The Wolfe's Return

by Avril Borthiry

  “I can’t help but worry, my lady,” Hannah said, somewhat shocked by her patroness’s nonchalance. “It’s my home. Griffin’s home.”

  Lady Beatrice waved a hand. “Then worry if you must,” she said, “but it’s all for naught, and will cause nothing but headaches and wrinkles. Maybe a gray hair or two as well. Order some tea, will you dear? I’m parched.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nathaniel had been gone for nine days. For Hannah, it had been nine days of uncertainty, since Lady Beatrice refused to be pressed further on the issue of Bluebell Cottage. The old lady seemed quite oblivious to Hannah’s angst. If anything, she appeared to have developed a certain glow, as if news of Nathaniel’s upcoming marriage had rejuvenated her aged spirit.

  Hannah, heading back to Bluebell Cottage after a day of forced cheerfulness, miscellaneous correspondence, and Backgammon, pushed the garden gate open and trudged up the path. Time to put a smile on her face. Griffin knew nothing of her worries, although he’d enquired about Nathaniel’s absence once or twice. “I don’t know for certain when he’ll be back,” Hannah had said, her answer rewarded by a sigh each time.

  As she opened the front door, the sound of Griffin’s laughter drifted out of the parlor. Then a male voice said something, the words unintelligible to Hannah, and Griffin laughed again. Hannah gasped and put a hand to her mouth, scarcely able to believe her ears.

  Nathaniel de Wolfe had returned? But when? She hadn’t seen him at Allonby Chase that day, and Lady Beatrice had said nothing.

  And what the bloody hell is he doing here? Couldn’t he wait to give us the bad news?

  “Milady?”

  Hannah, startled, spun round. “Oh, my goodness, Florrie. I didn’t hear you approach.”

  “Sorry, milady, I didna mean tae scare ye.” The maid frowned. “Are ye quite well? Ye’re a wee bit pale. Um, ye have a visitor.”

  “Yes, I––”

  “Mama!” Griffin ran from the parlor and flung himself at her skirts, hugging her legs. “Lord Nathaniel has come back.”

  “So I see,” she replied, her hand falling to her son’s curls as she met Nathaniel’s gaze. With his faithful dog at his side, he stood on the threshold to the parlor, his black tailcoat a stark contrast against his white shirt, brown waistcoat, and cravat. His matching brown trousers accentuated his muscular legs, and his polished Hessian boots finished off the smart ensemble.

  It appeared, however, that the man hadn’t used a razor in a day or two, and his hair would have benefited from a tidying trim. Still, the very sight of him had already twisted Hannah’s stomach into a sizeable knot.

  “Lady Hannah.” Without taking his gaze from her, Nathaniel inclined his head. “It is pleasing to see you again.”

  Pleasing?

  Pride and pure pig-headedness prevented Hannah from returning the compliment. “Thank you, my lord.” Hannah raised her chin a smidgen. “I trust you had a pleasant and successful trip?”

  She surely imagined his brief expression of amusement. Indeed, it was replaced not even a moment later by a grave smile. “Pleasant enough, yes. Successful, certainly.”

  “Good.” She glanced at her son. “So, I must assume you’re here to tell me of your plans?”

  “Yes, I am.” He glanced at Griffin and winked at him. “I wish to speak to your mother in private, Griffin. Wait with Florrie in the kitchen. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  Griffin gave an exaggerated sigh. “All right.”

  “Ghost, you too. Go with Griffin,” Nathaniel said, waiting till the dog obeyed before gesturing to the parlor. “My lady?”

  * * *

  Nathaniel watched the parade of expressions flitting across Hannah’s face. Everything from fear to sadness to the familiar spark of defensive anger that always seemed to darken her eyes.

  It was that familiar spark he saw now.

  “You might have waited, my lord,” she said, turning on him before he’d even closed the door.

  Nathaniel arched a brow. “For what?”

  “For me to arrive.” She tugged on her shawl again. “I’d like to know what you’ve told my son. Does he know?”

  The brow remained arched as he feigned ignorance. “Does he know what?”

  “About your plans for us.”

  He pondered for a moment. “Not all of them, no.”

  “Did you tell him we have to leave?”

  “Not precisely. I thought you would prefer to do that.

  Hannah frowned. “How much time do we have, my lord?”

  Nathaniel continued with his bewilderment. “For what?”

  She released a gasp of irritation. “Till we must vacate the cottage.”

  “Ah.” Nathaniel drew breath. Enough distractions. He needed to tell her the truth. And, truth be told, he was a little afraid of how she’d respond. “I’ll get to that in a moment. Right now, if you’ll indulge me, I have something of a tale to tell.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.” He grimaced. “At least, I hope you will.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles, my lord,” she said, reaching for the back of a chair. “Please, just say what you have to say.”

  She looks as if she’s about to be handed a death sentence, for Christ’s sake. Nathaniel clenched and unclenched his fists. There had been enough deceit, well-intentioned or not.

  “Before I begin, know this,” he said. “I would never do anything to harm you or your son. So, there’s nothing to fear in what I’m about to say. Nothing.”

  Hannah made a sound between a sob and a laugh. Nathaniel heaved a sigh and took her left hand in his. He examined it as he might a treasure, resisting an urge to bring it to his lips. Instead, he ran a thumb over her knuckles. Hannah made no effort to pull away, but her eyes shone with tears.

  “A little over a year ago,” he began, “I came home to my brother’s London townhouse after a rather raucous night.” He shrugged. “Not so unusual for me back then. I’d lost at cards, paid to sleep with a woman, and then got myself rather foxed. Utterly soused, actually. So much so, that I couldn’t make it up the bloody stairs to my bedroom. Apparently, I went into the library and fell asleep on one of the sofas.”

  A tear rolled down the side of Hannah’s nose. Nathaniel captured it with his thumb.

  “Please don’t cry, Hannah,” he said. “I cannot bear to see you cry. Anyway, God knows what time it was, but something woke me. I opened my eyes to see a woman. A beautiful woman, too, standing there in a halo of light. A vision, I thought, in my drunken stupor. It took me a moment to realize that she actually had a candle in her hand, and appeared to be reaching for a book. I still wasn’t quite sure if she was real, however, or just a figment of my intoxicated imagination. But then she spoke. Do you know what she said?”

  Hannah gave her head a hesitant shake.

  “Bloody hell.” His mouth twitched. “That’s what she said. Bloody hell.”

  He heard Hannah’s breath catch.

  “From that, I deduced this was a maiden in some distress,” he continued. “So, I thought I’d better dash to the rescue. Didn’t quite work out that way, though, since all I did was scare her off. Does any of this sound familiar to you, my lady?”

  Hannah released the breath she’d been holding and drew another. “Oh, my God. That was you?”

  “Yes.” Nathaniel chuckled. “Looking the worse for wear, no doubt. I suppose that’s also when my penchant for startling you began. My apology for that occasion, then, is way overdue. Please forgive me.”

  “But… why haven’t you said anything till now?”

  “I confess I forgot about it. Twice, in fact. I finally realized who you were the day I found you in the library here, reaching for that book of poetry. And I cannot tell you how much it pleased me to know that I’d at last identified the girl in my vision.”

  Hannah shook her head. “A fine tale, my lord, but I fail to understand what this has to do with me and my son.” She tugged h
er hand free. “I need to know what you intend to do with us. I need to know where Griffin and I are to live.”

  “With me. At Allonby Chase.”

  She gasped. “What?”

  “Well, that’s if you agree to marry me, of course.” Nathaniel dug into his pocket, pulled out a small, velvet box, and removed the ring from within. “I’ve come to realize that I’m always happy whenever you’re nearby, but not so much when you’re gone. I love the sound of your voice. I love your honesty and your kindness. I love your curiosity, your courage, the way you are with your son, and the music you create. I love everything about you, Hannah Lilias Tremayne, with all my heart. Although, to be honest, I’m not quite sure when Cupid’s arrow struck. It might have been that first night in my brother’s library when I heard you curse, or maybe the day you tripped over the rug in my aunt’s sitting room. In any case, it turns out you are my only consideration. I have no desire to spend the rest of my life with anyone else, so please say—”

  Hannah let out a cry and flung herself into his arms, almost knocking him off his feet.

  “Yes,” she said, her lips against his throat. “Oh, God. Yes, Nathaniel.”

  He felt her tears on his skin, and groaned as his arms tightened around her. Damn, he’d marry her on the spot if he could, and whisk her straight off to the bedroom. “This is quite improper, my lady,” he murmured, nuzzling her ear.

  “No, it isn’t,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “There’s nothing improper about it. Nothing at all. I love you too, Nathaniel de Wolfe. So much.”

  He smiled and unhooked her left arm from around his neck. “Then I’m a very lucky man,” he said, sliding a deep blue sapphire onto her wedding finger. “This was my grandmother’s. I thought it would match your eyes. It might need sizing, of course.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Hannah said. “And it fits perfectly. Oh, my goodness. I…I can’t believe this. I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and discover it’s all a dream.”

  “Not a dream, darling. In fact, this special day is not yet over.” He opened the door. “Griffin, get your coat and shoes. Now! Ghost, to heel.”

  “Why?” Hannah asked. “Where are we going?”

  “The house.”

  “Does Lady Beatrice know about this?”

  “She does.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “My God.” Hannah’s eyes widened. “That crafty old bird.”

  * * *

  Speaking of birds, Hannah felt as though she’d sprouted wings. She tucked her hand into Nathaniel’s arm as they walked up to the house, and listened to the man she loved chatting to her beloved child, who sat atop Pilot. Every few minutes, she’d glance at the ring on her finger and release a sigh.

  “I’m going to be your wife,” she murmured, not necessarily intending Nathaniel to hear it. He obviously did.

  “Yes, my love, you are,” he said. “Which means there’ll be no more hiding. Where I go, you go, as does this little fellow. And if anyone has a problem with that, to Hell with them.”

  Hannah released yet another sigh. “Then I fear we might find ourselves all alone in the world.”

  Nathaniel’s mouth quirked. “Although that does have some appeal, I highly doubt it. Aunt Beatrice has a cartload of adoring acquaintances, and my brother happens to be a rather powerful Duke.”

  “He knows?”

  “Of course he does. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past ten days? I took the liberty of making sure everything was in order. All we have to do is post the banns.”

  Hannah raised a brow. “Rather self-assured of you, my lord.”

  His elbow tightened on her hand. “I prefer to think of it as optimistic, my lady.”

  “Did you kiss yet?” Griffin asked, from his perch.

  * * *

  Nathaniel took Hannah and Griffin into the parlor, and bid them sit.

  “Right,” he said. “It’s confession time. There’s something I haven’t told you, my love, and I’m afraid it might upset you a little.”

  Hannah frowned and glanced at her son. “Then, I don’t want—”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “It’s nothing Griffin shouldn’t hear.”

  “All right,” she said, still frowning. “I’m listening.”

  Nathaniel settled himself beside her, took her hand in his, and kissed it. “I wanted everything to be perfect for this wedding of ours. All the i’s dotted, all the t’s crossed. I didn’t need your father’s permission to marry you, but I wanted it. So, while I was away, I went to see him.”

  Hannah gasped. “Oh, Nathaniel, you didn’t.”

  “It’s all right. His answer made no difference to my intentions.”

  Her face fell. “He said no,” she said, a pang of disappointment marring the joy in her heart.

  “Actually, my darling, he said yes.”

  “He did?”

  “Without hesitation.” Nathaniel brought her hand to his mouth again, holding it for a moment against his lips. “We men possess this thing called pride, Hannah. Women have it too, of course, but men would rather choke on it than swallow it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I stayed at your ancestral home for two days, getting to know my future father-in-law a little better. A most honorable man. Turns out he’s been choking on his pride for several years.”

  “You stayed at Finchley Hall?” Hannah’s hands flew to her face as she shot to her feet. “Oh, my God. Has Papa forgiven me? Did he send a message back with you? A letter? What did he have to say?”

  Griffin tugged in Hannah’s skirts. “Are you angry with Lord Nathaniel, Mama?”

  She shook her head. “No, sweetheart, not at all. I just… I just need to know what my father said. Tell me, Nathaniel, please.

  Nathaniel rose to his feet as well. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Hannah.”

  “Why ever not?”

  Behind her, the parlor door creaked, and a slow smile crossed Nathaniel’s face. “Because, my love, he wants to tell you himself.”

  Epilogue

  “Your skin feels like silk, my love,” Nathaniel said, his head propped up on an elbow as his free hand explored Hannah’s curves. “Well, except for this rather interesting bit of flesh right here.” He leaned in and fastened his lips over the pearled peak of her breast.

  Hannah released a soft groan and arched into him, demanding more without saying a word. For the second time that night, Nathaniel obliged, bringing his beloved wife to the point of climax with his mouth and hands before entering her.

  Hannah called out his name, her body going rigid beneath his as she took her pleasure. Moments later, Nathaniel followed, gritting his teeth against the intensity of his orgasm.

  Later, as Hannah slept in his arms, Nathaniel lay awake and allowed himself to wallow in the utter perfection and satisfaction of his life.

  They had married a month earlier, on the second Saturday in September. It had been a quiet ceremony, performed in the medieval chapel at Finchley Hall, Hannah’s ancestral home. Their wedding vows had been made in the presence of God, the vicar, and a few close friends and family.

  News of their betrothal, and subsequent marriage, sent a sizeable ripple through the upper-echelons of society, but the on dit had appeared to be, for the most part, void of malice.

  For certain, the support and approval of the Duke of Gifford and the Earl of Bracebridge, as well as that of Lady Beatrice, validated the match more than any marriage licence or holy blessing might have done. Oddly, or perhaps not, Boscombe’s approval also had great importance for Nathaniel.

  They chose not to have a honeymoon, but simply returned to Allonby Chase to begin their new life together.

  As for young Griffin, he had a new adoring grandfather, two new cousins-by-marriage, and to his utter and unsurpassed delight, a new black pony.

  “I’m going to call him Shadow,” the boy had said, hugging the pony’s neck. “Is he a gelding?”


  Nathaniel grinned at the memory. His arrangements to officially adopt Griffin were well underway. He had yet to tell Hannah about his other investigation into a possible treatment for Griffin’s lameness by the use of a new type of caliper. Ironically, the clinic was located in Switzerland, and if the results of Nathaniel’s investigations were positive, they’d likely be spending Christmas there.

  Hannah stirred in his arms, pulling him from his reverie.

  “Nothing,” she murmured, turning to face him. “Nothing at all.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What, my love?”

  “You once said you were curious to know what I found imperfect about you,” she said. “And now you have your answer.”

  The End