“What if your father finds out?” She wrung her hands together, still standing in the hallway. Nothing was more fearsome to the Stainsby staff than the master’s roar.
Nolan marched through the opening. “He will find out, because I plan to tell him as soon as I see him. You are my wife, and it’s time we started acting like we’re married.”
Before she could discern his intention, he swung her up against his chest. His heart thudded under her hand, and the hard muscles there sent a thrill through her.
“I have been remiss in my responsibilities, it seems, Mrs. Price. Since this will be our quarters from now on, it is my duty to carry you inside.”
With a flourish, he leapt across the threshold and kicked the door closed behind him. He whirled her into his bedroom and dropped her on the bed, among her belongings. While she laughed and caught her breath, he swept her bags onto the floor, a wide smile creasing his face. She hadn’t seen him this lighthearted in weeks. Not since the few stolen days of their honeymoon.
“I think it’s high time we christen this bed, wife.” He grinned and pounced on her like a mischievous feline.
Her mouth dropped open. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. Let me up right this minute.”
Instead of obeying, he plied her neck with kisses. She writhed under him, trying to get away, until he raised himself on one elbow, and smiled down into her heated face.
“Nolan, stop. We can’t do this now.” Her voice was breathless. Why couldn’t she sound more forceful?
He twirled a strand of her hair around one finger, a rakish look on his face. “Why not? Despite what you may have overheard about annulment papers, I choose to believe we are married. And other than our brief honeymoon, we have not gotten to enjoy this aspect of our union.”
“But what will the staff think? What will my aunt think?”
“They’ll think we’re tired from the trip and that we’re taking a nap.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he took advantage of the opportunity, effectively halting any objection. His kisses were like a drug to her system, dulling her senses. How she’d missed him—the warmth of his arms, the taste of his lips. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with an intensity that astounded her.
Just when she thought she would swoon from lack of air, a thread of reason swam through her dazed brain. “Wait.” She planted her palms on his chest, pushing him back.
“What is it?” His ragged breath stirred her hair.
How did she begin to voice the doubts and fears that had plagued her these past weeks? Fears that evaporated when he kissed her, but that reared their ugly heads again the moment she was alone. She pushed those thoughts aside and instead asked her most pressing concern. “What if your father has already annulled our marriage? Our love would be a sin.”
“Never.” The fierceness of his tone matched the fervor of the passion that blazed on his face. “Our love could never be a sin. We’ve made our vows before God. Filing a piece of paper doesn’t change that.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. “If we have to, we’ll restate our vows in front of a magistrate. Whatever it takes to bind us together for life.”
Oh, how she wished she could believe that the vehemence of his words would make everything turn out the way they wanted. “I’m so confused,” she whispered.
“Trust me and trust your feelings. Let everything else go. Our love is all that matters.”
His lips found hers once more, this time gentle and intoxicating. As he kissed her again and again, her concerns melted away, until a sharp rapping broke through the haze surrounding them.
“Wait here,” Nolan said with a frown. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” He rose, adjusted his clothing and strode to the door. “What is it?”
Mr. Dobson’s high voice rang out from the hall. “Lord Stainsby wishes to see you right away in his study, sir.”
Ten minutes later, Nolan paused outside the door to Edward’s study and attempted to tamp down his frustration at being summoned like a wayward schoolboy. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts before he confronted his father. If he didn’t, he might do something he’d regret—like flail the man. He deserved as much after his treachery.
On a deep inhale, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again. After several seconds, he turned the handle and let himself in. Other than the remains of a fire in the grate, the room showed no sign of life.
Of all the nerve. Edward had interrupted his reunion with Hannah, and then hadn’t bothered to be here when Nolan answered his order.
He returned to the corridor, about to head back upstairs to Hannah, when a female laugh caught his attention. But it was the distinctive male rumble that followed that brought Nolan up short. He’d wanted to be the one to introduce his father to Lady Hartford, but apparently Edward had bumped into her on his own.
Nolan gave a deep sigh and turned toward the parlor. Time with his wife would have to wait.
Edward’s voice drifted from the open door. “Enough talk about Stainsby Hall. You must tell me how such a young woman as yourself became a duchess.” His father sounded almost . . . flirtatious.
Nolan clenched his fists at his side and pushed into the room. “I would love to hear this story as well,” he said with forced cheerfulness.
Edward practically jumped off the sofa where he’d been seated beside Lady Hartford. The look of guilt on his face gave Nolan a brief moment of satisfaction, but he kept his features schooled.
“What are you doing sneaking about like that?” Edward scowled at him.
“I was looking for you since you summoned me to your study. Remember?”
A tint of red slashed the earl’s cheekbones. “That was before I realized we had a guest. How could you be so remiss as to leave the duchess alone like that?”
The lady in question rose and placed a hand on Edward’s sleeve. “You mustn’t berate the boy. I insisted he take Hannah upstairs to rest after the journey.”
Nolan cringed at his father’s glare. He’d wanted to be the one to inform his father that Hannah and he would now be living together in his suite.
Lady Hartford gestured toward the table in front of the sofa. “Nolan made sure Daisy and I were comfortable and had refreshments.”
Edward inclined his head. “Well, that is something at least.”
“Please join us, Nolan. I do so want to get to know you both better now that we’re all related through marriage.”
Edward’s features returned to their usual polite mask—the one Nolan had come to know so well after weeks of instruction on how to achieve the same look. Edward gave the duchess a stiff bow. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I need to speak to my son. A conversation long overdue.”
“I agree.” Nolan met his stare, granite on granite. “Excuse us, please. We’ll have to get to better acquainted another time.”
She nodded. “Of course. I look forward to it.”
Nolan strode out the door and across the corridor to reenter his father’s study.
The earl followed right on his heels. Edward slammed the door closed, marched to his desk, and slapped his palms down on the hard, polished wood. “In future, you will show me more respect, especially in front of such distinguished company. Not only am I your father, I am the Earl of Stainsby.”
Too angry to sit, Nolan paced the rug in front of the fire. “I am quite aware of who you are. And, frankly, neither title impresses me.”
They locked eyes. A toxic mix of emotions swirled in the air between them.
Edward broke the silence. “Do you know how humiliating it was to hear from a servant that my son had gone on a wild goose chase after a kitchen maid? From now on, you will do me the courtesy of informing me of your travel plans.”
Nolan strode forward to face the earl on the opposite side of the desk, keeping the solid barrier between them so he wouldn’t be tempted to physically lash out at his own father. “I think it’s time we get a few things straight. Hannah is now, and always
will be, my wife. I have met the conditions of our agreement, which is now fulfilled. I will not be the bait on your fish hook to lure some wealthy debutante for whatever despicable purposes you have in mind.”
Blotches of red mottled the earl’s chiseled features.
Nolan lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. “Now I demand the truth from you. Those papers I signed the day of the ball—what exactly were they?”
Edward’s gaze slid to the left. “You know very well what they were.”
“I thought I did.” He leaned farther over the desk, his breathing uneven. “But that night, Hannah overheard you telling someone that I had signed annulment papers. That’s why she ran off.” The horror of what Hannah must have felt at the time hit Nolan anew. “Is this true? Was there some clause buried in that paperwork?”
Edward raised his head, his eyes two blue slits in his face. “Yes,” he spat out. “The document contained an annulment clause.”
The truth slammed into Nolan like a fist to the gut. His own father had tricked him. Pretended to want a relationship with him, then lied and manipulated him without an ounce of remorse.
Nolan clenched his molars together to keep from yelling the obscenities that hovered on his tongue and swallowed hard to dislodge the ball of disgust from his throat. “You, sir, are an unfeeling, dishonorable shell of a man.” He barked out a harsh laugh. “To think I pined for a father all my life. Now I thank God my mother saw fit to keep me from you. I’d rather have been raised without a father than turn out like you.” He leveled a vicious glare at the man. “You will have this annulment rescinded immediately. If I do not see proof in the very near future, Hannah and I will leave Stainsby—and we won’t be back.”
Edward jerked upright. “You’re asking the impossible. I doubt Mr. Grayson will be able—”
“I’m sure with your talents you’ll find a way to make it happen.”
Nolan held his gaze a moment longer, gaining immense satisfaction from the stunned look on the earl’s face, then turned and strode from the room.
Chapter
21
Two days later, Hannah tidied her belongings in the large suite she now shared with her husband, still amazed at the size of the space. Their quarters made her former room upstairs look like a closet.
When she was finished, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror above Nolan’s washstand. Her cheeks, still flushed from an afternoon encounter with her husband, glowed with a health that belied her constant nausea. Several strands of hair had come loose from her bun. She quickly re-pinned the pieces and walked out to the sitting area.
Nolan had gone out to the stables to check on his horse, and Hannah now found herself at a loss, adrift in unfamiliar waters. By all rights, she should be down in the kitchen helping Edna prepare the evening meal. But Nolan insisted that from now on she was to act as his wife, not one of the estate maids. And to do so, he thought it better that she avoid the servants’ area belowstairs. How did she make this transition? What did one do with one’s time if not working?
Hannah’s thoughts turned to Molly. Though Aunt Iris had objected, Hannah thought it best that Molly return to her position in the scullery for now. Until matters got sorted out, it would give the girl something to focus on. And in case things didn’t work out, there was no point in letting her get accustomed to living in luxury.
After stoking the fire in the hearth, Hannah made a quick decision to slip down to the kitchen before Nolan got back. She would check on her sister and Edna, then make sure Aunt Iris was faring well. She hoped her aunt was resting in the guest room, well out of the earl’s way. Though his lordship’s initial resentment at finding an uninvited duchess in his home had given way to polite tolerance, Hannah didn’t trust him to remain cordial.
As she descended the stairs, Hannah recalled the way she’d left Stainsby Hall in such a panic, and a wave of remorse hit her. She’d surely worried poor Edna to death, springing her secret marriage on her in a fit of tears and quitting her post in one fell swoop. She owed the dear woman a well-overdue explanation and an apology. Edna would want assurance that she’d returned of her own accord.
The kitchen bustled with activity when Hannah arrived. Steam rose above the pans on the stove. The aroma of freshly baked rolls teased her nose, and despite her unsettled stomach, she found herself hungry for the first time in days.
Edna stood in the midst of the mayhem, cap askew, shouting orders at the other maids. Upon spying Hannah, she threw up her arms and rushed to embrace her. “Hannah, my girl. I was so happy to see Molly and to hear that you’d decided to return.”
Hannah managed a genuine smile. She’d missed this down-to-earth woman more than she knew. “It’s good to be back, though strange not to be helping you prepare the food. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to come down and see you.”
“Well, you’re a grand lady now. You need to be learning the ways of a future earl’s wife.”
“All in good time.” Hannah scanned the kitchen for her sister. Perhaps she was out in the larder.
“If you’re looking for Molly, I’ve sent her up to the dining room to collect the silver. It needs a good polishing and will keep her busy for the evening. All she can talk about is the Duchess of Hartford and her dog. Head in the clouds, that one.” Edna clucked her tongue. “She must be daydreaming up there. She should’ve been back ages ago.”
Hannah patted the woman’s plump arm. “Never mind. I’ll go see what’s keeping her and send her down straightaway.”
“You’re a good girl. Come back when it’s quiet and have a cup of tea with me.”
“I’d like that.”
Hannah frowned as she made her way upstairs. What was Molly thinking? She should be paying more attention to her post and less time woolgathering. She prayed Molly had not broken any of the heirloom china or crystal. Maybe that’s why she was taking so long to come back, afraid of the consequences.
Hannah quickened her steps until she reached the dining room. As she was about to enter, a deep voice floated out to her, chilling the blood in her veins.
“You are every bit as pretty as your sister, Miss Molly Burnham. How lucky we are to have you to brighten up the scenery.” Timothy Bellows’s chuckle held an ominous quality that made the hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck rise.
She pushed open the door and looked from the dining table to the long sideboard. Timothy had Molly trapped against the cabinet, his lecherous mouth fused to her neck. Struggling against his arms, Molly’s terrified eyes sought Hannah’s.
A rush of intense anger burned through Hannah. “Take your hands off her, you rotter.” She raced across the room and began to batter him with her fists.
She’d put up with the randy footman’s advances for far too long, never wanting to make a fuss or jeopardize her position. But she would let no one harm Molly.
Hannah’s fury climbed as she continued to flail his back. Finally the man’s grip slackened, and Molly managed to break free.
With an angry roar, Timothy whirled around, swinging hard. His elbow connected with Hannah’s head.
She screamed as the force threw her across the room where she landed with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in her skull, then everything went dark.
Nolan left the barn and headed up to the front door of the manor. He was still not completely comfortable using this entrance and half-expected Dobson to reprimand him for not utilizing the rear servants’ door. Strange how one small detail could signify such a huge change in status.
As he entered the main hallway, a terrible scream split the air.
Hannah!
His heart took off at a gallop as he raced down the corridor, trying to determine which direction the cry had come from.
Molly burst out of the dining room, her face wild with fear. “Nolan! Hurry! Hannah’s been injured.”
Nolan barreled through the door, coming upon a scene that chilled his blood. Timothy Bellows knelt over Hannah’s limp form on the floor.
&nbs
p; Murderous rage pounded in Nolan’s ears. He stormed across the room, grabbed Bellows by the back of his shirt, and wrenched him away from Hannah. “What have you done to her?” he shouted.
Bellows stumbled and grasped the edge of the table, glaring at Nolan with undisguised hatred.
Fury pumped through Nolan’s chest. The impediments that had previously held him back from dealing with the reprobate no longer existed. He was the earl’s son, and he would not tolerate anyone threatening Hannah.
“You piece of scum.” He charged, plowing his fist into Bellows’s face, satisfaction soaring at the crunch of his nose.
Bellows roared, ignoring the blood that streamed from his nostrils, and lunged at Nolan. Nolan swung again, this time connecting with Bellows’s jaw. The thug went down hard and lay unmoving on the ground.
Breathing hard, Nolan rushed to Hannah’s side and gently lifted her head onto his lap. A large purple welt had already formed on her face, the only color visible against the deathly pallor of her skin. Blood oozed from a nasty gash over her ear. Desperate, he gripped one of her hands in his. The light fluttering of a pulse barely registered under his fingertips.
“Hannah, love, can you hear me?” He smoothed her matted hair off her forehead. With her lashes lying in wet spikes on her cheek, she looked like a wounded angel.
His chest heaved as he fought for air. Please, God, don’t take her from me now.
The muffled sound of frantic voices came from the hallway, then someone came up beside him.
Lady Hartford’s anxious face bent over him, her skin as pale as chalk as she took in Hannah’s injuries. “You must call a doctor immediately,” she said. “I believe Hannah is carrying your child.”
Chapter
22
Nolan paced the hallway outside his suite and raked a hand through his already mussed hair. Tension banded every muscle in his body, aggravating the headache that throbbed behind his eyes. What was taking the doctor so long?
A Most Noble Heir Page 17