Chapter Eight
NO MENTION OF Bonaparte. Why hadn’t she seen it? Hannah wondered the next day when the newspapers echoed his lordship’s question.
“What is become of Bonaparte?” She glanced up at the earl between sentences to gauge his reaction. “His departure from Paris openly and with a great cavalcade is asserted without contradiction. A letter from Rouen dated the third instant says that he was arrested in his flight, but it does not state where or give any particulars. The fact is therefore doubted. It should be a singular incident in this diversified drama if he should be suffered after all to escape.”
With every word she read the earl’s jaw clenched tighter and his black brows lowered over his eyes like thunderclouds warning of an approaching storm.
“How could they let him ride away?” He pounded his fist on his mattress. “Much less openly in a great cavalcade.”
His gaze slammed into Hannah’s with such fierce intensity she could picture lightning flashing from his eyes. “Do you still think I am a vengeful fool for being determined to bring that man to justice?”
She flinched from the earl’s outburst in a way she would not have ten days ago. Then she would have expected it, perhaps even welcomed the opportunity to vent her own feelings at him. But over the course of the past few days, something fundamental had changed between them. She thought they had come to understand and respect one another. Perhaps they had not become friends, but was it too much to hope they’d at least grown friendly?
“I never thought any such thing!” she protested. At least, not recently…
“Do you still believe I should leave the task to others better equipped than I?” This time he did not give her an opportunity to reply. “The Allied commanders, perhaps, who have allowed Bonaparte to slip through their fingers?”
“Are you certain he has?” Hannah’s old antagonism roused like a sleeping dog that had been suddenly kicked awake. “What if that letter from Rouen is correct and he has been arrested?”
The earl reached out and snatched the newspaper from her hands. After the briefest pause to find the report, he read the rest of it in a voice harsh with indignation. “It is worthy of inquiry how and by whom he is to be stopped. The Allies have no force in the road which he was to take—and it is not likely that he should throw himself into the hands of his enemies.”
He slammed down the paper. “If someone does not take action soon, mark my words, Bonaparte is going to slip away to plot his next return. When he comes back, the Allies may not have the good fortune we did at Waterloo to turn back the tide. Who knows how many more young lives could be lost for the want of decisive action now?”
Hannah wished she could argue with his reasoning, but she found it impossible. She’d been so certain the Allied commanders would make Bonaparte’s capture their first priority, for precisely the reasons his lordship had stated. But it seemed she’d been wrong. Was the only answer for one determined man to pursue the former emperor in a quest for justice?
“This news is five days old!” the earl fumed. “Who knows where Bonaparte could be by now? There are plenty of ports within a five-day journey of Paris. If he slips aboard a frigate and sails away—”
“Surely the Royal Navy will be watching the ports.” Even as she said it, Hannah knew she was clutching at straws. One look at the map of France, on which they had been marking reports of Bonaparte’s whereabouts, showed hundreds of miles of coastline.
“The Royal Navy let him slip away from Elba!” the earl shot back as if she had been personally responsible for their lapse. “If Bonaparte slips though their fingers again and sails away for parts unknown, it will be a thousand times worse than before. At least on Elba his actions could be monitored to some degree. If he flees to America or the Indies, he could return at any time of his own choosing, perhaps at the head of a naval force raised from among our enemies.”
The alarm and desperation in his lordship’s voice was contagious. Deep in her bones Hannah felt what a terrible thing it would be for so many people if Napoleon Bonaparte was not stopped now. But she could not bear to see Lord Hawkehurst return to France on a single-handed quest to track him down. In a few more days the doctor would declare him well enough to rise from his sickbed. That would not mean he was fit to ride and sail for long distances, eating and sleeping under who knew what conditions. Not to mention the danger he would face if he did corner the man who had brought Europe to its knees.
“I was wrong to assume others would capture Bonaparte without any help from you,” she admitted, difficult as that was for her. “I often say if I want something done properly I can trust no one to do it but myself. I understand why you must feel that way about so vital a task.”
“You do?” The earl sounded a bit suspicious to hear her agree with him.
At least he seemed calmer. Hannah was anxious to do anything to keep him that way. The last thing she wanted was for the earl to give in to his frustration and do something that might jeopardize his recovery.
“Of course I do.” She retrieved the newspaper and set it out of his reach. She did not want him to read anything else that might set him off. “But the best thing you can do at present is continue to gather information and concentrate on recovering your strength.”
As soon as she said it, Hannah realized she should have omitted one of those things.
“Information?” The earl indicated the map of France with a disdainful sweep of his arm. “That is what galls me. My information is so far behind Bonaparte’s actual movements. He will have an even greater lead by the time I am fit to follow his trail. For all I know, he may already have set sail for parts unknown.”
“That is possible.” Hannah had far more sympathy with Lord Hawkehurst’s self-appointed mission than when he’d first told her of it. But it was still at odds with the promise she’d made to his wife. More than ever, she wanted to keep him safe at Edgecombe with her and the children.
Not with her, Hannah’s conscience chided, with his children.
“B-but,” she continued, flustered by her inadvertent thought, “if Bonaparte has fled the Continent, I have no doubt you will be able to pick up his trail once you are well. Surely the worst thing you could do would be to start after him before you are fully recovered.”
That was all she could do for the moment—plead the state of his health to postpone his going for as long as possible. Hopefully by then she could find some other excuse to delay him.
The earl gave a grudging nod. “You talk good sense as always, Miss Fletcher. But you must realize by now patience is not one of my virtues. I hope you know I am not angry with you, only with my situation. You are all that has made it bearable for this long… you and the children.”
A bolt of dizzying happiness shot through Hannah. She told herself it was only relief that the recent cordiality between them had not been shattered after all. “I am pleased to have been of service, sir.”
“Everything you have done in the past month has gone far beyond the duties for which you were engaged.” Every trace of his earlier frustration had left the earl’s voice. Instead the mellow warmth of appreciation infused it. “Perhaps it has been that way ever since you came to Edgecombe?”
His questioning inflection seemed to request an answer.
“Not at first.” Hannah could not lift her gaze from her lap. “But over time her ladyship came to see how anxious I was to be of assistance. She began to rely on me and take me into her confidence. I believe she was rather lonely by herself in this big house.”
Lonely and neglected by a husband who put his military duty ahead of his family life. Now that Hannah had come to know the earl better, she realized the situation was not as simple as that. She could not place all the blame for her ladyship’s unhappiness on the earl. Yet more than ever, she pitied his late wife. How hard it must be to love someone who could not return the feeling.
“I know her ladyship appreciated your companionship and support,” the earl replied. “I wish I had done the same much sooner. Tell me, have we received a reply to my invitation from Lord and Lady Benedict?”
The abrupt change of subject caught Hannah off guard, as did his use of the word we. “N-not yet, sir. I only sent it the day before yesterday.”
The earl could be excused for thinking it had been longer. The past few weeks had altered Hannah’s perception of time. In some ways the hours and days flew by all too quickly. The end of his lordship’s convalescence was approaching faster than she would have liked. On the other hand, so many things had happened and so much had changed—particularly her attitude toward Lord Hawkehurst—his wife’s death seemed a very long time ago.
He should never have spoken so sharply to Hannah Fletcher yesterday, Gavin chided himself as he waited for her to return from church and bring his infant daughter for another visit. Though it vexed him beyond bearing that Bonaparte had been permitted to escape from Paris, the situation was no fault of hers. If the Allied commanders had done their duty with the capable dedication Miss Fletcher brought to every task she undertook, Gavin had no doubt Bonaparte would be safely under arrest by now.
When he first told her of his mission, Miss Fletcher had not seemed to grasp its urgency. But lately he sensed a welcome change in her outlook. She might not approve of him leaving Edgecombe and the children long enough to bring Bonaparte to justice, but at least she seemed to understand the necessity.
His attitude had undergone some change as well, he was forced to admit. Somehow he had grown to share Miss Fletcher’s hope that someone else might accomplish the task he was prevented from undertaking. He had begun to picture himself remaining at Edgecombe, making a life with his young family, secure in the knowledge that Napoleon Bonaparte would not make another curtain call on the European stage.
Friday’s news from Paris had shattered that fledgling hope and sent a slimy wave of shame washing over him. Poor Molesworth seemed to reproach him for his conflicted feelings about the vow he had made. His instinctive reaction had been to deny those reservations and recommit himself to his mission with greater determination. If he could have leaped from his bed and set off for France immediately it would have been much easier. Instead he was forced to cool his heels while unreliable, days-old news fed his frustration. Meanwhile his growing affection for his infant son and daughter threatened to tie him down with gossamer threads.
Part of him had regretted lashing out at Miss Fletcher even as he vented his frustration on her. He’d been certain she would strike back, or retreat into the kind of injured silence with which he was all too familiar and against which he had no defense. Instead she seemed to understand, which had soothed his explosive emotions. He could not imagine how he would have borne the past ten days without her. The time she spent with him sped by while her brief absences seemed to stretch on and on.
This one, for instance. It gave him far too much time to think.
He reflected on what he must do once he recovered and on the tug of reluctance he did not want to feel. After pondering the matter for some time, Gavin finally hit on a solution. He must tell Miss Fletcher not to bring the babies for any more visits. Surely he had proven he cared for his children. The more time he spent with them, the harder it would be for him to leave Edgecombe. Once he returned home with his vow fulfilled, he would have all the time in the world to renew their acquaintance. It was not as if they were capable of noticing his absence or pining for his company. They were far too young to have the slightest idea who he was.
By the time Hannah Fletcher arrived with her precious bundle, Gavin had resolved this would be his last visit with little Alice until he had accomplished his mission. Instead of allowing his feelings for her to hold him back, he would make them an incentive to succeed as quickly as possible so he could return to his family.
“Lady Alice is not asleep today,” Miss Fletcher announced in a doting tone. “She wants to be wide-awake to see her dearest papa.”
“About that…” Gavin instinctively opened his arms to receive the baby. Once he drew her toward him and gazed into her wide blue eyes, he could not remember what he’d wanted to say except, “Good day to you, sweet Alice. I declare, you have grown bigger since I saw you last.”
Without warning, his daughter’s solemn, delicate features blossomed into a great toothless smile that made his whole chest ache with tenderness for her. His mouth stretched into an answering grin that he knew must look positively simpleminded. But he did not care.
“Did you see that?” he cried, anxious to share the experience. “She smiled at me. Come and look, Miss Fletcher!”
“Her wet nurse told me she had begun to smile.” Hannah Fletcher perched on the edge of the bed and leaned in close. “But I was not able to coax one out of her. I suppose you have been saving all your smiles for your papa, haven’t you, Lady Alice?”
“Were you, indeed?” Gavin asked his daughter with a delighted chuckle. “Were you saving your smiles for me?”
It felt right to have Hannah Fletcher by his side to share this joyful moment. If it had not been for her, he would never have experienced one of his daughter’s first smiles. Somehow he managed to tear his gaze away from the baby long enough to glance up at her. In her eyes he saw reflected the same protective, nurturing love he felt for his tiny daughter. No fine silks or jewels could have made her look lovelier.
The two of them sat there cooing and chortling like a pair of besotted fools rather than a fierce cavalry officer and an imperturbable governess. They gibbered and pulled faces—anything to coax another smile from his little daughter. When she did favor them with a wet, gummy grin, they went into transports of delight as if nothing had ever made them so happy. Gavin had to admit he’d never felt this kind of buoyant joy before.
He told himself it was entirely due to his sweet tiny daughter, though he had a faint troubling sense there might be something more to it. Alice was one of the first people close to him who did not judge and condemn his actions; she made him feel entirely accepted and loved. He wondered if that was a truer reflection of divine love than the stern, punishing patriarch he had envisioned for so long.
Yet even as little Alice kept a powerful grip on his finger with her tiny hand and on his heart with her bright melting smile, Gavin could not ignore a pang of conscience. Surely it could not be right for him to feel so happy such a short time after the death of his wife. Clarissa had left these two small treasures as a final gift to him. What had he ever given her to deserve them?
He tried to push that troubling thought from his mind, but it clung with stubborn tenacity. Fortunately his daughter provided a much-needed distraction. In the middle of one enormous smile her features clenched and she gave a violent sneeze. It seemed to startle the baby. Her eyes flew open again, wider than ever, and her lips formed a perfect circle.
This tickled Miss Fletcher’s fancy. She began to laugh in a free, hearty way Gavin could not resist. Soon they were both helpless with laughter, gasping for air, while the baby grinned at their foolishness. How soon would it be before Alice and Arthur learned to laugh? Gavin hoped he would be there to hear some of their first infant chuckles.
Meanwhile Miss Fletcher’s vigorous laughter seemed to tire her. She subsided against Gavin, her arm pressed against his and her head resting on his shoulder. A sensation of deep warmth spread through him, kindled by her nearness.
Before he had a chance to savor it, the lady tensed and pulled herself upright. “I beg your pardon, sir! I forgot myself for a moment.”
Gavin wanted to assure her that he did not mind having her so near—quite the opposite in fact. But he sensed it would be the wrong thing to say. Moreover, it was the wrong way to feel. He should be mourning his late wife, not thinking about how much he enjoyed the company of another woman.
“Think nothing of it, Miss Fletcher.” He sought to make excuses for both of them. “I expect you are exhausted with the hours you keep looking after the children and me. I cannot blame you for nodding off, even with my engaging little daughter to entertain us.”
Hannah Fletcher scrambled off the bed and backed away. “I must confess I am rather weary, though that is no reflection on your daughter’s company… or yours.”
Baby Alice seemed to sense the sudden tension between them. When Gavin glanced at her, she was no longer smiling. She waved her arms and made anxious little sounds as if to draw their attention back to her.
“I have been working you too hard.” Gavin bounced the baby a little in an effort to soothe her. “Making you dance attendance on me all hours of the day. I have been miserably selfish, depriving my son of his governess because I lack the wit to keep myself occupied.”
Recalling his eldest son brought Gavin another pang of guilt. He had sworn he would not favor any of his children over the others, yet he had spent considerable time with the twins while ignoring young Peter.
He tried to make allowances for his behavior. Babies were so much easier to get on with. Bounce them, pull a face and they were content. It would take much more than that to win over his elder son, if it was even possible after all this time. That did not excuse him from trying. Keeping Peter from his beloved governess after he had so recently lost his mother was no way to begin.
“I have only four more days until I will be allowed up, and you have shown me how to pass the time.” Gavin forced himself to say what he did not want to. “Perhaps you should return to your usual duties starting tomorrow. I can manage on my own until the doctor grants me my freedom.”
He watched Hannah Fletcher’s face, seeking to guess her reaction, though it had never been a skill at which he excelled. Clearly he had not improved, for he could not decide whether she was disappointed, hurt or relieved.
Then she smoothed her features the way a housemaid would tug the wrinkles from a bedsheet, leaving a calm, bland visage and cool gaze that betrayed none of her feelings. “Perhaps that would be for the best, sir, if you are certain you can spare me.”
It must have been relief he’d glimpsed in that first unguarded moment. Gavin’s spirits sank though he told himself not to be so foolish. He was relieved, too—at least part of him was. This growing closeness with Miss Fletcher had the potential to become awkward. He should have seen that from the beginning. Their earlier animosity had blinded him to the fact that she was a woman. Now that he was aware of it—too aware, perhaps—it would be a relief to put some distance between them.
It should be a relief.…
What could have gotten in to her?
Hannah struggled to regain her composure, but never had it been so difficult. She should have known better than to sit on the earl’s bed and make eyes at the baby. But when he’d invited her, she hadn’t thought of him as a nobleman and her employer. They had simply been two people drawn together by their affection for his children.
Did he truly believe she had leaned against him out of fatigue or was he giving her an excuse to spare them both a great deal of awkwardness?
Baby Alice sensed the swift change in atmosphere for she began to fuss. Her faint bleats of distress grew louder. Though Hannah tried to avoid looking directly at his lordship, out of the corner of her eye she could see the child flailing her tiny arms. It came as no surprise when she began to wail in earnest.
It was all Hannah could do to keep from joining in the doleful chorus. Though she agreed it might be better if she returned to her nursery duties, the prospect dismayed her deeply. She told herself that was because she feared how Lord Hawkehurst might react to any fresh news from the Continent. Besides, her plan to foster his affection for the children had shown great promise. She could not stand to give it up while it might still bear fruit.
As Alice’s cries grew louder, Hannah knew she should offer to take the baby, but she did not want to make the earl doubt his fledgling skills as a parent. Besides, she was reluctant to get too close to his lordship, her hands and arms brushing against his. Such innocent contact roused feelings she wanted no part of.
Or did she?
Apparently the earl did not need her help after all. He lifted his squalling daughter to his shoulder and began to rub her back.
His deep voice, which could sound so harsh and commanding, was muted to a tender murmur. “Dear me, what is the matter? Did we exhaust your good humor?”
Watching him soothe his tiny child stirred something deep in Hannah’s heart. “We probably overexcited her. She is accustomed to taking a nap at this time of day. Shall I take her back to Mrs. Miller?”
“In a moment, perhaps.” The earl coaxed two soft belches out of the baby. “Surely you would not want me to give up too soon.”
Hannah struggled to hold herself erect when her bones felt like butter in the sun. She forced her gaze away from the touching sight of father and child. Of course she wanted the earl to persist at the tasks of fatherhood even when they did not come naturally. She wanted him to see that he could improve with practice and not take temporary setbacks as a sign of failure.
Baby Alice seemed willing to teach her father those vital lessons for she gradually quieted. Finally the earl announced with a faint ring of pride, “I believe she is asleep now. Give her a little more time then you may take her.”
Hannah could not let all her efforts come to nothing when his lordship had made so much progress. Hoping to take advantage of his good humor, she ventured to ask, “May I still bring the babies to visit you, sir?”
He considered for a moment, “Of course, if you would be so kind.”
“I should be happy to, sir.” Happy that her heedless lapse of judgment had not spoiled her plans regarding Lord Hawkehurst and his children? Hannah wondered. Or happy she would still have an opportunity to see him for a while each day?
She had no business feeling anything remotely like that for the earl, Hannah’s sense of propriety warned her. How had he come to mean so much to her in such a short time? Was it seeing him interact with the babies that called forth the softer emotions she tried to conceal behind a mask of brisk resourcefulness?
If she was going to spend time with him from now on, she would need someone present besides the babies to keep her from forgetting herself again. “What about Peter, sir? That is… Lord Edgecombe… may I bring him to visit as well? I believe it might do him good.”
“I thought you did not want Peter to see me laid up like this.” The earl’s reluctance showed as plain as his sweeping black brows. “In case it might upset him.”
Did he guess that her motives were not entirely for the benefit of his son? “I did at first, sir. But you are so much better now I doubt your condition will cause him any worry.”
His lordship considered her suggestion. Hannah wished she knew what he was thinking.
“If you reckon it would be for the best, Miss Fletcher. I trust your judgment when it comes to the welfare of my children.”
That was one of the most treasured compliments he could have paid her.
“However,” he continued, “I fear it will be uphill work for me to win my elder son’s regard. It is a simple matter to be a good father to the little ones. With them, I am starting off with a clean slate. They do not have years of absences and awkwardness to overcome. Peter has been his mother’s darling all this time, and I sense he does not think well of me.”
Hannah tried to tell the earl he was wrong, but he dismissed her protests with a rueful shake of his head. “I do not blame the boy, but neither can I figure how to remedy the situation. I only know I do not want him to think I favor the little ones over him.”
“The way your father favored your elder brother?” The instant those words slipped out, Hannah clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
What was it about Gavin Romney that made her speak and act without thinking after a lifetime of strict discretion? He had proven more forgiving of such lapses than she’d expected, but she did not want to test the limits of his tolerance. For the children’s sake, she could not afford to risk her position at Edgecombe.
She began to sputter an apology, but the earl cut her off. “You divined my very thought, Miss Fletcher. My brother was the apple of our father’s eye. He could do no wrong while I could never do anything right. Father always claimed I did not try hard enough, though nothing could have been further from the truth. Finally I stopped trying for I knew it was no use. I would never measure up to his standards.”
Had it been the same with his wife? Hannah clamped her lips together to keep from asking more impertinent questions. She wished she could stop herself from even entertaining the thought. How could she be so disloyal to her ladyship’s memory?
Disloyal or not, it might be true, a stubborn little voice inside her insisted. The countess had appeared so devoted to her husband and distressed when her feelings were not returned in equal measure. Hannah had sympathized with her litany of complaints about the earl and believed them all to be true. Now she wondered if any demonstrations of affection, no matter how lavish, would have satisfied her ladyship.
Worse yet, Hannah wondered whether her sympathy and indignation had only encouraged Clarissa Romney’s dissatisfaction with her marriage.