeed, she had resisted the earl’s invitation to join him and the Benedicts for meals. But he had insisted with considerable determination, arguing that Rebecca had come to see her, not him. He had even threatened to dine in the nursery if she refused to eat with them. Hannah knew he was stubborn and unorthodox enough to make good on that threat. Reluctantly she had taken his wife’s place at the foot of the great dining table.
Though the cook had outdone herself for Lord and Lady Benedict’s visit, every bite Hannah took was tainted with the bitter taste of self-consciousness. What were they saying about her down in the servants’ hall? Were they gossiping about the time she had spent with Lord Hawkehurst during his recovery? Did they speculate whether she had taken advantage of that opportunity to insinuate herself with the earl? Had some laid wagers about whether she had set her cap for him?
How would she ever be able to look any of the servants in the face again? Not that any of them could think worse of her than she thought of herself. There were moments she forgot herself and actually enjoyed pretending to be part of the foursome to which she did not belong. An outsider seeing them together might mistake them for two married couples—happily married couples at that.
Though she knew it was a betrayal of the countess to wish that were true, Hannah could not seem to suppress her wayward feelings for his lordship. Whenever he was nearby, all her senses seemed to grow more acute and focus entirely on him. When he spoke to her or her name passed his lips in conversation, it jolted her pulse out of its usual sedate rhythm, into a skittish jig. The briefest glance from him seemed to pierce her, like a ray of shimmering sunshine.
“Hannah!” Rebecca’s voice reached her as if from a distance. “My dear, you must not brood about such things.”
Her friend’s words gave Hannah a fright until she realized Rebecca was referring to their earlier conversation. “I’m certain there was nothing more you could have done for poor Lady Hawkehurst. Knowing you, I suspect you did far more for her than most people would. It is clear to me that her husband is vastly grateful for all your service to her and the children. His generous invitation to Sebastian and me is proof of how much he feels he owes you.”
Though she knew Rebecca meant to reassure her, Hannah could not suppress a chill that rippled through her. Gavin—Lord Hawkehurst had been so obliging to her of late, so considerate and good-humored. Of course, his change in manner must be motivated by gratitude and not… anything else. She would be a fool to imagine otherwise. Such thoughts made it impossible for her to speak, lest her voice betray her traitorous emotions.
Rebecca seemed to believe she understood her friend’s feelings. Rising from her chair, she crossed to sit beside Hannah and slip a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I know you must miss her ladyship dreadfully. A governess can grow very attached to the family that employs her. Hermione became almost like a daughter to me. But now that I am wed, I am certain there will be more opportunities to visit you and the others. Sebastian was not certain it would be right for us to call on you so soon after your loss. But I believed it was just the time when you might most need the companionship of an old friend. I hope I was not wrong and that we have not intruded upon your grief.”
“Certainly not!” Hannah could not bear to have Rebecca think she was out of spirits on account of the Benedicts’ visit. “It has been a great comfort to spend time with you again. And I believe it has been good for his lordship to have your husband here. It has prevented him from going off in search of Bonaparte before he is well enough to undertake such a hazardous mission.”
But what would happen when the Benedicts left Edgecombe? Hannah had hoped Rebecca’s husband would persuade Lord Hawkehurst to leave the task of apprehending Napoleon Bonaparte to the Royal Navy. But she was not certain he’d succeeded.
The muted thunder of hurrying footsteps made both women glance toward the door in alarm. An instant later the gentlemen burst in.
Their sparkling eyes and eager smiles allayed the ladies’ fears.
“We’ve got the blighter!” Lord Benedict waved an open letter as if it were a flag of victory. “The captain of HMS Bellerophon prevented Bonaparte from fleeing Rochefort by frigate. He has taken the general’s whole party aboard his ship and set sail for Torbay to await further orders!”
A powerful wave of relief swamped Hannah, along with a twinge of disbelief. After everything that had happened, she found it hard to accept that the worst would not befall her after all. Gavin Romney would not be compelled to abandon his young children and chase off on a dangerous mission that might go on for months, even years. He would stay at Edgecombe, fully recover his health and learn to be a family man rather than a warrior.
She and Rebecca surged up from the sofa.
“What marvelous news!” Rebecca flew toward her husband. “This terrible war will truly be over at last.”
Carried away by the unexpected joy of the news and their great love for one another, Sebastian and Rebecca fell into one another’s arms and exchanged a jubilant kiss.
The same tide of emotion caught Hannah in its powerful grip and bore her toward Gavin. He rushed to meet her as if propelled by some force stronger than his own will. The closer they drew to one another, the more everything but his face seemed to fade away, until all Hannah could see were his shining dark eyes and the incandescent breadth of his smile.
Her arms rose and fastened around his neck as his slipped around her waist. For a moment, her heart and breath seemed suspended and the world outside the circle of their embrace stopped. It felt so natural to be in his arms, as if this was the haven for which she’d searched so many years without success, only to wander in by accident and find a welcome fire burning in the hearth. A subtle movement on his part urged her to tilt her head and slant her lips toward his.
She was about to oblige him when her sense of prudence roused at last.
Had she lost all judgment and morals? It had been bad enough for her to lean against his lordship when they were playing with the baby. Now to forget herself in so brazen a fashion was inexcusable!
“Forgive me, sir!” She pulled back abruptly and felt Lord Hawkehurst do the same, though his lips grazed her ear in passing. “I was so elated to hear the news, I rather…”
“As did I, Miss Fletcher,” the earl cut off her explanation.
His tone bristled with barely concealed annoyance. No doubt he had intended a much more decorous expression of his pleasure at the news—a friendly clasp of hands, perhaps, not an ardent embrace from his son’s governess when they both should be mourning for his late wife.