Chapter Fourteen
HAD SHE MADE a terrible mistake by turning down Gavin’s proposal? Since the earl had asked her to marry him, Hannah supposed it must be permissible to think of him by his Christian name.
After fleeing the drawing room, she spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, tormented by second thoughts. Perhaps if he had worked up to the subject a bit more deliberately, rather than springing his proposal on her, she might not have refused so ungraciously. But she’d been taken aback by the suddenness of it and he had already roused her antagonism with his plan to go away to London.
At first she could only assume he had taken her question about who would care for the children as a broad hint that she would be the best candidate. It grieved Hannah that he could believe her capable of such disloyalty to his late wife. Yet her conscience reproached her about the feelings she had developed for him so soon after her ladyship’s death.
Even his denial could not dispel the sickening shame that fueled her hostile reaction to his proposal. If he had given the least sign that his offer was motivated by any emotion more tender than desperation, her heart might have gotten the better of her reason. It might have led her to accept with as little thought for the consequences as he had shown by proposing to her in the first place. But he had made it clear that his only concern was for convenience. He wanted a reliable, capable woman to bring up his children while he went chasing off after Bonaparte or whatever other excuse he might use in the future to abandon his family.
If she did not care for Gavin, and could be quite certain she never would, then Hannah might have been able to give him the answer he claimed to want. But how could she consign herself to a marriage like the one that had made his late wife so very unhappy? She had seen first-hand what it did to a couple when one loved but the other could not or would not return the feeling.
Despite his accusation that she martyred herself in a pathetic effort to secure approval and affection, Hannah could not reconcile herself to a future of such unhappiness. Nor could she stand to become another reason he might use to avoid spending time at Edgecombe, as if he needed any more.
What was that sound? In the dark silence of the sleeping house, Hannah thought she heard something. She sat up in bed and strained to catch it again. Were her ears playing tricks to distract her from her turbulent thoughts?
Perhaps she ought to check on Peter, just to be certain. At least it would give her something to do besides lie there with her mind racing in a dozen disturbing directions at once. Anxious not to make any noise that might disturb other light sleepers in the house, Hannah rose, pulled on her dressing gown and lit a candle. By its flickering flame she crept out into the wide corridor and padded off toward the nursery. The closer she approached, the clearer she could hear an urgent whisper of voices.
Easing open the nursery door, she called softly, “Is anything the matter?”
“We didn’t mean to disturb you, miss,” replied the nursemaid, who perched on the edge of Peter’s bed. “The young master woke from a bad dream and I haven’t been able to settle him.”
The girl gave a weary yawn. “He’s been asking for you. Perhaps you might have more luck getting him back to sleep.”
Hannah felt tired, too, but it wasn’t anyone else keeping her awake. “Go back to bed, Maisie. I shall see what I can do.”
Taking the nursemaid’s place at her young pupil’s bedside, Hannah snuffed the candle and reached out until her hand encountered the child’s silky hair. She gave it an affectionate ruffle. “Now, what is all this fuss about a dream that made you wake poor Maisie?”
Peter gave a moist sniff that tugged at Hannah’s heart. How often, when she and Sarah were children, had she held and comforted her sister in the night?
“I dreamed you were going away, Miss Hannah, just like Mama and Papa. I didn’t want you to leave, but you said you m-must!”
“It was only a dream.” Hannah’s brisk governess manner melted as she gathered the anxious child into her arms. “I am right here and not going anywhere, so you mustn’t fret.”
Was that true? her conscience demanded. Would Gavin Romney continue to employ her after the uncivil manner in which she’d refused him and the impertinent remarks she’d made about his character and conduct? He had given as good as he got in that regard, but he was the master of the house while she was little better than a servant. He would be perfectly within his rights to dismiss her. Even if he did not, she still feared he might come to harm and his children’s guardians would hire someone to take her place.
“Shh.” She held the child in her arms, pressing her cheek against his hair. The prospect of being parted from Peter alarmed her even more than the dream had frightened him. While his fears were only a fancy of his sleeping mind, hers might be all too real. “Try to go back to sleep. You might have a more pleasant dream next time, perhaps one about riding horses with your father.”
“We will only go riding in my dreams,” Peter replied in a plaintive murmur, “now that Papa is leaving for London.”
“He says he will not be gone long.” Hannah held the child close, determined that no one would take her from him. “The two of you can go riding again when he returns.”
“You said Papa would not go away if I did not want him to. But now he is. How do you know he will come back?”
How indeed? Hannah wondered. But she could not upset the child further by sharing her doubts with him. “I should not have been so quick to speak for your father. He told you the truth when he said he was obliged to go to London. We must trust that he meant it when he said he would only be gone a short while.”
Could she trust Gavin to keep his word? Her feelings for him insisted that he was a man of honor and truth who did not go back on his promises. But experience had taught her that those she cared for could not always be trusted to keep their word. Especially when it came to staying or leaving. Was that why she’d felt so certain Gavin would never return to Edgecombe—not because he had given her any cause to doubt him but because she was incapable of trusting those she most cared for?
“I suppose we must give Papa a chance.” The child sounded wary, as if he sensed that granting his father that opportunity would leave him vulnerable to disappointment.
“You are very wise for your years,” Hannah said as she eased him down onto his pillow.
Thinking back on Gavin’s proposal, she wondered if she had been hasty and selfish in her response. There was far more at stake here than her personal happiness. She had the children to consider. How would it affect them if she were to leave Edgecombe? Peter’s nightmare would come true. And who could tell what it might do to the little ones to lose a close attachment at such an early age?
If their father was resolved to provide them with a governess for a mother, he surely would, for he was a vastly determined man. The next governess he hired, then offered to marry, might not think twice about securing such an advantageous match, even without love. But could a person like that be trusted to place the needs of the children above every other consideration?
Who was she to judge anyone else? Hannah’s conscience demanded. Had she considered the children’s needs when she’d hurled Gavin’s marriage proposal back in his face? Her heart had been full of fear for her own happiness. But how could she ever be truly happy if she was separated from the children? If she must be unhappy either way, should she not choose the path that promised the happiest future for three little ones she cared for very much? Besides if Gavin did as she feared and abandoned his children to her care, his absence might cause her less misery than if they continued to live under the same roof while she cherished feelings for him that he could not return.
With a decision made out of reason and love rather than fear and selfishness, the knot of tension inside Hannah began to ease. The repetitive stroking of Peter’s hair and the slowing of his breathing helped, too. Her thoughts settled into deeper channels, and she soon caught herself nodding off. Certain the child had fallen back to sleep, Hannah left her snuffed candle and groped her way back to her own room.
First thing in the morning she would go to the earl and beg his pardon for the things she had said in the shock of the moment. Perhaps he would have reconsidered his mad notion to marry her by then, but she hoped an abject apology might prevent him from dismissing her.
She fell asleep to the rhythmic ticking of her small mantel clock and woke to it again some hours later.
“Past nine? Oh, dear me!” Hannah bolted from her bed and dressed with excessive haste.
She flew down to the breakfast room to find it empty of all but a faint aroma of coffee.
“Jane,” she called to the head parlor maid as she bustled by. “How long ago did Lord Hawkehurst take his breakfast?”
“Ages, miss,” Jane replied. “Must have been all of two hours. I overheard his lordship say he wanted to get on the road to London before the sun rose too high.”
“A wise decision.” Hannah tried not to let her distress show. It would not do to add fuel to any gossip about her and the earl. “What I had to say to him will keep until he returns.”
When might that be? she wondered as she headed back to the nursery, prepared to comfort Peter if he was upset by his father’s departure. Would she have the opportunity to apologize to Gavin? Would she even get the chance to speak to him again?
Could he stand to face Hannah Fletcher again after the fool he’d made of himself and the insulting things he’d said to her? Each mile his coach travelled away from Edgecombe, Gavin’s sense of relief grew while his spirits sank.
Being cooped up alone in the carriage box for hours on end was almost as bad as being bedridden for a fortnight. There was nothing to distract him from his nagging regrets as Hannah had done so ably during his convalescence.
What had made him think she might countenance a marriage proposal so soon after his wife’s death? He should have waited at least until he returned from London. That would have proved he had no intention of abandoning his children… or her. It would have given her no reason to assume he only wanted to wed her so he could desert the children in future.
A deliberate, prudent man would have waited, but he was neither of those things. He was a man of action and impulse, always speaking and doing first, leaving the thinking until later. He had seen an opportunity to keep Hannah at Edgecombe long enough to win her heart and he had seized it.
His father, a prudent, deliberate man if ever there was one, would have reproached him for his impulsiveness. But Hannah might have regarded it in a more positive way, calling him spontaneous and decisive. Would she ever recognize his better qualities after this? Or had he demonstrated how few of those he possessed, especially qualities that might make him a tolerable husband?
After their disastrous interview, he’d hardly slept a wink. Now fatigue propelled his thoughts along darker paths, spiraling downward. What if his abrupt, clumsy proposal made Hannah too uncomfortable to remain at Edgecombe? What if it made her decide to accept Lady Benedict’s invitation and leave his household altogether?
Much as he had come to care for his children, Gavin knew they needed Hannah far more than they needed him. He’d begun to believe that, with her support and guidance, he could become the kind of father Peter and the little ones needed. Without her, he had little confidence—only crippling doubts.
By the time his coach neared London, Gavin was convinced he’d failed his children, just as he had failed their grandfather and their mother. Perhaps this was Providence’s way of saying he ought to concentrate on making use of his natural gifts rather than trying so hard to do something at which he might never succeed.
“When we reach the city, take me to Berkeley Square,” he ordered his coachman during their final stop for fresh horses. “Number forty-three, the home of Lord Benedict.”
He wanted to let Sebastian know he had come to town to offer his assistance in keeping Bonaparte off British soil. He would support any effort to have the former emperor detained somewhere secure, until he no longer posed a threat to peace in Europe.
As it turned out, the viscount had not yet returned home when Gavin arrived, but Lady Benedict made him heartily welcome. “Have you a place to stay in London, Lord Hawkehurst?”
Gavin shook his head. “My family once had a townhouse, but it was so seldom used while I was away at war, I sold the leasehold. I mean to stay at the Cavalry Officers’ Club if your husband wishes to contact me.”
“That will not do at all,” the lady insisted in a decisive manner that reminded Gavin of her friend Hannah. “You must stay with us. That way I can make certain you rest and eat properly and do not fall ill again.”
When he tried to protest that he did not wish to inconvenience them, Lady Benedict refused to listen. “It is the least we can do after my husband summoned you to town when you are barely recovered from your wounds and still in mourning. Hannah would never forgive me if I let any harm come to you while you are here.”
“I suspect your friend would blame me more than you.” Gavin avoided Lady Benedict’s discerning gaze, fearful that she might glimpse more than he cared to reveal. “But if you are determined to have me as your guest, I must accept your kind hospitality with my thanks.”
“Excellent!” Her ladyship rang for a servant and ordered rooms made ready for Gavin, his coachman and footman. While she was at it, she ordered food and tea for him as well. “This will be a welcome opportunity to repay a little of the hospitality you showed Lord Benedict and me during our stay in Kent. Forgive me for saying so, but you look more tired and unwell now than you did then. I hope our visit did not overtax your strength.”
“No indeed,” Gavin assured her. “I felt quite well while you were at Edgecombe, but the long carriage ride from Kent has tired me more than I expected.”
“Men.” Lady Benedict gave an indulgent chuckle. “I have yet to meet one who did not underestimate any obstacles to his particular plans or exaggerate them for a task he was reluctant to undertake.”
Gavin could not deny her observation. Its critical edge was tempered with humor. “Is that fault entirely confined to men, do you suppose?”
Her chuckle blossomed into a peal of hearty laughter. “I believe you have me there, sir.”
“What is all this frivolity?” Lord Benedict demanded in a tone of mock severity as he strode into the room. “There are momentous events afoot these days, you know.”
When Gavin tried to rise to greet him, Sebastian waved for him to remain seated as he extended his hand.
“All the more reason we need a little laughter to lighten the gravity,” Lady Benedict observed with a fond smile at her husband.
The way they looked at one another, Gavin suspected his host and hostess would have exchanged a kiss if he had not been present. Once again he felt a pang, not of envy but of longing for a happy marriage like theirs, where each loved the other equally. Had he underestimated the obstacles to a union with Hannah Fletcher or had she exaggerated them?
“How did your discussions go today?” Lady Benedict asked her husband. “Has General Bonaparte’s future been settled yet?”
Sebastian sank onto the sofa beside her with a frustrated sigh. “There are some who recall the civilities he showed them years ago in Paris. They claim the government has no right to imprison any man without a trial, particularly if he did not intend to surrender to Captain Maitland, as he now claims.”
“There can be no question the man has a dangerous degree of charm,” said Gavin, “if it continues to work for him after all these years.”
Sebastian nodded grimly. “That is the other problem. If he is packed off to the South Atlantic, who can be trusted to oversee his exile while remaining impervious to that charm? I fear Bonaparte will turn the full power of it upon his custodian until the poor fellow lets his guard down at an inopportune moment.”
Gavin wished Hannah could understand the perilous nature of the situation as the viscount clearly did. Then perhaps she would not imagine he was using it as an excuse to abandon his children.
“That is why I am so delighted to have your support,” Sebastian continued. “The men who argue for Bonaparte’s rights have never seen the carnage he wrought. Perhaps you can make them understand the danger he could still pose.”
“I shall endeavor to assist you in any way I can,” Gavin replied, though he could not dispel a host of doubts about his ability. He had no great powers of persuasion he could call on. As an officer and a peer of the realm, he was accustomed to giving orders, not arguing or cajoling.
At that moment, servants appeared bearing refreshments.
“I told Lord Hawkehurst he must stay with us,” Lady Benedict informed her husband as she poured tea for the gentlemen. “He has been most obliging to accept my invitation.”
“Well done, my dear.” Sebastian exchanged a doting smile with her as he took the cup she offered him. “Already you are proving invaluable to me in my work.”
Gavin and Sebastian discussed their strategy further until Lady Benedict insisted their guest must retire to rest from his journey. Gavin was grateful to get to bed for he felt weary after the long drive. Perhaps Hannah had not been foolish to fret about his health after all.
Thoughts of her hovered in his mind as he drifted toward sleep. Was there any way in the world he might persuade her to remain at Edgecombe now that he had put her on her guard with his ill-considered proposal? He feared she would never be willing to remain there while he was in residence. What option did that leave him?
The next day Gavin and Sebastian ventured forth to Whitehall to speak with anyone in the cabinet who might give them a hearing.
“Does it matter what the Whigs have to say about the disposition of Bonaparte?” Gavin knew his father would have gloried in this sort of political activity. He felt out of his depth and rather sullied by the whole process. “The Tories are the party in power.”
“True.” Sebastian shrugged. “But several of the cabinet ministers are married into Whig families—the Lennoxes, the Burkes, the Leveson-Gowers. Who knows what they may be hearing on the subject around their dinner tables?”
“Lord Bathurst is my best ally,” he continued. “We worked together to support Wellington during the Peninsular War. As Secretary for War and the Colonies he will have more influence in this matter than anyone but the Foreign Secretary, who has gone to France.”
With some difficulty, they secured an audience with Lord Bathurst, who looked rather harried. “Lord Hawkehurst, an honor. I was well acquainted with your late father.”
“I hope you will not hold that against me.” The words burst from Gavin’s mouth before he could prevent them.
Fortunately the other two gentleman laughed in a way that suggested they had not enjoyed the most congenial relationships with their fathers either.
“There are some who favor imprisoning Bonaparte in Dumbarton Castle,” Lord Bathurst explained, “like General Simon, who also broke his parole.”
Sebastian shook his head. “That would play into the hands of those who wish to see him stand trial.”
The Colonial Secretary did not argue the point. “Others propose Fort Valetta on the island of Malta.”
“Too near France,” Sebastian objected. “Having Bonaparte there would invite no end of schemes to liberate him.”
“What about Saint Helena?” asked Gavin. “I have heard it mentioned as a possible place of confinement, and I believe a better situation could not be found. It is remote, easy to defend and difficult to escape.”
“True enough,” Lord Bathurst acknowledged. “But there is one difficulty and it is not inconsiderable.”
“What?” Gavin and Sebastian demanded in chorus.
“As a port of supply for Orient-bound ships, Saint Helena is under direct control of the East India Company, which has always been most jealous of its prerogatives.”
Though inexperienced in politics, Gavin knew Lord Bathurst spoke the truth. As the uncrowned, unelected ruler of much of the Orient, with revenues that would have ransomed a hundred kings, the East India Company answered to almost no one. What other commercial enterprise held a seat in the British Cabinet?
“In that case,” he declared, “we must appeal directly to the president of the Board of Control.”
“Be my guest.” The Colonial Secretary did not look as if he fancied their chances of getting anywhere. “Perhaps Lord Buckinghamshire will pay more heed to you than he has to me.”
Gavin and Sebastian had even more difficulty getting in to see that gentleman than they had with Lord Bathurst. But at last he consented to give them a brief audience.
“Gentlemen.” Lord Buckinghamshire looked them over with the air of a man who had better things to do with his time. “How may I assist you?”
Since he seemed in a hurry, Gavin did not beat about the bush. “You may oblige Britain and all of Europe by giving over control of Saint Helena to His Majesty’s government as a place of exile for Napoleon Bonaparte.”
“Not that again.” His lordship’s expression hardened. “It is quite out of the question. The island is a vital port of resupply on the route to the Indies. Need I remind you of the fortune brought into this country by the East India trade? Where do you suppose the money came from to finance the war against Bonaparte in the first place? There are other locations he might be kept that will not inconvenience the company.”
“None as remote and secure.” Gavin could feel his temper rising. He was so far out of his element, cooling his heels outside stuffy offices in Whitehall and trying to talk sense to men who cared more about safeguarding their privileges than about peace. “Surely the company can abide a little inconvenience to prevent another war.”
“There is always a war going on somewhere.” His lordship picked up a document from his writing table and began to read it—no doubt a signal that he considered their interview over. “Commerce continues and even thrives on conflict. I advocate letting Bonaparte go to America, where he can pay his own expenses rather than living off British hospitality. Now if you will excuse me, I have urgent business to which I must attend.”
The curt dismissal lit a fuse to Gavin’s temper. He leaped from his chair, strode to the table and snatched the paper out of his lordship’s hand. “What could possibly be more urgent than preventing another Waterloo? Have you no heart, sir, or no conscience?”
Lord Buckinghamshire shrank from Gavin and called for a guard, but Sebastian dragged him away before anyone came.
“At least you managed to get the man’s attention,” the viscount muttered in a rueful tone after Gavin had calmed down and tried to apologize for his behavior. “It is my fault. I should never have summoned you to town while you are still recovering your health and the battle is still so fresh in your mind. There is a reason good soldiers seldom make good politicians.”
Gavin could imagine his father pointing out all the things he’d done wrong. What had made him think he could do anything but a great deal of damage by interfering in an area about which he knew so little?
“Perhaps it would be better if you return to Edgecombe and complete your recovery,” Sebastian concluded. “Your children need you far more than I do.”
Did they? Gavin wondered as he prepared to leave the Benedicts’. He was not naturally disposed to fatherhood any more than he was to diplomacy. Sooner or later he was bound to make mistakes for which they would pay the price. Perhaps he had already with his ill-considered proposal to Hannah Fletcher. The children might fare better without him, just as Sebastian would.
Deeply entrenched beliefs argued in favor of that, but a soft voice of newborn confidence insisted otherwise. It reminded him that the children might blame themselves if he left. It reassured him that choices and effort mattered more than natural ability. Surely the things he cared most about deserved his best effort—not once, but repeatedly until he got them right.
With that in mind he set off to the home of Lord Buckinghamshire. The gentleman had not yet returned for dinner, but his wife expected him at any moment and invited Gavin to wait.
“What in blazes are you doing here?” his lordship demanded when he caught sight of Gavin in his sitting room.
“Oh, don’t fuss, Robert.” The countess gently chided her husband in a way that reminded Gavin of Hannah, as so many things did. “The young man only came to beg your pardon, and I believe you ought to hear him out. Goodness knows you have made more than one unfortunate remark in the heat of the moment.”
Right before Gavin’s eyes, the formidable politician transformed into a biddable husband. “Just as you say, my dear. Go on then, Hawkehurst, what do you have to say for yourself?”
What did he have to say that would not make a bad situation worse? Gavin wondered. Attacking his lordship and questioning his motives had done no good. It was no use trying to be subtle and diplomatic, for he was neither. He was a blunt but truthful man burdened with the consciousness of too many failures and the fear of committing more.
“I was wrong to speak to you as I did, sir. The truth is I was angrier at myself than you. And I did not want you to live with the regrets I will carry for the rest of my days.”
Lord Buckinghamshire looked surprised by that admission. “What sort of regrets?”
“That I did not do everything in my power to prevent Bonaparte from returning to make war a second time,” Gavin replied. “Last year when it seemed peace had been secured and the Allies permitted Bonaparte to retire to Elba, I doubted he would be content to remain there. Yet I did nothing to persuade anyone to place him under more secure confinement. I had excuses for my inaction, but they all seem hollow now. I should have come to London and pestered every minister who would give me a hearing. I should have gone to Vienna and made a nuisance of myself at the Peace Conference. If I had, perhaps…”
He paused to gather his composure, which threatened to desert him.
“Perhaps…” Lady Buckinghamshire prompted in a sympathetic tone.
“Perhaps I would not feel that some of the blood shed at Waterloo is on my hands. Perhaps I would not feel responsible for the death of my dearest friend. Today with Lord Benedict, I may have gone about it all wrong and it may have done no good. But at least this way if Britain must fight Bonaparte a third time, I will know I did everything in my power to prevent it.”
The deep scowl with which Lord Buckinghamshire greeted his appeal told Gavin he had only made the situation worse.
Strangely, that knowledge did not crush him. At Waterloo, he had tried his best to save his friend and just now he had tried equally hard to honor his vow. Something told him Molesworth would not condemn him for having fallen short. Nor would Hannah Fletcher.
Before Lord Buckinghamshire had a chance to blast him again, Gavin bobbed a respectful bow. “That is all I came to say, sir. I hope you will think on it and pardon me for trespassing upon your privacy.”
With that he strode away and returned to the Benedicts’ townhouse, where he found Sebastian in the entry hall conferring with his butler.
“May I impose upon your hospitality for one more night?” Gavin asked. There were matters he needed to consider carefully and decisions he needed to make. Another chat with Lady Benedict might go a long way toward bringing him clarity.
“You are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish.” Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. “But I must tell you—”
Before he could get the words out, the sitting room door swung open and Peter appeared. “I thought I heard your voice, Papa. Miss Hannah and I came up to town for a visit. We didn’t know you were staying here. Are you surprised to see us?”
Surprised? As Hannah and Lady Benedict appeared behind his son, Gavin felt as if all the muscles in his face had fallen slack. Peter and his governess were the last people he had expected to see in London. But more confounding than the shock of their sudden appearance was the questions it raised.
What did Hannah mean by bringing his son to town? Had she changed her mind about his proposal? Or did she intend to haul him home by the ear, like a runaway schoolboy? Perhaps she did not intend to return to Edgecombe at all, but had come to seek sanctuary with the Benedicts until Rebecca could find her a husband.
If his abrupt, ungallant proposal had forced her to leave Edgecombe, it would be a failure for which he might never be able to forgive himself.