For certain, Nolan was a strong-willed lad. Edward hadn’t missed the air of defiance surrounding the boy whenever Edward issued orders. Yet Nolan obeyed without question, giving Edward no cause for reprimand. The only time the lad had dared defy him was when his mother had taken ill. It was then Edward became aware—in no uncertain terms—of Nolan’s disdain. Edward would have to tread carefully in his attempt to break his son of his servant’s upbringing and mold him into a nobleman.
The first course of business would be the hardest—severing all ties between his son and the kitchen maid who had him so bewitched. The irony of the similarity to his own history was not lost on Edward. But he would do everything in his power to ensure a happier outcome for his son’s future. It occurred to Edward that Nolan had not actually agreed to end his relationship with the girl, and so it fell to Edward to make sure his wishes were followed.
He set the poker back with a clang, his mind racing. What better time to speak with the maid than while his son was away? He was sure the girl could be made to see reason before his son would. Especially if her job was on the line.
Isn’t this exactly how your father treated Mary? Edward pushed away the guilt that threatened to surface. The two situations were not as similar as they seemed. After all, from what he’d observed, the young couple was merely flirtatious. Nowhere near as serious as he and Mary. He needed to take action now, while there was still time. Before, heaven forbid, the girl ended up with child.
He’d already dealt with Reverend Black and ensured his cooperation.
Now to make his position abundantly clear to the maid.
With a purposeful stride, Edward left the study and headed to the main hall where the butler always hovered.
The thin, balding man appeared from the shadows and offered a bow.
“Dobson, get the kitchen maid for me—the blond one—and send her to my study at once.” Without waiting for a reply, Edward stomped back to his office.
When footsteps sounded in the hall several minutes later, followed by a rap at the door, Edward looked up from the papers on his desk. “Come in.”
His plump cook wedged her way in the door and bobbed a curtsy.
“Mrs. Bridges? I sent for the kitchen maid. What is her name again?”
“Hannah Burnham, my lord.”
“Yes, well, where is she? I need to speak to her about an urgent matter.” He ignored the fact that it was highly unusual for the master of the house to speak to a mere maid.
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s what I came to tell you.” The woman clutched her apron as though agitated. “Miss Burnham had a few days’ leave coming. She’s away visiting her family.”
Edward jerked, jolting the pen in his hand. A slow rage spread through his torso, matching the splotch of ink that bled onto the page before him.
The chit of a girl was away at the same time as his son. This could not be a coincidence.
Edward focused to contain his emotions lest they intimidate the older woman. He inhaled and let the air out in an even release. “I see. And do you have any knowledge of where Miss Burnham’s family lives?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I know exactly where they live.” The woman’s air of anxiety dissipated and a wide smile creased her cheeks. “Ann Burnham and I grew up in the same neighborhood. She married a farmer and lives not far from there.”
The tension in his shoulders uncoiled a notch. “Excellent. Have a seat, Mrs. Bridges, and tell me everything you know.”
Nolan hummed under his breath as he guided the carriage off the main road onto the dirt lane leading into Cobourg’s outlying farm territory. The faint scent of manure, combined with fresh cut hay, floated on the breeze.
Nothing could dampen his good spirits today. He was legally, physically, and spiritually wed to the woman he loved. A woman who quickened his pulse with only a glance. He turned to find her watching him and winked, causing a blush to pink her cheeks. Was she thinking of their passionate interlude at the Swann Inn? Much to his delight, Hannah’s fear from their wedding night had vanished completely and last night, she seemed to enjoy their time together as much as he.
Heat crawled up his neck at the memory. He took out a handkerchief and mopped the beads of sweat from his brow.
As the road became less even, he slowed the horses’ gait. In the distance, two distinct farmhouses stood out. He nodded toward the horizon. “Is one of those farms your mother’s?”
Hannah’s slight form stiffened beside him. “No. It’s the next one, over that ridge.” Her mouth tightened, and little lines of worry creased her forehead.
If only her mother didn’t upset her so. Nolan gathered the reins in one hand and reached for her fingers with the other. When he saw the tears on her lashes, he realized the depth of her distress went far beyond what he’d imagined.
He slowed the horses to a halt at the side of the road. “Are you worried about telling your mother we’re married?”
“A little. She always makes me feel that I’m wrong. That I’m not good enough, not important enough.”
The sorrow in her voice tore at Nolan. He gathered her to him in a fierce grip. “Well, you are the most important person in the world to me. You are kind, loyal, and honest.” He kissed the top of her head, vowing never to let anyone hurt Hannah again now that he was her husband.
She turned her face to give him a watery smile. “I thank God every day for you, Nolan, because when I lost my family, God gave me you.” With a small sigh, she brushed her lips to his.
His heart swelled with love and the desire to protect her. Never again would Hannah feel abandoned or unloved. He would make sure of it.
Twenty minutes later, they crested a hill, and a colorful patchwork of farmland spread out before them. Hannah pointed to a barn in the distance. “That’s the one.”
He clucked to the horses, and they forged ahead. The closer they got to the farm, the more Nolan’s skin prickled. Would Hannah’s family be happy about their union or upset? Would they agree to let Molly come with them, or would Nolan have to use all his powers of persuasion to convince them?
Hannah, too, was tense and withdrawn as the carriage swung onto the Fielding property. A large cloud now obscured the sun that had beat down on them the whole morning, throwing shadows over the road ahead. A small wooden farmhouse appeared to their right, while the dirt lane veered to the left toward the barn. Nolan guided the horses there, hoping to get some hay and fresh water for the overheated steeds.
As they rounded the side of the barn, shock froze Nolan’s hands on the reins. His insides hardened to stone, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
Hannah gasped and clutched his arm.
In the shade of the Fielding barn sat the Earl of Stainsby’s personal carriage.
Chapter
12
Hannah’s hand, encased tightly within Nolan’s, trembled like leaves caught in a gust of wind. Her first instinct had been to flee. Get back in the carriage and keep on going—anywhere but into that house to face the earl and her mother.
But Nolan’s good sense had prevailed. They had to face his father sometime, he’d reasoned. It had just happened a little sooner than expected.
Hannah willed her legs to move up the few rickety steps to the farmhouse door. Nolan’s fierce scowl did little to ease her anxiety. What would he say to the earl? She prayed he would keep his temper in check.
Lord, give me the strength to get through this. And help Nolan to stay calm.
Her mother answered on their first knock. Hannah’s heart rate sprinted at the sight of the woman she both loved and resented. Her mother had aged over the years, her brown hair now streaked with gray. An array of fine wrinkles wreathed the skin around her tired eyes, and a plain dress hung loosely on her thin frame. She must be working herself to the bone to keep up with the house and the children.
“Hello, Hannah. We’ve been expecting you.”
No smile of welcome, no embrace for a daughter dearly missed. Only lines of wor
ry hugging her mouth, and nervous energy that came off her in waves as she peered out over their shoulders to the fields beyond—no doubt making sure her husband was not in the vicinity.
Hannah stepped inside the door, which opened into the kitchen. The lingering scent of the morning’s bread hung in the air. Hannah gave her mother a brief nod. “Hello, Mum.” She turned, almost colliding with Nolan behind her. “This is . . . this is Nolan Price.” She threw him an apologetic glance, not sure if she should reveal their marriage now that the earl was here.
Nolan stepped forward. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fielding.”
Her mother shook Nolan’s hand and motioned them to come farther inside. She leaned closer to Hannah, gripping her arm. “Maybe one of you would care to explain why there is an earl in my sitting room? Lord Stainsby arrived an hour ago and told me you would be coming.” Her tone held a hint of accusation, as though Hannah had forced him here.
She flinched from the iron grip of her mother’s fingers. “It’s a long story.” She turned miserable eyes to Nolan who stood rigid beside her, his jaw clenched.
“You two had better come with me.” Her mother turned on her heel and disappeared down a hallway.
Hannah stared after her. The heat from Nolan’s hand at the small of her back cued her frozen feet to move.
“It’s all right, Hannah.” Nolan’s warm breath stirred the tendrils of hair at her temple. “He can rant and rave, but he can’t change the fact that we are legally married.”
She nodded, wanting to believe those comforting words, yet a deep, cold part of her worried that his father would find some way to tear them apart.
The earl unfolded his tall frame from the chair by the hearth and rose to his full height, eclipsing Ann Fielding, who stood beside the faded sofa.
Keeping Hannah to his side, Nolan stopped in the middle of the room, feet wide, prepared to do battle with his father. Nolan held his head high—no servant’s submission would he show. He was a married man now, protecting his wife. “What are you doing here, sir? Why are you imposing on Hannah’s family in this manner?”
“Mr. Price. Miss Burnham.” The earl gave a slight bow. “So nice you could join us.” Though his features remained neutral, his tone oozed with subtle intimidation.
“My lord.” Hannah dropped a curtsy, then straightened. She kept her head bent, gaze fused to the braided rug at their feet.
Nolan clamped his back teeth together, his jaw muscle tightening. How dare he make Hannah feel inferior in her mother’s home? “You haven’t answered my question,” he said.
“I have been enjoying Mrs. Fielding’s company. I also had the opportunity to meet her younger daughter, Molly. Such a pretty child.” The earl lingered on the last word, his eyes narrowed on Hannah. “It seems congratulations are in order on Molly’s upcoming nuptials.”
Under Nolan’s arm, Hannah’s frame stiffened.
A flicker of awareness flashed in Edward’s eyes, almost as if he’d been baiting Hannah on purpose in order to gauge her reaction.
Nolan had no idea what game the earl was playing, but he wouldn’t allow his bride to become a pawn. “Hannah, would you and your mother excuse us, please? I’d like to speak to Lord Stainsby in private.”
Mrs. Fielding looked to the earl as though seeking permission, and Hannah threw Nolan a desperate look.
Despite Edward’s glare, Nolan placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It will be fine. Go and visit with your mother and sister.”
She bit her lip and nodded, then dropped another slight curtsy before following her mother out of the room.
The moment the women left, all false niceties fell away.
“By all that is holy, tell me you have not gone and married that chit.” Edward’s eyes glittered as hard and cold as the glass bowl in the center of the gateleg table.
Nolan held his fists at his sides to avoid the temptation of using them. “You, sir, will speak of my wife with respect.”
“So, my suspicions are correct.” The quiet words packed more punch than a bellow.
Nolan held his stance, refusing to be intimidated. “Yes, we are married—legally and before God.”
Edward paced in front of the hearth. “No matter. Your mistake can still be undone.”
“No, it cannot.” With supreme effort, Nolan kept his temper in check. “We are united in all the ways that will matter to a judge.”
The earl stopped and seared Nolan with a hard look. “Do not presume that I am without the means or the influence to fix this. I have the power to pull whatever strings necessary to dissolve this union.”
The threat hung in the air between them.
Nolan’s last thread of hope that he would be able to foster a real relationship with his father unraveled faster than the ball of yarn in Mrs. Fielding’s knitting basket. All his life, Nolan had dreamed about having a father to look up to, to be proud of. Now it seemed he’d been better off not knowing his father at all.
Nolan took a measured step forward. “Do not presume,” he said, his tone just as threatening, “that I value your paternity, your position, or your wealth above the love of my wife.” He spoke with a calm that belied his inner rage. “Because if you force me to choose, I will take Hannah and leave Stainsby—for good.”
“What manner of trouble have you gotten into now?” Hannah’s mother lifted a shaky hand to peer through the curtain at the kitchen window. She looked left and right, then let the lacey panel fall back into place. When she turned, her mouth was pressed into a grim line.
Hannah stood in the center of the room, fingers clasped together in an effort to calm her wayward nerves. “I’m sorry, Mum. I had no idea the earl would come after us here.”
“What have you done to make him chase you? Stolen his property?” She jabbed a finger toward the door. “That buggy out there belongs to him, does it not?”
Hannah couldn’t quite meet her mother’s glare. “Nolan borrowed it . . . for our wedding trip.”
“Wedding?” The high color in her mother’s cheeks faded to gray. She clutched the kitchen table and lowered herself onto a chair. “Don’t tell me you married that boy.”
Hannah fingered the metal wedding band, trying to let the sting of disapproval roll off her. She would not let her mother make her feel like she’d done something wrong, not about this. She lifted her chin. “Yes. Two days ago at the church in Stainsby,” she said quietly. “I love Nolan very much.”
“Fat lot of good love does you.” Her mother scowled.
Hannah winced. Was she thinking of Hannah’s dear father? How he’d promised to provide for her, but died unexpectedly, leaving them with nothing?
“That still doesn’t explain why an earl would bother chasing after two of his servants. If he didn’t approve of the marriage, he’d simply sack you when you returned.” Her hard eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Hannah shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “It turns out Nolan is the earl’s son. His mother revealed the news on her deathbed not long ago.”
Understanding dawned. “And Lord Stainsby is none too happy that his son ran off with a maid.” She heaved a great sigh and pushed up from the table. “Well, this is a fine mess you’ve made of your life.”
Hannah winced. Whatever happened to the mother she used to know, the one who used to laugh and bake cookies with them, the one who wanted the best for her daughters? “You were happy once, weren’t you, Mum?” she asked softly. “When Papa was alive, and we were all living at the rectory?”
“Aye, once.” Her mother pinched her lips together as though trying to keep any emotion from leaking out. “But that was long ago, and there’s no use living in the past.” She darted a glance at the door. “I’ll ask that you be gone before Mr. Fielding returns for his dinner. We don’t need to upset him with all this.” She reached for a basket on a shelf above the sink. “I have beans to pick for our midday meal.”
“Can’t you be happy for me, Mum? At least a littl
e?” Hannah hated the pleading note in her voice and swallowed hard to dislodge the tears threatening to surface.
Her mother stilled, a flash of pain crossing her features. “I hope your marriage is everything you want it to be, daughter,” she said. “But from experience, I doubt very much that it will. I’ll send Molly in to see you.” With a swirl of cotton, she left the house.
Hannah sank onto one of the hard kitchen chairs, grateful for a moment to compose herself, free of the tension that had suffocated the room. For an instant, Hannah had hoped her mother might soften, but bitterness had reared its head once again. After the death of Hannah’s father, followed closely by the loss of Hannah’s younger brother, Mum had become a hard, broken woman with little joy in her life. The thought saddened Hannah almost as much as the idea of Molly living in such an atmosphere.
The sound of footsteps pounding up the rickety stairs made Hannah jolt from her seat.
“Hannah, you’re here!”
The kitchen door slammed, and a slim girl hurtled herself into Hannah’s arms, almost knocking her over with her zeal. Molly’s greeting brought warmth to Hannah’s chest, easing the pain of her mother’s indifference. She returned her hug, lingering longer than necessary, then held her sister at arm’s length to study her. “Molly, is that really you?”
Long golden hair hung over her shoulder in a thick plait. The girl was almost as tall as Hannah, and her face had lost its baby roundness. Only her vivid blue eyes remained unchanged.
Hannah swallowed her regret at how much she’d missed of her sister’s life. “My goodness, you’ve grown into a fine young woman.”
“And you look like a grand lady.” Molly smiled, transforming her youthful face into that of a beautiful girl on the brink of womanhood.
“Apparently you haven’t seen too many ladies. I assure you, they are much grander than I.” For the moment, Hannah forgot her troubles and laughed with her sister. Molly’s arrival proved a welcome distraction from what might be happening between Nolan and his father in the other room. “Come and sit down.”
A Most Noble Heir Page 10