Hannah repeatedly rearranged her pillows and covers, feeling at once too flushed and too cold.

She could still feel Blackwold’s warm lips pressed against her forehead, and she couldn’t rid herself of the disappointment that he hadn’t pressed that light kiss on her mouth, instead. Unforgivably, she’d even lifted her chin when he leaned over her, his white shirt gaping open at the neck and the scent of bay soap and warm skin filling the space between them. Her heart had pounded in her chest as she waited, breathing in his fragrance, longing to reach up and brush that ridiculous lock of shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

She’d wanted him to kiss her, desperately. Wantonly.

Perhaps she was the one who was so mad that she ought to be locked up in the cellars along with the brandy, as Gina remarked about Blackwold.

It took a long time for her pulse to settle back to its regular calm beat and even longer for drowsiness to return and pull her back to sleep.

Dawn had barely tinted the sky a crystalline peach when her door creaked again. A white-capped head peered through the gap.

“Are you awake?” Gina whispered.

Hannah sat up with a smile. “Yes. And I’m impatient to leave this room.”

“Oh, good!” Gina entered, and after a quick glance down the hallway, she closed the door behind her. “Ever since Papa left yesterday, I have been bored to tears. I’m so glad you are feeling better.”

Before Hannah could reply, the door opened again. Her hand pressed against her chest as her pulse leapt in anticipation that Blackwold had been gripped by the same impulse as Gina had experienced to visit Hannah at dawn.

A tray appeared and then Mary. She glanced at Hannah and then Gina, her stern expression softening until she almost appeared to smile. “Miss Hodges—you are up early.”

“Yes, I am.” Gina stepped over to the maid, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and took the tray away from her. “Here you are, Hannah. I suppose we must do without you at breakfast, but I absolutely insist that you join me thereafter for a walk. Perhaps we can venture into Pencroft? We can have tea at Uncle Carter’s.” She glanced uneasily at Mary and amended her plans. “If you feel strong enough.” Her brown eyes sparkled with anticipation mixed with hesitancy as she looked from Hannah to Mary and back.

Grinning, Hannah nodded and accepted the tray, balancing it on her lap. A walk in the fresh air was just the thing she needed to clear her mind, and she wasn’t so hard-hearted that she would deny Gina the treat she clearly wanted.

To be completely honest, she was also curious to see Pencroft.

And she couldn’t forget that Carter Hodges also had a griffin ring, although since he was a vicar, it seemed highly unlikely that he would order the death of anyone, let alone Officer Trent. She frowned, considering Gina’s comment that her father had already left. He also had a ring, and he was a captain. What if he’d left because he feared that Hannah may have seen him on the beach that dreadful night and might recognize him?

A shiver went down her back. What a horrible thought. She absolutely did not want Gina’s father to be a cold-hearted murderer. But once the idea had occurred to her, it was difficult to dismiss.

When she glanced up, both Mary and Gina were eyeing her, Gina with lifted brows and a hopeful expression on her face, and Mary with a very thoughtful look furrowing her brow.

“You ain’t strong yet,” Mary interjected, clasping her work-worn hands together against the snowy white apron she wore over her dark dress. “It’s near a mile or more to Pencroft.”

“Yes, but the sun is out, and we shall go ever so slowly,” Gina said, turning to the maid and grasping her arm imploringly. “If she gets too tired, I’m sure Uncle Carter will bring us back in a cart.”

“You know very well your uncle don’t have no cart, Miss Hodges, him being a vicar and all.” A smile lit her eyes and teased the corners of her mouth for a second before she forced her features into a more serious expression. “Poor as a church mouse.”

Gina sighed, her grip on Mary’s wrist tightening. “You know he can borrow one any time he wishes from the inn. He is not too poor to do that.”

“Well, what I knows is that it’s assuming a great deal to expect him to,” Mary replied tartly. “Him being a vicar and all.”

“If it comes to that, I can well afford to hire a gig.” Gina smiled at Hannah. “Papa is very generous, and I haven’t had the least chance to spend even half of what he provided me this month.”

Mary snorted and shook her head.

But even Hannah could see that the maid was slowly coming around to agreement with Gina’s impulsive idea, and she was relieved that Gina had undertaken the task to convince Mary instead of Hannah. If she’d insisted on going, she was fairly sure Mary would have resorted to removing all of Hannah’s gowns so that she couldn’t go out, even if she wished to do so.

“So it is quite settled,” Gina said, releasing her hold on Mary’s arm. “I am going to dress. We can leave as soon as you are ready, Hannah.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Hannah turned her attention to the contents of the tray. When she lifted the linen napkin covering it, she found a basket full of warm rolls, pots of butter and peach preserves, and even a soft-boiled egg in a fragile bone china eggcup. The yeasty fragrance of the rolls made her stomach gurgle with hunger.

She broke open a roll and watched a delicate puff of yeasty steam escape before she slathered both the butter and preserves on the tender, fresh bread. Her attention was completely absorbed by the delicious rolls, egg, and the sweet pot of hot chocolate, so she felt surprised when she glanced up to see that Mary had laid out a warm walking dress in rich blue and a heavy navy blue pelisse on the end of the bed.

“You’ll want a shawl, as well,” Mary stated as she picked up the tray. The empty dishes clattered beneath the wrinkled napkin. “The dowager’ll give you her cashmere and a bonnet. I found them boots there—I’m sure they’ll fit.” The certainty in her statements revealed her long-time familiarity with the Hodges family, and her confidence in her position as a lady’s maid.

“I’m sure they will,” Hannah agreed meekly. She wasn’t about to undo all the work Gina had accomplished in convincing Mary that Hannah was ready to walk to the village.

When she first stood, she had to grab the bedpost to keep from falling onto her face. Her legs trembled, and she had a light-headed, dizzy feeling, but the sensations soon diminished. She staggered over to the washbasin. The cold water had a bracing effect, enough so that she was grateful when she pulled on the warm clothing that Mary had set out for her. The maid soon returned with a heavy shawl over her arm and a bonnet swinging from her hand. She assisted her to dress, fussing and clicking her tongue, but she didn’t try to persuade Hannah that it was too soon after her illness for such an outing.

After buttoning up the warm pelisse and arranging the shawl over her shoulders, Hannah thanked Mary and found her way downstairs as quickly as possible.

Sparkling laughter drifted through the library door near the foot of the stairs, revealing Gina’s presence. Hannah’s heart lifted. Smiling, she walked into the room.

Gina and the dowager were sitting cozily close to the fire, and Gina had one hand on Lady Blackwold’s wrist as she leaned forward to speak to her. Both ladies were grinning and seemed to be sharing such a pleasant conversation that Hannah suffered a sharp pang. She felt like a rude intruder standing there, a foreigner at the manor on sufferance. She almost hated to interrupt them.

Before she could speak, Gina glanced up. Welcome flashed in her huge brown eyes and her dimples deepened as her grin widened. “Hannah! Are you ready to go to Pencroft?”

“Yes, if you still want to go.” She caught the dowager’s gaze. “I apologize for interrupting.”

Lady Blackwold snorted and flicked her wrist to release Gina’s grasp. “You look like a ghost from my past, pallid and standing there in my old pelisse and bonnet. But if you believe you are well enough to walk to the village, you have my blessing.” She frowned and glanced around the room. “I haven’t the least notion where Blackwold or Henry have gone.” She sighed and shook her head. “However, I suppose a lack of male companionship will not stop two such modern young women from galloping across the landscape in any direction they wish.”

Standing, Gina covered her mouth, but a merry giggle still escaped her. “I have Hannah and she has me for company, so we shall be quite proper, I assure you. And we will stop for tea at the vicarage, and nothing could be more proper than that.”

Lady Blackwold snorted. “Well, there is no convincing you otherwise, I’m sure. So I won’t even try. Give my love to your uncle Carter and tell him it wouldn’t be amiss for the vicar to perform his duty once in a while and visit his old, widowed mother. I daresay he has sufficient time to visit any number of ladies in the village to give them the benefit of his counsel and support, so he can find the time for me.”

“But you know you don’t need his counsel, dear Grandmother. Quite the reverse,” Gina replied with a laugh. She bent and kissed the dowager on the cheek and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “But I shall tell him you are awaiting a visit from him. No doubt he will come immediately. Or nearly so.” She looked at Hannah. “He may even bring us back and stay for supper.”

“Or he will have some excuse, as he usually does,” Lady Blackwold replied in a dry voice. She shook her head and waved them away. “No matter. Be gone, you two, and leave me be. Alone. Sitting here by the fire with no one to talk to.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Not that it matters.”

Frowning, Hannah stepped forward, but Gina caught her arm and shook her head, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Never fear, Grandmother. You can always ring for Mary.”

“That dour old woman? I’d sooner drink a pint of vinegar.”

“She’s at least thirty years younger than you, dearest Grandmother,” Gina pointed out sweetly. “However, perhaps Blackwold is around somewhere. I’m sure he will be glad to keep you company. Well, we must be off.” She yanked Hannah to the door and closed it behind them before her grandmother could reply.

In a matter of minutes, they’d stepped outdoors. The air was crisp and carried the unmistakable salt tang of the sea. The distant cry of gulls rang through the air, and Hannah caught the trim form of a tern pass overhead. She took a deep breath. As the fresh, clean air filled her lungs, it seemed to push all the remaining illness and weakness away.

Overhead, white fluffy clouds scudded across the crystal blue sky, and despite the sere, gray and black winter landscape, she felt a surge of happiness. Some green was rising through the ground, life anew sprouting, and it was good to be outside on such a glorious day.

Linking arms with Hannah, Gina set a moderate pace, chattering about inconsequential things, starting with the fine weather, the color of the sky and how it was just a few shades lighter than Hannah’s eyes, the ribbons one might acquire in the village that might also match Hannah’s blue eyes, and from there, various points of current fashion.

Hannah nodded contentedly, only half-listening. Fashion had never really interested her, although she did appreciate fine clothing. A gust of chilly wind trickled down the hollow of her neck, and she fastened the top button of her pelisse and pulled the thick shawl more closely around her. Walking kept her mostly warm, and the kid boots Mary had given her did fit fairly well, but the breeze was still a little raw and damp.

By the time they reached the village, Hannah’s feet were dragging and her limbs were shaking. Perhaps it was too soon to go on such a long walk. She slumped a little when Gina dragged her into a small shop on the busy main street of Pencroft.

Instead of the male shopkeeper she expected, a very plump woman greeted them with pleasure, her round face dimpling and her dark eyes sparkling, the image of a woman who enjoyed gossiping almost as much as selling her goods. “Miss Hodges! I heard you were here, visiting your grandmother, the Dowager Lady Blackwold. What an honor to see you in my little shop!”

“Yes, Mrs. Shaw.” Gina pulled Hannah forward. “I brought my friend, Miss Cowles, lately from Boston. Miss Cowles, this is Mrs. Shaw, the owner of this lovely emporium.”

Mrs. Shaw’s smile disappeared for a moment. Her gaze hardened so briefly that Hannah wondered if she’d truly seen the narrowing of her eyes. Then, mindful of Gina’s presence, Mrs. Shaw nodded. “An honor, I’m sure.” Her face brightened, and she bent behind the counter where she stood and pulled out a wide box, which she set on the scarred wooden surface. “I got them ribbons I told you about last time you was here, Miss Hodges.” She flicked open the lid and shoved it beneath the counter, all the while smiling at Gina.

“Oh! Do you have any yellow ones?” Gina stepped forward and bent over the box, sifting through the rainbow colors of silk ribbons.

“Yes.” Mrs. Shaw laughed. “No need to tangle them into knots.” She deftly began pulling out ribbons in all shades of yellow, from the palest to the richest golden color that turned almost orange in the sunlight. “There’s any color you wish, Miss Hodges. I ordered them special, hoping you’d honor us with a visit.”

“Look at this one, Hannah!” Gina picked up a deep medium yellow and held it up beside her face, near one of the curls bobbing over her temple. The color brought out the rich red-gold highlights in her brown hair and made her brown eyes gleam with gold specks.

“That one suits you very well,” Hannah said, hesitating before she stepped closer. She was aware that the shopkeeper wasn’t sure about her, and Hannah sensed that if she’d entered the shop without Gina, Mrs. Shaw may have turned around and disappeared into her back room, effectively refusing to serve her.

The rumors about her must have reached every ear in the village, Hannah thought ruefully. They all believed she’d been ravished by some man and then abandoned on the road where the dowager found her.

Her previous good spirits evaporated. Once again, she felt shaky and ill with weariness. Her hands felt cold and damp, despite her gloves, and she rubbed them over her arms. She shouldn’t have agreed to come. It was foolish. In fact, she’d be fortunate if she didn’t become ill again as a result.

“Do you have any blue ones that might match Miss Cowles’s eyes?” Gina asked. Her busy fingers had set aside a green ribbon as well as the yellow one and were now sifting through the other colored strands.

“There’s a few blue,” Mrs. Shaw replied grudgingly. She pulled out a silvery blue and a medium blue ribbon from the increasingly tangled pile.

Gina picked up the medium blue one and held it up to Hannah’s face. “This one would look so much better than those fusty old black ribbons, if you insist on wearing that bonnet. You should purchase it!”

Hannah flushed and caught Mrs. Shaw’s knowing glance. She didn’t have any money of her own at the moment. Or even a gown. Every garment she wore was a cast-off from the dowager.

“I know!” Gina clapped her hands and then pulled at the strings of her reticule. “It shall be my present to you! A welcome gift!” She looked at Hannah, her eyes warm with sympathy. “You cannot refuse, you know. It simply isn’t done!”

Gina proceeded to haggle over the three ribbons, driving the price down so low that even Hannah was surprised that Mrs. Shaw agreed. Apparently, there were very few souls who could resist Gina’s high spirits. Or her determination.

Shopping successfully concluded, Gina linked arms again with Hannah, gave her an assessing look, and yanked her once more down the street. “I believe we should see if my uncle Carter is at home. I am famished and absolutely faint with exhaustion, although you appear ready to walk to China if need be.”

“Not quite China,” Hannah protested with a laugh. “And you really shouldn’t have bought that ribbon for me.”

“Nonsense. It was a welcome gift. You have set foot on England’s rocky shore for the first time—and under not so very pleasant circumstances, I might add—so it is time something agreeable happened to you.”

“A great many very pleasant things have happened to me!” The image of Blackwold leaning over her last night, his linen shirt open at the neck, and his warm lips pressed against her forehead returned. Her cheeks grew warm. “Your grandmother—”

“Grandmother!” Gina snorted. “She only does what it amuses her to do. Not that we don’t all adore her,” she added hastily.

“You have all been exceptionally kind to me—more kind than I deserve,” Hannah replied. Warm tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what I would have done without your family and your grandmother in particular.” She managed a laugh, although her throat was tight with emotion. “Why, I wouldn’t have a stitch to wear if it were not for her.”

“Pshaw.” Gina made a rude noise. “She only gave you things which even Mary would not accept. Have you looked at the waistline of that walking dress you are wearing? Thank goodness the pelisse hides its worst faults. That dress must be fifteen years old at the very least. It might even be older than I!”

“It looked very nice to me, and Mary did a marvelous job remaking it. I have absolutely nothing to complain about.”

“Then you colonists either have no sense of fashion, or you lag behind us by twenty years.”

Straightening, Hannah sucked in a sharp breath. The Blackwold clan certainly could not be faulted for being too meek.

Gina laughed, squeezed Hannah’s arm, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She seemed to be forever kissing people as if to wipe away the unhappy effect of her words, but Hannah really couldn’t stay mad at her.

“I’m sorry, but it is only the truth,” Gina said, not sounding at all apologetic.

An unwilling smile curved Hannah’s mouth. “You are forgiven. However, you might try to be a little more, um, discreet if you plan to attend many social events in London.”

“You sound just like Grandmother.” Gina giggled. “As if she had any room to criticize. She is even more horribly outspoken than I.”

“Well, you don’t want to be given the cold shoulder because you speak without consideration, so you might want to consider that.”

“You don’t think I might not earn a reputation for being refreshingly honest? I think it might be to my advantage, truly.”

“With certain people, perhaps, though I’m not sure they are the sort you would wish to court. They would have to cherish no social ambition whatsoever.”

“Or consider that marrying the cousin of a marquess is an exalted enough position to not care what anyone else thinks,” Gina said in a surprisingly mature way.

Hannah frowned and glanced at her, wishing that the girl were not so aware of Society’s realities. It would be nice if she maintained some illusions and ideals. It would be even nicer if she could fall in love like a normal girl without worrying about the opinion of Society.

Unfortunately, Gina was already aware that she was going to London to attract an alliance with someone of sufficient rank to earn her family’s approval. Liking would be a benefit, but marriage would ultimately be more of a business affair than an affair of the heart.

So perhaps it was best that she didn’t suffer from any illusions, after all.

Again, Hannah couldn’t help a wistful thought of Blackwold. He, too, was in the midst of contract negotiations for the business of marriage.

So why did her thoughts turn to him, again and again?

She was nothing in his eyes—she couldn’t even prove who she was in order to gain access to the money her father’s lawyer had transferred here for her. Her chest tightened, leaving her breathless. It was so unfair—to lose everything, including her friends, her money, and her reputation in one terrible night.

For a moment, she wished she’d never decided to come to England to see the home of her father and find a place where she could belong. She should have stayed in Boston like the scruffy, elderly lawyer recommended. She could have made a home for herself there, even if she found the streets too busy and noisy for her taste.

“Here we are,” Gina announced, releasing Hannah’s arm. She opened the white-painted gate and stepped through onto a narrow path that led to a modest cottage.

Hannah glanced around, noting the small, stone church next door. So this tidy little house with the winter-bleak front yard was the vicarage. The building looked well-maintained and neat, with a solemn, black-painted door and black shutters framing the windows, but it didn’t feel welcoming to Hannah. Perhaps it was simply her sour mood and exhaustion after their long walk.

To her surprise, before they reached the two shallow, gray stone steps leading to the stoop, the front door opened.

Henry Hodges stood framed in the doorway, one hand setting his hat on his head.

“Cousin Henry!” Gina exclaimed. “Are you visiting Uncle Carter, too?”

He glanced at her, his brows arching in surprise before he saw Hannah standing a little ways behind her. “Ladies—I did not realize you were planning a trip to the village.” Concern tightened his mouth and brow. “Miss Cowles, I am surprised to see you so soon after your illness.” He sketched a brief bow. “Though, of course, you are looking as lovely as ever. You should have informed me of your intentions. I could have driven you here.”

“We are not that helpless, Cousin,” Gina said with a laugh. “It is only a mile.”

A movement in the hallway beyond Mr. Hodges made Hannah glance inside the house. The first thing that caught her gaze was a large, rectangular object with curved sides. She stared, her heartbeat quickening.

My trunk! Her glance flew to Mr. Hodges’s face.

A fleeting expression rippled over his features, one she couldn’t quite identify.

“Where is Uncle Carter? There is no reason for us to stand out here gaping at one another. We are exceedingly tired and would like a cup of tea.” Gina pushed past her cousin. “What is this trunk doing here? I almost fell over it—how inconsiderate of you to leave this nasty thing right in the middle of the hallway.”

Mr. Hodges smiled, his gray eyes glimmering as he bowed again to Hannah and gestured for her to enter in front of him. “It is a surprise for Miss Cowles, my little goose. Though I wish you hadn’t spoiled it.”

“Uncle Carter!” Gina squealed and threw herself at a black-clad man standing just beyond the trunk. “Are you pleased to see us?”

He smiled and gave her a stiff-armed hug. “I am always pleased to see you, my dear. However, I know you have better manners than these. Who is this charming young lady?”

“That is Miss Cowles,” Gina answered. “From Boston. In the United States of America.”

“Yes, I know where Boston is located. Perhaps better than you, so behave yourself, Georgina.” He bowed to Hannah. “And since my niece seems incapable of completing this introduction, may I present myself? Carter Hodges, Vicar of Pencroft, at your service, Miss Cowles.”

The dim light of the hallway revealed a tall, slender man with dark hair cut very short and shot with silver at the temples. Another patch of silver sprouted from the hairline above the center of his forehead, and for an instant, Hannah was reminded of a skunk she’d glimpsed once. She stifled the ridiculous thought and smiled at him. He had gray eyes like his nephew, Henry, but a much more serious expression, and deep lines bracketed his mouth. A griffin ring on his right hand caught a flash of light from the small window next to the front door. This one had topaz eyes that glinted a dull yellow when he moved his hand.

His thin shoulders sloped down from his long neck, making him look like a man forced to carry a heavy burden, or perhaps the burdens of others, given his occupation.

“I am so sorry to intrude,” Hannah said, feeling uncomfortable in the narrow confines of the little hallway.

Henry had entered behind her and closed the door, dimming the light in the cramped space. She pressed her hand to her chest. It was ridiculous, but it felt as if all the air was slowly being drained away, stifling her. Her toes practically touched the side of her trunk, Gina stood a mere yard away, with Carter Hodges just a foot beyond her. She glanced up to find Carter’s eyes fixed upon her.

Not only was she being ridiculous, she was being rude. She forced a smile.

“I am always pleased to have a visit from my niece, especially when she brings such a lovely visitor with her,” the vicar replied. His voice was so precise and measured that it had all the emotional resonance of a ticking clock.

She could only imagine how inspiring he would be giving a sermon in that voice and be relieved that no one had insisted she attend the small church.

“Is this indeed your trunk, Miss Cowles?” Henry asked as he swept off his hat. He placed it in the crook of his arm and gave her an encouraging smile.

For some reason, she felt embarrassed. Everyone was staring at her, mouths partially open and brows arched with enquiry. Self-conscious, she pulled her shawl up around her shoulders and leaned over to peer at the chest.

Saltwater had darkened the leather and left wandering trails of white salt behind. Some of the brass tacks securing the leather were missing, and parts of the leather covering were peeling. Despite the tarnishing of the brass, her initials were still clear, however.

She straightened. “Yes.” She touched the brass plate with her gloved fingers. “These are my initials.”

“How wonderful!” Gina clapped her hands before gripping her uncle’s sleeve, though she glanced at her cousin. “How did you find it, Cousin Henry?”

“It was brought here for our sale,” the vicar stated in his clockwork voice. “We are in need of roof repairs.”

“Who brought it?” Hannah asked.

“Does it matter?” Henry replied in a hearty voice. “The important point is that your wish has been granted, and you have been reunited with your trunk.”

“What’s in it? Oh, I wager there are all sorts of beautiful gowns. Can we open it?” Gina asked, stooping over the box.

A curious reluctance filled Hannah, but she reached up to pull a chain out of her bodice. By some miracle, she hadn’t lost the key—it had been forgotten at the bottom of her linen pocket—despite everything that had happened. And to avoid any mishaps, she now carried it with her wherever she went.

“I have the key,” she admitted. Then she realized that the chain wasn’t quite long enough to slip over the bonnet she wore.

Gina reached over to help her, but only succeeded in tangling the chain with the black ribbons holding the bonnet on Hannah’s head. The result was that she almost strangled Hannah before the vicar pulled her away.

“Georgina! Please show your friend some courtesy. There is no reason to insist she open the trunk now,” Carter chided her, his face growing stern.

“No—I need to open it. I need to prove that I am who I say I am.” Hannah undid the ribbons of her bonnet and pulled it off. She then drew the chain over her head and knelt in front of the trunk.

The waves had not made what had always been a stiff lock any looser, but after some fumbling and twisting, she managed to undo the lock. Gina, shouldering her way past her cousin and uncle, knelt and unfastened the leather strap nearest to her.

“You had the key and unlocked the trunk, surely that is proof enough,” Carter said.

“There is one more thing,” Hannah said.

Her fingers were as cold and stiff as the lock and, although she rubbed them, her hands refused to cooperate. Finally, she took off her gloves, massaged her icy hands, and began the intricate process of opening the secret panel built into the domed lid. Small pieces of wood slid from one location to another in a mosaic before she felt the last slat move solidly into place.

A lid within the lid opened. There, resting in the narrow hollow was a small bundle of documents, securely wrapped in a thick piece of oilskin fabric and tied with sturdy string.

She lifted the packet out and held it up. “You see? These will prove who I am—and you saw me open the compartment—no one else knew the secret. And once we arrive in London, I can present my lawyer’s letter to the manager at the Bank of England, and I can become quite independent.” She flushed with pleasure at the thought. No more cast-off gowns, no more depending upon others for every little thing.

“Indeed.” Carter nodded. “If required, we can, indeed, act as your witnesses, Miss Cowles. You had the key to the trunk and opened it. And you knew how to retrieve your package from the hidden compartment. I, for one, am thoroughly satisfied that you are who you say you are.” He glanced at Henry. “If there had ever been any doubt.”

“And I agree with my uncle, Miss Cowles,” Henry said with a smile. The smug satisfied expression on his face gave Hannah pause, but she finally decided he was simply happy to have the problem of her identity resolved so easily.

“You mentioned the Bank of England, Miss Cowles,” the vicar watched her steadily. “The manager is an associate of my brother—Georgina’s father. We will send word to him that you have arrived safely so that you may obtain an accounting of the funds your trustees transferred for your use.”

A tightening in her belly revealed a tinge of disquiet. Her lawyer in Boston had suggested that she wait for confirmation of the successful transfer of the majority of her fortune before she left, but she had just laughed. She refused to wait another month or more just to receive yet another letter.

She’d shaken off the twinge of uneasiness then, and she ruthlessly crushed the feeling again. She nodded. “That would be kind of you and Mr. Hodges, though we shall most likely reach London before any reply reaches us here.”

“No doubt,” Carter Hodges agreed in a patronizing tone that suggested he believed she didn’t quite understand his caution, and that since she was only a female, he didn’t actually expect her to.

“Who cares about some old papers? What’s inside?” Gina wailed, her hands resting on the edge of the trunk’s lid. “Do you have a great many dresses? Jewelry?”

“True heroine that she is, she managed to save her jewelry in the midst of the storm,” Henry replied. His gray eyes twinkled with amusement. “And her dresses are no concern of yours, my little goose.”

“You must have some tea after your long walk.” The vicar shook his head. A long, lugubrious sigh escaped him. “A serious risk to your health so soon after your illness, Miss Cowles.” He gave his niece a reproving glance. “It was not kind of you, Georgina, to force your friend to attend you, simply to see what ribbons Mrs. Shaw might have.”

Georgina flushed and stared down at the floor, shifting from one foot to the other.

Stepping closer to her and slipping an arm around her waist, Hannah said, “Oh, I insisted. After being indoors for so long, the fresh air was a blessing.”

“It is kind of you to say so,” the vicar replied, his gaze still firmly fixed on his niece’s downcast face. “Nonetheless, you must join me for tea before my nephew returns you to Blackrock Manor. We have the use of a trap when I require it, and there is no reason why Henry cannot drive you to Blackrock Manor in it.” He eyed his nephew. “In fact, he may go to the inn now, while you have your tea.”

Henry chuckled and gave Hannah a bow as he placed his hat on his head with a jaunty tap. “I shall return with your carriage—”

“Trap,” the vicar corrected. “It will, however, accommodate the three of you, I assure you.”

“Anon,” Henry concluded, ignoring his uncle. “I am away, then, on winged feet.”

With stooped shoulders and a heavy sense of doing one’s duty, onerous though it may be, Hannah followed a very quiet Gina into the small sitting room on their left. The room was surprisingly austere—there were no comfortable padded chairs in sight, only five straight-backed wooden chairs. The chairs did have thin cushions on them, made out of some stiff dark material that, while practical, didn’t look at all appealing. A small writing desk and another wooden chair were positioned by the window, and a low square table sat in front of the fireplace, between a pair of the wooden chairs.

The vicar pulled a third chair away from the wall and positioned it next to the chair on the left of the table. Then he gestured for Gina and Hannah to be seated.

“I will notify Mrs. Anderson that we have guests.” He left them abruptly, just as they were sitting down.

“My uncle has a great deal on his mind,” Gina said, fidgeting with the strings of her reticule. “The roof of the church is in a terrible state.”

“I’m sure it is,” Hannah replied, wondering when they could decently get up and leave.

It would probably be unforgivably rude to go outside to wait for Henry at the curb.

“Mrs. Anderson makes very good scones, though. She puts currants in them,” Gina remarked, staring at her lap. “I hope you didn’t think I was terrible when I wanted to see your gowns.” She sniffed and gave Hannah a sideways glance. “I just can’t seem to help myself when I am overcome with a fit of curiosity.”

Hannah laughed. “Don’t apologize—it didn’t bother me in the least, and I know precisely what you mean. I would have been wrestling open the trunk, myself, had I been in your position. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but at least she died with a smile on her face.”

“Thank you—you are such a dear friend. I just knew you would be!” Gina reached out and gave Hannah’s wrist a squeeze.

A man’s firm footstep interrupted them, and the vicar strode into the room. They half-rose from their seats and then sat down again as Carter flicked the tails of his black coat out of the way and seated himself in the chair opposite them. A long minute of silence reigned while he studied the two women. The clicking of the simple wooden clock on the mantle sounded so loudly that Hannah almost flinched.

The patter of lighter footsteps finally broke the uncomfortable quiet. Bearing a large tray, a woman entered, the ends of her apron sash fluttering behind her. She moved with brisk competence and unloaded the contents of the tray onto the maple table before straightening and smoothing her white apron.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Hodges?” she asked in a way that suggested that his answer had better be no. A white cap was set neatly on her graying black hair, and everything about her seemed to be in shades of gray, black, or white. Her dress was black, relieved by the white of her collar, cuffs, apron, and cap. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight knot at the base of her neck, and the gray strands at her temples almost matched the hue of her eyes.

She appeared to be a stern, dour woman of the same stamp as Mary, until Hannah caught her gaze. Blue and silver flashes in her eyes hinted at a pleasant disposition, and she was surprised when the housekeeper gave her a quick wink.

“No, Mrs. Anderson,” the vicar replied dutifully.

“The scones are fresh from the oven—they are best when warm,” she said before turning on her heel and striding out of the room.

The vicar passed around the plate of scones, along with a pot of clotted cream, while Gina poured the tea into the plain white cups provided. To Hannah’s surprise, Carter liberally applied the cream to his own scone before taking a large bite. Somehow, she thought he was the type of self-sacrificing, austere man who would refuse to allow himself to indulge in such luxuries.

“So, Miss Cowles, I was sorry to hear that your introduction to our shores was so tumultuous,” he remarked after swallowing. He picked up his cup and took a sip, his eyes fixed on her face above the rim.

“Yes.” Hannah picked up her cup and took a sip. The tea was warm and soothing, precisely what she needed. “It was not an experience I wish to remember.”

He shook his head. “Of course. But was there no one to offer any assistance? The folk of our little village may be somewhat rustic, but they are well-known for their generosity as well as the kindliness of their spirit. Was there no one on shore to help you?”

“No.” Hannah picked up her scone and took a large bite to avoid a lengthier discussion.

The questions reminded her of Blackwold and her unwilling admission. Why did everyone insist on knowing if she’d seen anyone? Did they imagine she would try to report the wreckers to the authorities?

If so, didn’t that imply that they were in league with the wreckers?

A frown pinched the skin between her brows. If that were the case, why didn’t they simply cut her throat and be done with it? The men she had seen on the beach didn’t strike her as the sort who would be overly concerned about murdering an innocent woman, regardless of what she had, or had not, seen.

“Miss Cowles is going to go to London with me for my Season!” Gina blurted out, her teacup rattling in its dish as she placed it on the table in front of her. “Isn’t it exciting?”

“Indeed,” her uncle replied. He studied Hannah. “You saw no lights? No one coming to the shore to assist the survivors?”

“I saw nothing but wind and waves. The storm made it impossible to see anything else. And apparently, there were no other survivors.”

“No. They brought the poor souls to my church. We interred them as best we could in the churchyard, though I’m afraid there is to be but one headstone for all of them.”

A lump formed in Hannah’s throat, and a sense of deep loss filled her. She swallowed several times and took a sip of tea to wash down the crumbs, almost choking on the scone, delicious though it was with the rich, thick clotted cream melting into the soft, steamy interior.

“It was such a tragedy,” she said at last. “I cannot think about it.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, though his intent gaze belied his words. He clearly wanted very much to talk about the wreck of the Orion. “It is simply that one hears such tales after an event. And I am sure you do not appear to be the sort of young lady who would—well, enough said on the subject. My niece is clearly consumed by thoughts of her upcoming presentation and bow to Society. And I am sure you must be relieved to have your belongings restored to you, Miss Cowles.”

“Yes, though I’m sorry you shall lose any profit you may have earned from the sale of them.” She leaned forward. “I would be honored to make a donation for the repair of the church roof.”

The vicar laughed stiffly, his lips barely moving. “It is not necessary, Miss Cowles. We will find the funds somehow.”

“No, I insist. You have kept my trunk safe and returned it to me, and I would like to do this to thank you.”

“Really, I would not expect such a sacrifice.” Despite his words, his gray eyes gleamed. She could almost see him evaluating the possible size of her fortune.

Well, she felt no desire to enlighten him. She smiled demurely. “Nonetheless, I will send you something. A small token. To thank you for your gracious welcome and the return of my trunk.” Not to mention all the rumors you’ve been happy to spread about me wrestling with some man at the edge of the cliff.

The vicar wisely let the subject go, and they talked about Gina’s London Season until Henry returned, his face flushed from the cold air.

“Are you ready to return to Blackrock?” he asked from the doorway. A draft of chilly air blew in around him, ruffling the hems of their skirts.

Gina and Hannah leapt to their feet and gave Carter a hasty goodbye.

As they climbed into the trap, the two girls sitting with their backs to Henry, Hannah reflected that perhaps it was not such a sad thing that Carter Hodges neglected his grandmother. At least it was unlikely that there would be more such uncomfortable and tedious teas in the future.

Her recent illness also had one unexpected benefit; it was entirely likely that she could suffer from regrettable relapses of her illness, inexplicably occurring on Sundays.