A Most Noble Heir

by Susan Anne Mason

  But Edward’s expression instantly hardened, all softness erased. “I don’t believe in regrets. You will soon learn, as I have, that regrets are nothing but a colossal waste of time.”

  Nostrils flared, he stalked from the room, leaving Nolan as frustrated as ever.

  Two weeks later, Nolan entered the dining room for breakfast, surprised to find his father at the table. Most mornings, Nolan rose far earlier than Edward and finished his meal before his father even arrived downstairs. Used to rising before dawn, Nolan could not seem to adjust to the nobility’s way of sleeping late.

  Edward set down the newspaper. “Nolan, good morning. I was hoping to see you first thing today.”

  “Good morning.” Nolan inclined his head. He made his way to the sideboard where the enticing aroma of eggs, sausage, and bacon drifted up from the silver serving dishes. He chose a plate and began to heap it with food.

  “It’s a beautiful day for late autumn. I thought we’d get a little fresh air and enjoy some hunting. It’s one skill I can teach you fairly easily.”

  Nolan looked at the meat on his plate and fought back a shudder. In the past, he’d often readied the earl’s horses for his hunting excursions, always glad he wasn’t required to participate. “I’m afraid I cannot condone such a barbaric pastime.” He set his dish on the table with a quick glance at his father’s scowling face.

  “All gentlemen partake of the sport.”

  “I’m sorry, but I consider killing animals for pleasure distasteful. Other than hunting for food, I see no point in it.”

  Blotches of red mottled Edward’s cheeks. He opened his mouth, seeming prepared to blast Nolan for his uninformed opinion, but closed it. “Very well. We will give anything we hunt to the cook for our dinner tomorrow. Will that allay your objections?”

  Nolan speared a piece of sausage and gave an inward sigh. Edward seemed to be reaching out in his own way, trying to share one of his pastimes with Nolan. The least he could do was accompany him. “I suppose I can live with that.”

  “Good. Meet me in the stables in one hour.”

  Despite his initial trepidation, Nolan ended up enjoying the time with his father. For once, Edward relaxed and let down his guard. Now, as they made their way back at a leisurely pace with two pheasants tied to the saddle, Edward relayed stories about his childhood, growing up at Stainsby. They had just crested a hill, affording them a splendid view of the estate below, when Edward pulled his horse up short.

  “This view never ceases to inspire me.” He spoke in a reverent whisper. The cool autumn breeze ruffled his hair about his forehead. “This land is your heritage, Nolan. Land is something you can count on. It never changes. No matter the people who might come and go in your life, the land remains constant. Steadfast.”

  Was it the wind or the sentiment that caused the moisture in his father’s eyes?

  Edward spurred his horse down the hill toward the stable. Nolan followed, and when the land leveled out, the horses’ pace slowed. They rode in silence for a few minutes, until Nolan felt the earl’s gaze shift to him.

  “Have you heard from Hannah of late?”

  Edward’s casual question surprised Nolan almost as much as the show of sentiment moments earlier. “I received a letter last week. She appears to be doing well.” He swallowed back the hurt that stabbed through him whenever he thought of his child growing in Hannah’s belly without him there to witness it.

  “And how is Lady Hartford faring?” His father’s tone was almost too casual.

  Nolan frowned and shifted in the saddle to look at Edward. “I thought you couldn’t abide the woman.”

  Edward shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. The duchess does possess some unsettling qualities, with her outspoken tendencies and her opposition to the norms of society, but all in all, I found her rather . . . charming.”

  Charming? Maybe Nolan’s first impression that the earl had been flirting with Lady Hartford had been correct. “From what Hannah writes, her aunt is doing well. They are both busy making things for the babe.”

  The horses slowed as they approached the stables.

  “Speaking of the child, when exactly is the expected date of birth?”

  Nolan’s suspicions mounted. His father had never once asked about Hannah or the baby since the day they left. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

  “This is my first grandchild. Of course I’m interested.”

  Nolan released a breath. “From what I understand, it will be another month or so.”

  “Before Christmas then?”

  “Yes.” The thought of bad weather at that time of year twisted Nolan’s insides. What if he couldn’t get there in time to be with Hannah for the birth?

  “I would like my grandchild to be born at Stainsby, if at all possible. What arrangements have you made with Hannah?”

  Nolan stiffened in the saddle. “We have no arrangements.” That admission gnawed at him as much as the cold wind chafed at his cheeks. He’d hoped for word by now that Hannah was ready to come home. In every letter he wrote, he had to curb the impulse to beg her to return. But some remnant of male pride made him hold back. She was the one who left. It was up to her to determine when her self-imposed exile would end.

  “Then I assume you will travel to Hartford Hall in time for your child’s arrival.”

  “It looks like that will have to be the case.” Nolan scowled as he directed King to the stable doors. He had every intention of being present when his child took its first breath. If he hadn’t received word from Hannah by then, he would turn up at her aunt’s estate—invited or not.

  “I’d like to go with you—if you have no objection.” Edward reined his stallion to a halt and swung a leg over the saddle to dismount.

  A measure of unease surfaced as Nolan jumped down to open the stable door. What nefarious plan was Edward plotting now? “That may not be a good idea. Your presence might upset Hannah.”

  “In that case, I will write to the duchess and see how she feels about the matter. We still have time.” The terse response erased the last few hours of camaraderie, bringing the usual friction back to the surface.

  Edward led his horse into the barn, and Nolan followed with King. The new groom, a young lad named William, scurried to take the reins from his master. Nolan moved past them toward King’s stall.

  “Leave your horse for the boy.” Edward bellowed the order down the corridor. “He can manage both.”

  Nolan shrugged off the irritation that crept up his back and continued down the aisle. “I’ll take care of King.”

  Loud footsteps sounded behind him, and a hard hand clamped down on his shoulder. “You are no longer a servant,” Edward hissed in his ear. “Act like the son of an earl.”

  Nolan turned. “As the earl’s son, I choose to groom the horse myself.”

  They glared at each other, neither willing to back down. Tension swirled in the air along with the dust motes that danced in the streams of light. Nolan clenched his hands into fists, his jaw as hard as the packed floor beneath his boots.

  “Master Nolan, is that you?” The anxious voice of Franny McTeague rang out from the rear of the stable.

  Nolan unclenched his fingers. “Yes, I’m here, Franny.” He looped King’s reins around a post and went to find the woman.

  She stood inside the back entrance, a frantic look on her plump face.

  “What is it? Is there a problem?”

  “It’s Bert. He’s had an accident in the smithy.” Franny pressed a handkerchief to her mouth to contain a sob.

  Alarm shot through Nolan’s system. “What kind of accident?”

  “He fell into the fire pit. His hands—” She could say no more due to the flood of tears that coursed down her cheeks.

  “I’ll be right there.” He turned to Edward. “Send for the doctor. Have him go directly to the McTeagues’ cottage.”

  Edward reached out to grab his arm, his features dark. “It’s not your place to worry abo
ut the staff. When will you understand that?”

  Nolan snatched his arm away. “For the last ten years, Bert McTeague has been the closest thing I’ve had to a father. I will do whatever it takes to ensure he’s all right.”

  With a last glare, Nolan raced out of the barn, offering up desperate prayers for Bert’s safety.

  Edward ignored the tea ready for him in his study and headed straight for the brandy in his desk. Yanking open the bottom drawer, he removed the bottle and a glass. With a muttered oath, he poured a good quantity of liquid into the tumbler and downed it in one straight shot.

  “Why can’t he understand his proper place in this house?” Edward slammed the glass down on the desk and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Every time he made a bit of headway with Nolan, something set it back. His son was more stubborn than the stallion he’d been riding—always wanting to head off in his own direction.

  Despite everything, they had managed to share a few moments of camaraderie today. Recalling the feeling of pride when Nolan had felled his first pheasant brought a smile to Edward’s lips. Too bad such fleeting moments didn’t last. He’d been trying to follow Lady Hartford’s advice to get to know his son. Yet he continued to fail on a daily basis.

  Edward swore and poured another shot of brandy. He had no intention of making the same mistakes with his grandson—for he was certain the child would be a boy. He would get to know the child right from the moment of his birth, and school him in the ways of the aristocracy. The child would grow up revering him, knowing that one day Stainsby Hall would pass to him.

  The study door opened, and Nolan stepped inside, lines creasing his forehead. His blue eyes darted from the bottle on the desk to the tumbler in Edward’s hand, and his scowl deepened.

  “Care to join me?” Edward raised his glass in a mock salute.

  “You know I don’t drink spirits. They dull the mind and the senses.”

  “Exactly the reason I do drink spirits.” He drained the tumbler again.

  “I came to see if you’d sent for the doctor.”

  “One of the servants has gone to fetch him.”

  Nolan dragged the cap off his head and ran the edge around his fingers. “Bert’s hands are badly burned. I did what I could for him, but he’s in terrible pain. He may need a more specialized doctor.”

  Edward’s fingers stilled on the bottle. “I see. And you expect me to pay for a specialist?”

  “Bert has been a blacksmith here for thirty years. I think such loyalty deserves some extra consideration.” Nolan practically snarled.

  Edward bristled at the implication that he was anything less than a stellar employer. He’d always prided himself on the fact that his staff were well cared for. “You act as though I’ve treated him in some remiss fashion. I’ve afforded Mr. McTeague and his wife a nice cottage of their own. He has a piece of land for a garden. Have they not lived comfortably all this time?”

  Nolan’s combative stance did not change. “That is not the point.”

  Edward rose and moved around the desk to close the distance between them. A mixture of anger and despair darkened Nolan’s eyes. He held himself stiffly—as though trying to contain the emotions vibrating within him.

  A brief burst of jealousy flared. Would his son ever feel as strongly about him? Would he one day defend Edward with that same fierce loyalty?

  Edward let out a resigned sigh. Balking Nolan on this point would not earn him any favor in his son’s eyes. “Let’s see what Doctor Hutton advises. If he feels the man needs further care, I will see that he gets it.”

  “Thank you.” Nolan nodded, a half-smile gracing his lips. “I knew that a sense of compassion lurked under that grim exterior.”

  The tense muscles in Edward’s chest began to uncoil. Perhaps his son didn’t see him as such a black-hearted villain after all. Perhaps he was beginning to understand him just a little.

  Nolan took his leave, presumably to go back and wait with the McTeagues.

  Edward capped the brandy and returned it to the drawer, suddenly more interested in sobriety. He needed a clear head to figure out what else he might do to gain—and keep—his son’s admiration.

  Chapter

  27

  “I have splendid news.” Iris bustled into the dining room, a letter in her hand. “Your mother has accepted my latest invitation and is coming for a visit after all. She will arrive within the week.”

  Seated at the long table, Hannah tried not to choke on her morning tea. In no way had she imagined her mother would ever accept any of Aunt Iris’s repeated invitations. In all the years Hannah had been at Stainsby Hall, her mother had never once come to see her, claiming her husband couldn’t do without her.

  Iris stopped to watch her, a slight frown marring her features. “You don’t seem pleased. I thought you’d welcome a chance to spend time with your mother away from Mr. Fielding’s influence.”

  “Of—of course. It’s most thoughtful. Thank you, Auntie.” Hannah patted a napkin to her mouth, then laid it on the lap of her soft gray dress. Iris had commissioned her dressmaker to sew a whole new wardrobe for Hannah, one that could be altered once the baby arrived. “How did Mum manage to get away?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’m delighted she can come.” Iris stood at the sideboard and poured another cup of tea. The sun streamed in through the window, creating a halo effect around the soft sweep of her hair. “While she’s here, I plan to invite a few more people and make an event of it.”

  “But Auntie, in my condition—”

  “Nonsense. It will be extended family only.” Her gray eyes brightened. “A family reunion of sorts. How splendid.”

  Her aunt seemed so excited that Hannah didn’t have the heart to discourage her. With gentle fingers, she caressed her swollen abdomen. What would her mother think about becoming a grandmother?

  A sudden suspicion struck Hannah. “You’re not thinking of writing to Nolan, are you?”

  “Why, yes.” Iris blinked at her. “I plan to send an invitation to Stainsby. I’d like to invite Nolan—and his father.”

  The mere mention of the earl made Hannah’s stomach clench. “I’d prefer that you not. I want Nolan to come here of his own accord because he wants me back. Not because of some invitation.” She fought the sudden tremble of her lips.

  “It appears to me that you and Nolan have reached an impasse, with neither willing to take action. Both waiting for the other to make some sort of declaration. If this brings your husband here so that you might discuss your situation and come to some sort of resolution, then I will not apologize for going against your wishes.”

  Tension seized Hannah’s shoulders. Though she still was not ready to face Nolan, nor the possible demise of her marriage, her aunt would not be swayed. She sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, time was running out before the baby would arrive.

  She needed to find out once and for all the true state of her marriage, whether the earl had come to accept her as Nolan’s wife, and most important, whether Nolan wished to continue their union.

  The rest of the meal passed in silence, her aunt engrossed in the morning news, while Hannah’s thoughts remained on the disconcerting tidings of her mother and husband’s impeding visits.

  Hannah wished for her sister’s company to distract her from unwanted worrying, but Molly was already at work in the study with the tutor Aunt Iris had hired to catch the girl up on her lessons.

  When Iris folded the newspaper in half and laid it down, the signal that the meal had ended, Hannah rose from the table and firmly pushed away all unsettling thoughts. For her child’s sake, she needed to focus on nothing but happy things.

  As had become their usual routine, she and Iris would take a brisk walk in the garden, after which they would sit in the parlor and work on the tiny baby clothes they’d been sewing. Molly would join them once she had finished with her schooling for the day.

  A maid appeared with their wraps, while another led Daisy on
her leash. The days had become much colder, a sure sign that winter was headed their way.

  Iris held open the door that led onto the terrace, letting Daisy out first.

  Hannah shivered with the bitter bite of air, pulling her cloak more firmly about her. The wind blew a flurry of dead leaves in a circular pattern over the walkway as they strolled. From the feel of the elements, Hannah wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed soon.

  Iris was unusually silent during the first lap around the garden. She let Daisy off her leash, then turned a rather grim face to her. “Hannah, I have a question to ask, and I trust you won’t take it the wrong way.”

  Hannah frowned and slowed her pace. “What is it, Auntie?”

  “You have been here for some time now. Almost half a year, in fact.”

  “Yes.” Hannah swallowed a ball of fear. Did her aunt feel she was taking advantage of her kind nature? Would she ask her to leave?

  “What exactly do you expect Nolan to do in order to let him back into your life?”

  Hannah almost tripped on a raised stone in the walkway. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Iris looped her arm through Hannah’s and led her back to their allotted pathway. “I think my question was clear enough. For all intents and purposes, you have left your husband, presumably for his own good, so he might forge a relationship with the earl.”

  “That’s right.” Hannah tried not to bristle at her aunt’s implication that it was not for Nolan’s own good. “I know how important it is to Nolan to have a father. Besides, the tension between them wasn’t good for me or the baby.”

  “All very admirable reasons for running away.” Iris shot her an arched look.

  Heat rose in Hannah’s chest. “I did not run away. You make me sound like a coward.”

  “Very well, then back to my original question. What must Nolan do to be allowed back into your life—and into your bed?”