Chosen by the Lieutenant (Regency Brides of Convenience series Book 2)

by Anne Herries

  It...it is lovely. Will you put it on me?

  She handed him the necklace and flounced around on the swing, turning her back to him. The movement wafted her flowery perfume up to fill his nose. His gaze slid down the gentle slope of her neck and farther to her shoulders. He’d never seen so much soft, creamy skin. Queer sensations pooled in his stomach as he circled the silver chain around her head. A tendril of hair danced in the breeze where he needed to lock the clasp. He leaned close and blew it out of the way.

  She inhaled sharply.

  He smiled at her reaction and then leaned in to tease her. “Goose bumps?”

  She didn’t indicate she’d heard. In fact, she was mighty quiet. And goose bumps had formed on her upper arms. His fingers stilled in their task. He’d only meant to move the hair out of the way. After all, this was Hannah. He hadn’t given any thought to his actions being more than that. Suddenly they were. Suddenly they seemed...intimate.

  He finished locking the silver clasp and pulled back. “Done.”

  Hannah fingered the pendant as she turned to him. The gleaming shell rested just above the rose-colored satin neckline of her dress. He liked the way it sat there all shimmery on her smooth skin. “It’s not emeralds...or pearls....”

  I have those things. It... She stilled her hands and then started over. This is special. It means a lot to me.

  She leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek.

  Drawing back, she stopped close enough for her breath to tickle his skin. Gray eyes, large and luminous, blinked up at him. Her nearness set his entire body to thrummin’—not exactly the reaction he’d expected.

  “You’re sure sayin’ a lot for someone who can’t talk,” he mumbled, unable to look away. They were friends—practically brother and sister. And she was way too young to be lookin’ at him like that. To give in to the urge forming—the urge to kiss her properly—would change things between them forever. He should get up and walk away right now, put some distance between them before he did something stupid.

  Trouble was, his head told him one thing and his heart said another. And the second was drowning out the first. So he sat there like a dang fool, caught betwixt and between. Those pretty gray eyes of hers grew bigger, and she tilted her face up. His heart lurched to a new rhythm in his chest. Apparently the little lady was wantin’ the same thing. A fool he might be, but he didn’t need to be asked twice.

  He slid his hat from his head, barely conscious of the motion. Then, leaning forward, he tested the waters—a quick brush of his lips to hers. When she didn’t pull back, he took her by the shoulders and bent down to her mouth—careful to keep the kiss light. A birthday kiss. A sweet-sixteen birthday kiss. Gentle. Chaste. Her lashes swept down, and likewise he let himself enjoy the moment. She had the softest lips he’d ever felt, the smoothest skin he’d ever touched.

  And she was an innocent. She trembled under his mouth, stiff and a bit awkward in a way only first kisses can be. That she’d chosen to share her first kiss with him humbled him. It was a gift—the gift of herself.

  He broke contact and then brushed her forehead with a parting kiss, murmuring against her skin, “Happy birthday, Hannah.”

  When he pulled back, heightened color stained her cheeks, and her gaze was slightly out of focus.

  Well, he was right there with her—in as much shock as she. Imagine that.

  The tap of metal clicked on the flagstone path. “Hannah!” Dorian’s harsh voice boomed through the garden.

  Reluctantly, Caleb released her and stood to face her grandfather.

  Dorian made his way toward them until he stopped three feet before them. Quietly, Hannah stood. Dorian took in the pendant she wore, took in her flushed face and cut a barbed look to Caleb before addressing his granddaughter. “You are ignoring your guests. Please, return to the house immediately.”

  Caleb glanced toward the front door. The partiers had wandered onto the open marble landing at the top of the steps and stared out over the railing, curiosity splashed across their faces. On the path behind Dorian, Rachel, large and awkward with child, hurried forward, followed by her husband, Stuart.

  Rachel rushed up and hugged him fiercely. “You’re here! When did you arrive? Did you stop at the house?”

  He squeezed her tentatively, in awe of her changed form. “Hi, sis. Yes, I left my things there.”

  “Oh, it’s been too long this time.” She sniffled, and he saw the start of tears forming in her eyes.

  Uncomfortable with the display of emotion, he turned to his brother-in-law, reading the dark bent of his expression. Tread carefully, it said. Rachel didn’t need any worries, and an argument between him and Dorian wouldn’t do her any good.

  “Don’t mind me. Really,” Rachel said, blinking away her tears. “It’s just something to do with being in a family way. I seem to cry at the drop of a hat.”

  He grinned at that. Seemed women could always muster up a good cry—sometimes in honest feeling and sometimes only to manipulate. He’d experienced both. “Guess I interrupted quite a party. I’ll head to the house and you come on back when you’re good and ready.” Turning to Hannah, he resettled his hat on his head and tugged the brim down. “Your grandfather is right. Your guests are waiting.”

  Hannah pouted but moved her hands gracefully in answer. Thank you for the gift. You’ll come by tomorrow?

  Caleb caught the smoldering anger in Dorian’s eye. “Sure. Tomorrow evening.”

  She smiled, reassured, and turned down the stone path to the house.

  The moment she was out of earshot, Dorian faced him squarely. “Please don’t make contact with Hannah again.”

  “I’d say that’s up to Hannah, Mr. Lansing.”

  Rachel’s face blanched.

  “You will honor my wishes with my granddaughter.” Dorian didn’t raise his voice, but Caleb heard—no, he felt—the underlying steel. This was a man who got his way. “Hannah is young and impressionable, and she has been brought up to a finer style than one to which you are accustomed. I believe you would agree with me when I say that she deserves better.”

  Caleb nearly choked. The man was anything but tactful. “Our friendship goes back way before Hannah came here to live with you. Money doesn’t figure into it.”

  Dorian raised his brows. “You’ll find, Mr. Houston, that money has everything to do with her life now, the merchant business and her future.”

  Rachel gasped—a strangled, half-swallowed sound—and the corners of her mouth tightened, pale and drawn. Her hand clutched her bulging abdomen. “I...I believe I really must start home.”

  The way she said it, more than the words she used, had Caleb moving toward her to catch her by the arm. Stuart did the same, clutching her opposite arm in support. “Rach?”

  Her attempt at a reassuring smile faltered. “We should be going.”

  “The midwife?” Stuart asked, looking at Caleb over her bowed head.

  She shook her head. “It will pass. I need to lie down for a bit. Just overdid things today. That’s all.”

  Stuart quirked his head. The look was subtle, but Caleb understood. He was to take Rachel home. Stuart would go for the midwife. It didn’t matter that Rachel thought it unnecessary.

  “Thank you for having us, Dorian,” Rachel said. “Give Hannah our love.”

  Dorian stood aside to let them pass. Caleb could almost hear the thoughts swirling as the man assessed him one last time. “Mr. Houston. You’d be smart to remember what I said.”

  The challenge rang in the damp evening air. Caleb ignored it, but as he stepped away, flanking Rachel’s side, he felt the man’s gaze sear his shoulders. Dorian Lansing was not someone to turn his back on. He’d best remember that.

  * * *

  The guests were gone, the servants abed, the house quiet. Yet in one room, Hannah’s sitting room, the gas lamp burned steadily. Hannah sat at her writing desk watching Grandfather stride the length of the apartment, his bow tie hanging loose at his collar and his
face tight with controlled anger.

  “I cannot believe that you left your guests, friends who had traveled considerable distances, to consort with that ne’er-do-well. Have you no pride in yourself? No sense of decency?”

  Caleb is a good friend, too— Grandfather turned away before she could finish signing. She dropped her hands into her lap. She wasn’t surprised. He had little patience for the way she communicated. Since the day she’d arrived ten years ago, unable to speak, she had been a disappointment. Each doctor she had seen, each professional opinion, each unsuccessful visit had frustrated him further. Yet she had no control over this wretched solitude. If only she could be the same as everyone else, if only she could force the words out, then everything would be righted. Grandfather would have to listen.

  He stopped pacing. “Tonight’s inappropriate behavior must be addressed. In view of what has occurred, I feel I must contain you to your room for the time being.”

  But she was supposed to see Caleb! Thoughts of his kiss came back full force. What a flood of sensations had come over her with that kiss. Was that what it was supposed to be like? One thing was certain. She wanted to talk to him about it. And she wanted another one.

  But of that, Grandfather would not approve. She did, however, need to keep her appointment with the hypnotist. Opening her secretary, she withdrew a sheet of paper and dashed off the words Appointment. Hypnotist. Ten o’clock.

  Grandfather frowned. “I haven’t forgotten, but I regret now giving you leave to go. That man is not a physician. I find it distasteful to visit his establishment, to be seen in his part of town.”

  No! Grandfather mustn’t change his mind! She had to see the hypnotist! Quickly she wrote Edward’s name.

  “It’s not a matter of who will accompany you. This person is no more than a carnival charlatan—a waste of time. With further consideration, I cannot allow you to keep your appointment.”

  The thought flitted through her mind that he sounded much like Caleb had in his assessment of the hypnotist—a similarity she refused to dwell on at the moment. She had to go, had to try, no matter how slight the chance it would work.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow, after you have time to consider your actions and how they’ve disgraced the family.”

  Grandfather was nearly to the door. She tugged at his arm.

  He looked down at her, his mouth a firm line of disapproval. She’d seen that expression a number of times over the years since coming to live with him and Grandmother Rose. Nothing she did would change his mind.

  Then, as she watched, the resolve on his face shifted.

  She stepped back, unsure what this might mean.

  “Your mother was the same, you know,” he said. “Impulsive. Headstrong. I had hoped you would not take after her in that regard.”

  Her mother? He never spoke of her. That he said anything emphasized how upset she’d made him. She’d been three years old when Mother drowned—and she had stopped speaking. At least that was what Stuart had told her when she was old enough to understand. As much as she would have liked to remember her mother, she couldn’t. Her memories started at the lighthouse with Stuart taking care of her.

  Grandfather sighed and patted her arm. “I don’t wish to do this, you know—punish you like a young schoolgirl. Not at your age.” He moved back to the window seat and sat, hands on his knees, and stared at the floor—a sign he was deep in thought.

  The quiet between them filled with impending heaviness. Her breathing grew shallow, until the air in her lungs ceased entering or leaving. She dared not move. This was too important. Everything seemed to hang in the balance of what he would say next.

  Finally, he looked up and narrowed his gaze on her. “Therefore, I have a proposition.”

  * * *

  Three days later, Caleb knocked on the door of the estate and asked for Hannah.

  “Wait here,” the butler instructed. He didn’t bother inviting Caleb inside but shut the door in his face.

  Caleb blew out a long breath. Guess he’d worn out his welcome in one fell swoop. Could be that the whales would start their trip south before he’d see Hannah now.

  He paced along the top of the marble steps. Twice, he thought about leaving, despite the fact he’d thought of little else but Hannah for the past three days. It was that kiss. Whether he liked it or not, kissin’ her had changed things between them. He felt—different now. A surprise, considering he’d known her all his life. Concerning, too. And he didn’t want to think any further along those lines until he spoke with her.

  He viewed the rose garden and lawn twenty feet below the low ornamental railing and resigned himself to waiting as long as it would take. He’d meant to come by sooner—two days ago to be exact—but it couldn’t be helped. Babies come on their own timetable without any consideration for the knots they might tangle in everyone else’s schedules. His nephew, Lawrence, had squalled his way out and demanded every minute of his time while Stuart and the midwife tended Rachel. She’d had a rough go of it. Even now, thinking on it made his stomach clench.

  The door hinge creaked and immediately he turned. “Hannah—” She wasn’t alone. Her grandfather stood beside her, creating a chill in the air just by his presence. “Mr. Lansing.”

  Dorian didn’t bother to acknowledge him.

  “I couldn’t come sooner. Rachel had a boy. She’s fine—they’re both fine.” He stopped talking. Hannah looked as if she might be ill—or exhausted. There was a bruised, fragile look to her eyes, and she had trouble meeting his gaze. His breath left him in a whoosh of disappointment. She wasn’t speaking. That was what the problem was. She’d had her hopes up so high. Too high.

  He started toward her—not quite sure what to do, what to say. He wasn’t exactly the “cry on my shoulder” type, but he had to do something.

  She stiffened, clearly erecting an invisible barrier between them.

  He stopped, curling his hands into fists at his sides to keep from reaching for her, whether to hug her or shake her, he wasn’t sure. Hadn’t he told her it was a long shot? Hadn’t he warned her not to get her hopes up? “It didn’t work,” he said flatly.

  She looked down to the slab of white marble at her feet.

  He’d bet two shiploads of gold that she’d done this because of Dorian. The man steadfastly refused to learn the sign language. Over and over, Hannah put herself through agony because she wanted to communicate with him, and all the while Dorian didn’t even try to understand.

  A body couldn’t keep warding off disappointment time after time without growing bitter.

  Finally, she met his gaze. I can’t see you anymore, Caleb.

  That wasn’t what he expected. “What’s going on?”

  She shook her head, a pained expression on her face.

  Suddenly worried, he stepped toward her. “Did something happen at the hypnotist? Did he hurt you?”

  She moved away until her back flattened against the great oak door. No. I’m fine.

  Well, that was a lie. He waited for her to go on.

  Things have changed since I saw you last.

  It had to be that kiss. He darted a look at Dorian, a few feet away. It wasn’t hard to figure that the ocean would turn red before that man would give them a sliver of privacy.

  She twisted a handkerchief in her hand.

  “I’ll come back in a few days—when you are feeling better.”

  No. Don’t come. I can’t see you anymore, Caleb. Not ever.

  He tightened his jaw. “You’re not makin’ sense. If it’s the kiss that’s botherin’ you...”

  You shouldn’t have done that.

  A slow burn started in his gut. “As I recall, you were the one doing most of the asking.”

  No. I’m sure you are wrong.

  So that was how things stood. She couldn’t own up to her actions. She was embarrassed about being forward, and instead of admitting it or dealing with it, she was trying to put the blame firmly in his lap.

  He glanc
ed at Dorian, wishing the man would disappear so he could talk easier with Hannah. Now, that was a fantasy. He swallowed. “This is how you want it?”

  She nodded, not quite meeting his gaze.

  He took one last considering look. They both knew she was twisting the facts, but she’d made her choice. He should have been ready for it. People he cared about had been leavin’ him his entire life—first his mother, then his father, and then Rachel. This was just one more time.

  “Have it your way, then.” Slow and deliberate, he turned and strode down the front steps. Behind him, he heard the door quietly click shut.

  Copyright © 2015 by Kathryn Albright

  ISBN-13: 9781460344828

  Chosen by the Lieutenant

  Copyright © 2015 by Anne Herries

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