Echoes of the Heart: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 2

by Jennifer Monroe

“Yes,” the man continued, “one must consider if he should speak with civility and honor, or with common language found in the alleyways of London.” He winked, which made Hannah giggle. “I find that when I am struggling to find the right words, such as you are now, the simplest and most honest of words are the best. If they come from the heart, their meaning will be understood.”

  So, he thought she should simply be honest. The truth was, he was correct in his advice, even if the words were a bit confusing. “Thank you, Forbes,” Hannah said. “Your wisdom is appreciated.”

  The butler gave a bow to his head, and Hannah hurried away in search of her mother. Yes, it was time to speak from her heart, as Forbes put it, and apologize.

  She paused at the door to the study. When she was a child, her father was often gone on business, and if he returned late at night after she had gone to bed, the following morning, she would rush to this room and find him there. He always had a waiting gift as a way to apologize for his absence. Then he would explain the necessity of leaving in order to provide for the family, even when Hannah did not ask for such an explanation. She understood early on that men had their responsibilities, and oftentimes they had to take care of them outside the home.

  Despite his explanations, Hannah often wondered if her mother understood the sacrifices her father had made over the years. Hannah doubted the woman did.

  When she opened the door, she found her mother standing by the window gazing out as she often did as of late.

  “Mother?” Hannah said as she tried to ease her beating heart.

  Her mother turned, and for the first time, Hannah noticed the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “The day has arrived,” the woman said as she walked toward Hannah. “Your first season. Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Hannah replied. “However, I wish to say something before I leave.” She thought of the advice Forbes had given her, and she did as he suggested. “My words the other night were cruel, and I did not mean them. Forgive me.”

  Her mother smiled. “Of course, I forgive you,” she said, and Hannah was surprised to see her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “If I can arrange a proper chaperon for Juliet at some point, I may come to London to see you. Unfortunately, Doctor Comerford has said she will not be able to travel for several months, so she will be unable to attend.”

  Hannah felt sorry for Juliet, for the girl had spoken of nothing but the London season since she was fourteen. However, Hannah was not certain she liked the idea of her mother joining her. It was not that she did not want her mother there, but her plans would be ruined if the woman accepted invitations on her behalf, which Hannah had no doubts she would.

  However, now was meant for reconciliation, not more arguments. “That would be nice,” Hannah lied. “I expect I will be very busy with the number of invitations I will receive. I am glad to be going now. What a horrible waste of one’s time remaining at home.”

  With a raise of an eyebrow, her mother replied, “Indeed.” She took Hannah by the hand. “The season is a magic time, and one does not know what she will find. Maybe a new friendship that will last a lifetime. Or perhaps a gentleman shall win her heart?”

  Hannah nodded and forced a smile. No man would win her heart, for it was not a prize to be won. However, if her mother believed Hannah was willing, she would make her happy by acting the part.

  “You know,” her mother continued, “you may be surprised. Love comes when you least expect it, but when it does, it will be the most wondrous of feelings. Do not hide from it. Instead I council embracing it.”

  “I will, Mother,” Hannah replied. She took a letter she had written the previous day from her pocket. “This is for Albert. It explains why I cannot accept his proposal of marriage and that I wish the best for him, but I can no longer attend the meetings.”

  “A very wise decision,” her mother said, taking the letter and pulling Hannah in for an embrace. “You are much too intelligent and precious to make such a hasty decision.”

  Hannah could not stop the smile that spread on her lips, although she felt a twinge of guilt for lying about what was contained in that letter. She knew that if she shut out Albert completely, a bridge would be burned if the need to escape arose later.

  Therefore, in her letter, she explained that she would need more time to consider his proposal, and when she returned from London, she would inform him of her answer. However, her mother did not need to know that.

  “The hour is upon us,” her mother said with a quick glance at the clock on the mantel. “Isabel should be arriving at any moment.”

  Hannah nodded and followed her mother to the front door. She stopped to take one more glance around. Soon, she would return to Scarlett hall, her novel in the expert hands of a publisher. Juliet would be overcome with jealousy, and Annabel would wish to be in her presence. Isabel and her mother would apologize for doubting her abilities. Yet Hannah would be kind to them all. Perhaps she would buy them all gifts, even Forbes, who always had a kind word for her.

  And as she spent the off-season beginning a new book, she would attain such wealth from the sales of her first, she might even buy the grand house for herself.

  ***

  As Isabel alighted from the carriage and Laurence spoke to the driver, Hannah waited on the stoop. She always admired her older sister, for she had everything any woman could want. She was bright, intelligent, confident, and handsome, and yet what Hannah admired most was her strength.

  “It has arrived,” Isabel said with a smile as she embraced Hannah. “My sister’s first season. Are you excited?”

  “Oh, yes,” Hannah lied. “I am looking forward to the months ahead.” That much was true.

  Isabel smiled, and there was movement from the carriage as another person stepped out. He was dressed in an impeccable dark coat and well-fitted tan breaches. He pushed back a dark wave of hair from his face, and a strange feeling came over Hannah, as if she were running a fever. Her legs became weak, and her heart began to race. The man, whoever he might be, was devilishly handsome, perhaps the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  As the man walked toward them, panic overwhelmed Hannah, and she looked toward the winter sky wondering if the sun had brought on this warm feeling, or perhaps she had come down with some sort of illness. Would she be able to use illness as an excuse not to go to London two years in a row? It was doubtful.

  “Are you all right?” Isabel asked. “You have grown quite pale.”

  Hannah turned to look at Isabel, but when she attempted to reply, she could do nothing more than croak, her throat was so dry. “I…I am feeling…”

  The man stood beside them now, and Hannah clamped her mouth shut before she fainted from embarrassment.

  “Ah, yes,” Isabel said with a smile. “Mother, Hannah, may I introduce Lord John Stanford, Marquess of Greyhedge, and cousin to Laurence. He will be accompanying us to London.”

  Although her mother seemed able to greet the man, Hannah found the act almost impossible. Somehow, she had forgotten how to speak.

  “Miss Hannah,” the Marquess said, and Hannah thought she would indeed faint. The man possessed a voice that was strong yet gentle enough to call down the birds from the trees. “It is an honor to meet you. Isabel has spoken very highly of you.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah managed to mumble. How could one man be so handsome? “It is nice to handsome you as well.” She clamped her jaw shut. What was wrong with her? She glanced at the ground, wishing she could hurl herself into the bushes in order to hide herself.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lord Stanford asked.

  “I know of a cobbler by the name of Hans,” Hannah explained, her mind pushing together whatever it could to devise an explanation that did not make her appear a madwoman. “You could be his son.” She groaned inwardly and resigned herself to the hedges where she would live out the remainder of her days.

  However, as so often in her life, Isabel came to her rescue. “You are right,” she said as if studyi
ng the Marquess anew. “He does resemble him. He is a spitting image, in fact.”

  Hannah let out a sigh of relief, but when she noticed the wicked grin the man wore, she wondered if he believed their story.

  “I shall take that as a compliment,” he replied.

  “Well, I suppose we should be on our way,” Isabel said.

  Her mother hugged Isabel and then Hannah. “Just a moment before you leave,” she said to Hannah.

  “We will wait in the carriage,” Isabel said.

  The Marquess nodded and followed Isabel toward the waiting vehicle.

  “I want you to enjoy yourself,” her mother said when the others were gone. “If for any reason you need me, I am here for you.”

  Hannah smiled. For all the woman’s wish to see Hannah off and married, she still wanted to help. It eased Hannah’s mind, but she would not be needing her mother’s help anytime soon. The majority of her time would be focused on finishing her manuscript when she was not out pretending to enjoy herself. “Thank you, Mother,” she replied. For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, so Hannah added, “I should leave now.”

  Her mother smiled and hugged her once again. When the embrace broke, Hannah noticed the woman’s eyes were brimming with tears.

  When she entered the carriage, she paused. Isabel and Laurence were sharing a bench, leaving one space open beside Laurence’s cousin. The man wore a wide grin, and when the door shut with a bang behind her, Hannah took the empty seat beside him. She would not be panicked! She would not, no matter how handsome he was!

  What she found was that sitting beside him made it worse. She smoothed out her blue skirts and found herself wondering if he liked the color blue.

  “I believe I am just as excited for this season as you,” Laurence said, breaking the silence. “Like you, this is my first. I believe we will both have much to share about our newfound experiences.”

  “I agree, Your Grace” Hannah replied, feeling Lord Stanford’s gaze upon her. “It will be very amusing.”

  Laurence sighed. “I have told you before; you must call me Laurence,” he said with a smile as the carriage pulled forward. “We are family, after all.”

  Before Hannah could respond, Lord Stanford spoke. “That is true. And for that reason, you must call me John. After all, we are all part of the same family now that your sister has married Laurence.”

  Hannah found she could not look at the man, so she watched as her mother lifted her hand and waved just before she and Scarlett Hall disappeared from sight.

  “May I call you Hannah?”

  Turning from the window, Hannah focused on her hands in her lap. “That is fine…John.” Saying the man’s name caused a bead of sweat to trail down her forehead, which begged to be removed. However, a lady did not do such a thing in the company of a gentleman. What would this man think of her if she did such an unladylike thing?

  The next thing she knew, a kerchief was placed in her hand. “Please, the sun is particularly hot for this time of year.”

  Hannah could only nod at John, and she quickly dabbed at her brow. When she went to return the kerchief, he shook his head. “No, it is yours. Consider it the first gift of many of the season.”

  Hannah looked to Isabel, hoping her sister would help her escape the conversation, but the woman peered out the window.

  “I realize one’s first season can be distressing at first, but you have no reason to worry. I am quite experienced with everything in London, so if you are in need of companionship or have questions, please feel free to call on me.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah murmured. She looked up to see him staring at her, and she thought she would melt right at that moment. It was as if his smile drew her in, and she lacked the power to fight against it. His cheekbones were high, and his jaw set just right. She had studied many of the finest sculptures and could imagine this man chiseled by skilled hands. Of course, those sculptures lacked clothing. Oh, why had she remembered that? Her cheeks had to be keeping them all warm!

  “There is so much I want to ask you,” John said. “You must forgive me, for I am a curious one.”

  Hannah could not help but smile. “Please, feel free to ask me anything.” Amazingly, she meant what she said, for what she wanted was to share everything with this man.

  “The cobbler of whom you spoke?” he said, his grin widening, “Tell me more about him and his son.”

  Oh, goodness! she thought. Anything but that!

  Chapter Five

  During the journey, Hannah was thankful that Laurence kept his cousin occupied with conversation. Her blasted tongue! What was wrong with her? When John had asked her about the cobbler—who did not exist, if the truth be known—she could not help but pretend to be Juliet and make up a story right there on the spot. The man seemed satisfied with her explanation, thank heavens, but that did not diminish the embarrassment she carried with her.

  They traveled until an hour before sundown, stopping at an inn along the way. After seeing their things to their rooms and washing the dust of the journey from her face and hands, she met the others in the dining room of the inn, where they had a lovely dinner of baked partridge and yams. Although the other three engaged in conversation, Hannah picked at her food, as lovely as it was, and could not wait to have the meal end. Several times, she could have sworn that John was staring at her, yet when she turned to look, he was already speaking to Laurence or laughing at something Isabel had said.

  Now, Hannah sat in a large comfortable chair, a book in her lap, beside a roaring fire in a tiny room that had a small collection of reading material. Laurence and Isabel had remained in the dining room to share in drinks—where John had gone Hannah did not know, nor did she care—and Hannah was happy to have the small sanctuary located between the desk where they checked in and the dining hall.

  The fire crackled and cast its light on the only other occupant in the room, a much older woman, perhaps in her seventies, who wore a black dress. Her hands and neck were adorned with jewels, and she stared at the fire as if it held some sort of secret.

  Hannah smiled, and the woman turned to look at her. “Off to London, are you?” the woman asked in a voice that was close to shouting.

  “I am indeed,” Hannah replied.

  The old woman sighed. “I remember my first season. Well, not necessary a season but more a local party hosted by some baron or another. That is where I met my Harold fifty years ago.” She leaned forward. “And we have been married ever since.”

  “That is lovely,” Hannah replied. “To be in love for that long is an amazing feat.”

  The old woman snorted, and Hannah wondered if she had offended her in some way. “It was love at first sight, if you can believe such a thing exists. Then it became a chore. At least I have my jewels.” She fingered one of the many necklaces she wore and sighed. Then, with a grunt, she pulled herself from the chair. “Be sure you get plenty of jewelry. It is the least a woman should receive for a life of servitude.”

  Hannah could not help but stare at the woman in shock as she left the room. So, her fears concerning marriage were justified. There was no hope for those who gave into what their heart might feel. At least she would never become one of those women!

  Once again at peace with her life’s choices, she returned to her book, but it was not long before her mind wandered back to John. He was so dashing and his smile was so warm. She giggled at a thought that perhaps his smile held some magical element, for it seemed to brighten a room and warm her heart.

  She sat up in shock. What was she doing thinking of the man in such a manner? She had a task before her, a novel that was in need of completion, and she had no business wasting her time on some man who would more than likely leave her in an emotional heap. However, despite her desire to push him from her thoughts, she could not glean one word from her book, and with a sigh of frustration, she closed the book with a snap.

  “I see that I may not be welcome to join you.”

  Hannah
turned to find John standing beside her, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his towering figure intriguing but not as intimidating as she would have expected. What if this man, like the hero in the book she had been attempting to read, were to grab her and kiss her by the firelight? Would his lips be cold and hard or warm and soft?

  Her cheeks burned, and she scolded herself for such thoughts. She was an intelligent woman, not some daft ninny!

  “I apologize for the intrusion,” he said. “Enjoy your evening.”

  He turned to leave, and she could not stop herself from saying, “Wait! My apologies. It is not you with whom I am frustrated but rather this book.”

  He arched an eyebrow, and she fought to breathe.

  “Please, join me.” There, that was not so bad, was it? She almost laughed. The result of her invitation remained to be seen.

  “I would like that,” John said. He flashed her a smile so beautiful Hannah felt herself melting into the chair as he took the seat in the blue high back chair across from her. “Do you read often?”

  “Yes, I do,” Hannah replied. It suddenly occurred to her that a gentleman such as this man would not see a lady reading as a positive attribute, and for the first time, she was uncertain how she felt about that.

  However, John did not seem to have that opinion, for he replied, “That is good. Too many are consumed with subjects that are, shall we say, trivial in nature? They do not take the time to read.”

  His response shocked, and pleased, her, and when he winked, she felt that same heat she had earlier. “Y-you?” she stammered. “You enjoy reading, as well?”

  “But of course,” he replied as if it was the most logical thing a man could do. “A true gentleman must have a library in order to read, and he also must be willing to allow those around him to share in its splendor.”

  A dizziness grasped Hannah. He was dashing and he enjoyed reading?

  “That is enough about me,” he said, crossing a foot over the opposite knee. “For I am all too boring.”

  “Not at all!” Hannah said, much louder than she had anticipated. She swallowed and made another attempt, this time with better moderation of her voice. “You are not boring at all. In fact, I find you intriguing.” Her throat went dry as he lifted his glass and took a drink from it. How a man could make a simple motion so interesting was beyond her.