Chapter Twelve
GAVIN COULD NOT recall when he had ever been so vexed with himself, or when he had let his emotions carry him away, as he had last evening.
After weeks of being on tenterhooks, not knowing what had become of Napoleon Bonaparte and fearing the worst, news of his capture by the Royal Navy had swept Gavin’s spirits up on a racing billow of euphoria. A crushing burden had been lifted from his shoulders, freeing him to soar.
His first impulse had been an urgent need to share the news with Hannah. She was the only person who truly understood how much this mattered to him and why. He knew she would share his elation that his vow to Molesworth had been fulfilled without him having to leave Edgecombe and his children.
He had not meant to take her in his arms, but at that moment it seemed the only suitable expression of his feelings. So much joy must be shared or it would burst his heart. Perhaps he might have come to his senses sooner, but seeing the Benedicts’ ardent embrace had demolished any possibility that it might not be a good idea.
Now, in the stark light of an overcast morning, he could view matters more clearly. Hannah had taken refuge in the nursery, tending to his son, and the Benedicts had not yet come down to breakfast. So Gavin sat alone, consuming the last of his breakfast with very little notice of what he was eating. His thoughts were entirely occupied with the previous evening and the vigorous embrace to which he had subjected his son’s governess.
He assured himself it had not been altogether unwelcome. He could not have borne the thought that he had imposed upon Hannah. Even though his memories of their embrace were rather jumbled, he was certain she had put her arms around his neck. Had it been an instinctive movement, triggered by his swift approach, or had her accustomed restraint also been swept away by her reaction to the wonderful news?
Thank goodness she had come to her senses in time to prevent him kissing her, as he’d been about to do. Still, when they’d pulled apart, making an awkward effort to dismiss what had happened, Gavin could not ignore the shocked looks on their guests’ faces. Not that he blamed them. What gentleman of honor would embrace his son’s governess when he should still be in mourning for his late wife? Gavin knew what his father would have said about that.
He might have reproached himself far worse if he had not recalled his conversation with Sebastian. It helped to know he was not alone in his experience of a troubled marriage, even if the circumstances had been quite different. The viscount’s words of hard-won wisdom kept running through Gavin’s mind—Even tainted wounds can heal if you find the right medicine.
He knew it was true. In spite of the guilt, grief and worry that had plagued him these past weeks, some of the lingering hurts from his youth had eased thanks to the warm understanding of Hannah Fletcher.
His feelings for her were unlike any he’d entertained for a woman before. Indeed, they were emotions of which he had long believed himself incapable. He wanted to confide in her and share experiences with her. He wanted to protect her from harm and unhappiness. She had suffered too much of both already. He wanted to ease the ache of old wounds, as she had done for him.
Though his conscience reproached him for having such feelings when he should be grieving for Clarissa, a hopeful whisper in the depths of his heart reminded Gavin that his period of mourning would pass eventually. If he bided his time, guarded his tongue and restrained his actions, the day would come when he could acknowledge his feelings and begin to make Hannah aware of them. In just a few short weeks, she had gone from detesting him to tolerating and understanding him. Given enough time and effort on his part, what further progress might he make in winning her affections?
A slight movement drew Gavin’s gaze to the dining room doorway, where Lady Benedict stood watching him. His military instincts put him on guard and made him wonder how long she’d been there.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Hawkehurst. I did not mean to disturb you.” She approached the table as Gavin rose to his feet. “May I join you? My husband will be down shortly. He felt he ought to draft a reply to the letter he received last evening. I could not persuade him that he might write better on a full stomach.”
“By all means.” Gavin hastened to draw out a chair for the lady. “I welcome your company. We have had little opportunity to talk to one another since you arrived. I must confess I sympathize with your husband’s desire to get paperwork out of the way as quickly as possible.”
The footman brought Lady Benedict coffee and a plate of food then refilled his master’s cup.
Under ordinary circumstances, Gavin might have fled from the necessity of making table conversation with a member of the fair sex. But he found Lady Benedict forthright yet kind. Besides, if he was not able to talk with Hannah, the next best thing might be to talk about her with someone who knew her well.
Lady Benedict smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “I have said it before, but it bears repeating how much I appreciate you extending us your hospitality. It has given Hannah and me so much more time together than if my husband and I were lodged elsewhere. My visit with Grace Ellerby was rather disappointing in that regard. I had no opportunity to talk with her in private. Lord Steadwell’s daughters were always with us, and though they are dear girls, there were subjects I did not feel free to raise in their hearing. Besides, it seemed to me Grace was always looking over her shoulder, afraid or ashamed that we might be seen together. I am delighted to find Hannah so much happier at Edgecombe… in spite of your terrible loss.”
Clearly Sebastian could not have told his wife about their conversation regarding his marriage. Gavin was glad of that. He did not mind another man knowing the true state of it, especially one who could understand and sympathize. But it troubled him to think of Lady Benedict knowing what a poor husband he’d been. Her warm manner suggested that Hannah had never complained about him, even in private letters to her oldest friends. That showed admirable discretion and raised his regard for her even higher.
“I do hope Han… er… Miss Fletcher is happy at Edgecombe. I hate to think how we would have managed without her these past weeks. My family owes her a great debt, and I am pleased if I can repay a small portion of it by whatever means. But since your company has been such a welcome diversion for me as well, you must not feel your presence is the least imposition.”
“Thank you.” The lady inclined her head to acknowledge his reassurance. “It does not surprise me to learn that my friend has made herself invaluable to you. When we were at school, Hannah was the one on whom we all relied. I am glad she has found a position where her abilities and devotion are properly valued. As you may have gathered, ours was not an easy childhood.”
Gavin nodded. He had heard enough to suspect that was an understatement.
“Hannah’s memories of the Pendergast School are made even darker,” Lady Benedict continued, “by the loss of her dearly loved sister.”
“She mentioned a sister.” Gavin leaned forward in his chair, eager to learn anything new about Hannah. “How did the child die?”
“Typhoid.” Lady Benedict sighed. “Brought on by the wretched conditions of the place. Seven pupils died that winter, enough to raise questions and bring about a few reforms, which did not last. I wanted to tell you of it because your late wife reminded Hannah of her sister. I believe she was nearly as devoted to the countess as she was to little Sarah. As a consequence, she has taken her ladyship’s death harder than you might realize.”
No wonder Hannah Fletcher had been so protective of Clarissa. Gavin wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and inhaled the rich, bitter aroma. No wonder she had detested him.
“I wish there was something I could do to ease her grief and make up for what she suffered in the past.” He jammed his lips together, not daring to say anything more on the subject in case he betrayed the true nature of his feelings for Hannah.
Lady Benedict smiled as if his words had been precisely what she wanted to hear. “That does you great credit, Lord Hawkehurst. I wish the same, which is why I would like to bring Hannah to London with me one day and try to find her as good a husband as she deserves.”
The lady seemed to expect him to be as excited about her plans for Hannah as she was. Instead, Gavin felt as if she’d hurled a cup of scalding coffee in his face.
“London? Husband?” he bridled at the very idea. “But Miss Fletcher belongs here at Edgecombe! You said yourself she is happy and valued here.”
The lady appeared bewildered by his heated response. “For the moment, Hannah is content, but we must consider her future. If you owe her as great a debt as you claim, surely you would not wish to deny her the opportunity to secure a home and family.”
When Lady Benedict put the matter that way, his remark sounded cruelly selfish. Of course he did not want Hannah to grow unhappy and unfulfilled looking after his children rather than having a life of her own.
“She is reluctant to leave your children, even when it might mean sacrificing the opportunity to have her own,” Lady Benedict continued. “Once life at Edgecombe settles down, I hope you will have a word with Hannah and urge her to accept my offer.”
How could he let Hannah Fletcher walk out of his life? Where would he ever find someone who cared for his children the way she did?
Fortunately, Gavin was spared the necessity of answering when Lord Benedict strode in.
“Sebastian, dearest, I trust you finished your letter.” His wife changed the subject abruptly. “What a good thing you write so much faster than I do. Otherwise I fear you might not have broken your fast until dinnertime.”
Sebastian rounded the table and came to a halt behind his wife, resting one hand on her shoulder in a light caress. “I am pleased to see you were not obliged to dine alone, my love. I dashed off my note in a trice so I would not be parted too long from you.”
As the couple chatted away fondly, Gavin could not suppress a spasm of envy. Not that he begrudged the newlyweds their joy. Nor would he have taken a particle of it from them if he could. This was the first truly happy marriage he had observed at close range. It made him long to experience a measure of that rare domestic felicity for himself.
Then he recalled what Lady Benedict had said about taking Hannah to London to find her a husband. Perhaps he would not have the time he needed to win Miss Fletcher’s affections after all.
“Thank you so much for coming to see me!” A week after the Benedicts’ arrival at Edgecombe, Hannah clasped Rebecca in a lingering embrace as if she could not bear to let her friend go.
The truth was a good deal more complicated.
Of course she had been delighted to see her friend again, so little changed in essentials since their school days. It had been most agreeable to have another woman with whom to talk and exchange confidences. Hard as Hannah tried to deny it, her visit with Rebecca made her realize that her relationship with Lady Hawkehurst had not been the sort of mutual attachment she’d experienced in her youth.
Rebecca and their other friends had relied on Hannah for all manner of practical assistance, which she had been happy to provide. But they had given her unique gifts in return. Rebecca’s steadfast loyalty, Leah’s diverting antics, Grace’s sweet sympathy and Evangeline’s capable leadership had been hers to call on whenever she needed them. Indeed, they were often supplied before she ever had to ask. That anticipation of her needs was perhaps the most precious gift of friendship she’d received.
Now that she thought about it, Hannah could not recall the countess ever asking how she felt, expressing concern for her well-being or encouraging Hannah to confide in her. Lady Hawkehurst had frequently expressed her appreciation for everything Hannah did for her. She had paid her son’s governess the compliment of confiding in her. Hannah had never expected anything more. But reflecting on her ladyship’s actions, she wondered if the other woman’s feelings for her had been as fond as she’d believed.
Or were those recollections being poisoned by her unexpected fondness for the earl? If she could persuade herself to care less for his wife’s memory, perhaps she would not feel so wretchedly disloyal.
As she and Rebecca broke from their parting embrace, Hannah stole a covert glance at Lord Hawkehurst. She had not been able to look him in the face since she’d hurled herself into his arms. That was another reason she was sorry to see Rebecca and Sebastian leave. The Benedicts had provided a buffer between her and the earl, so their awkwardness with one another was not painfully obvious.
Lord Hawkehurst looked as sorry to see her friends go as she was. Could it be for the same reason? Hannah hated the thought that she might have destroyed the easy fellowship that had developed between them while he was bedridden.
“Thank you again for the fine hospitality of Edgecombe.” Lord Benedict shook the earl’s hand heartily. “I hope you will allow us to return the favor by visiting Stanhope Court one day. Since it is in the Cotswold Hills, I fear the riding there is not so good as you are accustomed to.”
The earl flashed a grin that Hannah sensed was rather forced. “Much as it pains me to admit, there is more to life than riding and soldiering. Miss Fletcher helped persuade me of that. We… that is… I should be happy to accept an invitation to Stanhope Court. It sounds like a fine place, and I should very much like to meet your brother and his wife.”
His lordship’s slip of the tongue reminded Hannah of one reason why she was not sorry to see Rebecca and Sebastian leave. While they had been guests at Edgecombe and the earl insisted she spend the evenings with them, it had been dangerously easy to think of herself as part of a congenial foursome. From there it was a perilously short step to fancy she and Gavin Romney were somehow a couple.
That was unpardonable presumption on her part—it had led directly to the liberty she’d taken by embracing the master of the house. He had pretended to excuse her lapse of propriety. Yet the earl’s subsequent coolness toward her made it clear that he might forgive her familiarity but he would never forget it.
Once the Benedicts had departed, Hannah hoped she could forget her friends’ easy affection for one another, their obvious delight in one another’s company and their playful banter. Happy as she was that Rebecca had been blessed with such wedded bliss, it made her long to experience something similar. Perhaps she should consider Rebecca’s generous offer to help find her a husband.
But that was impossible. She had responsibilities toward the earl’s young children. The prospect of leaving Edgecombe held no promise of happiness whatsoever. Yet, as Rebecca had reminded her, she would be forced to leave one day. By then she might be too old to attract a husband or start a family.
“Who will you visit next?” she asked her friend, “Leah in Norfolk or Evangeline in the Lake Country?”
Lord Benedict answered for his wife. “Neither immediately, I fear. First I must return to London to learn what is to be done with Bonaparte now that he is in British custody. I support a plan for his exile to Saint Helena. The island is very remote in the middle of the South Atlantic. It would be easy to defend against any misguided attempt to liberate the prisoner by force.”
The earl nodded in agreement. “It would be by far the best place for him, in my opinion.”
“Unfortunately not everyone feels as we do.” Lord Benedict looked very severe when he frowned. “There are influential people of the Whig persuasion who firmly believe Bonaparte was better than the Bourbon kings. They fail to realize a man need not be born to the throne to become a despot. I fear they will argue against the necessity of preventing him from returning to power by whatever means. Until the matter is settled, I feel I must be on hand to make my voice heard on behalf of all those who fought and beat Bonaparte’s forces twice. They must not be obliged to take up arms in that cause again.”
“Indeed they must not.” The earl shook his head grimly. “I should go with you to add my voice in favor of confinement on Saint Helena.”
Hannah was hard-pressed to stifle a cry of opposition. The earl must not go away so soon! What if the journey proved too much for him? What if Napoleon managed to escape custody and Lord Hawkehurst decided to take up the chase? She could not risk either of those things.
“You should remain at Edgecombe,” Lord Benedict insisted, earning Hannah’s eternal gratitude. “To mourn your wife and look after your family. Reason may prevail and neither my voice nor yours will be needed to argue the point.”
The earl raised his eyebrows. “Reason prevailing in politics—that would be a novelty. Promise me that if you need additional support you will summon me at once.”
Lord Benedict nodded. “You may depend upon it.”
Hannah reached for Rebecca’s hand and cast her friend a beseeching glance. She hoped Rebecca would recognize a silent plea to keep her husband from sending for the earl.
Her friend turned toward the earl and dropped a curtsy. “Farewell, Lord Hawkehurst. Your generous hospitality in the midst of your time of mourning speaks volumes of your respect for Miss Fletcher. I hope you will think over the matter we discussed and do what I requested.”
The earl bowed over her hand—rather stiffly Hannah thought. “I shall give your request my most careful consideration, Lady Benedict.”
A short while later, as they waved after the Benedicts’ departing carriage, Hannah asked, “What is this request of Rebecca’s that you are going to give such careful consideration?”
“Nothing of any consequence.” The earl turned and strode off in the direction of the stables.
His curt dismissal of her question assured Hannah he was not telling the truth. Whatever her friend had asked of him, she sensed Gavin had no intention of doing it.
In the days after their guests’ departure, Gavin tried to persuade himself Lady Benedict’s request was of no consequence, as he had claimed. Otherwise it would mean he had lied to Hannah—a transgression he could not bear to have on his conscience. But in the end he was forced to admit it was of vital importance to him and the children whether he would advise Hannah to accept her friend’s invitation to London.
For the sake of Peter and the little twins, he could not think of urging their governess and godmother to leave Edgecombe. That would be no way to compensate the poor little creatures for the loss of their mother and his deficiencies as a father. With Hannah’s help, he was beginning to make progress in that area but without her to guide him, Gavin was not certain that would continue. Indeed, he feared the loss of Hannah Fletcher from his household might make it harder for him to become the kind of father she wanted him to be.
Could that be part of what had poisoned his father’s relationship with him—the loss of his mother? The thought brought Gavin the first stirrings of sympathy he’d ever felt toward his distant, judgmental father.
But how could he deny Hannah the opportunity to have a home and family of her own? Lady Benedict’s argument kept returning to reproach him for his selfishness. Now that he recognized her many fine qualities, how could he stand in the way of her being loved and cherished as she deserved? Besides, was his concern for the well-being of his children merely an excuse to keep the lady here so he could enjoy her company without risking his heart?
Gavin wished he could deny the accusation. When that proved impossible, he sought a diversion from it.
He had thought once he was allowed out of bed, he would be able to keep busy. Instead he found himself unaccountably restless. Even riding could not hold his interest for too long. After giving the matter some thought, he wondered if he might be missing a sense of purpose in his life. For years his cavalry duties had provided an urgent purpose. His vow to Molesworth had promised to fill that void. But with the war over and Bonaparte in custody, what was there left for him to do?
Tend to his children, of course, he remembered with a pang of shame. Raising them would become his new mission. If he was not certain how to go about it, he must consult Hannah Fletcher for advice.
That prospect eased Gavin’s restlessness and filled him with fresh energy. He set off at once for the nursery, where he found Hannah working with young Peter on his penmanship.
“Your hand is far better than mine at your age.” Gavin looked over a practice sentence the child had written. “Better than it is now, I daresay.”
His son seemed pleased by the compliment. “Perhaps you just need more practice, Papa. Would you like to join me? Miss Hannah can show you how to make your letters properly.”
Gavin and the governess exchanged a glance over young Peter’s head, both of them struggling to suppress grins. It was the least awkward interaction they’d had since their embrace. It gave Gavin hope that they might be able to recapture their earlier ease with one another.
“That is a tempting invitation.” He gave his son a tentative pat on the shoulder and was rewarded with an approving smile from Hannah. “But I fear I might set you a bad example. Besides, my habits of poor penmanship may be too deeply ingrained for any amount of practice to correct.”
How his father would have doted on young Peter, so grave, studious and neat-handed. Here was a boy who could be molded into a proper aristocrat, perhaps even a courtier—not a boisterous, outspoken lout who was only good for cannon fodder.
“Is there something the matter, sir?” Hannah’s brow creased and her gaze shadowed with concern for him.
Something the matter? Only that he feared becoming a good father would be harder than commanding a cavalry regiment. For instance, where would he find common ground with a son who was so much like his father and brother and so little like him?
Gavin shook his head in response to her question. “I am quite well, thank you, Miss Fletcher. I was only thinking since it is such a fine day I might pay a visit to Arthur and Alice. I wondered if the two of you might care to join me.”
Peter jumped from his chair. “Can we, please, Miss Hannah?”
His son’s beseeching gaze made Gavin realize they might have one thing in common at least—their love for the babies. That was as good a place to start as any, surely.
Hannah gave a rueful chuckle. “You have had such a long break from your studies the past few weeks, I doubt another hour or two can do any harm.”
Peter gave a cheer. Perhaps the boy was not always so grave and quiet, Gavin reflected, only subdued by the loss of his doting mother and anxious around his father who was still more like a stranger.
“I know it isn’t far.” Peter addressed his governess, yet Gavin sensed a request coming that was meant for him. “But can we take the pony cart? I haven’t ridden in it since Papa began to feel better.”
The last thing Gavin wanted was for his young son to hold him responsible for the loss of favorite amusements.
“You enjoy the pony cart, do you?” he asked and received a vigorous nod in reply. “Have you ever ridden on a pony’s back?”
This time Peter shook his head and heaved a sigh. “Mama said I was not big enough. She said I might get thrown off and hurt.”
“Not big enough?” Gavin scoffed. “Why, I was riding before I could—”
A pointed look from Hannah silenced him. Perhaps it was not a good idea to dismiss his late wife’s concerns in front of their son. “That is… your mother may have wanted you to be properly taught to ride first. She loved you a great deal and did not want to take any risks with your safety.”
If Clarissa had lived, might the two of them finally have established a bond in their love for the children? He would never know.
“Could you teach me to ride, Papa?” This time the boy addressed his father directly.
Gavin smiled. “I reckon I could. And since it is only a short distance to the Millers’ and the Wilkeses’, this would be an excellent opportunity for your first lesson.”
The child jumped up and down, clapping his hands then cast a wary glance toward his governess as if afraid she might disapprove and forbid the riding lesson.
Gavin had more faith in her affection for his son.
Hannah did not disappoint him. “That sounds like a fine idea. You have grown a good deal in the past two months. I believe your mama would think you are big enough to learn to ride. And who better to teach you than your papa?”
Peter’s face glowed with happiness. He threw his arms around his governess’s waist and squeezed tight. “Thank you, Miss Hannah!”
She stiffened for a moment at the child’s unbridled show of affection. Gavin wondered if it reminded her of his recent embrace.
She quickly recovered from her surprise and ruffled his son’s hair. “Your father is the one you should thank. It was his idea, after all, and he will be teaching you.”
The boy let go of her and approached Gavin with an air of uncertainty. “Thank you, Papa.”
A covert nod from Hannah told Gavin he ought to stoop to his son’s level, which he did. “You are quite welcome, Peter. I expect I shall have an easier task teaching you to ride than you had teaching me to fold paper.”
The boy grinned as if he knew that was true but did not want to gloat. Though Peter made no move to embrace him, Gavin still felt he was making progress in learning to be the kind of father his son needed. A soft glow in Hannah’s eyes told him she agreed.
“Shall I come along?” she asked. “Or would you gentlemen prefer to be on your own?”
“Of course you must come, Miss Hannah.” Peter’s tone suggested that the answer should be obvious. “The babies will want to see you.”
“I agree, Miss Hannah.” As Gavin rose, he savored the opportunity to address her by her Christian name, as his son did. “We need you with us.”
He cast a silent plea for her assistance. He would feel more confident of his parenting efforts if she were there—like the boost it gave troops heading into battle to know there were reinforcements ready to come to their aid. Peter clasped hands with his governess then held out his other hand to Gavin, who was happy to take it. Together they headed off to the stables where Gavin ordered a small, gentle pony saddled.
The next several hours passed swiftly and enjoyably. Gavin was pleased to discover that although his son did not have his natural aptitude for riding, the child clearly loved horses and was eager to learn. Little Alice and Arthur had recently begun to laugh and engaged everyone with their infectious chortles and gurgles. Gavin wished he had more opportunity to chat with Hannah, but he was obliged to keep his attention fixed on the children. In spite of that, he was aware of her presence and her warm approval of his efforts.
They returned to the house hungry for tea. Gavin wondered what Hannah would say if he asked to remain in the nursery and eat with her and Peter.
That thought fled his mind when the butler bustled toward them, holding out a letter. “For you, sir. From Lord Benedict, I believe.”
Reluctantly Gavin let go of his son’s hand, took the letter and broke the seal. As he scanned the viscount’s spiky scrawl, he muttered the words under his breath.
“Are they coming back to visit again?” asked Peter. “Is that what it says?”
“I hope it is not bad news,” Hannah murmured.
“Not… exactly.” Gavin tried to make light of it so as not to worry his son. Yet coming on the heels of this very pleasant day, the news definitely cast a shadow. It reminded him of the price others had paid so he could enjoy a peaceful afternoon with his children. “But there is a matter with which Lord Benedict could use my help. I may have to go away for a little while.”
His effort to sound casual could not have succeeded, for his son’s expression grew anxious and Hannah’s downright stormy.
“You’re going back to the war, aren’t you?” Peter demanded. “Mama was right. You do only care about fighting!”
“Hush now.” Hannah dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the child. “We talked about this, remember? I’m certain your father will not go anywhere if you do not want him to.”
How dare she make such a promise on his behalf? Gavin glared at her. Hannah glared back, even as she stroked his son’s hair and murmured words of gentle reassurance. How could such a caring, nurturing woman have such a core of iron? The contrast puzzled Gavin until he recalled how gentle mother animals could turn positively ferocious in defense of their young. Hannah Fletcher might not have borne his children but he sensed no one would love them more or fight for them more fiercely than she.
“I am not going to war.” He strove to sound certain but not harsh. “The war is over. I want to prevent another one from starting, so I will not be called away from Edgecombe again. I am only going up to London. I should not be gone for long.”
Though Hannah continued to comfort his son, Gavin glimpsed a flash of fire in her eyes. He knew he would not be going anywhere if she could prevent him.