Gail Whitiker (9 page)

‘Has Fiona entered society yet?’ Lady Montgomery enquired. ‘She is older than Hannah, I believe.’

‘Yes, by two years.’ Lady MacInnes took a sip of her tea. ‘She has been formally presented, and she does go about in society, but she has not formed any serious attachments. We are not so richly blessed with company as you are in London.’

‘Well, it is not to be expected, living as far north as you do.’

‘We are hardly in the wilds of Scotland, Prudence,’ Lady MacInnes drawled. ‘After all, we are less than seventy-five miles from Edinburgh.’

‘Wait, I have just had the most splendid idea,’ Lady
Montgomery said. ‘Why do you and Fiona not come and spend some time with us in London? I’m sure you would both enjoy it. And there is no need to go to the expense of taking a house when there is room enough in ours. Would that find favour with you, my dear?’ she asked of her husband.

‘I suppose it would,’ Sir Roger said in a dry tone. ‘It might be good for Alice to have other young ladies to compete with for a change.’

‘Now, my dear, you know there is no need for Alice to compete,’ Lady Montgomery said. ‘With any luck, she will be engaged before the end of the Season. But I know she would be happy for the company. Indeed, I have been trying to persuade Hannah to come and stay with us for a while.’

‘Really?’ Lady MacInnes glanced at her sharply. ‘Have you given any thought to what you will do now, Hannah? I assume Robert will wish to move in here.’

‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t decided what I intend to do,’ Robert said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. ‘Hannah is in agreement, there is much that needs to be considered before any definite plans are put in place.’

Hannah glanced up at her brother and was dismayed to see him watching her again. But not with the resolute stare he had given her all afternoon. This look was different. More thoughtful. And if possible, even more disconcerting.

‘My dear sister made a stipulation in her will that Hannah be allowed to remain at Gillingdon Park until either she or Robert marry,’ Lady Montgomery said for the edification of Lady MacInnes. ‘So there is really no need for her to depart in haste. And since she was left a most generous inheritance, she certainly need have no concerns about her future.’

‘Oh?’ Hannah saw Lady MacInnes glance quickly at Robert, before turning thoughtful eyes towards her again. ‘How fortunate that your mother wished you to be so well taken care of, Hannah.’

‘And why would she not?’ Lady Montgomery demanded. ‘Hannah has been a good and loving daughter all the years of her life. Indeed, I have seldom seen so close a relationship. Except, of course, for my own relationship with dear Alice. And perhaps yours with Fiona, cousin,’ she added belatedly.

Hannah sipped thoughtfully at her tea. She had no idea why she couldn’t shake the feeling that an awkward moment had just been passed over, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that one had. Had it something to do, perhaps, with the fact that the smile on her cousin’s lips had seemed forced after hearing that Hannah had been left a sizeable inheritance?

Hannah glanced at her brother, only to see him engaged in conversation with their uncle. And with her aunt and cousin now occupied in a conversation about the trials and tribulations of raising daughters, the atmosphere in the room had turned decidedly convivial.

But just for a moment, there had been a feeling of tension in the air; an undercurrent of stress running through the conversation. And she was sure it had originated with her brother’s arrival—and with Lady Montgomery’s innocent comment about Hannah having been left a considerable heiress.

The question was, what possible objection could anyone in the family have to that?

I
N SPITE
of the sad events of the previous day, the sun shone gloriously bright the next, and the air was scented with the fragrance of the flowers that grew in such abundance. In the gardens behind the house, Hannah moved slowly up and down the rows, her sombre black gown clashing with the brilliant colours of the blooms.

The house would be busy today. Her aunt and uncle had decided to head back to London, given that Lady Montgomery was anxious to see how her dear Alice was faring, and that Sir Roger was anxious to get back to his paperwork. Lady MacInnes had decided to stay on until the day after, saying that she was in no hurry to get back on the road after having spent so much time on it on the trip down. She also had no reason to worry about her husband’s welfare, given that Fiona was there to look after him.

‘Hannah?’

Hannah stopped and turned around. She raised her hand to shade her eyes, and saw the tall, broad figure of her brother silhouetted against the sun. He was still in riding attire, which likely explained why he had not been at breakfast. ‘Good morning,’ she called, surprised that he had gone to the trouble of finding her. ‘Did you enjoy your ride?’

‘I did, thank you. You have some prime cattle in the stables. I’m surprised, since I cannot recall Mama being overly fond of the creatures.’

‘She wasn’t, but Papa was and that was reason enough
for her to keep them. And she knew I loved to ride, of course.’

Robert awarded her a keen glance. ‘You do?’

‘Oh yes. My mare is not the powerful brute Balthazar is, but we get along very well.’

A dark eyebrow arched in silent enquiry. ‘How did you know I rode Balthazar?’

‘Because he is the finest blood-horse in the stable, and the only one I thought you would deem worthy of consideration. Your reputation as a crack-whip and Corinthian is known even here, brother.’

Robert’s mouth twisted. ‘I assure you, reputations can be grossly exaggerated. Which one is your mare?’

‘The dapple grey in the stall one up from the end.’

Robert nodded. ‘A good mount for you, I should think.’

Hannah inclined her head. ‘I find her to be pleasing in all ways.’

To her surprise, Robert joined her, and for a few minutes, they strolled in silence, content to enjoy the freshness of the morning. Nevertheless, Hannah couldn’t help but wonder what was really on her brother’s mind. She didn’t believe that he had come out here to talk about the quality of the horseflesh stabled at Gillingdon Park.

‘You never did tell me what predicament you and Cousin Margaret were discussing last evening,’ Hannah said, boldly taking the lead.

She was surprised to see a flush darken his cheeks. ‘You heard me say that?’

‘Yes, but I did not hear what went before. I hope it is nothing serious.’

He sighed and looked away from her. ‘I wish I could
say that it was not, but it is, in fact, of considerable import.’

‘Then I’m surprised you would be discussing it with Cousin Margaret.’

‘Why would you say that?’

‘Because I doubt you are any closer to her than I am, and for you to be discussing a problem of considerable consequence with her seems to me somewhat unusual.’

‘Not really.’ Robert glanced out over the distance fields, squinting his eyes against the sun. ‘It was Cousin Margaret who brought the problem to my attention.’

‘Really?’ How strange, Hannah reflected silently. What manner of problem could Lady MacInnes have had that would warrant Robert’s intervention? Perhaps she had particular concerns about her husband or children that she was reluctant to share with anyone else.

‘Hannah,’ Robert said presently. ‘Have you given any thought to what you will do now that Mama is gone?’

Surprised by the sudden change in subject, Hannah didn’t answer at once. Instead, she turned her attention to the blooms in her basket, wondering whether or not she had enough to fill the crystal vase. In truth, all she really wanted was a moment to think. She felt quite sure that Robert had a good reason for asking what she was going to do. Just as she was quite sure that the answer she gave him would be equally important.

‘In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought,’ Hannah said finally, deciding to tell him the truth. ‘There is much you and I need to talk about before I feel ready to make any decisions. For one thing, I have no idea how you feel about the conditions Mama set forth in her will. In particular, the one granting me the right to remain at Gillingdon Park until either you marry, or I do.
I cannot pretend there is a great deal of affection between us—’

‘That is not true.’

Her smile was pragmatic. ‘Let us not cavil, Robert. We have spent too much time apart. We are not like brother and sister. Indeed, Mr Twickenham is more in the way of a brother to me than you are.’

Robert paused. ‘I would advise you to be cautious as regards Mr Twickenham, Hannah.
You
may like to think of him as a brother, but I can assure you, his feelings for you are hardly platonic.’

‘What his feelings are for me have no bearing on the situation. He is engaged to Miss Branksmuir and happy to be so, judging by what he says.’

‘Yes, but what a man says is not always a true indication of what he feels.’

Refusing to comment on what she feared might be the truth, Hannah said instead, ‘Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel that you would prefer to have as little to do with me as possible. And if we continue as Mama wishes us to, we will be forced into association whether we desire it or not. However, since it is naïve of me to presume that you will not be married before me, and since you will wish to bring your bride to Gillingdon Park, I think it would be best if I were to take some of the money Mama left me and try to secure alternate accommodation as soon as possible.’

It was the first time Hannah had put her thoughts into words, and for a moment, she was as surprised at hearing them as Robert so obviously was. Indeed, she hadn’t thought she
would
be leaving Gillingdon Park until she’d heard herself say the words out loud.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realised it was the only logical resolution to their situation.
After all, she was quickly approaching her twenty-first birthday, and Robert was nearing his thirty-third. It was only a matter of time before he took a wife. It was his duty, after all.

But in acknowledging that, Hannah also knew that it would be impractical for her to continue living at Gillingdon Park. If she did, her life would be in a constant state of uncertainty. She would never know how long it might be before a letter arrived, telling her that Robert was getting married and that he and his new wife were taking up residence at Gillingdon Park. And in such a case, Hannah would be forced to move quickly, and perhaps to do something that was not in her best interests.

Of course, she could always go and stay with her aunt and uncle in London, but it was hard to accept that Gillingdon would not always be her home. She loved this house so much. She loved the graciousness of its rooms, and the beauty of the lands that surrounded it. She knew every tree, every hedgerow, every small river and brook that ran through it.

Of course, when she married, it was quite possible she would become mistress of a grand house, perhaps even one similar to Gillingdon Park, but it would never be the same. She would never feel the same kind of attachment to a house as she did to this one.

It was a few moments before Hannah realised that Robert was no longer walking beside her. She stopped and looked back, aware that he was standing about ten feet behind her. She’d been so intent on her thoughts that everything else had momentarily faded away.

‘Forgive me,’ she said in embarrassment as she walked back to join him. ‘I fear I was wool-gathering.’

‘That’s all right.’ His eyes were shuttered, but at least
his mouth wasn’t pulled into the hard line she’d seen so often since his arrival. ‘Hannah, there are things we must talk about. Important matters that need to be discussed before you set out on
any
course of action. For that reason, I would like to assure you that there is no need for you to make plans to leave Gillingdon Park in haste. I am not involved with anyone at present, so the likelihood of my marrying in the near future is remote. But there are issues that must be dealt with. Issues that will have a considerable bearing on your life—’ He broke off, frowning. ‘Why do you smile?’

‘Because Mama said much the same thing to me the night before she died. We were sitting in the music room, and she told me…it was time we talked about matters of considerable importance.’

‘She said that?’

‘Mmm.’ Hannah looked down at the flowers so she wouldn’t have to look at him. ‘I thought she was referring to my going up to London, but when I told her that, she said that what she wanted to talk to me about was far more important than whether or not I spent a Season in London. She said it was something she should have told me,
and
you, years ago, but that she’d never found the right time to do so. I have to admit, I’ve been wondering about it ever since.’ Hannah finally did look up, expecting to see Robert regarding her with an expression of either amusement or disdain. She saw neither.

‘I have to go out this afternoon,’ he told her quietly, ‘but I shall be back in time for dinner. Perhaps we can talk about it then. Unless you have other plans?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘I have no plans. And if you are of a mind to talk, I shall be happy enough to listen.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps you would like to discuss the other condition in Mama’s will too.’

‘The other condition?’

‘Yes. The one that sets forth your responsibility to look after me and to approve whomever I wish to marry. I can’t imagine your being pleased at the prospect of having to look after your little sister in such a way.’

A nerve jumped in his cheek, but a grudging smile accompanied it. ‘I admit I was somewhat taken aback by that particular provision. Especially since you appear to be a young woman who has both the intelligence and the maturity to deal quite capably with her own life.’

The compliment surprised her, but at the same time, Hannah was glad of her brother’s approval. ‘Thank you. Aunt Prudence seems to think Mama only made the stipulation so that you and I would be forced to remain in contact with one another.’

His look of astonishment was genuine. ‘Really?’

‘She seems to think you wouldn’t choose to see me unless you were forced to. Unfortunately, I tend to believe she’s right.’

His gaze held hers momentarily. ‘Unfortunately?’

‘Well, you are my brother, Robert. And while I know that might not mean much to you, it means a great deal to me. I’d like to get to know you better, I always have. I don’t understand why you turned away from us, or why you chose not to keep in touch with Mama.’ When he said nothing, Hannah took a deep breath. ‘Well, I suppose I had best return to the house. Are you coming?’

He seemed about to say yes, and then shook his head. ‘I think I’ll take a walk.’

‘Of course. You will no doubt wish to become reacquainted with Gillingdon Park. It has been…many years since you spent time here.’

‘Yes.’ His expression grew suddenly remote, his eyes
shadowed, as though in pain. ‘I’d forgotten how lovely it was, and how much I enjoyed being a boy here.’

Hannah looked out over the fields, seeing the majestic stand of trees away in the distance, and the clear blue lake in the foreground. ‘It is the most beautiful place I know,’ she whispered. ‘Strange, though I was born in Scotland, it is here I feel the most at home. Perhaps because this is where I was first conceived.’

She heard Robert’s sharply indrawn breath and knew that she had surprised him. But then, it was only to be expected. Ladies seldom talked about conception or birth, and certainly not in the presence of gentlemen. But Robert was her brother, after all, and if she could not speak plainly to him, to whom could she speak?

Besides, she rather liked saying things that shocked him—since she doubted there was very much that could.

Robert watched his sister—or Hannah, as he must now think of her—walk back up the path to the house, and marvelled at the conversation they had just had. She was a surprising young woman to be sure.

But in spite of his reservations, he found himself coming to like her. He appreciated her predilection for speaking her mind. She didn’t dither as did so many pampered society chits. She spoke clearly and without artifice. She’d told him they weren’t close, because she believed it to be true, but she made no apology to him for it. Nor had she expected him to deny it.

And yet, for all that, she
wanted
to be close to him. Her words and expressions had convinced him of that. She wanted there to exist between them the kind of love and respect that was normally to be found between a brother and sister.

But what she’d said about his mother’s comments to
her on the night of her death had definitely struck a nerve, Robert admitted. It seemed that his mother had indeed been about to tell Hannah that she was not her daughter. What else could she have said that would have had more effect on Hannah’s life than whether or not she spent a Season in London?

But where did that leave him? Should he now be the one to tell Hannah the facts of life? If he did, what did he do
after
he’d made her aware of the situation, because there was no doubt in his mind that that’s when their problems would really begin. Hannah
would
be devastated. She would be left feeling as though her very world had been turned upside down, because Hannah
believed
she was the Honourable Hannah Winthrop. Just like she believed that Lady Winthrop had been her mother, and that she’d had every right to grow up at Gillingdon Park. Which made it all the more difficult to gauge how she would react when she learned the truth.

What would she say in response to his words, Robert wondered. Would she claim it was all lies? Would she accuse him of doing this to be purposely cruel to her? Or would she accept the shocking realisation that she had no more right to live at Gillingdon than did a pauper in a king’s court?