by Evie North
“There was talk...” Trudy was speaking again, her fingers busy preparing a carrot. “Talk of a woman. Someone who broke Master’s heart.”
Prentiss snorted. “Idle gossip, that’s all it were, Trudy.”
Trudy’s cheeks flushed. “Perhaps it were, but there’s always a kernel of truth at the heart of such talk. If there was a woman then it would make sense, wouldn’t it? Him being up here on his own, instead of taking himself off to London and finding a wife, like his father wants him to.”
Hannah picked up a potato. Her fingers felt clumsy and she almost dropped it. “Who was this woman?” she asked, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other.
Prentiss puffed hard on his pipe. “There was no woman. It’s all rot,” he said. “If there was a woman then I’d know about her.”
“Why should you know?” Trudy snapped. “You aren’t with the master every minute of every day. He were away for months and months in France. For all you know, old man, it could’ve been a woman there what broke his heart.”
“I could’ve gone to France,” Prentiss muttered, “but I didn’t want to.”
Hannah had finished peeling the potato and now began to slice it. “So it was a French woman who broke his heart?” she said dully. Not herself then. Why had she imagined any of this had anything to do with her?
“I heard it were before he went across the channel,” Trudy answered, dropping her voice so that Prentiss had to strain to hear. “A woman here in England. He were set on marrying her but his father wouldn’t hear of it. Something happened, I don’t know exactly what, but they were torn apart and then he left.”
“‘Torn apart’,” Prentiss snarled. “What sort of talk is that? You’ll be calling them star- crossed lovers next.”
“All right you old codger, you tell me what happened then?” Trudy demanded, hands on her hips. “You know everything, or think you do. You tell me what happened to the master to make him a hermit up here on the moors when he could be in London going to society dos and all?”
Prentiss considered. “He was struck down,” he said at last. “He went blind. Be enough to sour anyone, wouldn’ it?”
Trudy waved a dismissive hand, turning back to the table. Her gaze took in Hannah’s efforts and she burst out laughing. “What you doing there, girly? Trying to see how small you can cut that poor old potato? Aim to make a stew for the mice, do you?”
Hannah realized she had chopped the white flesh into tiny squares while she’d been eavesdropping, hoping to hear something, anything that might make her believe Sebastian had truly loved her.
Stupid.
“Anyway,” Prentiss went on, “the Mortmain brothers don’t lose their hearts. They’re more interested in tupping as many women as they can before they’re too old to get the job done. Like the earl’s stallion, old Caesar. Master and his two brothers used to love watching that horse do the business.”
“You’re disgusting, old man,” Trudy spluttered. Then she looked toward the doorway and her eyes widened. “Oh...Master.”
Hannah spun around at the same time as Prentiss jumped to his feet with a hasty, “You’re wanting something, Master?”
Sebastian stood in the shadows, the blindfold about his eyes and Nimrod by his side.
Hannah wondered how much of their conversation he had overheard. She was glad that at least he couldn’t see the colour in her cheeks and the humiliation in her eyes. She’d been gossiping about him with the servants!
“I was wondering where you’d all gone,” Sebastian said quietly, nothing in his voice to betray whether he had heard them or not.
“Supper’ll be ready soon, Master,” said Trudy, and swept Hannah’s efforts with the potato to one side. “Go in and sit by the fire.”
“I will.” He clicked his fingers at the dog and turned away. Hannah could hear him making his way back down the passage.
“That’ll teach you to be gossiping,” said Prentiss.
“You should’ve kept a better look out,” Trudy retorted.
But Hannah wasn’t listening to their hushed argument. She was still wondering whether Sebastian had heard her questions about him. What would he think of her curiosity? Probably nothing, because she was nothing to him.
And yet the very fact that she had asked about him made her feel awkward. It showed a level of concern. Hannah hadn’t come here to start caring about her former lover. She had come to rid herself of him—for good.
10
She’d been asking about him. Sebastian had heard their conversation from outside the kitchen. Janet, if that was who she was, wanted to know the rumours concerning Sebastian’s broken heart.
He stared blindly toward the fire, Nimrod’s head resting on his thigh.
Would Hannah do that? Would she want to know how he had lived his life since she... died? He thought she might. After all, he’d wanted to know about her, hadn’t he? He’d been asking her questions since she arrived and long before he suspected she might be Hannah.
He replayed their earlier conversation in the bedroom. The mention of drawing and watercolours was telling. Hannah had loved to sketch and paint, but when he used to praise her for her efforts she’d laughed and said they were poor things really. And then there were her snippets about the man who had abandoned her. A man meant to be him, he was sure.
But he hadn’t abandoned her. Not intentionally. He needed to tell her that, he needed to explain. Although first he needed to know whether or not she was in fact his lost love.
The fire crackled and Sebastian sighed. If only he could see her. He was sure that, once he was able to look upon her properly, he would know for certain. But it was futile longing for something that could not be, so he would have to use the power of words.
“We’ll dig out all her secrets, eh, Nimrod?” he murmured, tugging gently on the dog’s soft ears. “Dig them out and then...we shall see what we shall see.”
The table was lit with candles flickering in the draft, while outside the storm still raged. Trudy’s stew smelled delicious, and Hannah’s mouth watered at the aroma. She had never been so hungry as she’d felt since she arrived at Youlden Manor. Indeed, she could not remember having much of an appetite at all when she was with Mrs. Parsons—the woman had often remarked upon her having the appetite of a sparrow.
The stew tasted as succulent as the smell had promised, and before long Hannah was scraping up the gravy with a thick slice of bread. Then she realized Sebastian had hardly eaten, or spoken a word.
He sat, morosely picking at his food, while Nimrod lay at his feet. The dog’s eyes were watchful, as if he too had noticed a shift in the atmosphere. Gone was the easy charm Sebastian had displayed last evening, or even this morning on the moor. Something had changed and Hannah wondered what it was.
She could hear Prentiss and Trudy in the other room, their voices rising and falling, and sometimes laughter. It made the silence between herself and Sebastian all the more obvious.
Hannah didn’t want to remember the past, but she couldn’t seem to help it. All the happy times she’d kept locked away had forced open the closed door in her mind. Here were memories she had not looked at for a very long time.
An image appeared to her, of herself and Sebastian at the property they had used as a hideaway. She was sitting upon his knee while he fed her cherries, and after each succulent mouthful he’d kiss her. Soon they were both liberally smeared with cherry juice. In time the kisses had grown more frequent and more passionate, and he’d carried her up to bed.
She shook her head, forcing the memory away. Why was she doing this to herself? Why had she come here if not to revenge herself upon him? To imagine, even for a moment, that things could turn out differently was folly.
Hannah put her spoon down with a clatter.
Sebastian had betrayed her in the worst possible manner and just because he was blind and alone now did not earn her forgiveness.
A particularly savage gust of wind shook the manor
house. Nimrod whined and sat up, anxiously pressing to his master’s legs. Sebastian reached down to calm him, his hand gentle on the dog’s coat.
Hannah forced a question into the long silence. “How long will the storm last?”
“Why? Are you leaving?” There was something in his tone, something almost cruel. As if it was she who was abandoning him.
Irritably Hannah shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see. “Isn’t that what happens to your women? They leave and make way for the next one.”
He gave a grunt of humourless laughter. “When they leave it is with money in their hands.”
Her voice rose shrewishly. She couldn’t seem to help it. “Why don’t you leave this place? You’re wealthy. You have friends. You could return to society. Why live here in solitude? Is it self-pity, because you are blind, or are you punishing yourself for some shameful deed?”
He looked up at her with his blindfolded eyes. She saw his fist clench beside his plate. “Where would I go?”
“To London. Your father has a house there, hasn’t he? A house that will one day be yours.”
“Are you planning to come with me?” he growled. “Live in my house and spend my money? You are an ambitious little whore, aren’t you?”
That stung, and Hannah took a sharp breath. “I would not live with you. Even if you were to offer me the crown jewels.”
“I think you lie,” he said huskily, as if the words were difficult to get out. Then, “Janet.”
The manner in which he spoke her name gave her a thrill of panic. He knew, or was beginning to suspect, that she wasn’t Janet at all. This whole affair was coming to a close and she should be glad. She was glad.
“I do not lie! I don’t want your money. Is that what you believe? That I’ve come here to trick you into handing over your coin, Sebastian? I would rather starve to death than take one penny from you.”
“Poor business practice. No wonder you are so thin.”
“It is the truth.”
“I don’t believe you!” It was a roar, full of pain and fury. Nimrod began to bark. Hannah stood, the chair scraping across the floor.
She heard Prentiss and Trudy call out. Suddenly she didn’t want to face him, this man she had once loved. She turned toward the fire as Sebastian rose and left to deal with his servants, forcing away her tears.
Behind her, Hannah heard Prentiss ask whether everything was all right, and Sebastian’s murmured answer. “...not to be disturbed,” was all she heard. The door closed behind the old man, the dog’s claws clipping after him.
“Janet.”
He was behind her now. She composed herself, wiping one escaped tear from her cheek. “I’m here,” she said.
“Let’s not argue.”
“No.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing her arm, finding her hand. He tugged her toward him and suddenly she found herself in his arms, her cheek against the fine cloth of his jacket. She bit her lip to stop a sob but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Come to bed with me,” he murmured.
She nodded. Once more, she thought. Just once. And then she would tell him what she’d come here to say, and walk away forever.
Hannah went with him, her hand in his, down the gloomy passage to his bedchamber. There, in the darkness, he removed his blindfold and then lifted her face with a finger under her chin. His mouth sought hers and Hannah gasped as their lips met. The kiss deepened. She found herself pulling at the fastenings of his jacket, trying to remove it, and at the same time he was fumbling with her dress. His mouth was on her throat, her breasts, and she pulled the ribbon from his hair, her fingers tangling in the fair strands as she drew his mouth back to hers.
The last time. The words kept repeating in her head. Half naked, they tumbled upon the bed, as if they could not wait a moment longer. She ripped his shirt and felt him tearing at her petticoat. She wanted to feel his body against hers, and she was sure he felt the same. Soon they were naked and she reached down with her hand and closed her fingers around his cock. Sebastian groaned as she stroked him and then as he knelt before her, she took him into her mouth to taste him. She could feel his hands tremble as he clasped her head, murmuring hoarse words that made no sense as she pleasured him.
She intended to bring him to completion. She wanted to hear him cry out her name— her real name. She wanted him weak and in her power at least for a moment. But before she could he’d grasped her arms and pulled her up, her bare skin against his, and his mouth closed once more on hers.
“I want to—” she began.
“No. Inside you.”
“Sebastian...”
And then she groaned, because his fingers had found their way between her thighs, and he was toying with her hard little pearl. Hannah arched against him, mindless with pleasure.
His busy hand brought her to her climax quickly, but he wasn’t finished. Before she could regain her senses he’d lain her down upon the bed and slid his cock inside her.
Hannah’s eyes flickered open and she could almost believe he was looking back at her as he rested above. He reached to brush his fingers against her lips, then smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. She turned her face and kissed his hand.
She’d loved him once, so much. And soon, very soon, it would all be over.
Sebastian began to move inside her, taking his time although she could feel the trembling in his muscles and knew the effort it took. Was this for her or himself? A moment later the question was forgotten as he began to press deeper inside her, stirring her senses to fever pitch. This time the climax was beyond anything she had experienced before, even in those halcyon days of two years ago.
He cried out, thrusting into her again and again, until they lay entwined together, exhausted. Later, with the storm finally beginning to wane outside, she heard his voice in the darkness. “Hannah?”
But Hannah pretended to be asleep.
11
The storm had blown itself out and the moor was now covered in fog. Damp ghostly fingers drifted across the tops and settled into the valleys. Sebastian was outside with Nimrod at his side, as if to gaze out at the moorland scene.
But of course he wasn’t gazing at anything, Hannah thought.
He’d risen from his bed, thinking she was still asleep, and quickly dressed. Hannah had followed him from the house, silent as his shadow, knowing this was the moment she had been waiting for. Last night she had given herself to him completely, more than she ever had before perhaps, but now it was morning and it was time. Their brief rekindled passion had run its course. She had to leave, but first she must do what she’d come here to do.
“Tell me who you are.” His voice startled her.
She hadn’t realized he knew she was behind him, but of course he had. His hearing must be on par with Nimrod’s by now.
He turned to face her. “I want the truth. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
It was the opening she’d wanted. Time to end this. “You know who I am, Sebastian.”
“Hannah.” If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he said it reverently. “It is you, isn’t it, Hannah?”
“Yes.”
He put out a hand toward her, as if he might touch her, but then he seemed to change his mind and let it drop. “But you’re dead,” he said.
She laughed incredulously. “Is that the excuse you used after you abandoned me? Or did you convince yourself it was somehow true? No, I’m not dead, although there were days when I wished I was.”
She could feel her emotions build, all the words she’d waited so long to say now crowded into her throat and threatened to choke her in their rush to get out.
“My father—” he began.
“I’m sure you father was more than happy to put a stop to a marriage between his son and a nobody like me,” Hannah cut in. She didn’t even notice the tears that burned her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
“Hannah that’s not—”
“You left me and I ha
d nowhere to go. How could I stay in that house without you? The servants thought your father would punish them for keeping me. So I went home to my mother, only to find that my brother was dead and she blamed me for it. I wish he hadn’t fought a duel with you, but he did it because he knew your true character. I should have listened. I should have.”
“I didn’t intend to kill him.”
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t care what you intended, Sebastian. You killed my brother, and my mother blamed me. She disowned me and I had no one and nowhere to go, so I went to London.”
He seemed shocked and perhaps he truly was. Sebastian had probably not given her fate much thought over the years. She expected him to make more excuses, but his next words surprised her.
“The baby...?”
Her throat closed up with grief and it was a moment before she could answer him. “There was no baby. I miscarried, alone in London. Just as well. How could I have brought up a child alone? Tell me how I was going to do that, Sebastian?”
She hadn’t felt like that of course. She still didn’t. The loss of her child had been a terrible blow after all she’d suffered. Perhaps worse than any other.
“Hannah...” His face was paler than it had been. He reached out to her again, but she ignored the gesture. She hadn’t finished yet.
“But I did survive. I found someone who took me in. A friend. Actually I’ve managed quite well.”
“Is this friend a man?”
Was he jealous? That was impossible of course, but for a moment she almost believed he was.
“No. A widow. An invalid—at least she likes to think she is. I have been content.”
“Then why did you come back to me? Why travel all this way to find me?”
“To say the things I should have said to you long ago. I can’t go through life with the past dragging me down. I need to escape my memories if I’m ever to make a new life for myself. I need to be at peace. That’s why I’m here, Sebastian.”