“It’s a balance between making it clear when it is not his turn for your attention, and making sure he feels appreciated when it is.”
Conceptually, it seemed sound. They spent the rest of the time discussing the theory, and how it applied in different situations. By the time they stopped to change horses, Hannah felt she had a working knowledge of how to accomplish it. As they were stretching their legs outside the carriage, she was given an immediate opportunity to put it to the test.
“We should rearrange the carriage occupants,” Rhone declared.
Hannah stopped walking and turned to him. “No, I don’t think we should. I’m enjoying the company in my carriage.”
Rhone frowned, and she felt a stab of remorse. Now for the second part.
“I have missed you, though, and I think perhaps we should have a private meal this evening when we stop.”
His face brightened considerably. “Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of us. I would love to hear what you’ve been up to in your carriage.”
“Well, Ewan seems to think—”
“Tonight. Over supper.” Hannah raised up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek before returning to her carriage, which was ready to resume their journey.
* * *
The innkeeper’s wife arrived with more steaming dishes and refilled their glasses. Gavan used the interruption to search for something to say. Hannah looked radiant in the candlelight of the private dining room. The faraway look she’d had since the kidnapping was significantly diminished, and Gavan was glad for it. He wished he could have been the reason for its departure, but he was still glad.
“You’re looking well. Much better than last night.”
“No one has tried to kidnap me today. It does wonders for the complexion,” she joked.
Oh, brilliant. She looks like she’s recovering, so why not remind her of the attack. Capital, Dalreoch. Absolutely marvelous. Gavan shoved his food around the plate with his fork, trying to remember the time before he met Hannah, when people claimed he was charming.
“You said you were enjoying the company in your carriage. Anything interesting?” He speared a carrot with excessive force.
“Quite. Mathilda was instructing Jane and me in the proper management of the male species.”
His fork slipped out of his hand. “She what?”
“Specifically you. It was quite educational.” Hannah tried a bite of the potatoes, and then took a sip of her wine, as if nothing were the matter with that statement.
Gavan cleared his throat. “And what, according to Lady Hawthorne, is the proper way to manage me?”
“Well. With any man who requires a great deal of attention, you must set proper boundaries for when your attention is not his to have.”
“I don’t require a great deal of attention.” What a ludicrous assumption.
Hannah held her ground. “You do. You’re very demanding, and you have a flair for showmanship.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
She narrowed her dark honey eyes at him. “You risked life and limb scaling a wall in a rainstorm to break into my bedroom because you were bored and had no one to talk to.”
“I see.” Bloody Baileys. “Are there any other tenets to this methodology or is it just the one?”
“You also must endeavor to make sure that he feels sufficiently appreciated the rest of the time,” she continued.
Well, that part didn’t sound half bad, but the part about proper boundaries was lunacy. “Has Lady Hawthorne proven her method to be successful?”
Hannah frowned; a roll paused on its path to her lips. “Yes and no. She employed it in her own marriage, but I’m not convinced the results are conclusive.”
“Why is that?” he asked, fascinated despite himself.
“Her husband doesn’t sound like the sort of man who required a lot of attention. He sounds like a quiet, accommodating sort.” The roll punctuated her supposition. “I think it might have failed if Lord Hawthorne had shown any stubbornness in accepting the boundaries.”
Damn right. No self-respecting man would stand for that.
“Although, it worked remarkably well on you today. So that speaks to the validity of her conclusion.”
Gavan narrowed his eyes. It was time to put a stop to this. “Hannah. I will not be managed.”
“Understandable. I have no desire to manage you, but I will not be monopolized. I think we can come to a mutual accord regarding each other’s wishes, don’t you?” Her intelligent gaze pinned him, and she was no longer abstractly gesturing with baked goods.
Oh, very clever, Miss Howard.
“I don’t monopolize you.”
“You do, and you know it.”
“You haven’t complained.”
“I’m complaining now. I enjoy spending time with you, but I also enjoy being with Jane and Mathilda, and it turns out I very desperately needed their company after recent events.”
It was his turn to frown. He hadn’t meant to keep her from something that would help her. He just wanted to be near her. “You can’t enjoy their company when I am around?”
“Sometimes, but not always. Not the same way.”
“But you do still enjoy my company?”
Hannah smiled her beaming sun smile. “Very much.”
“You’re failing the methodology miserably, you know.”
“Am I?”
“I feel, at best, marginally appreciated.”
Hannah laughed, and it was a gorgeous sound. “I thought I wasn’t to manage you.”
“Certainly not, starting tomorrow. It’s hardly fair that I should have been subjected to boundaries today, without reaping the benefits this evening.”
“Well, then. Have you any suggestions for how best I might appreciate you?”
The implication in her voice immediately ignited his blood. It was always fire with his hellcat. The glory of the warmth, the pain of the burn. He hadn’t come to a decision yet about his own advice from Lady Hawthorne, so evasive maneuvers were in order.
“Of course. You must tell me three admirable things about myself.” He leaned back with his wineglass and gestured for her to let the lavishing begin.
She raised an eyebrow at his obvious retreat but settled back into an imitation of his posture. Her lips pursed in farcical thought, dragging out the moment. “Well . . .”
“They’d better be good. I spent all day listening to Ewan wax lyrical about our rich heritage as Scotsmen for these boundaries of yours.”
Her smile this time was small, almost private. “You’re thoughtful.”
“They also need to be true. You can’t just make them up,” Gavan said, squashing down the sudden infusion of pleasure at her good opinion of him.
“That’s not made up. You are thoughtful. Having known me for less than a fortnight, you bought me three incredibly thoughtful presents, not to mention performed countless small gestures between now and then.”
“Fair point. I am extremely thoughtful.” This was a dangerous game, more so than he had imagined. Having Hannah say genuinely nice things about him with that warm, trusting glow in her eyes was more potent than a seduction.
“You’re generous.”
“I won’t argue with you on that, although Ewan would argue that there is nothing wonderful about it.”
Hannah smiled. “Your cousin admires your generosity. He just worries about how to finance it.”
“He said that?”
“More or less.”
Interesting. “And the third?”
“Accepting,” she declared.
She had definitely made that one up.
“What does that even mean?” Gavan asked.
“It means that you accept people for who they are, even when that isn’t what they’re expected
to be,” Hannah explained.
Gavan inspected the lay of his shirt cuff. “It’s only fair. I can hardly claim to suit the proper mold.”
“You could, if you wanted to. You could use your title to alienate people, but you don’t.” Her tone turned quiet, and she looked down at her plate. “You surround yourself with people who don’t quite fit, and you make them feel like they belong.”
Gavan wanted to tell her she fit, that she belonged with him, for the rest of their lives. It hadn’t gone over very well the last time, though, so he kept it to himself.
He cleared his throat to dislodge the welling of emotion. “I certainly won’t argue with Magnus being an ill fit, but if he has ever felt like he belongs, it was through no fault of mine.”
Hannah laughed again, and the moment fell away. “There. Those are my three appreciations. How did I do?”
“Aside from the fact that you clearly fabricated two of them? Beautifully.”
She had done more than beautifully. Gavan found himself pondering her perception of him. Thoughtful, generous, and accepting. Those sounded remarkably like the qualities of someone admirable. Just like that, his decision was made. He would take Lady Hawthorne’s advice, regarding the physical aspects of his and Hannah’s relationship. It was time he started playing to win.
“Thank you for a lovely and enlightening evening. Shall I escort you to your room?”
For a moment she looked confused and, dare he hope, disappointed. “Oh. Yes, I suppose you shall. We are finished, aren’t we?”
He led them through the taproom and up the stairs to the larger of the two rooms the tiny inn offered. Betsy was setting dinner dishes out in the hallway, and Gavan caught a glimpse inside.
“Good Lord, that’s the largest room? You’ll all suffocate.”
“I suspect it will be cozy. You, on the other hand, will probably be crushed to death. Mr. Dalreoch is enormous, and your room is even smaller.”
He grinned. “Actually, I have my room all to myself. Ewan can’t stand small spaces.”
“Perhaps I’ll come share with you, then, if it gets too crowded in here.”
Oh God. Why hadn’t he just lied? Gavan forced his thoughts to horrible diseases. “I’m afraid you can’t. Bennett would be scandalized. He’s quite the stickler for conduct.”
“Well.” Her brow furrowed. “Good evening to you, then, Lord Rhone.”
“And to you Miss Howard. If you need anything, I’m right next door.”
“Properly observing conduct, for the sake of your valet’s sensibilities. Yes, I know,” she said suspiciously.
Gavan had no choice but to flee. If Hannah set her efforts to trying to change his mind, or discovering the source of his about-face, he was going to be in terrible danger of giving in.
Chapter 17
Hannah’s evening was not spent in contemplation of Rhone’s odd behavior. Nor was it spent in peaceful repose. Instead, she found herself in the midst of a nightmare. She was in a maze of hedges. Everywhere she turned, there was the coachman, with a sinister, shadowy figure always lurking behind him. She would turn and run, and the branches kept scratching her and she was getting so tired. Then suddenly the branches were arms, all reaching out to grab her, surrounding her. She had a knife in her hand, and it was bloody, but no matter how she struck out with it, the arms kept coming.
“Miss. Wake up, miss. It’s just a dream,” Betsy said, shaking her awake with a grip on her shoulders.
She sucked in a huge breath and bolted up.
“Not to worry, miss. You’re safe here. There’s no one after you,” Betsy soothed.
Hannah sat there, panting, trying to regain her bearings. She was not in a maze. There were arms, no knife. She was safe.
“You sit right here, miss. I’ll round you up some tea, and maybe something a bit stronger.”
Hannah looked around the room after Betsy exited, and she realized Mathilda and Jane were standing on the opposite side of the bed, looking at her with quiet concern.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. I woke everyone up.”
“That’s quite alright, dear. We thought it best to give you some room, lest one of us catch an elbow. You were in quite the fight, there, for a bit.”
Hannah shuddered. “It was like last night, only an endless maze and all mashed together. I couldn’t get away.”
Jane came across the mattress in an endearingly undignified scramble and wrapped her arms around Hannah’s shoulders. “But you did. You were so brave, and courageous, and you got away.”
Hannah nodded.
Mathilda traveled around the foot of the bed much more sedately and perched on the mattress edge in front of Hannah. “It’s going to take time, dear. You have been through a horrible ordeal, and that sort of thing doesn’t just disappear in one night. Or ten. Or sometimes even a hundred.”
“But you’re not alone,” Jane added. “We’re here for you, whenever and however you need us.”
Hannah nodded again. Their comforting words and her deep breaths were starting to take effect, and some of the tension started to leave her. “Gods, I hate feeling like this.”
“We’d be concerned if you liked it, dear.”
Betsy returned with the tea tray to the sound of their laughter and nodded approvingly. “That’s better, then. A little bit of laughing, a nice cuppa with a tiny kick, and everything will be right as rain.”
Jane poured out four cups of tea, surprising Betsy, who accepted her cup with a blush.
“Miss, you want the whiskey or some of the laudanum to settle your nerves?”
“Whiskey, please.” Hannah did not like the effects of the drug under the most necessary circumstances, and the idea of having another nightmare and being unable to wake up was extremely unsettling.
Betsy passed the bottle around, and everyone got a dollop, even Jane, because Mathilda tipped it into her cup without asking. They sipped in companionable silence for a moment, letting the heat of the liquor soothe the last of the nightmare’s strain.
“How long did Rhone say it was to his home?” Jane asked after a while.
“The better part of six days,” Hannah replied.
It was going to be a long week.
* * *
After breakfast, they made quick work of their departure. As suspected, Ewan had eschewed sleep in favor of reading in the taproom all evening. As a result, their coach assignments stayed the same to allow his tall cousin to spread out while he slept.
“Dinnae close the windows while I’m out, aye?” Ewan asked, wrapping the plaid around himself like blanket.
“It’s not my first time traveling with you, Ewan.”
His cousin would not sleep soundly within the close confines of the carriage, but without a reassuring stream of fresh air, he would not find sleep at all. The women had not looked well rested at the breakfast table, either. Had the room in fact been too small for their comfort? Perhaps they had been up all night filling Hannah’s head with new poisons about how to manipulate men. It was highly irresponsible of Lady Hawthorne to put such insidious ideas into a mind as clever as Hannah’s.
Bennett interrupted his thoughts. “My lord, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Will you be changing your style of dress upon reaching your home country?”
“I doubt it. Why?”
The valet was eyeing the intricate arrangement of Ewan’s kilt. “I am not familiar with the traditional garments of your homeland.”
“Apparently not. I’m a Lowlander, Bennett. We don’t wear kilts.”
“But your cousin—” Bennett puzzled.
“Is my mother’s sister’s son. His father’s people are Highlanders.”
“Oh.” The valet actually sounded disappointed.
For God’s sake. “The arrangement is functional, Bennett. It’s not like a cravat.”
“Oh,” Be
nnett repeated, with markedly less disappointment.
* * *
Betsy and Mathilda slumbered on opposite benches as the carriage lurched its way down another rutted country road. Jane gazed silently out the window, smiling back at Hannah from time to time. It wasn’t the same polite façade Jane had put up after discovering Hannah’s engagement was a ruse, but neither were they the warm moments Hannah had come to cherish. Lately, those only happened when Hannah was undergoing some manner of crisis.
“Jane—”
Jane turned back from the window. “Is everything all right? Do you feel well?”
“I feel fine.” Hannah was unsure of how to begin.
The other woman turned back to the window.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Hannah blurted out. “About my agreement with Rhone.”
The concern on Jane’s face was immediately shuttered behind decorum. “You weren’t obligated to—”
“For goodness’ sake, Jane. Of course I was obligated. You’re my friend.”
“I am your employee.”
Hannah leaned across the carriage, taking Jane’s hands in her own. “Surely you know that’s not how I think of you.”
There was silence as Jane stared down at their clasped hands. After a moment, she let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing from their rigid posture. “I know.”
“I should have told you.”
Jane stared at the ceiling, blinking away the beginnings of a tear. “It’s not your fault that I needed to believe it so badly.”
“Oh, Jane!” Hannah shifted across, squeezing in between Jane and Mathilda’s sleeping form and wrapping her arms around her friend. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m sorry I’m so rubbish at this. I’ve never really had a friend before.”
“You’re not rubbish.”
“I am. You know I am. But I’ll get better. I promise. Can we be friends again, please?”
“Of course,” Jane said, returning her embrace. “We never stopped.”
“Hannah dear,” Mathilda said from Hannah’s other side. “I’m overjoyed you two have sorted your differences, but if one of you doesn’t shove over a bit, I’m going to be impaled.”
A Convenient Engagement Page 20