Already, she’d chastised herself for her act of rebellion with the Lieutenant. The kiss had gone too far, but he’d warned her, hadn’t he? She could blame no one but herself.
Just thinking of it made her body go warm, her shame multiplying. All she needed was a scarlet letter to brand upon her gown to make her sins complete.
‘Lord Belgrave has withdrawn his offer of marriage,’ her father began. His tone was flat, his face careworn. ‘I imagine you are not surprised.’
‘No,’ she managed. Few men would appreciate being bashed upon the head. Twice.
‘Your mother has something she wishes to say to you.’ The Marquess sat back in his chair, nodding to Lady Rothburne.
Her mother paled, her gloved hands twisting a handkerchief. ‘Your father…was unaware that I allowed Lord Belgrave to speak with you privately.’
From the dark look on her father’s face, she realized with shock that he was on her side. A frail flame of hope burned within her.
‘I never dreamed Lord Belgrave would lock himself inside with you.’ Her mother’s face appeared sickly, and suddenly, she began to weep. ‘Hannah, I am so sorry. I was naïve to think he would behave like a gentleman. You were right about him.’
‘Then you’re not…angry that I struck Lord Belgrave with the candlestick? Or—’ she thought wildly for an explanation ‘—or the dictionary?’ She directed her query towards her father, who cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.
‘There were other ways to handle the matter, but, no, I do not blame you. Hannah, I must ask you this—how on earth did you get out of the study? It took us nearly half an hour to find the other key. I was so worried, I nearly ordered Phillips to break down the door.’
‘Belgrave was starting to wake up, so I went out the window.’ There. Best to tell as much of the truth as she could.
‘You could have broken your ankle,’ her mother protested. ‘I can’t believe you risked such a fall.’
Hannah shrugged. ‘Better an ankle than my virtue.’
Her mother’s expression was incredulous. ‘Why didn’t you cry out to us for help?’
‘What good would it have done?’ she shot back. ‘You didn’t believe me when I told you what sort of man he was.’
Her mother blanched, staring down at her handkerchief. The Marquess regarded Hannah with a solemn face. ‘We needn’t discuss Belgrave any further. That matter is closed.’
And thank heaven. Hannah let out a sigh of relief. But there was no satisfaction on her parents’ faces, only worry. It led her to wonder what they intended to do next.
Her father stood, answering the unspoken question. ‘I have decided to send you away for a time. No doubt Belgrave will spread whatever rumours he can. Your mother and I will weather his accusations and do what we can to discredit the stories. In the meantime, I will arrange for your passage to Bremerhaven, Germany. You’ll stay with our cousins Dietrich and Ingeborg von Kreimeln.’
Hannah had never heard of the cousins, and uneasiness threaded through her mind. Being sent away was what she’d hoped for, but she hadn’t expected it to be half a continent away.
‘When must I leave?’
‘In three days’ time.’
Three days? Though her father continued to explain his plans for her temporary exile, she hardly comprehended a word of it.
He cleared his throat, adding, ‘I sent your cousins a letter yesterday, explaining what has happened. I’ve promised to provide a stipend for your care. No doubt they will be glad to take you in.’
‘For how long?’
When her father didn’t answer at first, Hannah suspected that he wasn’t certain either. An unexpected loneliness spread inside her stomach at the thought of spending years away from her family. London had been her home all her life, and she couldn’t imagine being away for an extended time.
‘Until talk has ceased,’ her father acceded. ‘Or until you find another gentleman to wed. Perhaps someone from Germany or Denmark, who doesn’t know of the scandal.’
He wanted her to hide the truth, then. The dishonesty didn’t sit well with her, and Hannah decided that if she did meet a possible husband, she would tell him exactly what had happened.
‘I’ve ordered the servants to pack your trunks in the morning,’ the Marquess added. ‘Quentin will escort you to the ship, and after that, the Graf von Reischor has promised to take you the remainder of the journey.’
The ambassador? She recalled Lieutenant Thorpe’s confession that he was accompanying the Graf to Lohenberg. Most certainly her father knew nothing of this.
And neither did Lieutenant Thorpe. Hannah suppressed a shiver, wondering if she dared to travel with them. Even with an army of servants to chaperone her, she was afraid of falling prey to her own weakness. The Lieutenant had awakened something inside her, and she feared that the more time she spent with him, the easier it would be to let go of her strict rules of proper conduct.
The Marquess crossed the room and opened the door. ‘We will speak more about your journey in the morning.’
It was a dismissal, and Hannah bid her parents good night. Once she left the parlour, she returned to her room, where she found another list of reminders from her mother.
Wear the rose silk gown tomorrow morning with the cream gloves.
Supervise the packing for Germany.
Send farewell notes to your friends.
The last reminder was one she hadn’t thought about. She didn’t know when she would see her friends again. It hurt to think of them getting married and going on with their lives, without her there to see it. She would miss Bernadette, her dearest friend from boarding school. And Nicole.
She couldn’t possibly explain everything in a note. No, tomorrow she would pay a few calls and bid them farewell in person.
Her maid Estelle began unlacing Hannah’s dress, helping her into a nightgown. ‘Lady Hannah, I am so dreadfully sorry about what happened yesterday afternoon. I can’t think of the ordeal you must have endured.’
‘Yes, well, it’s over now. I won’t have to see Belgrave again.’ She didn’t want to dwell upon the past, not any more.
Hannah dismissed her maid and sat down upon her bed, drawing her legs beneath the covers and reaching for a book. Though she tried to read a bit of Goethe, practising her German, she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Her mind kept returning to the Lieutenant. They would spend two nights upon the ship, and several days more by coach, until she reached her cousins’ home in Germany.
It would be all too easy to ignore the years of proper comportment, letting herself explore the strange yearnings she felt. But, in spite of the forthcoming scandal, she was still untouched. There was no reason to let go of that.
Fluffing her pillow, Hannah rolled over. Beneath it, her fingers brushed against something cold and hard. She lifted up the glittering strand of diamonds, and her heartbeat quickened. The Lieutenant had been here, in her room. He’d touched her bed, and no one had seen him. Not even her.
An invisible phantom, keeping her safe, just as he’d promised.
Hannah returned the diamonds to her jewellery chest, wondering how and when he had managed to enter her room. He’d given the necklace back, successfully avoiding her. Once, she’d offered him the jewels as an excuse to return. Now, that reason was gone.
A slight disappointment filled up the crevices of her heart. But then, what had she been expecting? He was a soldier and she a lady. There was no possible future for them, except an illicit affair.
She’d never consider such a thing. Michael Thorpe was not the man for her. It didn’t matter what he’d made her feel when he’d kissed her. Like a decadent chocolate torte, he’d provided nothing but forbidden temptation.
And no matter how badly he provoked her, she would not allow herself to fall beneath his spell. They would be acquaintances, nothing more. On the ship, she simply had to avoid him at all costs.
That night, she had dreamed of the Lieutenant. Of his mouth, arousing
such feelings within her. Hannah awoke in the early morning darkness, her skin alive with unspoken needs. Her cotton nightgown was gathered up around her thighs, and she tried to still the rapid beating of her heart.
A beam of moonlight rested upon her coverlet, the silvery light reminding her of the hours she’d spent in the Lieutenant’s arms, only a few nights ago. She rested her hands upon her waist, calming her breathing.
Her hand crept up to her throat, her elbow grazing against her breasts. Instantly, the nipples hardened, provoking the memory of his kiss. She let her hand fall to the curve of her breast, touching herself. The nipples were hard nubs, and the sensation was painfully delicious.
Michael had touched her there, making her body desire so much more. A swell of arousal filled her up inside, and she drew her legs together, her breath quickening. She squeezed the tips of her breasts, and the aching sensation made her damp between her thighs. Never had she felt this way before. She twisted the sheets against her core, craving something she didn’t understand.
God help her, she wanted to know more. Michael had given her a taste of sin, leaving her unsatisfied and curious.
But it was wrong. She knew that, and in time, she would learn to forget about him. There was no alternative.
Chapter Eight
Michael stood on board the ship Orpheus, staring out at the brown waters. The ships he’d sailed on earlier had been far smaller, perhaps 150 feet in length. In contrast, this one was nearly 600 feet long.
A large central funnel released a light steam, while six more masts rose high above them. The sails were tied up, and the wooden decking shone new. The rigging ropes were as thick as his wrist, the ratlines stretching up to the top mast.
As he looked aft, he saw the wheelhouse enclosed within glass windows. The Orpheus had made its first voyage only a month ago, and the ship was in prime condition.
It felt strange, being a first-class passenger.
Michael tugged at the tight sleeves of his new double-breasted black cloth frockcoat. Though it was a fine cut, he felt conspicuous in the expensive clothing. The shawl collar and cravat abraded his neck, and he felt stiff. His attire had cost more than three years’ salary, and he longed for the familiarity of his own worn clothing.
He hadn’t wanted to transform his appearance, but the Graf had insisted. ‘If you are, in fact, related to the royal family, then you must dress as such. No one will accept your rank unless you appear as the King’s son.’
‘I may not be his son.’
But he’d succumbed to the changes because his only other attire was his military uniform. The Graf insisted that he travel under the guise of a nobleman, reminding him that his co-operation would help improve the living conditions of the soldiers.
Hundreds of men on the Crimean Peninsula had starved to death, due to lack of rations. It made him sick to think about the shipments of vegetables and meat left to rot because there was no one to transport the supplies to the soldiers’ camp.
There would be changes when he returned to the front; he would see to it.
Michael gripped the cuffs of his coat, the guilt erasing any enjoyment he might have had from this journey. He didn’t deserve fine clothing or luxurious accommodations upon a steamship bound for Bremerhaven.
His gaze drifted downward to the gleaming buttons on the coat. Bide your time, he warned himself. Already the Graf had given him two new suits of clothing that he could sell. He’d loaned hundreds of pounds in spending money, meant for a new wardrobe, once they arrived in Lohenberg. Michael didn’t intend to touch a penny, if at all possible.
Behind him, he heard the conversational noises of more passengers boarding the ship. He’d made arrangements for Mrs Turner to be brought with the servants, not trusting anyone to look after her welfare. She’d be lost within a week and forget to eat.
The Graf had protested, but Michael’s insistence had won over. No doubt Mrs Turner was pestering the servants about her trunk, making sure no one bumped it or put a scratch upon the wood.
He heard the tones of her voice, anxious and excited, while she inspected the ship. With a quick glance, he saw that today would be one of her more lucid moments. She stared up at the tall masts and funnels, shielding her eyes from the sun while a broad smile creased her cheeks.
God help him, he hadn’t told her their true destination. He’d let her believe that it was a trip to Germany, and had ordered the other servants not to reveal their true destination. There was no reason to upset her.
Other passengers boarded the ship, pretending as if they didn’t see the elderly woman. He could guess their ranks, without knowing a single name. Dukes and viscounts, ladies and lords. Those who believed themselves too good to mingle with the public.
Michael kept an eye upon Mrs Turner, watching to ensure that no one bothered her. A few of the men cast quizzical looks towards him, as though trying to decide whether or not they were acquainted.
He pretended as though he didn’t see, for he didn’t belong among them. He’d learned that on the night he’d dared to accept Whitmore’s ball invitation.
There was no use in attempting a conversation with London’s elite. What could he say, after all? Have you shot any men recently? No, he couldn’t mingle with them. Far better to stay away.
But then, he heard the soft tones of another woman’s voice. He knew her voice, knew the timbre and the familiar way it rose and fell.
Lady Hannah Chesterfield. What in the name of God was she doing upon this ship? Had she followed him?
Michael spun around, intending to confront her. When her gaze met his, she blushed and nodded in greeting.
Clearly, she’d known they would be traveling upon the same ship. Why hadn’t she mentioned it the last time he’d seen her?
She wore a grey cashmere pelisse trimmed with a fringe, and beneath the outer garment, he caught a glimpse of a dark blue gown. Her grey bonnet was adorned with lace, ribbons and cream roses. Impeccably attired, she held herself like a queen.
From the vast quantity of trunks and luggage brought on to the ship by her servants, it appeared she was travelling for an extended period. He saw her brother Quentin bringing up the last of the servants, and he spoke softly to his sister, offering an embrace. It was a farewell.
What was going on? Michael didn’t believe for a moment that her presence upon the ship was a mere coincidence, even if the Orpheus was one of the most luxurious passenger steamers.
His question was answered a moment later, when the Graf brought Lady Hannah towards him. ‘Lieutenant Thorpe, there will be an addition to our travelling party,’ he said. ‘The Marquess of Rothburne asked me to escort his daughter, Lady Hannah Chesterfield, to their cousins’ estate in Germany, after he learned I was returning home.’
There was no doubt in his mind that the Lohenberg Graf had arranged this little detail for a reason—most probably as a means of manipulating him. Michael wouldn’t allow any harm to come to Lady Hannah, and the Graf knew it.
‘Lady Hannah,’ Michael greeted her. He let nothing betray his emotions, for he didn’t want her caught in the middle of his disagreement with Reischor.
Like him, Hannah kept her reaction cool and veiled. ‘Lieutenant Thorpe.’ It was as if an icy wall had gone up between them. If Michael hadn’t been there himself, he’d have doubted that their kiss had ever taken place. The prim and proper Lady Hannah was back, with no glimpse of the woman who had struck down her last suitor with a candlestick.
Graf von Reischor cleared his throat to interrupt them. ‘Lieutenant Thorpe has agreed to accompany me to Lohenberg, conducting business on behalf of the British Army.’ ‘I am glad to hear that you have been tasked with something so important.’ Although she had already known of his orders, he suspected Lady Hannah was itching to ask more questions. Nonetheless, he didn’t want her to know anything about the Graf’s theory with regard to his heritage.
‘When did your father make the decision about this journey?’ he enquired, directi
ng the conversation back to her.
‘A few days ago.’ Hannah twisted at one of her gloves, and the conversation fell flat between them.
Exile was a better word for it. The Princess locked away in a tower, away from those who might scorn her.
‘Forgive me,’ Graf von Reischor excused himself. ‘I must speak with the Captain about our cabin arrangements. I shall return shortly.’ He gestured for one of Hannah’s maids to remain nearby, as a chaperone.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Michael lowered his voice. ‘Why would your father choose Reischor for an escort? Has he lost his wits?’
Hannah seemed taken aback, but a moment later, she raised her chin. ‘Papa wants me to wed a foreign count or duke, and Graf von Reischor has many acquaintances.’
That didn’t surprise him at all. Lady Hannah was the sort of woman who belonged among high society, her blue blood too good for anything less. If the London suitors wouldn’t have her, certainly her father’s money would pave the way for a foreign wedding.
‘So long as he has the proper title and enough money, not much else matters, does it?’ The words came out before he could stop them. He felt like a bastard for voicing them.
But proper to a fault, Hannah didn’t let any hurt feelings show. ‘I am not allowed to marry a man who does not possess the means to take care of a family.’
‘Your father wouldn’t let you wed a merchant, sweet. Not even if he possessed a million pounds.’ Men like the Marquess were only interested in bettering the family name. ‘The higher the title, the more likely you’ll gain his permission.’
‘There are titled gentlemen who are good men,’ she pointed out. ‘Not all of them are like Belgrave. Many would value a virtuous woman who wants to provide a comfortable home for him.’
‘Like you?’
She turned crimson, and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. None of this had been her fault. He ought to reassure her that nothing had changed, that she was still the same woman as before. But that was a lie. She would never be the same, not with a scandal shadowing her.
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