The Earl's Honorable Intentions (12 page)

At last they drew back to find the three gentlemen regarding them with indulgent puzzlement.

Peter was quick to articulate what they all must be thinking. “Why are you weeping, Miss Hannah? Did your friend hurt you when she hugged you so hard?”

“Not in the least.” Hannah chuckled at the child’s question as she dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. “I will explain it to you later, though I am not certain any man can properly understand.”

It was not only seeing her friend again, so little changed, that overwhelmed her with emotion. It was also the unexpected assurance that Rebecca’s elevated position need not spoil the closeness they had once shared.

“Speaking of men—” Rebecca drew Hannah toward the viscount “—allow me to present my husband. He could not have given me a more cherished wedding gift than this opportunity to see you and my other dear friends again. Sebastian, this is Hannah Fletcher, of whom I have told you so much. My friends and I owe her such a debt. We would all have suffered a great many more punishments at school if she had not helped us with our studies and made certain our beds and possessions were always kept tidy.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Lord Benedict.” Hannah swept him a curtsy that was a token of sincere respect. Any man who had been such a staunch advocate of Britain’s military forces and also made her friend so happy deserved her wholehearted approval.

“That will not do, Miss Fletcher.” The viscount held out his hand to her. When she clasped it, he bowed low over her hand. “You must call me Sebastian for I look upon you and your friends as much my sisters-in-law as dear Hermione.”

The affection for Rebecca that shone in his eyes seemed to reach out and encompass her, too. In spite of that, Hannah was still not certain she could bring herself to address a viscount by his Christian name.

“You are very kind.” She returned his smile with greater warmth than she had ever extended to anyone upon their first meeting. “Now allow me to present your host, Colonel the Earl of Hawkehurst and his son, Lord Edgecombe.”

“A pleasure.” Lord Benedict and the earl bowed to one another, then shook hands. “I cannot begin to thank you for your generous offer of hospitality.”

“It is an honor to welcome you and your wife to Edgecombe.” Lord Hawkehurst bowed over Rebecca’s hand. “As Miss Fletcher can attest, I have long desired to make your acquaintance. I believe we shall have many matters of mutual interest to discuss during your stay.”

Peter had hung back, watching the adults’ introductions, perhaps still a bit troubled by seeing his governess in tears. Now, at a nudge from Hannah, he stepped forward and bowed to the guests as she had shown him.

Rebecca stooped to the child’s height. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Edgecombe. I have heard such fine reports of you from my friend’s letters. To hear her tell it, there is no better or cleverer boy in Kent, if not the whole kingdom. I look forward to learning the truth of that for myself.”

It was difficult to tell who looked more pleased to hear Hannah’s praise relayed—her young pupil or his father.

The boy cast Rebecca a shy smile. “Do you have any children?”

Hannah stifled a little gasp, then cast the earl a look that begged him not to mind his son’s innocent question.

Rebecca and her husband exchanged a fond, private glance. She replied, “None yet, but we would very much like to someday.”

“We have twins,” Peter announced. “They are quite nice. Perhaps Papa and Miss Hannah could tell you where they got ours and you could get some from there, too.”

Lord Benedict laughed heartily at that, and the earl pretended to join him, though Hannah sensed he was not amused. Meanwhile her cheeks blazed at the way Peter’s remark implied the babies belonged to his father and her. It was all very well to consider her a member of the family, but she was not, nor would she ever be. Poor Lady Hawkehurst had asked her to watch over the children, not to take her place in their lives.

* * *

Gavin had hoped that having her friend to stay at Edgecombe would make Hannah Fletcher happy. Her rapturous reaction to Lord and Lady Benedict’s arrival convinced him the visit would be a great success. But as the four of them dined together that evening and the conversation flagged, he wondered if he had been mistaken or if he’d done something wrong.

Miss Fletcher had scarcely said a word since they sat down, except brief answers to direct questions. She had resisted the invitation to dine with him and their guests until he pointed out how ridiculous it would be for him to entertain
her
friends while she ate in the nursery. Only when he suggested they all dine with his son in the nursery had she relented. But now every time the footman took a dish away or brought another she cringed as if she feared he might strike her.

For the life of him, Gavin could not make out what he had done to offend her. If she and Lady Benedict were not going to keep up the usual table talk, he had plenty he wanted to say to the viscount. He’d planned to wait and raise the subject after the ladies retired to the drawing room. But the awkward pause in conversation needed to be filled, and he had no skill whatsoever at small talk.

“Lord Benedict, I have been almost as anxious for your arrival as Miss Fletcher. Tell me, are you any better informed than the newspapers about the whereabouts of that infernal Bonaparte?”

As he awaited the viscount’s reply, Gavin took a bite of tender roast veal. After a fortnight of invalid food and many weeks of army rations before that, he savored the well-prepared, flavorful dishes. From the foot of the long dining table, he noticed Miss Fletcher’s expression darken, but he chose to ignore it. If she objected to this avenue of conversation, she was free to speak up and direct it elsewhere.

Lord Benedict gave a wry chuckle. Gavin had never met a man in such perpetually good spirits. His happy disposition did not match the reports Gavin had heard of him over the years.

“I must confess I never pay much attention to the press, so I have no idea what they may or may not know. However, I did speak with an acquaintance of mine from the Foreign Office while we were in London. There is some consternation that Wellington and Blücher did not demand custody of Bonaparte as a condition of the surrender of Paris.”

Gavin gave a vigorous nod of agreement.

“To be fair,” the viscount continued, “the military situation is still unsettled, and many of the French do not want King Louis back on the throne at any price. Wellington may have felt that having the Allies seize Bonaparte would put spark to the tinder. I am inclined to trust the duke’s instincts in such matters.”

“As am I,” Gavin replied with less than complete conviction. “But to risk Bonaparte getting away altogether...”

“Every French port is being patrolled to prevent that from happening,” Lord Benedict assured him. “Every ship of His Majesty’s navy is on full alert.”

Hannah Fletcher did not say a word but concentrated on her dinner as if trying to make herself invisible. Yet Gavin sensed her agreement with the viscount.

“So I have been frequently reminded.” He cast a significant glance in her direction.

She pretended not to notice.

“There are reports that Bonaparte is in Rochefort seeking passage on frigate,” Lord Benedict added.

The frustration Gavin had been trying so hard to keep in check threatened to boil over. “If his whereabouts are known, or even suspected, why can a select detachment not be sent to intercept him before he slips away?”

Was he angrier with the allied commanders’ puzzling lack of action or with himself for accepting the doctor’s advice so tamely? Had he seized on any excuse to remain at Edgecombe, where he had begun to feel truly
at home
for the first time he could recall?

“Do you not trust the Royal Navy?” Lord Benedict inquired in a bantering tone. “I assure you they are anxious to redeem themselves after allowing Bonaparte to slip away from Elba. I believe they will do everything in their power to prevent him escaping again.”

“I hope so.” Gavin wanted to believe the viscount, for it might silence his nagging conscience.

Since nothing he’d heard from Lord Benedict so far had set his mind at rest, Gavin decided he should steer the conversation in a different direction—one the ladies might be happier to follow.

He glanced at the viscount’s wife, whose attractive looks also suggested warmth of heart and strength of character...very much like her friend Hannah Fletcher. “I understand one of your school friends is married to a naval officer. Have you been to visit her yet?”

Lady Benedict shook her head. “We have begun with the nearest first and plan to venture farther afield as we go on. Edgecombe is only the second stop on our bridal tour. Our first was to Grace Ellerby in Berkshire. I was delighted we were able to secure an invitation to Lady Maidenhead’s Victory Ball from her.”

Gavin thought it rather premature to celebrate victory with Bonaparte still at large. Out of consideration for Miss Fletcher, he refrained from voicing his opinion.

Glancing toward her friend, Lady Benedict shook her head. “I did not recognize Grace when I first saw her wearing a hideous old cap and spectacles. But when she joined us for the ball she was a vision of loveliness.”

“I still say there is something very odd going on with Miss Ellerby,” the viscount declared as a footman exchanged his well-cleaned plate of veal for a dish of Dover sole in caper sauce.

“Odd in what way?” Gavin asked.

“Let us just say your hospitality is very welcome after the rudeness of her employer, Lord Steadwell. I had hoped to pay him my compliments, but he would not receive us.”

“Steadwell?” Gavin muttered the name to himself for it had a familiar ring. “Rupert Kendrick—he was a few years ahead of me at school. He seemed a decent enough fellow back then.”

He recalled a quiet, rather gangly lad who had been much kinder to the younger boys than most. Another reason Rupert Kendrick stuck in his memory was because he had so clearly preferred his home to their school, quite the opposite of Gavin.

“Steadwell has a reputation for diligence in the House of Lords.” Viscount Benedict seemed puzzled by the baron’s recent behavior toward him. “I could usually count on his vote for any legislation in support of our military forces.”

Lady Benedict paused over her fish. “I doubt Lord Steadwell was reluctant to receive
you,
my dear.”

Her husband scowled. “What do you mean by that?”

The lady gave a faint smile of regretful resignation. “You know, and do not pretend otherwise. Not everyone is as blind to rank and position as our present host. Some people deplore the idea of a viscount marrying a governess. You cannot deny when we first met, you would have been one of them.”

Lord Benedict squirmed in his seat. “Well, I was a daft fool who let one unfortunate experience sour my opinion on a number of matters. Thank goodness you came along to show me the error of my ways. If that is Lord Steadwell’s problem, I hope he gets an undeserved opportunity to correct his error, as I did.”

The viscount’s words made Gavin wonder if he had been given similar opportunities to make things right. With his comrades in arms, who had sacrificed their lives when they should have been done with war. With his young children, who might have been deprived of their mother because of his actions.

If so, he should be grateful for those opportunities...and he was. He only wished he could do right by them both, rather than trying to accomplish one at the expense of the other and tearing himself apart in the process.

Chapter Eleven

“W
eren’t you rather hard on your poor husband at dinner last night?” Hannah asked Rebecca the next day as the two women strolled down to see the babies. Peter scrambled along ahead of them.

“Perhaps a little,” her friend conceded with a mellow, musical chuckle. “I fear it may be a failing I picked up at school, being too quick to criticize. Fortunately Sebastian has learned to put up with my faults as I have with his. We do not love each other any less for them. As fine a man as he is in so many ways, he often forgets that other people may have reasons for behaving in ways of which he does not approve.”

Hannah nodded in sympathy with the viscount. “I share his difficulty.”

She lowered her voice so the child would not overhear. “When I first came to Edgecombe, I formed a very poor opinion of his lordship. He was away at war while the countess was here and so kind to me. I came to blame him for all her unhappiness, without knowing or caring why he acted as he did.”

“Do not expect me to reproach you.” Rebecca reached for her friend’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I was the same when I met Sebastian. I believe I wrote you about him after our first meeting when he mistook me for Hermione.”

Hannah nodded. “And you did not correct his mistake.”

“Not one of my finer moments.” Rebecca grimaced. “It amazes me that we ended up in love and so happy together after such an unpleasant beginning to our acquaintance.”

“But you
are
happy?” Hannah asked. “You both certainly appear to be.”

“Happier than I ever expected.” Rebecca’s smile sparkled like rays of summer sunshine through the leaves. “Happier than I deserve, perhaps, but it is a blessing I shall never take for granted. I only hope all my friends can find such happiness of their own someday.”

Was
she
happy? Hannah had been far too busy to stop and ask herself that question. Surely she could not be happy so soon after the death of dear Lady Hawkehurst. But when she examined her heart, Hannah was surprised to find herself considerably happier than she ought to be under the circumstances. Perhaps it was seeing her friend again after all these years that had lifted her spirits. But Rebecca’s talk of her love for Lord Benedict made Hannah fear it might be something more.

Fortunately they arrived at the tenant cottages before Rebecca had a chance to notice her preoccupation. Because the day was so warm, Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Wilkes were happy to let Hannah and her friend take the twins outside in the shade of a towering oak tree. While Peter poked about nearby searching for acorns and other small treasures of nature, the women cuddled and cooed over the babies. The little ones responded by gurgling, smiling and otherwise contriving to steal Rebecca’s heart.

“I have never been around infants much.” Rebecca abandoned the proper decorum of a viscountess to rub noses with little Alice. “Hermione was an only child and half-grown by the time I became her governess. I envy you having charge of these two little darlings. I can hardly wait to have one of my own.”

“You will be a wonderful mother.” Hannah held Arthur to her shoulder and patted his back. “I wonder how long it will be before Marian and her captain announce a happy event. I wish I could go with you to visit her.”

“Why don’t you?” Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m sure Lord Hawkehurst could spare you for a week or so if you asked. And think what a surprise it would be for Marian to see us both.”

Much as the idea appealed to Hannah, she shook her head without great regret. “I am needed here at Edgecombe. A certain young gentleman has had too many upheavals in his life of late. My presence has been the one constant, and I cannot take that from him. Besides, I fear I would grow sick with longing for the little ones if I had to go more than two days without seeing them.”

There was another reason she could not bring herself to leave Edgecombe now, even for a week. What if the earl received a reliable report of Bonaparte’s whereabouts? If she was not here to prevent him, he might ride off to Dover in spite of his physician’s warning.

“It is all very well to be so devoted to the children you care for,” Rebecca said as she rocked little Alice in her arms. “I would expect no less of you. But do you never yearn for a home, a husband and little ones of your own?”

Hannah dismissed her friend’s question with a shake of her head. “There are already two from our group married, which is twice the number our teachers predicted. If any more of us make it to the altar, it will likely be our beauties, Grace or Evangeline.”

Rebecca laughed, prompting a delighted squeal from Alice. “Grace will never attract a husband in that hideous cap and spectacles, and I am not certain Evangeline would accept a proposal if she received one. You know how independent she is. But I always thought you would make some fortunate man an excellent wife. You must not leave it too late, though, or you will lose any chance of making a match.”

Hannah’s friend checked to make certain Peter was not too near, then lowered her voice. “Once the earl’s children grow a little older, perhaps when he remarries, you should come to stay with us in London. Then I can introduce you to some suitable gentlemen.”

Rebecca’s offer made Hannah’s heart race and her stomach feel quite hollow. Which dismayed her more, the thought of leaving Edgecombe to seek a husband or the notion of Gav—
Lord Hawkehurst
marrying another woman to take the place of his first countess?

“That is very kind of you, Rebecca, but I cannot think of leaving Edgecombe as long as his lordship needs me.” In truth, she could not imagine leaving Edgecombe, or the earl, under any circumstances without a shadow of despair threatening to blight her future. There was only one man she conceived of marrying with any prospect of happiness.

That thought possessed Hannah so suddenly she almost dropped Arthur. She’d had hints of the nature of her feelings for the earl before. But she had thrust them from her mind, hoping they were only foolish fancies bred of fatigue or a reaction to her grief. Seeing Rebecca’s love for her husband and their joy in each other’s company, Hannah was now forced to recognize her feelings for what they truly were.

Suddenly she understood why people spoke of
falling
into a romantic attachment. She had never intended such a thing to happen, never believed it possible. But the emotional ground had shifted beneath her heart, plunging it to a frightening depth. Perhaps if she had experienced such feelings before she might have recognized the danger signs and been able to stop herself before it was too late.

Rebecca might not have taken their teachers’ harsh predictions to heart. But Hannah’s prior experiences had disposed her to believe they were right in claiming she would never be good enough to attract a husband. To protect herself from the pain of their inevitable rejection, she had avoided men her own age and focused on the faults of those she did encounter. Like Aesop’s fox and the sour grapes, she had convinced herself she was not missing anything by remaining unwed. Could that be why she had formed such a poor opinion of the earl and concentrated on the problems in his marriage?

“Hannah?” Rebecca’s anxious voice called her back from her troubling realizations. “Are you quite well? You’ve gone so pale. I hope I have not upset you. I know how much a part of the family a governess can feel, especially when the father is widowed. But children grow up far too quickly, as I discovered with Hermione. Once these little ones do, even after all your loyal service, you would be expected to go elsewhere and begin again in a new household.”

Much as Hannah wanted to pretend that would never happen, she knew better. “I am well aware of what being a governess entails. Edgecombe was not my first position.”

She had been employed by another family before coming here, some distant relations of Lady Hawkehurst. Though she had grown fond of her pupils, she’d scarcely heard from them after they’d outgrown the need for her services. Peter had been such a dear little fellow and the countess so welcoming that she had not minded putting her earlier attachments behind her. The thought of that happening with the Romney children, and their father, shook her.

“At least promise me you will think about my offer,” said Rebecca. “You need not decide right away. The earl’s second countess may not be so congenial, especially when she learns you were close to his first wife. Then you might not be so sorry to leave Edgecombe as you would be now.”

“What makes you certain his lordship will remarry?” Hannah heard her voice growing sharp, quite against her will. That, and perhaps her preoccupation, made Arthur begin to fuss.

“Of course he will remarry.” Rebecca cast her friend a puzzled glance, as if bewildered by her sudden irritation. “For the sake of his children, if nothing else. It would be a shame if such a fine man remained alone for the rest of his life.”

From wondering how she could ever leave Edgecombe, Hannah began to question how she could bear to
stay,
feeling the way she did about Gavin Romney. Her situation could only get worse if he did as Rebecca predicted and took a new wife.

* * *

“It was good of you to invite me riding while the ladies have some private time,” said Lord Benedict as he and Gavin made a leisurely circuit of the estate. “I suspect there are subjects they might wish to discuss without a gentleman listening in.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Gavin inhaled a deep breath of warm summer air scented with leather and horseflesh. “I have been looking for an excuse to get back in the saddle. I cannot recall the last time I went so long without riding.”

“Does it bother your wound?” asked the viscount. They had talked about Gavin’s experiences at Waterloo after dinner the previous evening.

“Only a twinge now and then,” he confessed. “Though I would consider it a great favor if you would not mention that to Miss Fletcher. She seems determined to swaddle me in cotton wool.”

“You may depend on my discretion,” Lord Benedict assured him. “Rebecca tells me Miss Fletcher was very close to your late wife. Perhaps she feels obliged to look out for your welfare as the countess would have wished.”

Was that why Hannah Fletcher had gone to such pains to care for him—because it was part of the vow she’d made to Clarissa? The thought did not sit well with Gavin.

His face must have betrayed his feelings for Lord Benedict cried out, “Forgive my confounded thoughtlessness! It was not my intention to distress you by speaking of your wife while your loss is so fresh. I do not know how I would bear it if any harm should come to Rebecca. You have taken such pains not to dampen our spirits with your grief, yet I should have considered how you must be feeling.”

Gavin could not let the poor man reproach himself so severely over an innocent remark. “Do not fret. Your mention of my wife did not cause me the grief you suppose. I wish it did. Hard as that would be to take, at least it would be a clean wound that might heal properly in time.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Gavin regretted not holding his tongue. How could he expect a man who clearly adored his new bride to understand the complicated, burdened relationship that had been his marriage to Clarissa?

The last thing he expected was for Lord Benedict to reply with a sympathetic murmur, “Even tainted wounds
can
heal if treated with the proper medicine.”

Gavin wondered if he had misheard.

Marking his puzzled look, the viscount explained, “Rebecca is not my first wife. After my previous marriage I neither expected nor wanted to try my luck again. I am grateful that Providence decided otherwise.”

“Then you do understand.”

The viscount nodded. “I contracted my first marriage for all the wrong reasons. Thankfully, I made my second for the only reason that truly matters.”

How well Gavin knew about wedding for the wrong reasons. It was like trying to construct a house on a flawed foundation. The higher one built and the longer the house stood, the more likely it was to collapse.

They came to a narrow stream shaded by towering elms. The horses waded into the water and dipped their heads to drink.

Sebastian patted his mount’s neck. “I was a besotted young fool the first time—taken in by looks and vivacity. She did not care for me, only for what I could give her. Unfortunately, men in our position seem to attract such women.”

Perhaps so, but Gavin knew the troubles in his marriage had been quite the opposite of Lord Benedict’s. He sensed it was not a subject about which the man confided in many people.

“When I first met Rebecca,” the viscount continued, “I was trying to break the engagement between my brother and her former pupil. I was convinced any marriage between two people of unequal fortune must be doomed to failure.”

“Yet you married a governess.” Judging the horses had drunk enough, Gavin urged his to move on at a sedate walk.

Lord Benedict gave a rueful chuckle as his mount followed Gavin’s. “Only after she refused me for interfering in the happiness of Claude and Hermione. Our present joy is a blessing I hardly deserve, yet I am all the more grateful for it on that account.”

Like the blessing of his life and his beautiful children? Gavin wondered. Those gifts had been purchased for him with the lives of others. He was grateful for them, without a doubt. But that gratitude was tainted with bitter guilt.

“Forgiveness was the key to making peace with my past,” Lord Benedict continued. “Once I tried to understand what made Lydia act as she did, anger and resentment gradually loosened their hold upon me until I was able to break free. Even if I had not succeeded in securing Rebecca as my wife, I would be far better off than I was before she taught me that priceless lesson.”

Pleased as Gavin was that matters had worked out so happily for two such fine people, he felt once again that their situation was the opposite of his. There was nothing for which he needed to forgive Clarissa. The fault for
her
unhappiness lay with him. Again and again he had failed her as a husband. It hardly mattered whether that was because he was not cut out for marriage, as he liked to believe, or because he had not tried hard enough, as Hannah Fletcher would claim. Either way, the result had been the same. And now it was too late to atone, even if he could have found a way.