Nervous energy pulsed through her. She took a step in retreat, afraid that his nearness might sway her decision. “But if you do accept it, the earl will never . . .” Suddenly his haste made sense. “That’s why you want to marry now, isn’t it? Because you know his lordship won’t allow it.”
He reached for her hand, his rough fingers gentle on hers. “Do you trust me, Hannah?”
She sighed. “You know I do.”
“Then take a leap of faith with me, love. Together, we can face any challenge life brings us.”
“And if your father rejects you because of me?” Her hands shook at the idea that she might be responsible for Nolan losing the opportunity to know his father. Surely he would resent her for it one day.
“Then he will make my choice very simple. I will go ahead with the purchase of the farm as planned, and we will live an honest, hardworking life.”
Hannah bit her lip, her insides twisting with indecision. Then she raised her eyes to stare into his earnest face, the face she’d loved since she was a girl, and saw only honesty, integrity . . . and love. How could she refuse him?
“After we’re married,” he continued, “we’ll go straightaway to fetch Molly and bring her back with us. She can stay with Bert and Franny if need be until we determine the course our lives will take.”
“Oh, Nolan. Truly?” She hardly dared believe that everything she’d ever wanted was within her reach. Marriage to Nolan, her own home to tend, and Molly safe with them. The dream danced before her eyes like a mirage.
“I’d do anything for you, Hannah. Just say you’ll be mine forever.”
A bubble of joy—one that overrode every logical argument—threatened to lift her from the ground. The heat of his hand anchored her, steadying her as he always did, and she knew what her answer would be. “Yes, Nolan. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Praise be!” A huge smile broke over his face. “You are the light in this dark time of my life, Hannah. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” His lips came down on hers with a fierceness that shook her to the core.
He kissed her until her knees went weak, and she finally broke away, gasping for air. “Nolan. We mustn’t.”
He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven. “Forgive me. I got carried away.”
She tried to remain miffed, but her own happiness overflowed into a stifled laugh. “When will we be wed?”
“I’ll see Reverend Black tomorrow and make the arrangements. Will you be able to get away at the end of the week?”
“I think I can convince Edna to let me go for a few days. But what will we do after the ceremony?” Her heart raced at the thought of their wedding night.
A slow grin crept across his handsome features, giving him an almost rakish air. “You leave that part to me, Miss Burnham.”
A blush heated her cheeks, and she looked away.
“I’d better go now—before I push my luck too far.” He crossed the room, then paused with his hand on the knob. “One more thing. Let’s keep our plans to ourselves. No one else need know—especially Edna. You know how she loves to talk.”
Hannah clutched the neck of her robe. Though she hated the thought of deceiving the dear woman, Nolan was right. “I promise.”
“Good.” A determined gleam shone in his eyes. “We’ll meet on the road to the village at dawn two days from now. Until then, remember how much I love you.”
He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and disappeared out the door, leaving Hannah wavering between elation and terror.
Chapter
9
The next morning, Nolan completed his chores in the barn as usual. Despite the fact that his father wanted him to immediately give up all aspects of his old life, Nolan was not yet prepared for such a bold declaration of his parentage, and chose instead to continue his normal routine.
He’d just finished cleaning the last stall when Bert appeared in the main corridor.
“I see you’ve finished in record time this morning. Did his lordship light a fire under you with his talk last night?” Along with the twinkle in Bert’s eyes, sympathy radiated from his features. He was the one person, besides Hannah, who Nolan had told about the earl being his father.
“I’d rather not discuss him, if you don’t mind.” Nolan closed the stall door and shoved the pitchfork into a bale of hay.
“So, your opinion of the man hasn’t softened any?”
Nolan shot the Scotsman a black look. “Did you really think it would?”
Bert stroked his reddish beard. “I thought once you spent some time with him as your father, and not your employer, you might see the man in a different light.”
Nolan strode toward his quarters at the rear of the stables, Bert following close behind. With a loud exhale, Nolan stopped and crossed his arms. “If you’ve something to say, please spit it out. I have an errand to run.”
“There’s something I think you should know about his lordship. In fact, there’s something I need to show you.”
Nolan scowled. He had far more important matters to attend to this morning. “I don’t have time—”
“It won’t take long.” Bert exited out the rear door, his long strides kicking up dirt behind him.
Knowing his friend wouldn’t rest until he’d had his say, Nolan reluctantly set out after him.
Bert headed across the meadow toward a sharp incline in the east.
Nolan jogged to catch up. “Where are you taking me?”
“Not far. Just over the rise.”
Silently, they climbed the hill, and at the top, the black spires of the fence surrounding the Fairchild cemetery stood out in stark relief against the light blue sky. It hit Nolan then that these were his relatives buried here. “You brought me here to show me my ancestors?”
“Not exactly.” Bert continued to walk at a fast pace, forcing Nolan to keep up. They passed the entrance to the burial ground and kept going.
Around a slight bend, Bert slowed to a more normal pace, then stopped altogether. Nolan followed the line of sight to where the Scotsman stared ahead.
Nolan’s breath caught. A magnificent cherry tree in full bloom filled the horizon, its branches spreading up to the sky. Certainly a beautiful sight, but why had Bert brought him here?
“Is there some significance to this tree?”
“Aye. His lordship planted it himself, the day he learned of his first wife’s death.” Bert fisted his hands at his hips. “It was her favorite tree, or so he said when I was installing the markers.”
Nolan squinted against the sun’s rays. He found it difficult to believe the earl would have confided in his blacksmith.
Bert jerked his head toward the tree. “Come on.”
Once again, Nolan followed the burly man until they came to a thicket of bushes. A wooden trellis marked the opening in the shrubbery, and a sign above read Mary’s Grotto. Beneath it was carved In loving memory of Mary Breckenridge Fairchild.
Huffing from exertion, Nolan dragged a sleeve across his clammy forehead. Edward must have truly loved the woman to create a shrine in her memory. As a sign of deference, Nolan removed his cap before entering through the trellis. A bench sat among the greenery, and some of the bushes were beginning to bud. In the center of the grotto was the cherry tree. Immediately below were two pewter crosses: one larger, engraved with the name Mary Fairchild, and the other much smaller, obviously meant for a child.
Nolan inhaled sharply, realizing that the cross was actually intended for him, since at the time the earl had believed him to have perished.
“His lordship asked me to fashion these markers, which I was happy to do,” Bert said. “The day I brought them up here, that tree was no more than a sapling the width of my finger.” He pointed to the array of rocks that lined the area. “The earl carried all those stones up here himself and arranged them like that. Every year, he adds a few more. And in the nicer weather, he plants flowers among them.”
Nolan bent to examine the crosse
s, running his finger over the intricately engraved patterns. “They’re beautiful, Bert. Did you know my . . . did you know Mary?”
“Aye. She worked for his lordship’s father as a housemaid before his son took a fancy to her.” Bert turned to look at Nolan. “She was a fetching lass, kind and loyal. I tried to warn her about the folly of getting involved with Master Fairchild, as I called him then. But it was too late. She wouldn’t heed my words of caution.”
Nolan straightened as a sudden thought occurred. Had Bert known all along who Nolan was? He opened his mouth to form the inquiry, but Bert shook his head.
“Nae, lad. I had no idea you were the result of that ill-fated union. I only learned of it the day of Elizabeth’s funeral.” Bert laid a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “I thought it might bring you comfort to know that your father loved Mary beyond all reason. Never known a man to show such grief over a loss. Still comes here every year on their wedding anniversary and on the date of her passing.” Bert crossed his arms in front of him. “His lordship told me once that when the cherry blossoms start to fall, it’s as if the tree is weeping for her as well.”
Nolan swallowed a rise of emotion. Maybe there was more to his enigma of a father than he knew. Perhaps under all Edward’s harshness lay a redeemable human being. “Thank you for bringing me here. At least I know I’m the product of a genuine love.”
Bert nodded. “Thought you might understand your father better if you saw how profoundly Mary’s death affected him. Changed the course of his life, it did.”
“It does help. Thank you, Bert.”
Nolan shoved his cap back on. How different would his life have been if Edward had gone after Mary sooner? Perhaps she would have lived, and they’d have shared a true family bond—not this fractured, hostile relationship.
He took one last look around the intimate grotto. Could he and Edward ever develop a true father and son attachment?
Nolan prayed that, despite everything, he might still have the opportunity to find out.
When he got back to the stables, Nolan went to his quarters to don a clean shirt and tidy himself up. Then he saddled King for a ride into the village. He’d expected to have left before now, but he didn’t regret visiting the grotto. Bert was right. Nolan needed to see it in order to better understand his father. A beating heart might actually lie beneath the earl’s cold chest after all.
Nolan gave King a slight kick, urging him to a faster pace. Normally he took the time to savor his surroundings, but today all he could think of was the task at hand, as well as the necessity to be back before the tailor’s arrival alerted Edward to Nolan’s absence.
A niggling sense of guilt chafed Nolan. He’d told his father he would sever ties with Hannah, and now he was about to go completely against his wishes. Yet he had little doubt that his lordship would do whatever it took to ensure Nolan complied with his plans, even if it meant sacking Hannah and forcing her away.
This mistrust was the reason Nolan felt the need for secrecy. He would hold off making a decision about being Edward’s heir until he and Hannah were married. Then if Edward refused to accept her as Nolan’s wife, they would have the option of leaving Stainsby to live on the farm.
The sun shone brightly after the rain the night before, and the scent of blossoming flowers drifted by him on the breeze. A perfect spring day. A good omen, perhaps, that things would go his way.
When he reached the small stone church, he guided King down the flagstone path that led to the rectory. There he tied the horse to a tree and knocked softly on the front door.
Mrs. Black answered with a welcoming smile. Soft gray curls framed her round face. “Good morning, Mr. Price. How are you holding up? I was ever so sorry to hear about your mum.”
Her sympathetic tone jarred him from his mission. He’d had so much on his mind, he’d pushed his grief to the background, but now it crashed back over him. “I’m doing as well as possible under the circumstances, Mrs. Black. Is your husband available?”
“Of course, dear. Come in, and I’ll fetch him.”
He stepped into the tiny cottage. The smell of eggs and bacon hung in the air, making Nolan wish he had eaten breakfast.
A few seconds later, Reverend Black lumbered down the hall. “Nolan. How are you getting on, my boy?”
“I’m fine, Reverend. Could I speak to you for a few minutes?”
“Of course, lad. Come into the parlor.”
Sudden shame filled Nolan as he recalled his behavior on the day of his mother’s death. With all the fuss at the funeral, he’d never had the chance to apologize. He removed his cap and followed the stooped man into the sitting room, which was furnished with an overstuffed sofa and two armchairs. An open Bible and a pipe sat on the table beside one of the chairs, where the reverend had likely been sitting.
“What can I do for you?” he asked after they had taken their seats.
“First off, sir, I owe you an apology for my disrespect the day my mother passed away. I was wrong to take my anger out on you.”
Reverend Black shook his head. “Think nothing of it. I’ve had much worse said to me in a moment of grief.”
“I appreciate your understanding.” Nolan hesitated, trying to choose the best way to approach the next topic. “I need your help with another important matter.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“This may sound odd, given my . . . circumstances,” he drew in a breath, “but I want to get married as soon as possible.”
The older man choked back a cough, eyebrows raised.
“It was my mother’s dying wish to see me settled down. She knew I intended to marry Hannah and made me promise to do so. I feel it only right to honor her wishes and continue with the path I’d chosen for my life.” Nolan ran the tweed cap round and round through his fingers and held his breath. Would the minister accept his explanation?
“Well, this is highly unusual, I must admit.” He hesitated until Nolan met his gaze. “Is the young woman in question agreeable?”
“Yes, sir, she is.”
“And there are no impediments?”
“No, sir.” Not the kind he meant, anyway.
“Who will stand up for you?”
Beads of sweat pooled under Nolan’s collar. “I was hoping Mrs. Black could be our witness.”
“An elopement then?”
“Of sorts, I suppose.” It struck him then the sacrifice Hannah would be making, forfeiting a real wedding with her family and friends in attendance.
Reverend Black cleared his throat and peered at him over his wire spectacles. “You can tell me the truth, young man. Have you gotten the girl in trouble?”
Heat burned up Nolan’s neck to enflame his ears. How easy it would be to say yes and force the minister’s hand. But he wouldn’t do that to Hannah; he would not compromise her reputation. “No, sir. I would never dishonor Hannah that way.”
“I see.” Reverend Black picked up his pipe and tapped the barrel with one finger. “What about family, then?”
Nolan chose his words with care. “It’s always been just me and Mum. And Hannah’s family lives a day’s journey away. Even if they lived closer, they couldn’t really afford time away from their farm.” He paused. “We’re planning a short trip to see them right after we’ve wed—to share the good news.” He forced his mouth into a smile.
A few seconds of silence ensued.
“I guess I can’t offer any binding reason why you shouldn’t be married,” the minister said. “After the banns have been published for three Sundays in a row—”
“Three weeks? Is there no faster way?”
Suspicion returned to the reverend’s demeanor. “The upper classes sometimes purchase a special license, but they’re quite costly.”
“Where would I get such a license?”
“Closest place would be the clerk’s office in Derby.”
“Good. I’ll set out straight away then.” Nolan unclenched his fingers. “If all goes well, could we be wed tom
orrow?”
“I suppose, if everything is in order.” His eyes narrowed, making Nolan squirm in his seat. The unspoken question hung in the air, but the reverend wouldn’t likely give credence to village gossip about Nolan’s parentage. And even if the clergyman suspected the earl would disapprove, he would have no concrete reason to refuse Nolan’s request.
“We’d like an early ceremony, so we can make a good start on our journey afterward.”
“The missus and I are early risers ourselves. However, according to the law, eight o’clock is the earliest hour to perform a marriage.”
“That would be fine.” Nolan expelled a soft sigh of relief. He rose and extended his hand. “I can’t thank you enough, Reverend.”
The rector clasped Nolan’s hand in a tight grip. “I hope you’re taking this sacrament with the seriousness it deserves, young man. Marriage is holy in the eyes of God.”
“Trust me, sir, I’ve been planning this union since I was fourteen years old.”
On Friday morning, Hannah paused in the hallway outside the kitchen to calm her unruly nerves. A prayer seemed the only way to do so.
Lord, forgive me for having to deceive the people I love, especially dear Edna. But I trust you understand the need for secrecy. If you’re so inclined, please give me a sign that this union is in Nolan’s best interest, that he won’t forever regret it. If it be your will for us, please grant us your blessing on our marriage. Amen.
With a final deep breath, she entered the kitchen.
Edna looked up from the table where she had rolled out a length of pastry for the day’s pies. “There you are, girl. I was wondering when you’d come to say good-bye.”
Hannah forced a bright smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long. Only a few days.” She hoped that was the case. She wasn’t really sure what Nolan had in mind.
A Most Noble Heir Page 7