A Most Noble Heir

by Susan Anne Mason

  He stopped in front of a narrow window and laid his forehead against the cool glass. For a brief moment, the chill soothed his head as well as his battered soul.

  Lord, I know I don’t deserve your favor, but Hannah’s done nothing to deserve this violence. Please protect her and the child she may be carrying.

  Nolan smashed his fist against the wall, welcoming the searing jolt of pain that radiated through him. How had this happened? He was her husband. He should have been there to protect her.

  Nolan moved away from the window, rubbing his raw knuckles from the blows he’d given Bellows. One thing was certain. Timothy Bellows would never bother her or any other innocent girl again. The authorities had arrived to take him away in shackles to the Derby jail. If Bellows did get out, he’d find himself without a job and without references to find another. For the first time since learning of his paternity, Nolan found it advantageous to wield the power of an earl’s son.

  Down the hall, a door opened. Nolan strode over just as Dr. Hutton exited the room.

  “How is my wife? Will she be all right?”

  The doctor closed the door with a soft click and raised worried eyes to Nolan. “I hope so.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your wife has sustained a rather serious head injury. I’ve stitched the gash, but she will have a severe headache for several days as a result of the concussion. Of course she’ll have bruising, as well as aches and pains from the impact of the fall.” He shifted his black leather bag from one hand to the other.

  “There’s another issue to consider,” Nolan said in a low voice. “It’s possible my wife is with child.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, the duchess informed of this likelihood, and I concur. I believe your wife is in the very early stages. That’s why it’s too soon to tell what effect this incident has had. Mrs. Price is still unconscious. She should remain in bed for at least a week until we see if the pregnancy remains viable.” He shook his head. “Only time will tell, I’m afraid.”

  The way the man’s shoulders slumped, it didn’t seem he held much hope.

  An image of Hannah holding their child flashed through Nolan’s mind, followed by a brief pang of sorrow, which he pushed away. There could always be more children. They had the rest of their lives for that. “As long as Hannah recovers, that’s all that matters.”

  “Yes, well, keep a watch on her overnight. Unless her condition worsens, I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her. Good day, sir.”

  “Good day and thank you, Doctor.” He shook the man’s hand and waited until he had started to descend the stairs before turning back to his suite.

  “Nolan.” Edward moved out of the shadows. “I’d like a word with you, please.”

  Tension stiffened Nolan’s shoulders. He did not need his father’s interference right now. “I don’t believe we have anything to say to each other.”

  “On the contrary. We have a great deal to say, especially if I heard the doctor correctly. Did he say that Hannah is expecting a child?”

  Nolan clenched his teeth together. The earl was the last person he wanted privy to this news. “That is a private matter between Hannah and myself.”

  Edward’s eyes hardened. “That child is my flesh and blood as well as yours. If it’s a boy, he’ll be the second heir of Stainsby. Will you deny your son the heritage he deserves?”

  “We don’t even know if the child will survive.” Nolan fought for composure. “Because of Hannah’s injuries, we must stay here until she recovers. After that, I’m not promising anything. And I’m still waiting for those papers rescinding the annulment.”

  Edward relaxed his stance and stepped back, an unreadable expression on his face. “Give Hannah my best. I am truly sorry about this unfortunate occurrence. Be assured I will see Bellows gets the justice he deserves.”

  Nolan inclined his head stiffly, then left the earl standing in the hall alone.

  Hannah fought to open her eyes, but her lids felt as though they were weighed down with stones. Every movement sent stabbing pains shooting through her skull. She groaned and reached for her head.

  “Hannah, sweetheart, lie still. You’ve had a fall.” Nolan’s gentle voice met her ears through the haze of pain.

  Her whole body ached as though she’d been kicked repeatedly by a horse. Warm fingers removed her hands from her head and laid them atop the coverlet. A moment later, a cooling sensation met her hot forehead. Someone was bathing her face with a wet cloth. She managed to open one eye. Her husband’s anxious face hovered over her.

  “Nolan. What happened?” she whispered.

  “You fell and hit your head. The doctor says you’ll have a headache for a few days, but you should make a full recovery.”

  She struggled to make sense of the flashes of memory that swirled through her mind. There was something important she needed to remember. Her muscles tensed as it came flooding back. Timothy Bellows with her sister in the dining room.

  “How is Molly?” She shifted and tried to sit up, only to fall back on the pillow with a cry of pain.

  “Hannah, you must lie still. Molly is fine, other than being worried about you.”

  “Thank goodness.” She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

  Nolan placed the cool cloth on her forehead. Stillness fell over the room. Hannah concentrated on keeping her breathing shallow so as not to aggravate the pain.

  “Why did you not tell me?” Nolan’s quiet voice broke the silence at last.

  For a moment, she thought she’d dreamt the question. But when she opened her eyes, the wounded look on Nolan’s haggard face speared her with guilt. How could she have forgotten the pregnancy?

  “Is the baby all right?”

  When he didn’t answer right away, panic filled her lungs. She hadn’t even had time to get used to the idea of becoming a mother, yet a wave of grief hit her hard.

  “For now everything seems fine. But the doctor wants you to remain in bed for at least a week, so as not to jeopardize the child further.”

  Thank you, Lord. She bit her bottom lip to contain the threat of tears.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Nolan asked again.

  Hannah’s heart ached at the hurt in his tone. She’d ruined what should have been a beautiful moment between them. Her gaze slid past his face to the dark blue drapery surrounding the bed. “I wanted to be sure before I said anything.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  As hard as it was to admit, he deserved her honesty. She licked her dry lips. “I needed to be certain you wanted me for me . . . not just to give your father another heir.”

  Nolan jerked back as though she’d struck him. “Why would you think that?”

  Did he not realize how it seemed to her? That he’d been doing everything he could to please his father? So much so that she no longer trusted her place in his life. Yet his injured expression tore strips off her heart.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she said. “Everything has been changing so fast. I’m so confused.” Her excuse sounded lame even to her own ears. But now that everything was out in the open, there was no room for secrets between them. “I promise to make it up to you. To be a better wife once I’m recovered.”

  He raised her fingers to his lips with a sad smile. “And I promise to be a better husband.” With a gentle touch, he smoothed back her hair. “You need to rest now. I’ll have your aunt come and sit with you.”

  Why did it feel as though she were losing him, inch by inch? “When will you be back?”

  “Later. Don’t worry. You won’t be alone.” His eyes appeared haunted as he bent to kiss her cheek.

  When the sound of his retreating boots met her ears, a sick sense of foreboding rose inside her, along with a wave of sorrow and loss that would not leave.

  Would she ever feel secure in their marriage, or was their union doomed to fail?

  Chapter

  23

  Nolan slipped into the stables through the
back door and lit a lantern. He stood still for a moment, inhaling the scent of hay, horses, and manure, and at last some of the tension eased from his shoulders. Right now, he needed these familiar smells and sounds to ground him. To remind him of his roots and the truly important things in life.

  Never had he felt so lost, so unsure of himself.

  Life had been simple here in the stable. Growing up at Stainsby, even as a servant, he’d always had his rightful place in the world. He had his skill with the horses, the devoted love of his mother, and the faith she had passed on to him as a boy. The one thing he’d lacked was a father to look up to, though Bert had proven a wonderful surrogate. Then, by losing his beloved mother, he’d gained an enigma for a father, a man he might never come to understand.

  His dream of one day marrying Hannah had come to pass, but not in the manner he’d envisioned. Now a child might be on the way, a circumstance he was in no way prepared for. How could he be a role model for a son or daughter when his sense of self had shifted so dramatically that he could no longer find his footing?

  As though sensing Nolan’s unease, King gave a loud whinny from down the corridor. Nolan smiled and made his way to the stall, where he greeted the eager animal. He stroked the long snout, then leaned his forehead against his sleek coat, while King nibbled the collar of his shirt. He pulled a piece of carrot from his pocket and held it up for the horse to take.

  “If it weren’t so dark, I’d take you for a long ride, my friend. Shake the cobwebs from my brain.”

  “And what cobwebs would they be?” Bert appeared out of the shadows.

  Nolan started. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Just making sure the new lad’s finished his job for the night. A shame he’s got such big shoes to fill.”

  Nolan tried to smile, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  Bert set down the metal bucket in his hand and stepped into the glow of the lamp. “A better question would be, what are you doing here at this hour? What with a new wife waiting in your bed?” He winked and gave a jovial chuckle.

  Nolan’s jaw cinched into a hard line, remembering with sudden clarity the sweet playfulness he’d shared with Hannah earlier in the day, and the bruised, broken girl lying in their bed now.

  Bert studied him. “You look like a man with a lot on his mind. Let’s sit down a spell, and you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

  The stout man pulled over two bales of hay and motioned Nolan to sit. He lowered himself onto the prickly seat and hung his hands between his knees, head bowed. “I’ve made a mess of things, Bert. And I have no idea how to fix it.”

  “Is this about the ruckus with young Bellows? Word has it you pummeled him pretty hard.”

  “Not hard enough, to my mind.” Nolan absently rubbed the raw spots on his knuckles. “Not after what he did to Hannah.”

  “Is she all right?” Bert’s thick brows pulled down over concerned eyes.

  “Not really.” Nolan dragged a hand over his jaw. “She has a gash on her head and enough bruises to rival a prizefighter. But the worst part is she may lose our child—a child I knew nothing about.” An ache spread through his chest, radiating outward like ripples through a pond. He still couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t told him. Didn’t a husband and wife share everything?

  “She’s with child already? Is that why she ran off to parts unknown?”

  Nolan silently cursed the servant gossip mill. Nothing was private in a community like Stainsby Hall. He shook his head. “No. She got upset after seeing me all dressed up like a dandy at that daft ball, surrounded by a bunch of simpering females.” He plowed his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration. “And she overheard the earl saying I’d signed annulment papers. You can imagine what she thought.”

  “Aye. She’s probably wondering how much you value this marriage.”

  Bert’s underlying hint of accusation pricked at Nolan’s pride worse than the pieces of hay at his backside.

  “Not you too. I thought at least you’d be on my side.”

  “I’m always on your side, lad. But it doesn’t make me blind to what’s happening. You’re bending over backward to please your father, not considering your wife and how she must be feeling.”

  Outrage propelled Nolan to his feet. “What about how I’m feeling? I’m the one whose life has turned upside down. Like I’ve been tossed into the ocean headfirst and can’t find a way to right myself.” He stalked down the corridor, dust flying up from his boots.

  Bert followed, catching him at the door to Nolan’s old quarters. His large hand came down on Nolan’s shoulder. “I know this is difficult, lad. But instead of worrying so much about the earl, why not look to your heavenly Father for guidance? Trust Him to show you the way to make this right—for everyone involved.” He gave him a squeeze. “I’ll be praying for Hannah and the babe. You know where to find me if you need me.”

  Edward slumped in the hard wingback chair in his study, a tumbler of brandy dangling from his fingers. The loud tick of the mantel clock taunted him, reminding him of the lateness of the hour and that he was likely the sole person awake in the household. After the day’s unsettling events, Edward knew it was pointless to even try to go to bed, since sleep would surely elude him. The only escape from the darkness invading his soul would be found in a bottle of brandy, the last dregs of which now swirled in his glass. It didn’t matter that come the morrow, he wouldn’t be fit for human company. What reason did he have to get up anyway?

  He’d made a fine muddle of things with Nolan. His only son hated him and would most likely deprive him of knowing his first grandchild. If the babe even survived.

  Edward closed his eyes, his lungs deflating with a weighty sigh. From the moment he’d learned Nolan was his son, he’d handled things badly. He’d presumed he could manipulate Nolan into doing things his way, never taking into account his son’s dreams and goals.

  Now Edward could see that he’d been playing too high-handed with Nolan, imposing his will on the lad. Taking away the farm his son wanted. Tricking him into signing papers that would end his marriage. Forcing Nolan into a maze with only one way out—Edward’s way.

  And now his tactics had backfired. Nolan’s wife was expecting a child, Edward’s grandchild and another possible heir. In all likelihood, if Mr. Grayson had followed Edward’s orders, Nolan’s marriage had been nullified, effectively rendering the child illegitimate.

  Edward had to believe the situation could be undone. He would contact his solicitor and have him do whatever necessary to reinstate the marriage. Correction—he would wait and see if the pregnancy remained viable, and then he would have Mr. Grayson take action.

  Maybe then Nolan would forgive him. Maybe then his son would come to regard him with something less than disdain.

  The clock chimed loudly three times, breaking the utter stillness of the house. Edward raised the tumbler to his lips and drained it. Time for a refill. His legs, however, refused to cooperate with his brain. They remained sprawled out in front of him like useless logs. The empty glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the carpet with a soft thud.

  “Do you always throw your tableware on the ground when you’re finished?”

  Edward jumped at the sound, knocking the table to his right. Slim fingers grasped the empty brandy bottle before it too could crash to the floor. Lady Hartford righted the container and regarded him with an amused expression.

  “What the deuce are you doing—skulking around in the middle of the night?” With a mighty effort, he pulled his frame upright in the chair and turned to glare at her.

  “I’d thank you to watch your language, sir. And I have never skulked anywhere.” She moved around to stand between him and the fire. “Nolan relieved me from watching over Hannah, and I had to take Daisy outside. I’m afraid that with all the commotion today, I’ve neglected the poor creature. Once I got her settled, I found myself unable to sleep and came down for some warm milk.”

  Why coul
dn’t the woman answer in two words or less? And how did someone look so appealing at this ungodly hour, dressed in a simple skirt with a well-worn shawl thrown over her shoulders? Her slightly disheveled chestnut hair framed her face with wispy pieces that had escaped her topknot. A soft pink color infused her cheeks and lips, hinting at the recent exertion of climbing the stairs.

  She stared at him, her head cocked to one side, as though trying to decipher a puzzle. “I see you have chosen a different method to induce sleep.”

  “What I drink is my business.” He scowled at her. “If you care to make yourself useful, you’ll find me another bottle. I would get up, but my legs don’t seem to be operating as they should.”

  “By all means.” She crossed the room, and with a graceful tug, pulled the bell to summon the servant.

  His mouth dropped open, astonished that she would comply so readily with his demand.

  Several minutes later, the butler appeared in the doorway, looking rumpled from sleep. “You rang, sir?”

  Lady Hartford moved toward the door. “Actually I rang, Mr. Dobson. I’m so sorry to bother the staff at this late hour, but the earl is in need of a pot of coffee, and I would adore some warm milk with a touch of nutmeg.”

  Dobson frowned and glanced over at Edward, as if seeking confirmation of this request.

  “What I am in need of is another bottle of brandy.” He hoped his words hadn’t sounded as weak to the butler as they did to his own ears.

  Shaking her head, the duchess laid a hand on Dobson’s sleeve, and spoke in tones too low to overhear. “Thank you so much, Mr. Dobson.”

  “Very good, ma’am.”

  The infernal woman glided back and took a seat in the chair beside him, folding her hands gracefully in her lap. What did she think she was doing? He was not about to drink coffee, nor was he in the mood to chat. He sank lower in his chair and stared into the fire, ignoring her.

  She moved not an inch until a maid appeared with the silver coffee service and a mug of milk.

  The duchess smiled. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”